running from the dawn - act i, part iv
After a bloody feud of families, dubbed ‘The Trojan War’ by those unfortunate enough to be roped into it, Achilles and Patroclus escape the underground sabotages of their enemies and the court room-drama of the law with their lives and their friendship still in tact, and they are the luckiest people in the world for it. But what they don’t know is that they haven’t played out the roles they were destined to, and their fates are no longer set in stone.
Now, with the invisible ties that had kept them in place broken, and figures from their mutual past looming in the shadows, they set out to find themselves, each other, and a brand new life.
ao3 link
patrochilles | part iii = 1.6k | multi-chapter, second of many parts
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“We should go into town again,” Achilles suggested to me a few weeks after our arrival. We had to look all over the house for our sandals before leaving – he and I went almost everywhere barefoot nowadays, whether it meant us wandering the woods and following the creek, or visiting our neighbor’s to buy home-grown crops. We eventually found our shoes hiding underneath that old ratty couch in the parlor, and we were on our way.
The day was crisp and warm, with Achilles cracking jokes the entire walk. The town itself was small, brick-lain roads and a little square in the center of it all. We explored the side-streets for about an hour before coming across an out-of-the-way music shop. Achilles spared me one glance before rushing inside.
The manager, a dark-haired beauty who introduced herself as Deidameia, smiled at us when we entered. Well, smiled at Achilles, at least.
“Can I play something?” he asked, and I could almost see a tail wagging behind him in his puppy-ish enthusiasm.
“What would you like to play?” the manager asked, her lips loose and her expression even looser.
Achilles started prattling off a short list of instruments he could play, and wordlessly Deidameia led us over to the section devoted entirely to guitars. Achilles grabbed a dreadnought-shaped one and sat down on a nearby stool. I stood next to him, eager to hear him play.
And when Achilles started playing, he began with the blues. He stretched himself around the guitar like a rubber band, and made the instrument howl. It wept and moaned like a ghostly widow floating on the fringes of the veil, each note falling like a raindrop plunking against the frame of my body in succession. I had no room to think nor to breathe; I had no small space left in me to be empty, for these blues were living like the Fourth Horseman of the Apocalypse had arrived, dragging Hell along behind him.
When he finally stopped, the world stopped with him. The other patrons, unbeknownst even to themselves, had formed a small circle around Achilles, praying to this god like he would save their wayward souls.
Deidameia’s eyes were glazed over by pure want and adoration. I didn’t even have anything left in my heart to feel jealous – I was that blown away by my friend’s raw talent.
“Come work for me,” she whispered. “Work for me, please. There’s a job opening, and you know what you’re doing.”
Achilles, sweat dripping down his forehead, turned and looked at me. I realized that for whatever reason, this brilliant man had left the decision up to me. I loved him.
“Yes, he’ll work for you. This is Achilles Pelides, by the way.” I introduced them, dazzled by Achilles’s impossible grin.
Deidameia led us over to the register, and gave him paperwork to fill out. “You could help teach lessons – I’m sure the kids will love you,” she offered.
A blinding flash of light poured over my eyes, and suddenly I was dreaming again. I saw a fire-headed child standing on some ancient beach, his face turned downwards into a war-like snarl. What shook me down to my core, though, was his stance – he looked almost identical to Achilles, in that instant.
And as suddenly as it came, it was gone. My heart started beating again, and I heard Achilles almost shout no, I will not teach kids.
She was shocked, to be sure, but also disappointed. “But that’s a waste of talent, no? Maybe you could perform in the afternoons, to draw attention to the shop?” Desperation radiated off of her in waves, but Achilles humored her.
“Sure. Sure, I could do that,” he agreed.
She began to twirl a lock of her hair between the fingers of her left hand, her delicate wrist twisting to and fro in an attractive manner. Achilles only had eyes for me, his lips twitching with emotion.
“So, you have a guitar at home?” she continued, inclining her head in the direction of the instruments.
“Oh I used to,” he said, her words eclipsing his sun-like smile. “But, ah, it was lost in transit.”
“Oh, that’s too bad!” she replied, genial concern lacing her words. “You could take one of these guys home, and I can deduct it from your future paychecks if you’d like.” And I knew just how far gone she was on him.
Achilles either didn’t notice, or care. “That’s okay, I’d rather just come in and play one of ‘em – it might help spark some interest, y’know?”
She agreed, and eventually let us go on our way. “This is so cool!” Achilles whispered conspiratorially, on our way out of town. “I’ve never had a real job before!”
His happiness was contagious, and I allowed myself to bathe in it.
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I went to throw myself upon Achilles’s bed, but I was stopped by the man himself. “If you wanted to sleep in bed with me, all you had to do was ask.” I turned around to see his smirking face, and in my embarrassment, I stormed out of the room with the petulance of a child.
I managed to stay awake for most of the day, breaking my nocturnal-like tendency to nap away the afternoon. But when night fell, I found myself standing in front of Achilles’s door. It was locked, as it almost always was up to this point, and I knocked quietly on it, as if I were afraid to pollute the air with the noise. The silence that followed was deafening, and after an unbearable moment I heard the lock fall out of place.
I opened the door and tiptoed into the dark room, and slid underneath the covers across from the still, dark form of my best friend. My mind was filled with anxiety, wondering when he would yell at me and tell me to leave.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, Achilles whipped around to face me, sheets flying in the air, and he reached out and grabbed my hand. His eyes were black as he watched me watch him, and he entwined our fingers. I was worried he’d hear the fast thumping of my heart, but he didn’t mention it.
We fell asleep hand-in-hand, and when I woke up the next day, still connected, I felt better rested than I had since we first arrived back in April.
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Summer came gradually for us, opening like a flower to the sunlight. I found the pit of my chest aching at the slightest of things. Like when Achilles would reach over the table during breakfast and take my hand in his. Or how he closed his eyes while he sang, folding the laundry into sloppy rolls. Or even just at night, when his eyelids would flutter like his breathing, and all I wanted to do was to just close the gap between us and taste the air that flowed through his lips.
I distracted myself with other things, though. Since the weather was hot and lazy, Achilles did outside shows on the patio before the music shop. I sat next to him every day for hours and simply listened, occasionally shutting my eyes and relaxing to the indescribable chords of Achilles’s guitar.
Today he was playing flamenco, and I was lost to images of dark, candle-lit nights dancing into the waning hours of the dawn. I was disturbed from my fantasies, though, by the lowered voice of Deidameia.
“Sorry, guys!” Achilles said after stopping in the middle of a piece, and I opened my eyes. “I’m gonna take a short break, and then I’ll get back to playing!” The people around him nodded. Some wandered off to continue their shopping, others stayed to stand and mill about, while those lucky enough to procure seats adjusted themselves in their chairs and watched curiously while Achilles and I followed the manager back into the store.
Deidameia turned sharply on me, and began in a false apologetic tone, “I’m afraid you can’t stay while he’s working. You’re taking up seating while we have possible customers coming in the listen to him play. It’s not good for business.”
Bullshit, I wanted to say. I’m surprised it took her this long to try and think of an excuse to send me on my way.
I looked at Achilles, and stepped backwards in shock. His mossy eyes had a steely, terrifying glint in them and he opened his mouth to say slowly, “If he leaves, I leave too.” It was so plain that I had no choice but to believe him.
We left early that day, with Achilles breathing harshly the entire walk home.
“You know, if it’s really a problem, I can just stay home…” I said, but I didn’t get a chance to finish my sentence. Achilles stopped walking, and grabbed me by my shoulders. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to ground me, or himself.
“I will not have her separate us. No one will come between us. Not anyone, I promise. Understand?” His face was deathly serious. I nodded my assent, and wondered how on earth I could have been blessed enough to know such a man.
“Unless you want to stay home?” Achilles thought aloud, hurt edging his voice.
I shook my head furiously. “You’re all I have left, Achilles,” I admitted, though it wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. “I just want things to be easier for you.”
His mouth pulled up in a crooked grin, and he said, “It’s easier for me if you’re there.”
I swallowed, and Achilles released me.
“C’mon.” He started walking again. “Let’s grab some dinner before it gets too late.
The rest of the walk was comfortably silent, and I was pleasantly content for the remainder of the day.