Chapter Text
This man appears sculpted, smooth, and chiseled to an almost supernatural perfection; as if this man is made from the finest stone in the world and has been carved by some unknown magnificent sculptor. The sheer unreal beauty of this man has Patroclus rubbing the palms of his hands into his plain brown eyes, before he once again stares at this man; this strange man whose head is flowing with golden ringlets of hair and olive skin that glows as if it were the sun itself. Perhaps it is this brilliant light shining from this man that has Patroclus edging closer and closer?
With a ferocious roar Patroclus’s stomach begs for food. He covers his hand over his starving stomach, desperately trying to stop the sound from scaring away the man before him. Of course it is not the light that has attracted Patroclus, but he can’t argue that the man looks just as pleasing to him as the juicy fig that is clutched in the man’s right hand. It’s been about three days since Patroclus's last meal and wondering around this large city of lost dreams and filthy rats has definitely taken its toll on him, both mentally and physically.
Cautiously Patroclus gently taps between the broad shoulders of the blonde man. As if shocked, the blonde man drops his fig, and turns around in a sudden jolt like a beast ready to attack. The intensity of his glare has Patroclus looking down at the stained concrete below his feet. The man mutters an apology before he picks up his half eaten fig and brushes it off. Patroclus tries to say something, but he feels paralyzed under the gaze that is emitting from the man’s emerald eyes. In the distance Patroclus swears he can hear the strings of some strange instrument being plucked. He gathers up some courage and speaks,
“I’m sorry I startled you!”
His voice is horse and he curses himself for not speaking more often to others.
“I’ll just be going… I…. That is… I didn’t mean to…”
More curses in his mind and Patroclus gives up speaking; Instead he turns to leave, but he is surprised by the feeling of something catching his arm.
The golden haired man is smiling, his fingers digging into Patroclus’s worn out hoodie sleeve. With an odd chuckle the man releases Patroclus and shoves his partially eaten fig into Patroclus's chest. Patroclus tries to hide the blush that spreads onto his cheeks from the kind gesture.
“You need this more than I.”
The man says; his voice buzzes in the air like the low hum of a bumblebee and suddenly Patroclus is yearning for the man to say more. He tucks a loose strand of his long, curled, chestnut brown hair behind his ear, then he tries to speak to the blonde man once again. He clears his throat with a quite,
“Thank you.”
The blonde man’s smile stretches even wider than before, he points to Patroclus's backpack that Patroclus left on the curb, and then gestures to the rest of Patroclus with a swift wave of his hand,
“How long?” The man asks.
One would wonder what the he is talking about, but Patroclus already knows what the man is asking. He is wondering how long Patroclus has been living on the street. Worry etches over Patroclus's already weary heart. This man is either an angel or a cop. Patroclus only hopes that this handsome man is an angel. This man does not appear to be a cop that would throw him into jail for loitering on public space. An incident like that happened before to Patroclus and he will never forget those terrible nights, those awful nights he had to spend in jail just for trying to live.
Instead of answering the man, Patroclus chooses to snarf down his fig and grab his backpack. With his mouth full he bends down and picks up his belonging. He tries to leave but once again the man stops him. He blocks Patroclus's way by standing in front of him. Looking at this man’s brawn muscles Patroclus backs up intimidated, worried, scared, and slightly in awe of this man’s persistence for a mere answer as the man asks again,
“How long have you been living here?”
Patroclus tries to run but the man snags him by the hood of his hoodie.
“Please…”
Pat begs for the man to let him go. He has to be a cop, although Patroclus wishes for him to be an angel, there’s no other reason this man would stop Patroclus from running away. Patroclus's weak body squirms in the man’s grasp.
“I’m sorry I bothered you. I won’t do it again! Just let me go, please! I learned my lesson before. I’ll leave the city, I swear! Please, don’t put me back in that horrible place! I don’t think I could bare another night more in that place... Please. Let me go."
The man looks confused and he pulls Patroclus backwards so he can get a better look at his face.
“Listen to me!”
The man’s voice is urgent but also bizarrely calm. Patroclus can only obey the man’s familiar deep voice and his body stills. The man releases Patroclus's hood and he trembles when the blond man is suddenly grabbing his wrist and placing his thumb upon his wiry blue vein.
“Your heart is beating fast.”
The man states. Patroclus looks confused but nods his head in agreement.
“I’m sorry if I scare you. It’s just…”
The man scratches the back of his head.
“You look the same age as me and judging from your clothes… you’re homeless, right?”
Patroclus blinks back astonished. He knows that he is homeless; however hearing it from the lips of a stranger is something Pat has never experienced before. It’s as if the dim light of reality has been switched on full blast and is now blinding him in the emerald green light from this man’s eyes. Patroclus is unsure how to respond. The man of course notices this and awkwardly moves his hand from Patroclus's wrist and into his palm. He gives Patroclus's hand a firm squeeze,
“My name is Achilles.”
He says, snapping Patroclus out of his thoughts. Pat squeezes back and then let’s go of Achilles hand as if he were burned. Achilles’s firm touch still lingers upon the skin of his hand in a soft warmth. His lip’s quiver,
“I’m Patroclus.”
Achilles blinks and then slowly repeats,
“Pat-ro-clus…”
He sounds it out, sweet and sticky like rich honey in the air, and in that mere moment Patroclus knows that he will never hear his name sound so lovely on the lips of any other stranger.
The light behind the blonde man's body is settling down into the vivid colors of a sunset, casting orange and scarlet hues upon the dreary city. Patroclus really needs to find a place to sleep before the sun is gone and darkness overtakes the day. He moves his head to look past Achilles with urgency, trying to hint to the man that he must go, and Achilles nods his own head in understatement.
“Of course, you need to find a place to rest for the night.”
Achilles says, not as a question but as a statement. He looks back at the setting sun and then back to Patroclus . The spark that has ignited in the man’s emerald eyes has Patroclus backing up further than before.
“Stay with me.”
Achilles says the words as if they were the easiest thing in the world. Confused Patroclus shakes his head no. What if this is all a trap? What if this man is a cop? Or what if this man is a criminal? His heart beats faster; a sore lump in his throat. Achilles looks to the side as if uneasy with this situation, but he still holds a proud smirk.
“I don’t mean like… I just… I think it would be better if you stay with me tonight. I have a room in the hotel down the street and well… It’s safer than the street.”
His words are full of strange confidence and Patroclus realizes that this man does not mean any harm. Achilles honestly just wants to help. Patroclus places his hand upon Achilles's shoulder.
“Thank you for your concern… but I will be alright.”
Patroclus’s words seem to anger Achilles somehow and he shoots Patroclus a harsh glare. He grabs Patroclus's arm, causing Pat to let out a yelp from the sudden brashness of his action, and his eyes fill with fear from memories of his past. Achilles looks injured when he hears the brown haired boy's yelp; therefore he quickly pulls back and lets out a sigh.
“I’m sorry.”
Achilles mutters and Patroclus rubs his arm.
“I just… I don’t think it’s safe for you here. I didn’t mean to hurt you just now but… If you stay out here you’re going to be killed!”
Achilles's sad eyes have Patroclus’s mind utterly puzzled. For some reason seeing this man sad feels as if the world is crushing beneath Patroclus's feet. With hesitance he reaches out and pulls on Achilles sleeve.
“Alright…”
Patroclus's voice shakes with uncertainy and he can feel bile rise in his throat,
“I’ll stay with you but… just for tonight.”
As if the sun could come out at night, Achilles beams like the brightest light Patroclus has ever seen! He grabs Patroclus's bag from his back and pulls out some hard candy that he was hiding in his pocket. Without any words Patroclus takes the candy from Achilles hand.
“When we get back to the room I can give you a proper meal! You are going to love it!”
Achilles says happily and Patroclus feels like a stray dog that Achilles has just picked up, however he does not mind being a stray dog, at least not for Achilles.