𝐇𝐘𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐔𝐒

Chapter 7.5

"Dear Aphrodite," Hyacinthus said, shuffling around to face the goddess's statue. "I've recently been pursued by a man I don't know too clearly."

He continued praying to the goddess, switching to a voiceover in his head out of shyness. Aphrodite's face was smooth white marble, her emotionless eyes staring straight ahead, ignoring the tiny Spartan under her feet.

Give me a sign, even the littlest thing is enough. Guide me through this obstacle. 

Hyacinthus got up, dusting the pale white markings on his shins. The sky was a beautiful shade of orange, with red shadows and pink clouds. Somewhere in the west, Apollo was there, bolting from one side of the world to the other. 

He looked to the heavens, clenching his feet, pursing his lips. His tongue ran over his upper lip, moistening it. Hyacinthus stood there for a count of five, his eyes unwavering at the setting sun.Then he walked down from the temple, sandals hitting the ground as he raced back to the palace.

The next morning, the soft beams of the sun pestered Hyacinthus's face. The happy chirp of birds, created only to rouse sleepy princes who have insomnia.  He groaned, squinting his eyes and rolling over.

Crunch! 

The sound of dry leaves being stepped on. Hyacinthus lazily opened his eyes, staring at the golden laurel he had just crushed with his head. Dry leaves of delicate gold, vanishing into a pile of gold dust. Golden laurels, Apollo's creation from his fallen lover, Daphne.  

This was no mistake. 

Aphrodite had indeed given him a sign, not caring if he had told her the name of the mysterious man or not. She knew. After all, she was the goddess of love. Hyacinthus rubbed his hands together, pulling on his chiton. 

Familiar golden curls. The perfectly sculpted back in front of him in a meadow of navy flowers.

"Apollo!" Hyacinthus yelled, smile on his face, as he ran towards his lover.

excuse me for not knowing how to pray to a greek goddess.