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Sometimes, when Apollo looked at Hermes, he still saw that little godling from so many centuries ago, eyes sparkling with mischief and tongue dripping with lies.
Most times, he couldn’t imagine how that godling had grown up into what he was.
The dusty, dark blonde curls had turned to salt and pepper, his hair more disheveled than delightfully messy. The pure white wings at his temples were hardly ever present, and when they were, they had touches of silver on the coverts, like even his feathers had gone gray from stress. The mischievous little kid he’d loved had been replaced by a tired man who lived for nothing but his work and followed their father’s every order like a worshipper would.
Hermes was insistent that gods didn’t change, but these days, Apollo could hardly recognize his brother.
He and Hermes had been close, back in the day. One cattle theft, one lyre invention, an embarrassing amount of threats against a godling smaller than he had been when he first fought Python, and several hours of trade negotiations had earned Apollo a shadow who was seemingly attached to his heels. He’d taught Hermes the ways of Olympus and tried to keep him out of trouble, though he was rarely successful with the latter. He had liked having a little brother to teach, despite Hermes doing his best to make him go gray, especially when Dionysus ascended and he gained a second sibling constantly on his heels, this one somehow more troublesome than the last. Even when they were on his last nerves and determined to wreck his sanity, he loved his little brothers to bits and pieces.
So he and Hermes had been close, but somewhere along the line, the two of them had drifted apart. Apollo wanted to pretend he didn’t know how it had happened, but he’d always been bad at lying to himself. He knew the reason.
The reason being him, of course. He’d spent so many centuries turning himself upside down and inside out and making himself as small as possible for his father’s sake, to try and keep himself in Zeus’s good graces and not give the lightning a reason to strike. He’d been so focused on himself, on not getting hurt, that he’d neglected almost everything and everyone that he’d devoted himself to in the past. Even Artemis hadn’t been spared, let alone his other siblings.
Looking back, with all the lessons he’d learned from his trials, from the amazing mortals he was blessed to have been one of, he regretted that more than anything.
Apollo had let himself drift away from his siblings. From everyone else he loved. But his trials, as difficult and agonizing and terrifying as they had been, had somehow pulled him back to shore. They’d given him a taste of everything he had been denying himself. He couldn’t go back to living the way he had. Not after everything he’d been through.
Apollo was done drifting. He was going to pull himself back to the people he loved, no matter how hard the currents pushed him away. And once he reached them, he wasn’t letting go. Not ever again.
He was going to find Hermes and invite him out to that diner he knew his brother loved. Maybe good food would be able to bring them back together.
Or he would have to find something else. That would be fine. He had an eternity again, and he didn’t intend to waste any more time.