this to be our last words - patrochilles

II

Sometimes I caught Achilles watching longer than he needed. I saw this in the stream, our bodies stripped as we rid the grime of a week of Pelion. His eyes traced my back.

I turned every so often, to tell him I know, but his eyes kept on me and didn't let go. His eyes just above the water, his golden sunlight hair floating around him like a halo of honey, he watched me as I wade to him.

Achilles lifted a hand out of the water, pressing it to my chest as I neared.

"Don't come nearer," I heard him gurgle as he spits water out of his mouth. I twist my lips. Sunlight pressed his features, chilzeling them from pure quartz. His eyes flicked to mine in an instant, and then down, further and further.

The heat on my face was sure to be seen by him. The day was warm but in this water we had no reason for flushed faces of sweat and stickiness.

I would wonder what he saw in me. For I still had no recognition of myself in any way, besides the lines drawn in my palms and the freckles on my darkened skin. Did I look to Achilles as he looked to me?

My own features provided no comfort but also no pain. If he loved me here, up on this mountain, dirtied and sweaty, he was sure to love me regardless of how my features present themself. I believed he also felt this way. He knew he was grimey and did not let it hold him behind, clutching his heart in a twist of fear.

I could tell by the way his hand curled into my bare chest, the way he nudged himself close in the water. His hair now slicked back to his cheeks and chest. The way his face turned down in shyness at the way his eyes caught mine. His fear, perhaps, was persistent ever still in the newness of this all. We had to fear the voices of others, crawling between our pressed bodies.

Our love was strong but voices could grow louder. No matter how strong we were we could still jump at a shout. Thetis was one, Peleus another. Perhaps even Chiron, we had to keep our love from. Young boys were expected of this kind of relationship. But love? For that we were blind.

But who could ever protest a love like this? With his soft hands pressing in urgency, his breath hurried as he found footing against the current.

He was every sunray in the sky, every sweet melody of birdsong at dawn. He was every time a grin was drawn to my mouth and every shaky hand with nerves. And when he straightened, each vertebrae clicked into place, he stared into my dark eyes, unmoving, undaunted.

"Patroclus," He said, the sweetness of his voice slipping into the rush of the water. I waited, my feet slipping on the rock I stood on. Achilles lifted his free hand, his nimble fingers coursing through my curls. His eyes studied the space of my ear and neck.

My own hand rested on his stomach, the lines etched there from our years on Pelion. He exhaled, his fingers running down my ear, to the base of my neck.

His skin was lighter than mine, his hair too. We look as different as willow to spruce, but fit just as well.

Chills ran over my flesh as Achilles ran his fingers along my collarbone. I was thinner than he, my bones more protrudant than his. Where I lacked in lithe muscle, he made up. Where he lacked in knowledge, I happily helped. We fit into each other like hands clasped between our bodies.

"I've never noticed the way your hair bounces," Achilles said. I watched as his eyes drew back to mine. His hair shone in the zenith of the sun. He hummed as he leaned closer. His lips brushed my cheek.

"Yours shines," I murmured back. Achilles chuckled then, pulling back before tossing his arms around my neck. He hitched me forward, half slipping into the water as he clung onto me. I shouted out in surprise, a sound besides it rising in my throat.

"Patroclus!" He sang joyously. "Patroclus, the way you speak!"

"What about my speech?" I asked. Achilles turned his head ever just, a smile painted to his lips. He tilted his head.

"Why should my shine take away from your bounce? Your gifts counter mine in ways I adore. Your hair brings that warmth to me." I blinked, my face obviously red. Achilles took joy in this, swinging me again, closer to a flush against his body.

"I never said that," I said, rubbing my face rid of red. Achilles's eyes went soft, the vibrant green turning as soft as new furled leaves. "You adore me?"

"I thought I made that evident by my kisses," He said, eyes wide again. I swallowed. "Or shall we do something secret?"

"What more secret than that?" I mumbled. "Let me take you to the fig tree." Achilles perked up then, his arms tightening more. His face was brushing mine. My lips itched empty.

"Fig tree?" He murmured. I nodded. "Why haven't I seen before?" He asked me. I hummed, taking my arms around his waist. His eyes flickered down, mouth opening. He gasped as I tugged the last bit of space away.

"You would just eat them all," I tell him. He furrowed his brows at me, puffing out his cheeks. "Chiron and I agreed."

"Mutiny," He said as I pulled him out of the water. I struggled to shore, carrying him in my arms. Achilles stepped down, squeezing his hair in dry clumps as he pulled on his tunic. I put my own on, watching him from behind.

Achilles turned, dressed, his hair crumpled dark around his shoulders. He came to me, his eyes focused on my hand. I held it out to him. He hesitated in his clasp, his fingers lacing mine as I pulled him away from our riverbath.

I led him along the path Chiron first showed me, our feet pattering the dirt flat. We went bare footed along Pelion. We had no need for shoes. We would clean our feet in the streams before sleep and in the morning when we washed our faces in the running water instead of Chiron's cave.

Achilles followed behind me, his steps brushing my heels.

"Step on my feet and we'll make it there in more," I told him. I turned back. Rays of gold gleamed off his hair, framing his head in a halo of light. I swallowed against his beauty, my heart fluttering as the tiny white butterflies that inhabited the grasses.

"I'm sorry," He said, a smile still painted on his face. "I'm very excited." I smiled with him.

"The figs will still be there," I told him, my grip tightening on his hand. He jumped off a ledge, down to stand next to me on the downhill path.

"I know," He said, his eyes turning down the trail. "But my hunger may not."

"Achilles, you are always hungry for figs," I said, laughter in my voice. He smiled again as I squeezed his cheeks affectionately. He turned then, eyes widening as they landed on the three-tipped leaf of the fig tree.

He shouted as he ran down, hands grasping out for figs. My feet neared to a stop as Achilles turned, wiping his mouth of the sticky sweet of the figs. Without thought, my fingers wrapped around his ear, tugging gently at the hair tucked behind. He swallowed then, his mouth opening a little in welcome. I took the widened arms, my hands holding his shoulders as my mouth pressed against his.

We crushed into each other once again whole for a moment, our mouths bled, the line between our bodies nonexistent.

He tasted of sweetness, the ripeness of the figs grainy against his tongue. His hands turned fierce as he pulled me against him, his hands finding my hair. Tugging, I follow him.

I drink in his taste, gasping for oxygen against his breath. His hands found more curves in my body, the slight dip of my ribs, the just rise of my thighs. He traced me now, drinking in details he'd never noticed before. We were unexplored to each other, and we wanted nothing more but to know it like our home.