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Hermes had had a very long week of delivering messages all around Greece, and everyone had so much for him to do. He had been exhausted all week and really needed a break. As a result of his fatigue, he lost himself in his thoughts and instinctively flew around with no real goal. At one point, he felt that the air had become colder; he realised he was at the entrance of the Underworld, and he was leading towards Tiresias’ cave. The mere thought of seeing the prophet made him smile. It had been a while since they last saw each other. Hermes didn’t realise he had missed him that much. He fancied his friend's company, and spending time with him would surely cheer him up.
Tiresias was sitting at the edge of his cliff, reading some of the tablets Hermes had brought during one of his last visits. It had taken them a while, but they finally got the hang of reading the carved letters. All of a sudden, the prophet heard the flapping of wings; Hermes was coming. This news made the seer feel a sudden warmth in their heart.
“Hermes?” said the shade blissfully, turning their head in the general direction where the messenger landed.
“You sound surprised, didn’t you see me coming?” the god teased.
“I told you this before, it doesn’t work that way. I must hold the person concerned, I can’t just see things”, they argued, clearly not having grasped the tone of the messenger.
“I know darling”, the trickster giggled, “I’m just messing with you.”
Tiresias was happy to see the messenger; they enjoyed his presence, him talking about the newest gossip on Olympus, or simply just being there. The trickster’s energy and loudness contrasted greatly with the Underworld; it made Tiresias’ everyday life more interesting. They put their tablet on their side and stood up. The prophet took a step towards the god and held his hands. He seemed tired.
“Hermes, are you doing alright?” the prophet asked, their voice betraying their concern.
“Of course darling, don’t worry about it, it’s just been a long week, I’m fine.”
The god didn’t want to worry the seer with his problems. It wasn’t a big deal anyway; he was used to handling that stress, it was part of his many jobs, after all.
“If you say so…” Tiresias agreed reluctantly, not wanting to pressure him. “So, anyhow, what made you want to visit me today?”
“Do I need a reason?” he chuckled.
That was weird; the god always had a reason to visit them. “You don’t need one”, they finally answered, “I'm just surprised as to why you would wish to spend time with me. After all, I’m just a shade.”
“Are you kidding darling? Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with you?” the god responded, puzzled, taking a step forward. “It’s always so lovely hanging out with you. You don’t talk to me like I’m less than you, like the other gods do. Nor do you fear me ‘cause I’m one, like mortals do.” He continued, “ And I love listening to your stories, as cryptic as they might be, I mean, especially if they’re cryptic. And I love your sense of humour, you always make me laugh even when you don’t intend to. And…wait, are you blushing, darling?”
Tiresias hid their face with their hands in embarrassment; they could feel the heat on their face due to the list of compliments the messenger was making. They didn’t think the god enjoyed their company that much. How were they supposed to hide their feelings when the messenger was so considerate? They shouldn’t allow themself to, but they felt a small flame of hope light in their heart. Hope that maybe Hermes could return the feelings.
No, that was silly… right?.
“Don’t be shy darling. It’s simply the truth”, warmly said the psychopomp, “Please, don't hide your beautiful face.”
The prophet felt Hermes' soft hands drop theirs, lightly grabbing their face and slowly lifting their head, which only made their face turn even redder. The god’s face was so close to theirs that they felt like they couldn't breathe; their heart was racing so fast in their chest that they thought it might explode.
Hermes felt the fast heartbeat of the seer and worried he had done something wrong or inappropriate.
“Is everything alright dear?” he asked seriously.
Gods, why did the god have to be this sweet and gentle? He always worried about them, even when everything was fine. How were they supposed to act as if they were friends when Hermes was acting like that with them? It was torture. Did the messenger even realise how close they were? No, of course not; Hermes was always in other people’s personal space, always so outgoing and thrilled about everything. That was one of the things Tiresias liked about him, his warmth and energy that contrasted with the coldness and apathy from the Underworld.
Fuck it.
The seer gave in; they couldn’t suppress it any more, they raised their hands to grab the messenger’s face and, hesitantly but resolutely, pressed their lips together in a kiss.
Hermes was so surprised by Tiresias’ move that, at first, he had to let go of them before reciprocating and deepening the kiss, holding their face a bit more tightly. The messenger sensed a sudden and strong warmth in his chest, his heartbeat rushing, and it felt absolutely wonderful. He hadn’t realised he thought that passionately towards the seer. To be honest, he didn’t remember feeling like that for anyone for a very long time.
When they broke the kiss, Hermes looked at Tiresias, but instead of their familiar face and unseen gaze, an image flashed in his head. It wasn’t the prophet standing in front of him, no, it was a young man with short golden curls, he had beautiful light purple eyes and the biggest smile you could imagine. “Crocus”, murmured the god, a little perplexed.
The image flashed again, and this time the young man’s empty eyes were staring at him, his smile was gone, and the left side of his forehead was open, blood leaping from it.
But before Hermes could process what was happening or do anything about it, he was back to Tiresias’ case and was breathing heavily.
“H--Hermes?” concernedly asked the seer, “Is--is something wrong?”
The messenger had whispered a name, a name that didn’t ring a bell in Tiresias’ mind. He had then taken a step back, and the prophet, who had taken his hands, could now sense him slightly shaking.
“Hermes?” they gently repeated, a little worried, as it seemed the god hadn’t heard them before.
The messenger snapped back to reality at the voice of the seer calling his name.
“I--I’m sorry”, he answered, “what did you say?”
“I wanted to know–”, the images flashed again, “– why did you do this to me Hermes. Why?”
The god was freaking out; he was back, facing Crocus. The young man put his bloody hands on the messenger’s shoulders to hold himself up. His eyes were back to normal, staring at Hermes with a mix of fright and betrayal.
Tiresias saw the god fall on his knees in distress, his head down, his eyes closed, tugging at his curly hair and the feathers from his wings.
“I--I’m so sorry, I--I didn’t mean to.” Hermes pleaded. “Stay with me, please. Everything is going to be alright, I promise.”
The messenger seemed to be in some sort of nightmare. Oh no, what had the prophet done? Was it all their fault? They knew it; they should have buried their feelings deeper and never told him anything. The seer was now actively gasping for air.
No, they thought, they needed to pull themself together. They couldn’t both be freaking out. They needed to calm down and help Hermes.
Tiresias took a long breath and sat down before the god, lightly taking his hand so he would stop hurting himself.
“It’s alright Hermes, I'm here, and I won’t leave you,” reassured the prophet. “We’re both safe, you don’t have to worry”
The seer might not know what the god was going through, but they knew what it was like to get worked up about something nobody else could see, and what it was like going through it alone. They weren’t going to let that happen; they were going to stay seated here, holding the messenger’s hands for as long as he would need it.
They both stayed there in silence for a while. Tiresias was softly brushing the messenger’s hands and was paying close attention to his breathing, which was gradually slowing down.
Hermes opened his eyes, frantically looking around him. He was back at the seer’s den, for good this time, he hoped. The shade was sitting in front of him, holding his hands in a quiet posture.
“Tiresias?” he asked weakly.
“Hermes!” the prophet answered, relieved. “A--Are you okay? I--I was so scared, I couldn’t reach you, A--and I didn’t know what to do.”
The messenger looked up and saw the caring and worried expression on Tiresias’ face. “I feel better now, it’s all good darling”, he comforted.
“Are you sure?” he inquired, still worried.
“Yes”, he said, in the most reassuring voice he could. Hermes sighed, “I--I need to go now”, he simply said.
The god stood up, letting go of the seer’s hands. He turned in the direction of the exit, ready to fly out, when Tiresias grabbed his arm.
“A--are you coming back?” he asked in a muffled, panicked voice.
Hermes turned back to face him, “Of course darling”, he softly answered, kissing the prophet on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon.”
The trickster needed to speak with Aeolus; they had been the one to comfort him at Crocus’ death; they would know what to do.
~~*~~
After searching for a moment for where Aeolus could have settled their island this time, the messenger finally found it near the lotus-eaters’ island. It was a cloud-made, castle-shaped island, completely camouflaged from mortals, as from down there it just looked like a big cloud. But inside, everything was made of clouds, the walls, the furniture, everything. Winions were flying around, chasing each other, generally being their mischievous self. One of them noticed the messenger and approached him.
“Welcome!” she said in her little gremlin voice.
“Welcome, Princess Winion”, answered the god, “Is Aeolus there?”
“Over there!” She nodded enthusiastically, pointing in the direction of the living room.
“Thank you”, he said, flying in the given direction.
“Aeolus”, he shouted, “are you here?”
“Hermes?” they answered joyfully, “Is that you?”
“Why yes darling”, he said, trying to sound cheerful.
The wind god was fixing a hold in their walls, probably caused by careless Winions.
“Give me a minute, I'm coming. Please make yourself at home”, they offered warmly.
The messenger entered and sat down in an armchair. The wind god arrived on their cloud as usual, then placed themselves in front of Hermes and sat cross-legged in the other armchair.
“So, it’s been a while. How are you doing? Anything new in your life I should know about?” they asked enthusiastically.
Hermes sighed, “Well, that’s actually why I’m here. I--I need your help. It’s… about Crocus”, the god let out.
“Oh”, they said, putting on a thoughtful face, “Ok, I’m listening”
“I was with Tiresias earlier, and I got one of those memory visions”, he explained, “the ones I used to get when… when he… died.”
“Show me your head”, they urged, while placing themselves above the messenger, taking his helmet off.
“Hey, what are you doing!?” he growled.
“Stay still, I’m trying to see how much damage you’ve done,” they pointed out.
The wind god grabbed Hermes’ wings, stretching them out as wide as possible to examine them.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, confused and a little annoyed.
“You might have forgotten, but when you have one of these crises, you tend to pull your hair and feathers”, they explained, while inspecting the god’s wings.
They were right, Hermes remembered now, it would hurt for days, and he was also so ashamed of it, he would ask them to cover it up so that the other Olympians wouldn’t find out. He assumed that hiding how much his lover’s death affected him from his family would ease his pain, but it didn’t. Aeolus was the only one he talked to at the time; if the other gods suspected anything, they didn’t mention it.
“It seems fine”, they finally stated, “you only pull off a few feathers, nothing too noticeable, and your hair is good.”
As they sat back in their chair, Hermes replied, “Well, that's probably thanks to Tiresias. When they saw me fall, they took my hands and patiently waited for me to calm down.” He clarified, lightly blushing, remembering how gentle and caring the prophet was.
“There is something you’re not telling me”, Aeolus noted, leaning towards the god, a suspicious look on their face.
The messenger leaned back on the seat, “I don’t know what you mean”, he said, blushing harder, avoiding his friend's eyes.
“Hermes”, they stated, in a severe voice, “what triggered the episode?”
“Argh… Fine”, he conceded, “I--We… kissed”, he let out quietly.
“What was that?” they teased, “I didn’t hear you.”
“We kissed!” he yelled out. “Go on, you can tease me all you want about it. Tell me ‘I told you so’, then we can go back to the problem.”
“So, you do like them”, they said, a grinning smile on their face.
“I--I think I so, it’s… complicated”, he hesitantly replied.
“In what way?” they calmly asked. “Stop me if I’m wrong, but you care for them, you always make sure they take care of themself, you bring them thoughtful gifts pretty much every time you visit, and… oh, you were so jealous of Polites…”
“I wasn’t jealous!” he interjected defensively.
“Really?” Aeolus asked sceptically.
“I–”, the god thought about it for a second, “Okay, maybe a little bit”, he admitted reluctantly.
“Listen, I know dating has been hard for you since Crocus and whatever happened with Circe,” they started, “But you finally found someone else than me, to whom you can talk about everything and be vulnerable. Do you really want to abandon that? To abandon them? They at least deserve an explanation.”
“Why are you always right on this?” he said, irritated.
Aeolus took the messenger’s hands. “One last thing, you two need to talk, be honest with them and yourself about how you feel.”
“Yikes, no need to be this cheesy about it”, he smirked, rolling his eyes.
“Not my fault, that’s how you are with your lovers”, they countered, a grin on their face.
Hermes smiled at the comment. He wished his friend goodbye and headed back to the Underworld. That wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.
~~*~~
Tiresias was lying on their bed, replaying the interaction that had just happened. What happened to Hermes? Was it the seer’s fault? The god left so suddenly. Was he really coming back? The prophet didn’t know what to think of that. They decided to take a walk to clear their mind. They stood up, took their staff and started wandering in a random direction, trying to clear their mind.
“Tiresias?” asked a distant voice, “Is that you?”
“Polites?” answered the seer, heading towards his friend’s voice, “What are you doing here?” The prophet was pleasantly surprised to see their friend.
“I came to see you. It’s been a long time since the last time we met”, he simply said. “Plus, I finally got Patroclus and Achilles to babysit Astyanax for me. What about you? Is there a reason why you are wandering around?”
Tiresias sighed, “I think I messed up”, they declared.
“Messed up what?” kindly asked the former soldier.
“With Hermes”, they clarified, “I kissed him, and then… he left. I don’t know what to do, he said he was coming back, but what if he doesn’t?”
Polites saw his friend begin shaking and breathing heavily, so he stepped forward and took them into an embrace. The prophet melted into his arms, a few tears rolling down their cheek. The two of them stayed like that for a bit before Polites comforted Tiresias and told them to occupy their mind while waiting for Hermes’ return.
~~*~~
As much as the shade had tried to think about anything else, the god was all they had in mind. They were keeping an ear out for any noise that might indicate that the messenger was coming back.
“Tiresias?” a voice inquired.
“Hermes”, shouted Tiresias, walking in the direction of the god’s voice.
Hermes rushed in the seer’s direction and hugged them tightly as if, if he didn’t, Tiresias would disappear forever.
“Thanks Hades, you're alright. I was so scared you’d do something you’d regret just because of me,” he claimed, distressed in his voice. “Are you alright? Are you hurt darling?”
“I--I’m alright, Hermes, you don’t have to worry”, they said amiably.
“I’m so sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to push you away”, he apologised.
Tiresias opened their mouth to answer, but Hermes shut them up by placing a finger on the seer’s lips.
“Let me explain”, he pleaded.
Tiresias nodded.
“When you kissed me, it reminded me of an old lover of mine, whose name was Crocus. It… didn’t end well, and it took me months to even go back to work. Thanatos had to replace me, and he wasn’t very happy about it and… I'm rambling, I guess what I'm trying to say is…” the god was searching his words. It was harder than he thought it would be.
“I--I could”, Tiresias started hesitantly, “I mean, if it is easier for you, I--you could show me”, they said shyly, holding out their hands for Hermes to grab.
“What do you mean?” curiously asked the messenger.
“Well, my prophetic powers allow me to see someone's futures but also their past. Though it is a bit different for gods, as they need to permit me”, they carefully explained.
“What does that mean exactly?” answered to god, still confused.
“Give me your hands”, they instructed, and Hermes complied. “Ok, now comes the harder part. You need to think about what you want me to see”
“Ok, give me a second”, he answered. The god took a deep breath and tried to remember what had happened around a century ago.
Tiresias' mind flashed as they saw a young man, Crocus, they assumed. He was on a terrain, a discus terrain, and he was counting how far the object had gone.
“47 meters (≈154 feet)”, he shouted excitedly, “That’s my new best”.
“It’s great love”, Hermes answered.
Tiresias felt themself getting flooded by emotions; it was Hermes’ from that moment. It was a mix of pride and deep, sincere love.
It flashed again, and Tiresias was now struck by an immense pain, not physical pain but emotional pain. Crocus was now lying dead on the ground, blood spilling on the ground from his fractured skull. Hermes ran by his side and collapsed. Tiresias saw the panic in the god's eyes as he tried to stop the bleeding. But it was too late.
The vision stopped, Tiresias was back in the Underworld, Hermes had let go of his hands, and they were both crying.
“I am so sorry for you, Hermes, I didn’t know”, the prophet apologised, still feeling some of the pain.
“You couldn’t have darling, and it was a long time ago.” Reassured the god, weeping tears on his face. “And I thought it wouldn’t affect me, or at least not as much.”
As he saw the prophet take a step back and withdraw himself, the messenger took a step forward. He gently took their face in his hands, smoothly taking their blindfold off, using it to clean the seer’s face.
“Your eyes are beautiful dear”, he said fondly, hoping to brighten Tiresias’ mood. And it seemed to have worked at least a little because he saw the prophet blush at the compliment.
Hermes leaned closer and softly kissed Tiresias. The prophet shyly returned the kiss, leaning into the touch as they put their hands on Hermes’ waist.