Chapter Text
The first time Hermes saw Tiresias, he was walking home with his siblings. It was a Friday early afternoon. He recalled feeling the sharp wind blow through his hair on this typical early-spring day. The group walked along the sunlit track by the playground, chattering away. Cherishing the little time he'd get to spend with them just as family, Hermes half-listened.
"It's just that, why would Father ever ask us to attend this rehearsal? I mean, we've got plenty of things to do at the start of this semester! Like our debate team, Apollo's got the musical, Hermes has his bunch of school ops to handle, and the annual club fair just cuts into our time at such a busy point? We don't need a rehearsal to know what to say anyway..."
"Well 'thena, you are indeed the host! You and Aphrodite just can't miss the rehearsal!" Athena sighed in response to Apollo. "Oh, and without Ares, that entire curtain might just fall on you..."
"That's why I hate spending time on this," Hermes heard her grumbling. As a matter of fact, being the children of the headmaster of Epic the High School wasn't the only reason they formed the popular group; and honestly, the siblings always managed to carry their weight.
It was the last semester his oldest sister Athena would spend in high school, and Apollo's third year. The two upperclassmen had kept their school affairs running smoothly with their impressive competence while coping with mounting academic pressure. It reminded him how efficient and dedicated he ought to be as a part of the Olympics family. (-But screw that! He wasn't doing any of his "duties" if those duties tied him down.)
At the very least, I'll pitch in more with my trivial duties—ones that many teachers could handle for me but still hoped I'd attend. Hermes made a silent commitment and hoped it would last for... dunno, a week?
*A light graze on his shoulder interrupted his daydreaming.
"Watch out, dawlin'..." His voice kicked in before he could think, and he turned to the passerby. In a fleeting glance, all he could see was their silky silver hair slipping from their covered temple.
At first sight, he would've sworn a cloud had glided past him.
The stranger limped for a moment before managing to regain their balance, muttering a barely audible "I'm sorry," then walked in the opposite direction.
Hermes was a little stunned. Why were the people at his school so good-looking? He knew he was attractive—some (or many) of his schoolmates wanted to date him. But a stranger, someone who clearly had nothing to do with the core group of popular students, could have the same effect? At first sight? Oh my me, that was a wonder.
It took Hermes a few minutes to collect his thoughts (he didn't have any more room for daydreaming anyway). He replayed the encounter in his mind, searching for more details about the "hooded figure." He remembered they were wearing a grey hoodie that hid most of their face, so he couldn't make out their expression clearly; a white earbud wire peeked out, slightly tangled in their unkempt hair. They had on black jeans, but they were so slim that the jeans looked oversized—not that it clashed with the hoodie, though.
"Do you think we can stuff Dionysus into one of Hermes' storage boxes to get him into the winter formal? They won't let middle schoolers in" Aphrodite said half-seriously, while Ares stared at her wide-eyed, seemingly weighing the idea. Hermes grinned. That helped pull his thoughts back (temporarily).
It would be fun to put the hoodie guy in an open box. The thought popped into his head unannounced, painting a vivid picture of them with their knees tucked to their chest, fluffy snow-like hair falling messily around their shoulders. It must be quite a sight to look down at the boy sitting there, so small and cozy, on a library trolley. With that thought, he kept walking.
As it turned out, five minutes later, just as the group was about to exit the school gate, Hades stopped him and asked him to do some library chores. Despite having plenty of excuses to get out of it, Hermes ended up going with Hades anyway. He knew Hades only called on him when necessary, and Hades' sharp tongue meant nothing (though it had taken him a while to realize that).
Organizing the school library was one of those tasks Hermes usually skipped. His name was still on the weekly duty schedule, under Thursday, but the facilities—compared to those of the gym—didn't need such frequent maintenance. Back at the start of last term, when he'd had time to check on the library, everything had been in perfect order. The students who made full use of it (nerds, perhaps) seemed to take good care of the equipment, so it had only taken a dozen days for Hermes to completely forget about his bookshelf-caring routine. And Hades, the head librarian, was an old acquaintance of his father's; he'd been at the school long enough to fully understand how the student leaders and popular kids divided their precious time. Hades had even covered for Hermes once when Zeus had made an unannounced visit to the library on a Thursday. Besides, whenever he was asked to rearrange the shelves—which happened rarely, about once a month—he'd see volunteers rushing around the entire library, carrying huge piles of books, while Hades (and sometimes Ms. Persephone) darted between tasks, seeming busier than usual.
So he grabbed his trolley, hauled giant cardboard boxes toward the building, and unfolded the layout sketch. The first two sections were... less boring, but the reorganization process itself was torture. He had to arrange all the books in exact order. The constant head-turning made him dizzy and sleepy at the same time. After ten minutes of trying to focus and another five mourning his lost free time, he reluctantly turned his attention back to the bookshelves. Trailing along endless rows, pulling out and replacing books—it was truly agonizing.
Contemporary literature...? Why the hell was Introduction to Counting & Probability here?? Hermes thought, leaning slightly downward, his eyes aching. He scanned the room for the 519 Statistics section, only to be met with unmarked shelves.
The library was quiet, with only a few people browsing the shelves besides unlucky students like him. Hermes sighed softly and pulled over the guidebook.
Wait a second—was that the boy he'd just seen...?
He couldn't have mistaken those loose strands of hair, could he? The strands drifted slightly as the boy stood between the rows, his eyes fixed on the books. It was almost hypnotic, drawing Hermes' eyes to his. A mix of green and light grey filled the other's eyes, as if piercing through the books he was staring at. The shelves blocked most of his face, but Hermes somehow knew he was studying the book intensely. Leaning closer, he could even see him using a handheld magnifier. On the other side of the wooden shelf, the boy reached out for a book. Hermes swore their hands almost collided—only a few centimeters apart on the same shelf layer. Time seemed to freeze for that second, making the slow process of them both pulling books from the shelf at the same time feel endless. The books moved aside, revealing the full face of the boy he'd passed earlier. Before Hermes could react to his new discovery, he realized the boy was looking at him. Directly in the eye.
Strangers staring at him was an everyday occurrence—maybe in the auditorium, mostly when he walked by with his family. But this was different. Totally different from the admiring or annoyed looks from his peers, or the approving (or disapproving) glances from teachers. That gaze pierced straight into his soul, as if seeing his true self, making all his pretenses transparent. It was scary at first, but Hermes found himself liking it at the same time; it didn't feel threatening, just curious—much like the way he'd been studying the boy seconds earlier. And despite its sharpness, it felt good to have someone look at him so intensely, to take him seriously (even if he couldn't be sure that's what the boy was doing, just from a glance). He held the boy's gaze, a smile spreading across his face. There was a connection here. And he owed all of it to the beauty of those sharp, green eyes.
How could a single eye contact make such a difference? The eyes were attractive, of course, but there was a tension building between them—something electric.
It took him a few seconds to realize why: he'd been staring this entire time. The moment the thought hit him, he turned away, flustered, a faint red creeping up his cheeks.
Damn it! He'd been so focused that he'd forgotten to take in that beautiful face.
His excitement grew when he noticed they were walking parallel to each other along the huge wooden shelves. Guess he'd get a good look at the boy who'd caught his attention after all~
So he leaned this way and that, trying to catch glimpses through the gaps. As someone who was good at this kind of hiding game, it didn't take much effort to get a full view of the other's face. His features were delicate and well-proportioned, and Hermes couldn't think of a better way to describe how harmonious they were. He was completely focused on the books around him, concentration etched on his face, his lips slightly parted—an expression that looked like a mix of bittersweetness and peace. Hermes thought the way he tilted his head to read was... cute. He kept working as he watched. Having someone "keep him company" warmed his heart, as if they'd been together for years. Even just walking side by side in silence was comforting, the invisible barrier between them fading away (mentally, at least).
When they reached the end of the bookshelf row, Hermes watched the boy turn left and disappear into the maze of shelves. NOOO--
Hermes hurried back, tiptoeing through the other shelves, trying to figure out where he'd gone—even as he wondered why he was doing this. I must have lost my mind, he thought, his feet still moving quickly, betraying his panic.
Miraculously, he spotted the boy in the public reading area. Hermes recognized his hoodie, and just as he stepped into the room, he saw the grey shadow pull down the hood. All of a sudden, the blur of the world around him lifted—everything snapped into sharp focus. Silver-white hair spilled forth like liquid starlight, cascading in loose waves down to his shoulders—thick, and somehow luminous. It wasn't just light; it was a cascade of pale, shimmering strands that caught the soft room light, casting a faint glow around him. He froze, struck by the sight—there was something almost ethereal about it, a quiet holiness mixed with breathtaking beauty. Like sunlight filtering through snow.
Oh.
Then Hades tapped him on the shoulder, giving him a look that said both "be quiet" and "get back to work," before gently herding him back to the bookshelves.
What a shame, wasn't it? Not really. Hermes had quickly snapped a photo in those split seconds. No more mental snapshots—he had the real thing now.
Now he had a distraction to keep him company while rearranging the books. And thanks to his admin privileges—courtesy of Circe's father, Helios, a physics teacher who was "forced" to "volunteer" his account to the two of them—he managed to pull up records for his new "subject," now known as Tiresias-what a WONDERFUL name!-using the facial recognition system.
And on the first line of their file, it said:
Voluntary Permanent Withdrawal
After that, the rest was blocked.
Even though he had little experience using search engines to look people up (he barely needed to, since he could just talk to them directly), Hermes knew how unreliable his school's system could be. He searched for more information anyway, but was met with a "no results" message in the center of the screen. Several other teachers and students popped up in the side panel, though. So it must have been an error to seal his file. Hermes assumed. Their class schedules barely overlapped, but he did notice a familiar name on the list.
✨H3RM35✨: Hey Circe
✨H3RM35✨: Do you know this guy
✨H3RM35✨: [photo]
Knowing Circe probably wouldn't reply right away (that was their usual texting style), Hermes locked his phone, let out a sigh of relief, and went back to work. Somehow, his intrusive thoughts were gone.
4 p.m. His part was finally over, ending with the soft click of a book sliding into its rightful place on the shelf. He'd kept his promise to help, earned a faint nod of approval from Hades, and even broken his personal speed record, according to Hades.
Just as he decided whether to go home or grab a quick volleyball game, he walked past the study area, and his pace slowed.
What if there was more to enjoy at the library~?
So, uncharacteristically for him, he sat down in the volunteer station chair and casually picked up a fashion magazine to hide his amused gaze.
"You should note that library duties can't be swapped for volunteer hours," Hades appeared out of nowhere, reminding him that this little detour wouldn't earn him extra credit. But that hadn't been Hermes' intention anyway.
"Of course, sir. But it's never too late to do something nice for our fellow students, right?" Hermes replied with a charming smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Hades just gave him a suspicious look and walked away.
Tiresias was only a few meters away, studying the books he'd picked out earlier, which were spread flat on the table. He had a workbook in one hand and a mountain of scratch paper beside him; his legs hung loosely under the chair, swinging slightly at a relaxed pace, creating a cozy atmosphere along with the soft rustle of turning pages. Hermes curled his fingers around his phone, holding it at a slight upward angle—the lens framed part of his own face perfectly, making it look like a selfie, while casually capturing Tiresias studying in the background.
Hermes glanced at the magazine, flipping through the pages casually. It was boring and totally out of style, but he found his boredom was manageable. Who even thought that basic T-shirts were "modern and versatile" anyway?
He swore, for a moment, he actually enjoyed relaxing here, just sitting in the chair. And the vintage fur coats on the last page looked perfect. That was real fashion. But he'd never been one to rest for long. A notification buzzed on his phone right on cue.
CIRCLEEEEE: ?
CIRCLEEEEE: What d'you mean, Hermes?
✨H3RM35✨: d u know him
✨H3RM35✨: u take same class
CIRCLEEEEE: Yess we share biology
CIRCLEEEEE: Helped us a lot with the final project
CIRCLEEEEE: They have so many creative ideas, and I think they drew the basic outline for our work
✨H3RM35✨: 🤔
CIRCLEEEEE: Dependable, if he's your new study partner or sth
✨H3RM35✨: what about their after-school stuff?
CIRCLEEEEE: ???
CIRCLEEEEE: I don't really know who he hangs out with
✨H3RM35✨: thats..not surprising tho
CIRCLEEEEE: Maybe some nerds?
CIRCLEEEEE: I only saw him talking to upperclassmen about some AP courses
CIRCLEEEEE: Does he even have a friend group(?
CIRCLEEEEE: LITERALLY you're being weird
✨H3RM35✨: what
CIRCLEEEEE: R u doing that peer support mentorship program for community service hours??
CIRCLEEEEE: Like, he's that "waving through a window" kid
✨H3RM35✨: actually im into him 🥰
✨H3RM35✨: 🥰🥰
CIRCLEEEEE: ???? You mean it?
✨H3RM35✨: [photo]
CIRCLEEEEE: 👀
✨H3RM35✨: not yet👀
✨H3RM35✨: just you wait
CIRCLEEEEE: Huh. I see. You've got a crush.
CIRCLEEEEE: 🙏Praying your attention span lasts more than 6 days
✨H3RM35✨: 🙏praying to get his snap asap
Hermes looked up from his phone screen to see Tiresias packing up his things, getting ready to leave. Panic surged through him. Sure, he'd had crushes before, but he'd never felt like this. What if they never got another chance to even get to know each other?
Nononono. He knew his anxiety wasn't helping, and he had plenty of other ways to track Tiresias down—by digging up a little more info, by figuring out all his classes—but he couldn't help wondering if he and Tiresias would ever get to be together like this again, in silence. He hated silence usually, and he'd love to be loud and playful with Tiresias, but he could tell that silence was Tiresias' preference, so he'd go along with it. Just the two of them. By the end of his rambling thoughts, he knew he had to do something—to save their yet-to-be-built relationship; to make it last, so that Tiresias would be tied to him, if not forever, then at least for a while.
So he took a shallow breath and walked over to him. Tiresias was trying to put one of his books back on a nearby shelf, looking confused by the unfamiliar arrangement. Hermes smiled. He had no idea it was him who'd rearranged everything—yet.
Hermes knew he couldn't (and shouldn't) hit on him or try to convince him to stay longer at the library. He had some basic manners, didn't he? And he had the common sense to know that most people at this school had tight schedules. He didn't want to disrupt this classmate's routine, especially since he was still a stranger. But he could offer a helping hand.
"We just rearranged the books, so may I help you put that back?" Hermes said, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would jump out of his chest. Flirting with someone he'd fallen for at first sight, before even becoming friends, was more nerve-wracking than he'd expected. As he spoke, he watched Tiresias' reaction, trying to gauge how the conversation was going. But Tiresias just stared at his feet, his expression unreadable (at least to Hermes). Maybe he was judging his offer, Hermes thought, unable to come up with a clearer conclusion.
"...Thank you." Ohhhh he said yes! A surge of excitement and elation rushed through him. Tiresias held out the book, and Hermes took it. Acting on a small impulse, he reached out a little farther than necessary. To his surprise (or maybe not), their hands brushed against each other. Just lightly, but it was enough. Tiresias' skin felt thin and delicate, and Hermes found himself wanting to feel it more. Touches. Sensation.
Tiresias still kept his head down, but his brows furrowed slightly. He didn't seem to take the accidental (or not-so-accidental) physical contact seriously, though—he just let the book transfer happen without a word.
Then he turned to leave, pulling his hood back up.
"Wait!" Hermes exclaimed, making Tiresias stop and look back.
Can we swap numbers?
"Don't pull that hood up, darling—you look amazing with your hair down..."
"...I'm sorry, I'm not used to that." He paused, standing still just two feet away from Hermes, then gave his answer. An unfathomable look, mixed with a hint of gentleness, crossed his face. For some unknown reason, Hermes couldn't look away.
Then Tiresias left, and Hermes was left standing there, awestruck, with a newfound passion burning inside him. For a boy he'd only known for about four hours.
CIRCLEEEEE: Wait, are you still at the library?
CIRCLEEEEE: I mean, you and him?
CIRCLEEEEE: I thought we could play a volleyball match together :'(
CIRCLEEEEE: Nooooo——
CIRCLEEEEE: But here's my lovely little cousins singing for foreverJUST LISTEN
CIRCLEEEEE: [video]
CIRCLEEEEE: I LOVE MY GIRLS
CIRCLEEEEE: Hermes??
CIRCLEEEEE: Guess our lovebird flew the coop
✨H3RM35✨: hafksldjkgeaijlsifhissooooocuteshgddsljghdkfj
CIRCLEEEEE: ????
That evening, he went home, couldn't focus on any of his assignments, and went to bed hoping the love spell he was under would fade by the next day. It didn't, but every now and then, during breaks in his volleyball training, his mind would wander back to the question: how can I get to him?
Not being able to reach you, physically or emotionally—it’s hard to get to you.
He thought, then spiked the ball harder.
So he really shouldn't be surprised to see Tiresias walking towards him at the winter formal the very next day, should he?