Chapter Text
Bri doesn't care much for Achilles.
She says he's full of himself, that his ego was too big for his stupidly hard head. Which, maybe it was true that Achilles was just a bit too prideful, but there was nothing wrong with that. If Patroclus was nearly as talented as his boyfriend, he'd probably boast just as often. Patroclus thinks deep down Bri is just worried about him, but it gets old to listen to his best friend grumble about Achilles.
Which is why it's so strange she accompanies Patroclus to one of Achilles' meets. It's on campus, sure, but it's also during the weekend. Usually Bri would sleep in until the afternoon and go out with friends later. Patroclus didn't think she'd be caught dead on the track field at nine in the morning.
"I miss you," she'd explained. "Your dumb boyfriend has been taking up all your time. Is that even healthy?" At the time, Patroclus had only tilted his head in confusion. He didn't think he spent too much of his time with Achilles. His boyfriend would come over most days and spend the night more nights than not, and Achilles walked him to class and to his car, and they ate most of their meals together…
Fine, so maybe they were around each other a lot. But Patroclus never grew bored of Achilles. There wasn't the threat of his social meter draining and exhaustion settling in from being around people for too long. Achilles was just… different.
Patroclus has a notebook open in his lap and his textbook turned to a specific page on the seat next to him. On his other side is Bri, hunched over with her feet propped on the guardrail. She types on her phone a little more aggressively than necessary. Bri had been annoyed that Patroclus insisted they go to Achilles' meet before doing anything else that day, but he wouldn't miss one of Achilles' events for anything.
"Where's Golden Boy?" Bri asks, not looking up from her phone. She'd called Achilles that ever since Patroclus first described him: he has the nicest golden hair. It had started out as a way to tease Patroclus for his crush, but it ended up sticking. It was absolutely mortifying when she pulled the nickname when Achilles was with them.
"On his way." Patroclus jots down a few notes in his book. "He woke up late." He doesn't know why his stomach flutters with nerves. Achilles never did poorly during a match, always winning a medal or trophy or breaking some sort of record. Patroclus wonders if it's because Bri is here for once. It's as if her presence would affect Achilles' performance, or Patroclus wants Achilles to do well so Bri can begin to see what Patroclus saw when he looked at his boyfriend.
"Nope, he's right here!" Patroclus turns at the familiar voice and can't help the wide smile that stretches across his face. He climbs over Bri to meet Achilles at the stairs of the stadium seating, much to his friend's irritation.
Achilles is pretty as ever. He has his hair tied in a ponytail, and he wears their school colors on his jersey. Patroclus thinks he looks wonderful all the time, but he secretly appreciates this get up a little more than some of Achilles' other outfits. The shorts, for one, were too tight to leave much to imagination and hugged his ass just right.
Patroclus grabs Achilles by the face and kisses him, sighing contently through his nose. Now everything felt right again, even as Bri was making gagging sounds from behind him. "Don't you need to get down to the field?" Patroclus asks, leaning back just enough so their noses brush together. Achilles was just barely on time to talk to his coach before starting. The other teams were already stretching and warming up on the other side of the field.
"Sure, but I needed to see you first." Achilles backs away reluctantly, one hand reaching to take Patroclus'. "I couldn't possibly start without saying hi to my lucky charm." Patroclus almost hates himself for how he swoons. As if Achilles relied on him for his victories and not his ridiculous ability to be amazing at everything.
"You're both revolting," Bri says.
"Missed you too," Achilles replies. He didn't exactly love her either, but he didn't complain for Patroclus' sake.
His coach must have spotted him, because the man is yelling at him to stop fucking around and come down already. "I'll be rooting for you," Patroclus murmurs. A promise just for the two of them.
Achilles lifts Patroclus' hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. "I'll win just for you." He says it before every match, but it still makes Patroclus' heart leap every time. Their routine was disgustingly sentimental, and Patroclus loves it that way.
His boyfriend leaves with one last wave to Patroclus and Bri. "I'll win just for you," Bri echoes when he's gone. "I cannot believe you can be so gross." Her face is screwed up as if she ate a lemon. "My best friend Pat: the rom com lead. You know, if I was watching that movie, I'd turn it off."
Patroclus sits back beside her with a huff. "Okay, okay, I know you don't like him." He'd worried about Bri's opinion on Achilles when they first started dating. Did Patroclus change for the worse when he was with someone? Was Achilles rude to Bri when Patroclus wasn't there? But no, it hadn't been any of that. Bri just didn't like his personality and made sure Patroclus was well aware of it at all times.
"It's not that I don't like him." She leans against Patroclus. "Just he's a total moron, and I'm pretty sure you're losing brain cells from being around him." Bri shakes her head as if it's a real tragedy. "How will you ever be a nurse with an IQ of four?"
"Ha ha." He takes her point of view with a grain of salt. “Are you sure you aren’t just jealous?”
Bri gasps and holds a hand over her heart. “Me? Jealous of you and your gross boyfriend? How did you ever figure it out?” she teases. Her eyes are wide with astonishment, mouth agape in feigned shock. “You’re right, Pat. I wish I were the one calling you dumb pet names and feeling you up in public.”
Patroclus covers his mouth to hide a smile. “He doesn’t feel me up-”
“Oh, Patroclus!” Her voice is lowered to mimic Achilles crudely. Bri drapes herself across Patroclus’ lap, a hand laid dramatically over her forehead. “How can I possibly go on without my minute by minute kisses? I’m going to wither away into nothing!”
“You’re so annoying!”
“I’m melting.” She grasps her throat and coughs pitifully. “I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Only your kisses can save me, Patroclus!” Bri sits up and makes kissing noises as she invades Patroclus’ personal space. Laughter bubbles in his throat as he pushes her away by the shoulder. She really was the worst! They’re getting a few weird looks from the teams on the field as well as other people in the stands, but Patroclus had learned to just accept it as part of being Bri’s best friend. Her lips are way too close to his cheek, and he shrieks as he puts a hand on her forehead to keep her from landing a wet kiss on his face.
The loud speaker crackles to life overhead. “First call for men’s four by eight hundred relay event.” Patroclus gives Bri one hard shove and she's back in her seat with a pout. It was Achilles' first event, and Patroclus wouldn't dare miss even a single second of his boyfriend dominating the track.
He looks down at the track and catches sight of Achilles. It's hard to miss him: his head of blond hair is a few inches above most of the other male athletes, his shoulders wider as well. Achilles is looking right back up at him. There's a frown set deep in his features, his gaze flitting to Bri. He's jealous. Patroclus smiles back at Achilles. He's always been strange about his friendship with Bri. Achilles didn't appreciate how touchy they were, how Bri would pull Patroclus down for a kiss on the cheek or tuck herself against his side. As soon as Bri figured out what got on Achilles' nerves, she'd lean into it like twisting a blade into his stomach.
Patroclus waves at his boyfriend. Achilles grins up at him and lifts his hand. For a moment it's like they're in their own world where they're the only people who exist. Patroclus feels Bri shaking his shoulder and he knows she's probably complaining, but he can't tear his gaze away. It was like love at first sight, except Patroclus fell every time he laid eyes on Achilles.
One of Achilles' teammates comes up behind him and slaps him on the back in greeting. It's enough to jolt Achilles from their shared trance. He turns to his friend, probably to argue with him with how his shoulders tense, and the friend looks up at Patroclus and smiles knowingly. Patroclus can't help but smile back. Everyone on the team knew they were together. It was hard for them not to: Achilles would run into Patroclus' arms and kiss him at the end of every meet and sit with his arm around Patroclus' shoulders at their celebratory lunch afterwards.
"Seriously, get a room," Bri groans beside him.
"We were just looking at each other," Patroclus argues. Really, she'd find a way to complain about anything.
"You were practically fucking each other with your eyes."
Patroclus snorts and kicks her in the shin. "What does that even mean?"
"Second call for men's four by eight hundred relay." Achilles' other teammates gather around. His first friend is laughing and pointing up at the bleachers, probably telling them something along the lines of yeah, our star runner Achilles was just standing there staring at his boyfriend like a lovesick puppy. Achilles waves him off angrily and stomps away to the starting line. His teammates follow behind, pushing him and snickering loud enough for even Patroclus to hear from so far away.
The men all take their positions on the track. Achilles isn't the first in the relay- he usually goes last to make up for any lost time. Patroclus watches him stretch at the edge of the track, bending over and touching his toes. The way his shirt rides up and his ass sticks out in his shorts is almost sinful.
Achilles turns as if to make sure Patroclus is looking. The smile that crosses his face makes Patroclus' heart leap. He knew exactly what he was doing, the bastard.
Bri sighs and crosses her legs underneath her in her seat. "I don't know how you can sit here every weekend watching a bunch of dudes running." She leans her elbow on Patroclus' shoulder. "Although I guess a ton of muscular men in shorts is right up your alley, huh?" Bri snickers at her own joke as Patroclus' face warms uncomfortably. He was here for completely innocent reasons!
The last call for the participants rings out overhead. "You're terrible, you know that?" Patroclus grumbles.
"As your best friend, it is my sworn duty to irritate you." Patroclus remembers why he never invites her anywhere. This was a rare case, an unfortunate instance where him and Bri were going to hang out in the afternoon. Bri had insisted she come to the meet with him to spend more time together, much to Patroclus' horror.
Patroclus leans against the guard rail. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bri still typing on her phone. She had never been very interested in sports. Not even the gun going off for the first event to start captures her attention.
Achilles had introduced his teammates to Patroclus before, and Patroclus had spent enough time around them to be able to gauge their personalities. The first guy up to race with the baton is Ajax: a great runner, but not a very good student. Patroclus found he couldn't ever exchange more than a few words with him without growing exhausted. He watches with mild interest as Ajax makes his way around the track, just barely pulling ahead of the other teams.
Patroclus can't help but glance at Achilles. His boyfriend is restless, bouncing from foot to foot and shaking out his wrists. He smiles a little bit. Achilles was born to be an athlete, so naturally gifted and full of endless stamina. He's surprised Achilles can stand still long enough to wait to run the relay.
The baton is passed off to the next teammate, Odysseus. Patroclus watches his school colors flash from one hand to another as the rod is exchanged.
"Running track is a lot like running on a hamster wheel, don't you think?" Bri asks. She's hunched in her seat, eyes glazed over with boredom. "Just run and run in a circle and don't go anywhere. Wouldn't it get boring?"
Menelaus is next. Achilles is itching to go. He bends down to tighten his shoelaces and get into position. There's a wicked grin on his face, one that Patroclus has come to expect whenever Achilles is feeling competitive.
"They don't just practice on the track," Patroclus explains. "Achilles usually jogs around town." He loved when Achilles spent the night at his place, but Patroclus didn't exactly appreciate being roused at five in the morning as his boyfriend got up to take a lap around campus. Achilles had begged him to join once or twice, and Patroclus occasionally relented. It usually just ended up with him being left in the dust.
"Ah, yeah. I thought I'd seen those booty shorts somewhere." Bri rolls her eyes. "Are those even made for men?"
"They are," Patroclus says. He'd know: he helped Achilles pick them out.
Finally, Menelaus is approaching Achilles. Patroclus sits up. Achilles has a lot of ground to gain, one of the teams already passing off their baton to the last relay racer. His boyfriend's hand is stretched out behind him, his feet in position to push off. The baton barely grazes his fingers, and Achilles is gone.
"Holy shit," Bri murmurs. She leans forward as Achilles sprints around the track. "He's like a bullet."
Patroclus hides his smile behind his hand. He can't help but be so proud of Achilles. His boyfriend is made to race, his long strides easily making up for lost ground. The team member that had been in first watches in unmasked shock as Achilles passes him with ease. There’s a tense silence, as if everyone is holding their breaths as if caught in the same trance as Patroclus and Bri.
The other teams don't stand a chance. Achilles is at the finish line long before any of the others. He skids to a stop, raising the baton over his head like it's a trophy. The home crowd goes wild, whooping and cheering. Students wearing school colors stand up and shout Achilles' name. His boyfriend waves, chest heaving as he catches his breath and the widest grin on his face.
"Wow," Bri says. Her eyes are wide as she watches Achilles pump his fist in the air.
“I know.” Achilles finds Patroclus in the bleachers and gives him a thumbs up. Patroclus mirrors the action. His boyfriend blows a kiss in response. It was for you, it says.
There's a few other events before Achilles is up again. He celebrates with his teammates as their victory is announced over the speakers, earning a slap on the back from their coach and a lot of shoves from his friend. Patroclus thinks of before, when Bri was saying he's self-centered. That wasn't true. Achilles deserves to be praised, and he was getting what was well-earned.
As soon as there's a break in the crowd, Achilles runs up the stairs to Patroclus. "How did I do!" he shouts excitedly. His golden hair is wild from the wind and sticks to his forehead with sweat.
Patroclus aches. Every time Achilles would ask, and every time Patroclus gave a similar answer, yet, Patroclus never tired of their routine. "Amazing," Patroclus breathes.
"Are you on steroids or something?" Bri asks. Achilles climbs over her and falls into Patroclus' outstretched arms. He's gross and sweaty, but Patroclus kisses his forehead anyways. His boyfriend would pout and complain if he didn’t give him a hug.
"Nope!" Achilles moves Patroclus' textbooks aside and sits beside him. "You're not the first to ask, though. I get tested once a month." He puts his chin on Patroclus' shoulder. Patroclus wrinkles his nose. Just a little too much information for his liking.
The rest of Achilles' team sits on the bottom row of the bleachers, talking and laughing. Patroclus had never seen Achilles sit with them once. The one time he'd asked had been before they were dating. Achilles had waved away the question. They'll get over it, he'd said. I'd much rather spend time with you, anyways. Patroclus still felt guilty for taking Achilles’ attention away from his friends, but the more he got to know them the more he understood that Achilles didn’t really care for them anyways. Most of his teammates were meatheads with a crude sense of humor, and Achilles would never go out of his way to be around them any longer than he had to.
Achilles participates in another sprinting event and finally, javelin throwing. He’s almost broken more school records for distance throwing than any student previously, all tied up with the last legend that had graced the campus. Today would be a chance to get his name in the school’s history books. It’s all he’s talked about for the past few weeks, and his excitement is plain as day when his event is called at last.
“I’ll see you in a few,” Achilles says as he begins to leave. He points to his cheek and smiles at Patroclus. “A kiss for good luck?”
Patroclus can do him one better. He cups Achilles’ face in his hands and pulls him in close, pressing their lips together. Achilles makes a muffled noise in surprise. He melts into Patroclus and collapses halfway on his lap, much to Bri’s horror. She scoots to the edge of her seat to get as far away from them as possible.
“Hey, lover boy!” Patroclus parts from Achilles just far enough to see who’s calling for him. Odysseus stands at the bottom of the stadium seating, hands cupped over his mouth. “Stop making out with your boyfriend! You’re up!” Achilles turns to glare at him, and Patroclus can’t help but laugh. He’d long gotten over being embarrassed around Achilles’ friends.
“Fuck off, man! Give me a sec!” Achilles shouts back. Odysseus flips him off before returning to the rest of his teammates.
Patroclus can feel his irritation radiating off of him like heat. He plants one last kiss on Achilles’ cheek, his lips lingering against his skin. “Go get ‘em,” Patroclus murmurs, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Achilles’ ear. He exchanges a smile with his boyfriend before Achilles is up and rushing to the field before last call.
There’s a painted rectangle on the field that Achilles stands at one end of. A group of other students from different teams are gathered in a semi-circle around the perimeter. His coach passes him his javelin, and Achilles takes it with a nod and a grateful smile. It’s taller than he is by a good two feet, and once again Patroclus is blown away by how anyone, even his Achilles, can manage to throw something so long and awkward.
“Seems kind of dangerous,” Bri comments. After watching Achilles for the first time, he has her undivided attention. Her phone sits face down on her thigh. “I’d hate to be on the receiving end of that.”
Patroclus watches the spectators back far away from where the javelin was going to hit. By now, everyone who had heard of Achilles was well aware of just how far he could throw. “He has a good aim,” Patroclus replies. He isn’t exactly sure how Achilles can even aim the damned thing, but he always seems to do quite well.
“He would have thrived in the hunting-gathering age.” Bri shakes her head. “Hunting bears and all that. He might have even been one of the smartest cavemen, too... Maybe, I'm not too sure.” Patroclus elbows her in the side. There was no need to be rude.
There’s three students that go before Achilles. Every one of them amazes Patroclus with how effortlessly they seem to launch their javelin across the field. He can’t help but admire the arm strength it must take. Each javelin easily goes one, two hundred feet, and even Bri is impressed as their distances are called over the speakers.
“Hard to see how even Golden Boy is gonna top that,” Bri says as the last student before Achilles has his distance measured. A little over seventy-seven meters. He’s broken a record for his school, and his teammates gather around to congratulate him. But Achilles looks unimpressed, bored even. He takes one look at the guy and shoves past him to his starting position.
Achilles’ name is announced overhead. Hearing it sends a shiver down Patroclus’ spine. “...representing… University. Achilles is a freshman who has taken the college javelin throwing scene by storm...”
“Your boyfriend’s a celebrity,” Bri murmurs. As he should be, Patroclus thinks.
Achilles is emboldened by hearing praise over the speakers. He always gets funny when he was complimented and lauded. It would straighten his back, and Achilles would smile like he was ready to take on the world with his bare hands.
“...look out for him today. He’s going to be attempting to one up the streak of most records broken by one student and possibly break the previous distance record set by none other than himself.”
Patroclus covers his mouth with his hands as he watches Achilles stand readied, javelin in one hand. There’s no gun shot this time, only the shrill trill of a whistle blowing. Where Achilles had been standing is dust.
He runs down the four meters of track, javelin poised overhead. It’s like an extension of his body more than a pole he’s throwing for sport. Achilles hurls the javelin in a long arch overhead, skidding to a stop just before the four meter mark. Patroclus isn’t sure if he should watch his boyfriend, one hand over his eyes as he watches his javelin’s journey, or if he should focus on the landing. There’s an explosion of cheers, and Patroclus realizes he's been staring at Achilles the whole time. His gaze turns towards the javelin sticking up in the ground.
Achilles doesn’t make his way up to Patroclus just yet. He stands beside his coach, the elder man’s hand on his shoulder as one of the judges measures the distance. They sit in a tense silence as the tape measure is drawn across the ground. The other teams whisper amongst themselves.
“Eighty-eight point seven meters!” Achilles throws his hands in the air with a loud whoop, and the crowd follows suit with loud applause. “ His team once again takes the gold! Achilles has not only broken the record for his own school, but he’s broken an all time record for the west coast! We’re looking at the man to beat, here!”
Patroclus doesn’t realize he’s gotten up until Bri is loudly asking where he thinks he’s going. He makes his way down the stairs and runs to where his boyfriend is getting congratulated by his whole team and some of the students from other schools. There’s a few people working the meet that try to stop him, but Patroclus swerves out of the way of their outstretched hands.
“Achilles!” Patroclus shouts. Achilles turns in surprise at his name. His eyes widen, and the grin on his face is contagious. Patroclus smiles until his cheeks hurt. Achilles pushes through the crowd of students surrounding him and opens his arms in time for Patroclus to jump into them.
“Patroclus! How’d I do?” Achilles asks. Patroclus feels himself being lifted off the ground. He holds Achilles tightly with his arms around his neck as his toes scramble to find purchase below him.
Patroclus takes Achilles’ face in his hands and kisses him. His team catcalls and whoops behind them, but he doesn’t care. His boyfriend was a champion. His Achilles, the boy he’d fallen so hard for and the boy who had chosen him out of everyone in the world. Patroclus’ heart swells with emotions he isn’t sure he’ll ever be able to fully comprehend. He wasn’t the one who had won gold, but Patroclus is full of pride nonetheless. Achilles’ victory felt as if it were own.
“Wonderful,” Patroclus breathes against Achilles’ lips. “Incredible. You’re like a god.”
There’s the shutter of a camera- one of the newspaper people, for sure. Patroclus looks up in time to see a girl looking down at the picture she had taken. She glances up and meets his gaze. With a smile, she flashes a thumbs up.
Achilles sets him gently on the ground. He keeps an arm around Patroclus’ waist protectively, hand resting on his hip. The announcer goes on comparing Achilles to the previous victor and continues about the upcoming award ceremony, and his coach is giving Achilles’ team a pep talk, but Patroclus doesn’t hear a thing. He stays nestled safely against Achilles’ side, his boyfriend’s lips pressed to the top of his head. No one gives him a second glance. It was all too common for Achilles to bend the rules in order to have Patroclus by his side.
He and Bri stay long enough to see the awards passed out, much to Bri’s annoyance. Achilles wins gold in every event he participated in. When he’s given the gold for javelin throwing, he’s asked to say a few words. Achilles visibly grows excited and takes the microphone from the announcer.
“I’d like to dedicate this victory to the man who continues to inspire me each and every day,” he says into the mic, voice steady and sure. Patroclus feels people staring at him, and he can’t help but sink in his seat with embarrassment. “My beloved, Patroclus.”
Achilles is ushered off the stage as the audience breaks out into applause at the same time as Patroclus is dragged out of the room by Bri, who has obviously had more than enough for one day.
“All this so I could go to the movies with your gay ass,” she grumbles as she pulls Patroclus by the wrist.
…
Afterwards, Achilles is different.
Patroclus notices it in small ways: his boyfriend is quieter when they eat together, he stares at his homework for a long time before shaking his head and writing something down. He thinks it must be some sort of mood swing. Achilles had them often enough, and Patroclus had learned the best thing to do was ride them out and support him the entire time.
But instead of resolving itself, it only gets worse. Patroclus reaches down to take Achilles’ hand as they walk together, but Achilles stuffs his hands in his pockets before Patroclus can touch him. “My fingers are cold,” he says. Patroclus nods, but he can’t help but frown. They’d held hands when the entire campus was covered with a layer of snow and their fingers were bright red from the chill. Why was this any different?
He doesn’t prop his feet in Patroclus’ lap when they sit in the library together, and Achilles’ kisses are chaste and pressed quickly against Patroclus’ cheek when they’re in public.
He’s tired of you, Patroclus’ brain supplies helpfully. It had been one of his biggest fears when they’d first gotten together. Achilles was beautiful and untouchable, and Patroclus was just… himself. Why should Achilles have to settle for someone like him? There were so many other people on campus that he could choose from- girls who were pretty and thin with curves for miles, guys who shared similar interests and could take care of Achilles the way Patroclus so desperately wanted to. Eventually, Achilles would surely see he could do better. Patroclus had decided early on that he would gladly stay by Achilles’ side for as long as he would let him. If and when he wanted to leave, Patroclus would let him go. He loved Achilles to much to hold him down forever.
But as time went on, Patroclus had gotten comfortable. He liked the affection and the praise and being able to bask in Achilles’ light. The fear had subsided, and as Patroclus and Achilles began to learn what the other liked, Patroclus realized he was just as capable of providing for Achilles as anyone else. Achilles might be taller and his shoulders more broad, but he’d sleep in Patroclus’ arms like he was searching for refuge against a cruel world. Patroclus thought everything was fine.
Patroclus brings it up as casually as possible: Achilles, is everything okay with school? His boyfriend looks baffled, head cocked to one side like a confused puppy. “Yeah,” he says. “Why wouldn’t it be? Everything okay with you?” Patroclus thinks no, something is terribly wrong. But if Achilles sees nothing out of the ordinary, then there was no reason to worry him.
“Everything is fine,” Patroclus says. Whether he’s reassuring Achilles or himself, he isn’t entirely sure.
…
Achilles spends less time at Patroclus’ apartment, and what few stolen moments they have there are heated. Patroclus would open the door, and as soon as it closed behind Achilles his boyfriend would be on him and tearing at his shirt. There was never enough time to ask if Achilles was alright. His lips would be on Patroclus’ the very second they were alone.
“Ask him about it,” Bri says simply. She twists a fork in her spaghetti. “I don’t think he’s the type of guy to just catch on that you’re worried.”
Patroclus can only look down at the table. He wasn’t hungry, settling for an iced coffee and a bagel that he had yet to touch from the nearby cafe. “I did,” he mumbles. “He said he’s fine.”
Bri squints. She stuffs her mouth full of noodles and chews thoughtfully. “Do you think he’s seeing other people?” she asks once she’s swallowed. The thought alone is enough to send a chill straight to Patroclus’ heart. He thinks of Achilles with a girl on his arm, Achilles tucked against some handsome guy’s side. It makes him sick. No matter how rocky their relationship might get, Achilles wouldn’t do that to him- couldn’t. It would shatter Patroclus to a million tiny pieces, and he would never be able to piece them back together.
“I don’t think so,” Patroclus manages. “Something else.”
His friend sets her fork down in her food and reaches across the table to take Patroclus by the hands. He glances up and meets her gaze, brown eyes swimming with concern. “Hey,” she says with a small smile, “I’m sure it’s not that either. You’re way too freaking cool.” Her eyes flash. And I’ll fucking kill him if it is the case, they finish for her.
“Maybe he’s sick of me.” Patroclus pulls his hands away from Bri and into his lap. “We’ve been spending so much time together… surely he’s bored.”
Bri sighs. “I mean, it’s normal for couples to get kinda sick of each other. I just didn’t think that would ever apply to you guys.” She chews on the inside of her cheek as she thinks. “Maybe suggest taking a break? Have some time to yourselves? I know that works for some people.”
Patroclus’ stomach drops to the floor. The thought of staying away from Achilles, of not waking up to his kisses in the morning or spending his weekends at home instead of in the stands cheering for his boyfriend… It rips a chasm open in him that threatens to swallow him whole.
Bri looks worried. “You okay?” she asks. She puts the back of her hand on Patroclus’ forehead to check his temperature. “You got really pale all of a sudden.”
“No break,” he breathes. “I don’t think I can do that.” He can’t remember a life before Achilles. His golden boy had made his way into all of Patroclus’ memories. Surely Achilles was at his high school graduation, insisting he take a selfie with his boyfriend in his gown and cap? And he must have been there at college orientation the summer before freshman year, playing cards with Patroclus and his assigned group. He feels like his life truly began the day Achilles signed up for his tutoring session. If they took a break and drifted apart, how could he ever recover?
“Okay, no break,” Bri agrees, probably to get Patroclus to calm down. “But you need to talk to him. You guys don’t keep stuff from each other. Something is obviously wrong with him.”
Patroclus rubs the back of his neck. There’s a thin sheet of sweat from the terror that had overcome him. “Sure. I’ll ask.”
…
Achilles comes over to talk, and he ends up on top of Patroclus. Patroclus is on the couch in the living room with hickeys being sucked onto his skin before he can even realize what had happened. He can’t breathe much less try to strike a conversation, his boyfriend ravishing him like he’s never been touched before in his life.
“Are you tired of me?” Patroclus asks breathlessly when Achilles moves from his neck to his collarbone. He pauses, lips puffing hot air across Patroclus’ chest.
“No,” he answers immediately. “Never.”
He shoves a hand down the front of Patroclus’ pants, and any chance of talking flies out the window.
…
Patroclus doesn't see Achilles for a few days. He goes from concerned to furious.
Achilles: hey pat. no need to show up to my meet today
You: what?
You: why?
Achilles: oh, u know! it's gonna be real boring lol
Achilles: same old same old
Achilles: and that way you can spend time w bri!
He never did this. Ever since they'd become friends, Achilles would pick up Patroclus every weekend to go to his meets. They hadn't missed a single weekend. Not when Bri would complain that she never hung out with Patroclus, not when Patroclus caught a cold and sat bundled up in two jackets in the stands feeling miserable. This was just not normal.
The second week he tells Patroclus not to come, Patroclus decides he's had enough. He's tired of beating around the bush. Achilles has had enough time to fess up what was the matter, and Patroclus is sick of pretending they're okay. He's in his car and pulling out of the parking lot of his apartment complex before he can give it a second thought.
Patroclus knows what time Achilles' meets usually let out. If he speeds, he can make it to the field in time to catch him as he's leaving to get lunch with his teammates. He haphazardly parks his car in a staff space- surely he'd be back in time to go home before getting towed- and turns off the engine.
Achilles' hoodie is in the passenger seat. It's the same ugly shade of purple their school sports proudly with his last name on the back, and it makes the entire car smell like his cologne. Patroclus is a lot of things, but he isn't strong. He pulls it on over his head and breathes in Achilles' scent. Please let this make sense. Please let him still love me.
There's a chill outside that sends a shiver down Patroclus' spine. He puts the hood on over his head. A glance at his phone confirms it's around the right time. Patroclus blows warm air into his palms and rubs them together before shoving his hands into his pockets.
Ten minutes pass. A few of the other teams leave in groups, but there's no sight of the familiar purple jerseys. Fifteen.
Patroclus is beginning to think he's come too late. "Achilles!" Someone calls from behind him. He begins to turn around, but Patroclus is knocked face first onto the ground before he can catch a glimpse of who's talking. Pain blooms from where he hits his head upon impact, and his right arm goes numb as it twists at an odd angle. "Can't believe you had the nerve to show your face here after skipping out on us. We were gonna go to nationals, Ace." There's a foot in between his ribs. Patroclus wheezes as the air is forced from his lungs.
"I’m not-” Patroclus tries, but his voice sounds like he’s inhaled a mouthful of smoke.
“Not what? Not off fucking your boyfriend?” He’s pinned to the ground with a foot on his back. “Look, we never had a problem with some fairies being on the team, but this is getting way out of hand.” Rage boils deep in Patroclus’ veins. Not for himself, but for Achilles. Don’t talk about him like that. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but no one would insult his boyfriend. “We were fine with him tagging along and shit before, but if it’s going to get in the way of you making it to meets, you need to dump him and find some other guy to mess around with-”
The foot leaves his back and nudges him in the side. Patroclus takes the opportunity to take Achilles’ teammate by the ankle and pull as hard as he can. He lands on his ass with a startled grunt as Patroclus rolls out of the way. Patroclus sits up. The hood falls off his head, and he can finally see who exactly attacked him: Odysseus is on the ground, his teammates standing behind him. They all share the same shocked look.
“Oh fuck,” Odysseus breathes. “Achilles is gonna kill us.”
Patroclus picks himself up off the ground. His arm dangles uselessly by his side. He knows he looks like shit, but he gives them the dirtiest look he can muster. With what little pride he has left, Patroclus turns and limps to his car. Surely there was a doctor nearby open on Saturdays.
…
When Patroclus is asked for an emergency contact, he isn’t sure why Achilles is the first person to come to mind. They were fighting- kind of. Was it fighting if Patroclus was the only one upset in this situation? He fills out his name on the form anyways, and the nurse takes him back to one of the exam rooms.
Patroclus is informed that his arm isn’t broken, but his wrist is sprained and would need a soft brace for a few weeks. That explained the swelling and the mottled purple mark forming. There’s an ugly bruise shaped like a shoe manifesting on his side when the doctor pulls his shirt up to check his ribs. Great. Wonderful. Patroclus is asked who he got in a fight with, and he lies and says he had fallen.
The doctor obviously doesn’t buy it, but she doesn’t say anything as she passes Patroclus an ice pack to put on his head. “It’s not a concussion, but I’d still like if someone else drove you home,” she explains. “Can I call the number you have listed? An, uh... Achilles?”
“Oh, please do,” Patroclus spits out. He’d love to hear the explanation behind this one. Achilles couldn’t sit and lie to his face if he saw Patroclus like this.
He can hear Achilles shout on the other end of the phone when the poor nurse tries to explain the situation. He’s what? How? Where? The nurse only has enough time to say what clinic they’re at before the line clicks. “He’s on his way,” she says weakly.
The clinic is ten minutes from Achilles’ dorm, but somehow he makes it in five. Patroclus is sure he ran every single light.
Patroclus hears his boyfriend before he sees him. “Patroclus!” Achilles cries out. He slides past the door and has to grab onto the frame to stop himself in his tracks. Achilles bursts into the room. His eyes widen when he sees Patroclus. It’s not like he’s dying, but he might as well be with how Achilles collapses on the exam bed next to him and throws his arms around Patroclus’ shoulders. “I was so worried about you!”
He buries his face in Patroclus’ neck, and Patroclus is helpless to do much more than endure it despite his irritation. The nurse stands at the door awkwardly, looking on at the situation unfolding in front of her. “Uh,” she manages. “You’re free to check out, sir.”
The nurse shows him how to put on the soft brace and gives clear instructions to leave it on for at least a week as well as ice his wrist every day. Achilles frets the entire time, fingers playing with Patroclus' hair as the nurse speaks. It's incredibly distracting, and Patroclus eventually has to smack his hand away.
They're silent as they make their way to Achilles' pickup truck. Patroclus feels if he says anything right now, he'll immediately regret it for the rest of his life. He's too angry, the emotions still very raw. Achilles was hiding something, and Patroclus got to pay the price for it. Go figure. He only glares at Achilles when he opens the passenger door for him.
Once inside the car, Achilles turns to Patroclus and clasps his hands in his own. "Who did this?" he demands. His voice shakes with rage. Achilles' green eyes blaze with a familiar anger, the same he'd had on his face when he thought Patroclus had feelings for someone else. "I'll kill them, Pat. I swear to God, I'll hunt them down and-"
"What are you keeping from me?" Patroclus interrupts tiredly. He could deal with the maiden in distress bullshit later. He wanted answers and he wanted them now. "You're suddenly weird about being with me in public, all you want to do at home is fuck, your teammates said you've been skipping practice-"
"Did they do this?" Achilles growls. Patroclus waves the question away.
"Not the point right now."
"Patroclus."
"Achilles, listen to me." He holds onto Achilles' arm tightly with his good hand. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but if it's got to do with me-"
"It doesn't." Achilles leaves no room for argument, but it hardly settles Patroclus' nerves.
"Alright," he says, "then if it's something else, I have a right to know."
Achilles glances down at Patroclus' hand on his bicep. For a moment, Patroclus worries he might brush him off again, and he isn't sure what he would do if that were the case. But Achilles sighs in defeat and puts his hand on top of his boyfriend's. His fingers are longer, covering Patroclus' completely. The same hands that always made him feel safe.
"It's my mom," Achilles finally relents. Patroclus hates to admit he's overwhelmed with relief. So they were okay. It had nothing to do with him. It's like a heavy weight has been lifted off his chest and he can breathe for the first time.
Patroclus gives a small nod in encouragement. They didn't talk about her very often. She was a sore subject, one that would make Achilles fidget and frown any time she was brought up. "What happened?"
His boyfriend is quiet. Patroclus sees the fear in his eyes, something so foreign to Achilles. He scoots forward in his seat and wraps his arms around Achilles. His boyfriend presses his face into his shoulder and relaxes in his embrace. "She knows," he murmurs, voice muffled against his sweatshirt on Patroclus' body.
Patroclus rubs his back soothingly. "Knows what?" But he doesn't need Achilles' answer to understand exactly what he means.
"About us." Achilles turns his head so his nose is brushing Patroclus' neck. Patroclus knows he feels safe there. He tangles his fingers in golden curls and keeps Achilles' head in place. "She called me the other day about it. She yelled at me for an hour about how I was throwing everything away, how I deserved better…" Patroclus' heart sinks, not so much at the insult but at how hurt Achilles sounds. It must break his heart to have someone tear him down like that. He kisses the crown of Achilles' head. "Mom threatened to stop paying for my school if I keep seeing you."
"I thought you had a scholarship?" Patroclus frowns.
Achilles lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "It doesn't pay for everything," he explains. "There's still some tuition leftover, and my mom pays with her family's money. She says if she sees us together, she'll stop and I'll have to come home." To Achilles, that was the worst possible scenario and Patroclus knew it. He would be trapped all over again, held under her thumb and unable to get away.
Patroclus doesn't understand, though. "How could she possibly see us?" he asks. "It's not like she lives here- she's across the country." The thought they were being watched makes his skin crawl.
"I have no idea," Achilles admits sadly, shaking his head. "It's why I was distant. I was so worried she would just… know if I was with you, like she's some sort of Russian spy or something." He holds Patroclus tight in his arms. It makes his ribs hurt where he was kicked, but Patroclus puts up with the pain to comfort him.
It all made sense now. Patroclus almost feels bad for his anger the past week, for believing for even a moment that his Achilles didn't love him anymore. Of course they were alright. "You sure did seem okay coming to my place," he comments offhandedly. Achilles chokes in response.
"It was killing me not to touch you." His voice is small, embarrassed. Surely even someone as thick as him could see he'd been a completely different person as of late. "I figured there was no way she could see us in your apartment, so I'd just bottle everything up until I could visit you. It sort of overflowed, I guess."
Patroclus thinks of the hickeys that cover every inch of his chest since Achilles' change in behavior, the sore hips he'd curse when he'd wake up. "I could tell."
Achilles leans back finally. His face is flushed red, green eyes shiny as if he might tear up. The thought scares Patroclus: he'd never seen Achilles cry. His boyfriend had always been the strong one, the one Patroclus would go to with his insecurities and make everything feel okay. "I didn't want to lose you," Achilles says. "I just thought if I kept my distance, I could still stay by your side." He frowns. "Does that make any sense?"
"Not really," Patroclus admits. He never did understand Achilles' line of reasoning. His boyfriend sighs in response.
"Yeah, I guess it doesn't now that I think about it."
Patroclus bumps their foreheads together. He missed spending time with Achilles and just… existing with him. For the first time in a while, he feels at ease. It's like everything is alright again, even with this new information looming over their heads. "But why didn't you tell me?" he prompts gently. Patroclus isn't mad, but he's a bit let down that Achilles hadn't trusted him enough to confide in him.
"I didn't want to worry you," Achilles says. He brushes their noses together, and Patroclus thinks of how much he'd missed this. "I'm supposed to be, like, the cool and suave one, you know? Not some scared kid who's afraid of his mom."
Patroclus can't help but smile. "And what would that make me, Mr. Cool and Suave Guy?"
Achilles chuckles softly. It's the first time Patroclus has seen him lighten up in a while. "The cute and sensible one?" Achilles suggests.
"Nice save." Patroclus cups Achilles' cheek with one hand, thumb stroking his face tenderly. "But you know I wouldn't think any less of you for this, right? I understand completely."
"I know," Achilles says, "but… I dunno. Maybe I just didn't want to admit she got to me so badly, and I definitely didn't want you to think we were being spied on."
Patroclus does admit that thought made him uneasy. "Did she say how exactly she figured it out?" he asks. He couldn't think of a time on campus he thought he was being watched. Were they really being stalked? If that was the case, their stalker was excellent at covering their tracks.
Achilles shakes his head. "No, but she knew your name and everything. It was really freaky."
Could his mother seriously have the capability to be able to observe them from a thousand miles away? Achilles had mentioned her family’s power before, but this was beyond that. Patroclus wants to protect Achilles so fiercely it feels like someone is clawing at his throat. He presses a kiss to Achilles’ brow and lets his lips rest there. I have you, he wants to say. No one can take you away from me.
“Why were you skipping practice?” Patroclus wonders aloud. He still didn’t understand that part of everything. Achilles loved what he did. His boyfriend never dreamt of letting down his team in the past. He molded his entire life around track.
“Tell me who fucked with you,” Achilles counters.
“Not how this works.” If Achilles really thinks he’d be the one asking questions, he was in for quite a shock. “Fess up,” Patroclus insists. He leans back enough to give Achilles a pointed look. Achilles narrows his eyes. He obviously wants so badly to argue, but he rolls his eyes and looks away instead.
“She said you were distracting me from track,” Achilles explains. “That I could do better. It was sort of a middle finger to her, but I also couldn’t have you coming to my practices since she’d get mad, and…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to go if you weren’t there cheering me on.” Patroclus flushes. How could he ever think his Achilles would be tired of him?
Patroclus kisses Achilles. He wants so badly to take his sadness away. If Patroclus could carry the weight of his mother’s hatred for both of them, he would gladly do it. For now, all he can do is let Achilles know how dear he was to him.
“You’re an idiot,” Patroclus murmurs against his lips.
Achilles wrinkles his nose. “Okay, thanks.”
Patroclus isn’t finished, though. He’s craved Achilles so badly that it had been eating him alive, and Patroclus hadn’t realized just how good it would feel to be back in his arms. He takes Achilles’ bottom lip between his teeth and tugs. Achilles gasps, his breath tickling Patroclus’ face.
He pulls away once more, and Achilles looks dazed, his green eyes glazed over with want. “You’re an idiot for thinking anyone can break us apart,” Patroclus continues softly. “Even your stupid mom. And you’re especially an idiot for trying to figure this out on your own.” Achilles tilts his head to kiss Patroclus’ neck. He’s gentler than he had been for the past few weeks, nosing the spot under Patroclus’ ear with a satisfied hum. Patroclus holds his head in place with a hand on the back of his neck. “We’re in this together.”
Achilles is bent over the armrest, halfway out of his seat as he buries his face in the crook of Patroclus’ shoulder. He holds him like Patroclus might drift away, and Patroclus thinks of how long he had been in love with this boy. If Achilles’ mother thought she could take him away, she had another thing coming. Patroclus would follow him to the ends of the earth if only to be with him for a moment longer.
His boyfriend gingerly takes his injured wrist in his hand. “Tell me who to kill,” Achilles says, his voice gentle despite the rage in his eyes.
“Your friends are very upset,” Patroclus replies simply. “And they’re also pretty shitty people.”
Achilles’ gaze darkens, and Patroclus knows he’s set a hit out for his boyfriend’s teammates.
…
There’s still the concern that his mother is watching somehow. Patroclus thinks it’s a bit ridiculous- surely there was a reasonable explanation for how she found out? A teammate who didn’t know when to shut up, or one of the many pictures on Achilles' phone leaked? But Achilles is obviously still shaken, so Patroclus takes up his offer to go rest in Achilles’ dorm instead of his apartment. His roommate had left for the weekend, his boyfriend explains, and Patroclus feels a little better about not going home. He texts Bri the gist of what’s going on before letting Achilles steer him into his dorm building.
Achilles’ room is about as much of a mess as everything else in his life: his laundry hamper is tipped over and overflowing with clothes, there’s a line of empty energy drink cans lining the windowsill, and Patroclus can’t even fathom the last time his boyfriend actually saw his desk under all those papers. Achilles has to relocate a bag of chips and a stack of folded clothes from his bed so Patroclus can lay down.
Patroclus misses his bed at his apartment. Achilles’ is too narrow and too hard, one of the sad mattresses provided by the university. It only makes matters worse when Achilles climbs into bed with him and practically lays on top of Patroclus. There would be no asking him to move- Achilles has their legs tangled together instantly and his head on Patroclus’ chest, so Patroclus sighs and pulls his comforter over both of them.
He wakes a few hours later to his phone buzzing in his pocket. Achilles is still sound asleep, blond hair spread across Patroclus’ chest like a golden curtain. Patroclus manages to answer his phone and maneuver it to his ear without disturbing his boyfriend. “Hello?” he murmurs, other hand coming to rest on the small of Achilles’ back. His boyfriend sighs in his sleep.
“Pat.” It’s Bri. Not like anyone else really called Patroclus besides her and Achilles. He wasn’t even sure his dad had him saved in his phone as a contact. “We gotta talk.”
Patroclus glances down at Achilles. “Right now? I’m sort of caught up in-”
“Yes, right now.” Patroclus looks up at the ceiling in exasperation. Why did he even bother asking? “I’m sending some stuff to your phone that you need to open.” Patroclus’ phone vibrates against his ear. He pulls it away and squints as the screen lights up. It’s two links: one to a Facebook post, the other to a YouTube video.
“What’s this about?” he asks. He’d like an explanation before opening them.
“Ugh, can’t you just do what I tell you to do?” Patroclus snorts at that. “You guys didn’t know how his mom found you out, right? This is how.” Patroclus’ eyes widen. “Honestly, I could have told you that though. You’re both incredibly dense. I expected more from you, Pat-”
“I’ll call you back,” Patroclus interrupts. Bri starts to complain, but he’s already pressing the button to end the call.
Achilles rouses from his sleep. “Who’s that?” he mumbles, tilting his head up to kiss Patroclus’ chin. His lips are clumsy and warm against Patroclus' skin.
"Bri." He clicks the first link, his gut a bundle of nerves. Curse the school wifi for being so incredibly slow.
"Mm…" Achilles sets his head back down. "Tell her I said hi." He's terribly cute when he's half-asleep. Patroclus wishes he could appreciate it more, but the link finally works and his attention is torn from his boyfriend to his phone.
It's their university's Facebook page for the track and field team. Patroclus had never visited it before, so he isn't exactly sure what he's looking at. The most recent post is about the meet from that same day that Achilles had skipped, and below that a picture from one of the practices. Patroclus frowns and scrolls further down.
His breath catches in his throat.
Only a few more posts down is what looks to be a picture taken of the school newspaper. It's from a few weeks ago, but Patroclus doesn't need to look at the date to know that. On the front page is him. He's in Achilles' arms, his hands cradling Achilles' face and their lips pressed together. Below the photo reads School Celebrity Celebrates Victory with a Kiss.
"Motherfucker," Patroclus breathes. It goes on to detail Achilles' streak of breaking records, but Patroclus' attention keeps coming back to the photograph. The post on Facebook proudly boasts that their Achilles had made the front page of the school's paper. Suddenly it all makes sense.
Achilles frowns and scoots up Patroclus' body so he can rest their cheeks together. "What'd she do?" he rumbles. He blinks sleep from his eyes and follows Patroclus' gaze to his phone. Immediately, his eyes widen in horror. "What-"
Patroclus doesn't have time to explain. He opens the other link Bri had sent him. It opens to a video of the award ceremony from the same day the photo was taken. There's a time stamp in the description to when Achilles accepts his medal for javelin throwing, and Patroclus clicks it.
There's his Achilles, the widest grin on his face and a gold medal resting over his chest. He's so bright and beautiful that even now it makes Patroclus ache with how deeply he cares for him. "I’d like to dedicate this victory to the man who continues to inspire me each and every day.” What had been heart wrenchingly sweet before turns Patroclus' blood to ice. “My beloved, Patroclus."
Patroclus pauses the video. They both sit in silence for a few moments.
"That's how she knows," Patroclus says quietly.
"Fuck me," Achilles whispers.