Chapter Text
Hermes could not believe he agreed to wear white.
There wasn’t anything wrong with a white tuxedo; they could look dashing on the right person. But it was never something he had imagined for himself on his wedding day. For as long as Hermes could remember, he had always pictured wearing something simple and black for the ceremony before stripping it off into something orange or red and easy to dance in for the reception.
But Paris-
A sob wheezed out of his lungs.
Paris had persuaded him, months and months ago, into wearing white. Hermes hadn’t wanted to. But his fiancé had always been very persuasive. He told him how well it would blend with the decor they had picked out, how both their families expected someone to wear white, and how Hermes would look so obviously better in it than he did. How thoroughly he had convinced Hermes that it was the right thing to do.
Come to think of it, he had convinced Hermes of many things. He convinced him to start wearing silver instead of gold, to wear looser and baggier clothes, and that he should quit running so much and spend more time with him. And Hermes did all of it. Almost all of it. He had stood his ground when Paris wanted to get rid of Chelly. But everything else he did was because he thought that was just all part of the long-term relationship gig. He had never been in one before Paris, and he had always been told that it was all about compromise. Give and take. Tit for tat.
But now-
Now, Hermes was starting to realize that only he had ever given. Only he had ever compromised. How much of himself had he given up for someone who didn’t ever do the same in return?
Fuck, he was so stupid, how could he be so blind?
Hermes fell to a stop with a gasp, hunching over as he tried to regain himself. His burning leg muscles thanked him for the reprieve, as did the lungs that ached for air inside his chest. How long had he been running for? It felt like hours. Days, even.
Slowly, Hermes straightened up, taking a moment to orient himself in his surroundings. To his left, there was a row of shops, some closed, some not, though most looked all but empty. To his right was a long pier, also mostly empty.
Hermes hiccuped, reaching up to harshly rub away the itchiness from the tears that had dried during his frantic run. As he did, the glint of his engagement ring - silver, encrusted with pale diamonds, elaborate and gaudy, nothing like what Hermess wanted, but had lovingly accepted all the same - caught his eye. It taunted him. Reminded him of everything he had given.
Before he could even process what he was doing, Hermes was sprinting down the pier, fueled by a burst of pure, unfettered rage. The dock was longer than he first thought, so by the time he reached the end, his energy was flagging. But he didn’t let that stop him. He passed by a bench and collided angrily with the steel bar railing, the sting of it radiating from his palms up into his hands. He ripped off the ring and hurled it as far as he could into the ocean, letting out a yell of anger, sadness, and hurt. He watched with a puffing chest as it flew and landed with a satisfying plop in the water.
Only when he heard a rustle behind him did he realize that someone was sitting on the bench he had passed.
Hermes whipped around, his tear-filled eyes meeting a shock of pale gray. The man sitting there was tall, even from his seated position, his long silver hair pulled back into a ponytail that was falling apart, the hair tie hanging for its life right near the ends. His face and neck were littered with scars. Though what drew Hermes’ attention was the fine black suit he sported. For a moment, he panicked, wondering if he was one of the guests from his wedding, before realizing that no one there could have possibly beaten him, nor could they have known where he was going.
“I’m- sorry.” Hermes said, the words squeezing painfully from behind his choked throat. The man shook his head.
“It’s alright.” He said. His voice reminded Hermes of distant thunder - soft, deep, resonant, yet comforting, in a way. Something about it - about the man - relaxed Hermes ever so slightly. Slowly, his shoulders began to drop from where they had been all but tucked against his neck.
This stranger didn’t know what had happened. He hadn’t been there to see Hermes’ embarrassment. And he wasn’t about to demand to know why he had left all his friends and family behind to wonder where he was.
It was what Hermes needed.
“Can I-” Hermes stopped, taking a moment to wipe away the newly fallen tears sliding down his cheeks. “Can I sit next to you? I could use a friendly face after the last couple hours.”
The man hesitated, though only for a moment, before he scooted over to make room for Hermes. Gladly, Hermes sat beside him. For a while, there was only silence and the sound of crashing waves between them before Hermes took a deep breath and spoke.
“I got left at the altar by my fiancé,” Hermes admitted. The man’s head whipped towards him, eyes wide in disbelief. Tears gathered in Hermes' eyes once again, though he managed to get out a humorless laugh. “It doesn’t quite seem real yet. But, yeah, apparently, he never even made it to the venue.” His words were bitter and venomous, dripping between the cracks of his lips, dry and chapped from his sprint to the pier.
Hermes wasn’t sure why he thought it would feel better if Paris had shown up, if only for a bit. He supposed it was because it would have meant he had Hermes’ feelings on his mind at least a little. Or had at least briefly considered the notion of marrying Hermes before running away. But, no. He didn’t even have the empathy or the gall to show his face.
There was a bit of silence before the stranger spoke, his gravel-like voice startling Hermes from his thoughts.
“Is he... okay?” He asked, his large, pale hands clasping and resting on his rumpled dress pants. There was an oddly pinched expression on his face; his silvered brows furrowed in an almost familiar way.
“Yeah, he’s safe and sound somewhere miles away by now,” Hermes said, giving the man another once-over before turning his eyes back to the sea. “He called his mother and let her know he was okay, but that he wasn’t coming. His mother told my father. My father told my sister - one of my sisters - and then my sister told me. Came up and whispered it to me while I stood at the altar.”
Hermes felt bad for himself, of course, but he also felt bad for Artemis. Zeus should have had the nerve to come up and tell him himself instead of enlisting one of his siblings to help. Though Hermes supposed he couldn’t be too upset. If he was going to receive the news from anyone, Artemis was the one he would pick. That didn’t stop him from being upset that his father had cowed and sent someone else in his stead, as he had every time he had to do even a moment of real parenting.
“I wasn’t even supposed to be the one at the altar.” Hermes continued, unsure if this stranger wanted to hear of his woes, but unable to stop himself. Whether he liked it or not, this man, whose name he didn’t even know, was now a part of Hermes’ grief. “My fiancé - ex-fiancé now, I guess, I don’t know, I have yet to hear anything from him - was supposed to be there, and I was supposed to walk down the aisle. That was what we fucking-” Hermes took a deep breath. He wasn’t one to let anger get the best of him. That was what his father did, and Hermes vowed he would never do the same. He took a deep breath and tried again. “That was what we rehearsed. What he wanted. But everyone told me he was running behind, so I should be there at least, and then-”
Hermes sighed, letting his head fall back and rest on the stiff wood of the bench. “Man, this day sucks.”
It was the understatement of the century. Hermes could hardly think of a worse day in his life; very few could even come close.
The man beside him cleared his throat, pulling Hermes’ eyes toward him. He stared out toward the sea and nodded, his own eyes glassy as Hermes’ were. “It does.”
There was silence for a few seconds before the stranger turned his steel gaze back to Hermes. “I-” He paused for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed as he debated something with himself. Then he continued. “I was also left at the altar.”
Hermes sat up straighter, turning his body toward the man. “What? You’re joking!” He asked incredulously. Momentarily, he felt the sting of anger rising within him. Was this man making fun of him? There was no way he just happened to stumble upon a stranger who had experienced the same excruciating pain as he had that very same day. Surely, that was impossible.
And yet, after just one look into the man’s eyes, Hermes felt his anger dissipate. Something in his gaze told him that he was telling the truth. The sadness, the anger, the heartbreak, the glaze of tears not yet shed - it was like looking in a very tall mirror.
The man shook his head. His eyes turned back to the sea, staring out at it forlornly.
“Someone objected, a friend of his. Confessed his love.” The man paused, pulling out a cigarette to place between his lips. He fished around in his jacket for a moment - his hands shaking, Hermes couldn’t help but notice - before pulling out a lighter and lighting his cigarette. When he exhaled a plume of smoke, he continued. “Ran off together.”
Hermes’ heart ached. He couldn’t imagine. It was hard enough facing the loss of his love before the wedding even started - but running away right in the middle? In front of everyone? Hermes could only imagine the heartbreak and embarrassment, the poor man.
“Shit- gods, I’m so sorry, that is just cruel. Cruel and inhuman, if you ask me.” Hermes said, eyes glued to the stranger. Even after having just met him, Hermes could tell he was a man of few words, and yet, he was using what little he had of them to tell Hermes about his own misfortunes.
The man shrugged. For a while, the only sound was him puffing his cigarette, both their tongues heavy under the weight of their shared tragedies. Though Hermes, ever the chatterbox - Paris had always told him he spoke too much, too fast - could only stay quiet for so long.
“It feels a little silly to ask now, but what’s your name?” Hermes asked. The man exhaled another breath of smoke, watching it float into the air, then dissipate into nothing. Hermes wondered what he was thinking about. How his fiancé had vanished quick as smoke? How the cigarette was diminishing and burning out, just like their love?
Maybe that was Hermes projecting.
“Charon.” The man replied, his eyes still stuck on the spot where the smoke had disappeared.
“Hermes. It’s nice to meet you, Charon, even if it's in this shitty of a situation.”
A ghost of a smile pulled at Charon’s scarred lips, the first Hermes had seen from the man, though it quickly fell, as if he suddenly remembered the exact shitty situation he was in. Hermes felt for him. If Charon felt anything like Hermes did, he was absolutely miserable. His chest heavy, his eyes uncomfortably dry and stinging, his stomach twisting and turning - his legs also ached, though that was probably from the run and not the heartbreak. All of it combined into a horrible full-body experience like Hermes had never felt before. Nothing had ever felt so agonizing.
Hermes quickly made up his mind. “Well, talking about what happened won’t make it better or go away, so let’s talk about something else.” He declared, finally pulling Charon’s eyes back to him. At the questioning look, he continued. “Something normal, something that doesn't have to do with weddings or fiancés. It might help.”
Charon shrugged, his face showing he very much doubted Hermes’ plan, but he was stuck on it now.
“What do you like to do for fun?”
Charon snubbed out his cigarette nearby, though already he looked like he was itching for another one. Hermes didn’t blame him. He didn’t smoke - as a runner, he depended too much on his lungs being in tip-top condition to do it - but he certainly felt like a good, stiff drink.
“Collecting,” Charon said, raising an arm and laying it out on the backrest. The tips of his fingers grazed Hermes’ shoulder. “Unique coins and jewelry.”
Hermes glanced at Charon’s hands. Each finger was covered with varying numbers of golden rings, his right hand draped with a delicate chain. Further up, a coin hung on a black cord from his neck. He hadn’t thought too much about them, but now the amount of gold was beginning to make sense. Charon seemed to notice him looking and held up his hands.
“My favorites.” He said. Hermes’ heart warmed and broke all at once. Charon had worn his favorite pieces from his collection in anticipation of what was supposed to be his happiest day, only to be abandoned. Just like that. A spike of anger struck Hermes’ chest - though he wasn’t sure if it was really for the sake of this man he had just met or for the one who had done the same to Hermes hours before, leaving him standing alone and confused at the altar.
“They’re beautiful,” Hermes said after swallowing the lump of emotion in his throat. He smiled at Charon as the man returned his hands to his lap. “I’m afraid to ask just how much you have spent on them.”
Charon cracked a smile. He didn’t say anything, but the look on his face told Hermes everything he needed to know. It was such a comical expression that Hermes couldn’t help but laugh, his giggles bouncing around the empty pier. He laughed and laughed, almost maniacal - until it stopped as quickly as it started.
How was he laughing? How could he be laughing? An hour ago, he was sure he would never laugh again. His fiancé left and was gods knows where. His family - some of his family, at least - was likely out searching frantically for him, unsure if he was okay. He had a future to think about, one that no longer involved Paris, and yet, there he sat, laughing. As if none of it happened. There were gifts to give back and apologies to make and reservations to cancel and-
A hand rested on Hermes’ shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts. He turned his head to Charon, whose pained expression mirrored his own. Something about that calmed Hermes. This man knew precisely what Hermes was going through - more than anyone else ever would. He wasn’t going to pity Hermes. He wasn’t going to tell him to cheer up. He wasn’t expecting anything from him.
It was so lovely to think about. Hermes’ worries dimmed, if ever so slightly.
“What about you?” Charon asked. It took Hermes a minute to remember what they had been talking about. It was only when the setting sun glimmered off Charon’s coin necklace that he remembered.
What they did for fun.
“I, uh-” Hermes cleared his throat as Charon removed his hand from his shoulders. He already missed the contact, wishing desperately for another moment. Hermes loved physical affection - a squeeze on the arm for encouragement, a tight hug to contain barely withheld excitement, a kiss on the forehead to show love and adoration. He craved it. Yet the very person whose arms he wanted to run into, to make him forget this whole day, was the same person who betrayed him. So, he supposed he would take what he could get, even if it was a slight touch from his new friend.
“I love running.” Hermes forced out, trying to focus on who he was with in the present. “When I was in high school, I did track, and then once I graduated, I just kept doing it.” Hermes smiled softly. “I’ve always loved it, too. For my whole life, running has always been the thing to help me through hard times.”
Charon chuckled lightly. “Cannot say the same.”
Hermes laughed, taking a look at Charon’s tall, lanky form. Certainly not a runner's build - the muscles bulging through his coat's sleeves spoke of weights over endurance. Though Hermes didn’t think that not having the body for it would ever stop him from running. He loved it too much.
Slowly, his smile faded.
“Though I haven’t been doing it as much recently.”
Charon tilted his head, his question silent yet clear.
“My fiancé - fuck, ex-fiancé - always said I was running too much. He said I should be spending more time with him. And I thought- I thought maybe he was right? Maybe I was doing too much.” Tears were quick to form again in Hermes’ eyes. He felt so stupid. “I didn’t give it up, but I stopped running as often. Enough that when I met up to run with my old track buddies, I couldn’t keep up with them anymore.” Hermes sniffed, angrily wiping away the wetness from his cheeks. “And now, all I can think is, what was it all for?”
Charon remained quiet, though he seemed to be taking in Hermes’ words, digesting them slowly. Hermes didn’t blame him. It was a lot for even him to take in, much less a stranger who was going through his own rough day.
In the end, all Charon could do was shrug. His face said it all - he was thinking the same thing. Hermes wondered if he, too, had given up something for the person who abandoned him.
“Sorry, sorry. We were-” Hermes cleared his throat, trying to brush away the tears dripping from his eyes. “We were trying to talk about anything but our fiancés. Gods, it was my plan, and here I am talking about him again.”
Something about that made Charon crack a smile. Which, in turn, made Hermes smile. At least he could bring some kind of joy to someone’s life.
“Tell me more about yourself, Charon. What do you do for work?”
Charon shrugged, turning back out to face the water. “Business.”
“Mysterious.”
“Not very interesting.” Charon corrected, rolling out his shoulders and leaning further back into the bench. He looked tired. For a moment, Hermes felt bad, wondering if maybe he was just adding to this man’s exhaustion, if he should just be quiet. But then-
“Yourself?”
Hermes smiled. At least, on the outside, he seemed like he wanted to talk to him. “I work for my father’s business. Also not very interesting, I’m afraid, just a normal, boring eight hours of desk work most days. If I’m lucky, I might get to leave the office and run an errand or two.”
Hermes had been trying to weasel his way out of the company for years, but had never quite succeeded. In some ways, it was nice to be around some of his siblings, some of whom, otherwise, he might barely see. Though truthfully, it was because his father was quite persuasive - threatening, rather, though Zeus certainly couldn’t call it that - and once Paris proposed, he had always been a factor in keeping Hermes working for his family. He had to, he said. For their future, he said. As if Hermes had some kind of stake in his father’s business, despite being just another bastard employed to keep positions filled.
A small huff left Hermes. It was like the moment he met Paris, there had been a pair of glasses glued to his face, and they had remained firmly in place right until the wedding ripped them off. And now, he was left to wonder why he had listened so much to him. Why he let him control so much, when he was just going to leave anyway. He felt so- stupid.
“Doesn’t sound like you enjoy it.”
Hermes snorted. “An understatement, I think.” He replied bitterly. There was a moment of silence, then Hermes turned to Charon with a grin. “But, you know, I think I might be getting out of it soon. So, I guess there is that to look forward to, after all this.”
If Charon sensed a story there, he didn’t pry. Instead, he smiled faintly back at Hermes. “Congratulations, then.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
Perhaps it was odd to call Charon that - they barely knew each other. At yet, it felt right. More right than anything had felt that day, or even for the past few years. Hermes’ past had been falling apart with each passing thought, and the future was so uncertain, but at the very least, Charon was his friend. He knew what Hermes was going through. And when the man made no objections to the title, Hermes took that as permission to continue thinking of him in that way.
For a while, the two fell back into silence. Hermes watched as the sun dipped lower and lower beyond the horizon, until only a sliver remained, the world around them growing darker by the minute. How long had it been since Hermes barreled through the doors of the wedding hall, running from all the prying eyes and pitying looks? It felt like hours. Yet, he could remember them so clearly. He wasn’t sure they would ever leave him for the rest of his life. Especially those from his family, who were probably out looking for him. Calling the phone left in the room he got ready in. Wondering where he went.
He didn’t want to go back yet.
“I don’t want to go back yet.” He voiced aloud, quiet among the waves and the distant seagull calls. There were another few minutes of silence, during which the sun entirely disappeared from beyond the horizon, before Charon responded.
“I don’t either.”
Hermes hesitated. “We probably should. Right? I mean, we will have to eventually. I’m sure people are looking for you just as they are for me.”
Charon looked down at his hands. Even with the sun's light mostly gone, Hermes could still see the shine in his eyes, the beginnings of unshed tears welling there. The man fought for them not to fall, his pale, scarred throat bobbing as he swallowed them down.
“We don’t have to yet, though,” Hermes reassured quietly, placing a hand on Charon’s shoulder. The taller man shuddered, his eyes closing as he nodded. “We can just sit here, talking or not. Or I guess maybe we could move to another location, it’s going to get dark soon, and there aren’t any lights out here.” He continued, glancing back at the increasingly dark boardwalk.
“Or, I guess...” Hermes paused, carefully pulling his hand away from Charon and placing it on his lap. “This doesn’t necessarily have to be a ‘we’ situation, I know I’m just some guy, so if you want me to leave-”
“No.”
The word came out so quick, Hermes almost thought he imagined it. But Charon was looking at him, staring at him with those sad, pale eyes, and-
“Stay. Please.”
Hermes pressed his lips together as they started to tremble, trying his best to blink away a new set of tears welling in his eyes. It felt impossible. The idea that someone wanted him to stick around. Even before Paris left him at the altar, most members of his family had a habit of waving him away, telling him to go bother someone else, that his constant talking was annoying at best and anger-inducing at worst. And then, after Paris did leave him at the altar, Hermes had begun to wonder if anyone would ever want him around at all. If he was doomed to push everyone away. Fore
But Charon-
He wanted him to stay.
A single tear rolled down Hermes’ cheek, a soft, shuddering breath breezing past his lips. Despite it, he smiled. It wouldn’t last; eventually, they would have to part ways and return to their respective lives. But, for the moment, Charon wanted him there. And if there was at least one person in the world who did, then maybe Hermes wasn’t as bad off as he had thought.
“Of course. As long as you need, my friend.”