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The mornings were made for moments like these, Achilles thought. He’d gone to meet his mother particularly early this morning so that he could make it back to his room just as the sun was rising, filling his room with golden light. It made everything appear as if it was plated with gold and he loved that look. He gazed around the room, saving the best sight for last- the real reason he crept out his window before even the servants were attending to their morning chores.
Most mornings when he would arrive home in the morning, Patroclus would already be awake and asking him about his mother. Rarely would Achilles return to find his companion still asleep, but these were the moments he treasured. He stared at Patroclus, cloaked in golden light and thought he’d never seen a better sight. His dark skin combined with the sun made him look like a gilded bronze statue. Achilles knew he’d never forget it as long as he lived. He quietly sat on the edge of his bed and studied his sleeping friend. His freckles made constellations that would put the night sky to shame. Achilles wanted to connect them with his fingers, but knew better lest he scare Patroclus away with his shameful desires.
He could tell Patroclus was dreaming by the way his eyelids fluttered. He longed to know what filled his dreams. Did he dream of home, with his mother and father and everything he had left behind? Did he dream of beaches and sand and the waves crashing upon the shore?
Did he dream of Achilles the way Achilles dreamt of him?
Every night was the same: flashes of thick dark curls, freckles scattered across rich skin, and a smile so wide it seemed to split the face that wore it. It startled him the first night. He woke up sweaty, breathing hard and worried that Patroclus would see his face and know Achilles had dreamt of touching him. Now, Achilles welcomed the dreams. In them, he didn’t have to hold back. He didn’t have to hold back the urge to kiss Patroclus until he was flushed the color of pomegranate seeds. He could trace his fingers across his shoulders, collar bones, jaw line- whatever he pleased. Achilles didn’t know if this made him freakish or even what Patroclus would say if he knew, but he found he didn’t mind. They were his dreams, he could do what he wanted in them.
As if he could feel Achilles eyes on him, Patroclus stirred. As Achilles watched his friend begin to wake, he was overwhelmed with an urgency to see his beautiful brown eyes. He lept from the bed and jumped onto Patroclus’ cot, straddling his friend and pressing their noses together. Startled by the jarring motion of the bed, Patroclus let out a small yelp, his eyes opening wide with shock. Achilles watched, worried that he had overstepped his boundaries when Patroclus’ face morphed into one of elation. Achilles’ matched it with a look of his own and laid down next to his friend on the single person cot. Their bodies were pressed so close Achilles could feel his friend’s breathe on his neck sending shock waves through his body.
Achilles broke the silence first. "Good Morning, Sunshine."
Patroclus blushed and Achilles couldn't help the part of his chest that tightened knowing he was the cause.
“Good Morning to you, too. You’re up early?”
“I went to see my mother.”
“How is she?”
Achilles smiled, even though his mother detested him, Patroclus never failed to ask about her wellbeing. He knew this would do little to change her opinion of him, but it warmed Achilles. “She is fine. She says hello.”
Patroclus’ eyebrows shot up. “She does?”
“No.” Achilles smiled and Patroclus smiled back before they burst into laughter. Both of them knew the goddess would never in a million years send a ‘hello’ for him. The thought was ludicrous.
“Well, when you go next, send a hello from me.” Patroclus was still smiling and Achilles nodded. He didn’t have the heart to tell him he would never relay the message. He didn’t think his mother would appreciate that gesture no matter how sincerely Patroclus meant it.
They continued to lay face to face, their bodies pressed together in the small space of Patroclus’ cot. Achilles realized that it wasn’t the most comfortable pallet and made a mental note to ask his father for a better one to replace it.
It was silent in the room as the two just stared at each other, neither wanting to move first and stop the moment. Achilles felt like his heart was going to burst with adoration for the boy laying across from him. He started to feel overwhelmed by the intensity of Patroclus’ stare, and decided he needed to move before he did something to jeopardize their friendship. He rolled over him and off the cot to get ready for breakfast. Patroclus made a noise of protest when Achilles crushed him with his movements, but remained down and silent while Achilles washed his face and readied himself for the day. Achilles felt eyes on his back and something welled up in his chest at the notion that Patroclus couldn’t keep his eyes off him anymore than Achilles could.
Finally when Achilles was ready, he turned to lightly chide Patroclus on his inability to get out of bed just to see that his friend had fallen back asleep. His lips were slightly parted and Achilles resisted the urge to lean down and press a soft kiss to them.
He smiled at the image and turned to head down to breakfast. At the door, he paused and spared one last look.
Yes, Achilles thought to himself, this is certainly what mornings were made for.