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Apollo had decided that he was never getting out of bed again, thank you very much.
The lecture he’d gotten the other day was still ringing in his ears, the lightning still sparking in his veins even though the marks had faded from his skin. He didn’t want to face the world like this, and for once he was going to listen to his wants.
He didn’t deserve it, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care about that.
His plans of melting into the mattress were, annoyingly, interrupted by his little brother throwing open his door and practically skipping into his room like he owned the place.
“We’re going out on the town,” Dionysus announced.
Apollo buried himself further in his blankets. “‘M not in the mood.”
“Too bad, so sad,” Dionysus sing-songed.
Apollo grumbled, not bothering to leave his little burrow. He heard his brother moving around his room, opening and closing drawers.
Eventually he heard the sheets shifting and felt the bed he was laying on dip down slightly. Apollo finally poked his head out of his blankets.
Dionysus sat on the edge of the bed, with what looked like half of the contents of Apollo’s vanity spread out over the sheets. “Up you come,” he said, taking Apollo’s hand and pulling him into a sitting position. “We’re going to get you all dolled up, and then I’m taking you out. Or I make cocktails and we do drunk Shakespeare in your kitchen, if you really can’t stand to show your pretty face to the public.”
Apollo let out the most dramatic sigh he could pull from his ragged throat. From Dionysus’s frown, it was more pitiful than anything.
Apollo’s face was made up with the practiced ease of someone who’d done it a hundred thousand times. He closed his eyes and let it happen, listening to Dionysus thinking out loud and letting his brother’s voice drown out the rest of the world.
Dionysus’s fingers were long and graceful, his nails painted a deep red that shimmered purple in the light. The delicate look to his hands was deceptive, because his grip on Apollo’s chin was firm and immovable. Apollo could smell the flowery perfume he’d dabbed on his wrist- hyacinths, stolen from his own collection.
“You’re the god of the sun, brother mine. And you’re a social creature besides.” Dionysus dusted a glittery gold blush on his cheekbones and over the bridge of his nose. “Drowning yourself here, all on your own in the dark, does you no good and you know it.”
“It’s the simplest thing.”
Dionysus scoffed. “The simplest thing would be to let people help you. What with how ridiculously adored you are, it has to be much more difficult to do things on your own.”
Apollo hummed noncommittally.
His brother sighed. “Well, like it or not, you’re not alone. I’m not leaving until I get you out of bed, so you’re going to have to deal with it.”
A tiny brush danced across his face, painting some sort of design around his eyes.
Dionysus continued talking softly as he worked, narrating what he was doing and deciding on colors and telling him the bits and pieces of gossip he’d heard on his way there. Apollo added his own commentary, whenever he could get his voice to cooperate, but he was mostly content to listen.
Eventually, his face was finished. Dionysus handed Apollo his favorite handmirror- the one he’d gotten as a gift from Terpsichore millennia ago- and let him admire himself while he moved behind him to do his hair.
The makeup was fairly light, though his whole face shimmered faintly. The glitter in his blush dotted his face like freckles, and his mascara was deep blue, matching the sharp wings of his liner. His eyelids were dusted with sparkling gold, flowing sunrays painted under his lower lashes. His lips were a natural pink, but they sparkled slightly. Very kissable, if he did say so himself.
He certainly didn’t look like someone who’d spent the past week drowning in their own misery.
Dionysus was able to get his hair into a manageable state, then he weaved two waterfall braids across Apollo’s head. Simple, but pretty, and it looked like he’d actually put effort into his appearance.
“Look at you.” Dionysus admired his work. “There he is. I knew Apollo was in there somewhere. Let’s get you dressed.”
Apollo wasn’t entirely sure he was, but he let Dionysus pull him to his feet and towards his closet regardless. He couldn’t find it in himself to deny his little brother.
And maybe he did feel a little bit better. Not that he would ever admit that.