Patrochilles ~ Anything But Lovers

A Mocking Bird

Days bled into weeks, each sunrise a cruel reminder of the pact with Thetis. Patroclus, now immortal, felt the weight of his sacrifice settle upon his shoulders like an icy shroud. Achilles, his love, lay still and silent in his tent, untouched by the passage of time. The healers called it a "deep sleep," a mysterious ailment that defied their skills.

Patroclus, however, saw a different truth in the stillness. He saw betrayal, a cruel joke played by the very goddess he had bargained with. The guilt gnawed at him, whispering doubts in his ear. Had he traded his lover's life for eternity? Had he been a pawn in a divine game he couldn't understand?

He spent his days tending to Achilles, his touch a desperate prayer against the silent void. He spoke of their plans, their hopes, their dreams, hoping somehow his voice would penetrate the veil of unconsciousness. He read poetry, sang songs, painted their faces with memories, all in a futile attempt to spark a flicker of life.

At night, under the cold gaze of the moon, Patroclus raged against the heavens. He cursed Thetis, her cruelty, her manipulative games. He questioned the gods, their indifference, their silence in the face of his suffering. He screamed, cried, and mourned, his grief a storm raging within him.

One night, exhausted and broken, he collapsed beside Achilles. Tears streamed down his face, mingling with the salt of his despair. "I did it for you," he whispered, his voice hoarse with anguish. "I gave up everything for you, and now... this?"

He felt a shift, a warmth against his hand. He looked up, his heart skipping a beat. Achilles' eyes were open, a flicker of confusion and pain in them.

"Patroclus?" he croaked, his voice weak but alive.

Patroclus's breath caught in his throat. He wanted to shout, to laugh, to cry tears of joy. But all that came out was a choked sob as he embraced his love, holding him close, afraid it was a dream.

He wished he hadn't, as that was when he woke up. Woke up next to Achilles, beside him in bed. He had an idea. Yes, an idea full of stupidity, but it just might work. Patroclus traced his finger down his lover's chest, blazed, but knowing he couldn't take advantage of this deep sleep he was in. Soft, gentle touches. he thought, as he kissed him gently from the bottom of his chin to the insides of his thighs.

"I loved you..." Patroclus wept into his soulmate's bare chest, as he, too, fell into a deep slumber. Sadly, it only lasted 14 hours.