Patrochilles

IV

We lie on the bare sheets, staring up at the tent ceiling.

The heavy cover's since joined the pillow on the floor.

Our breaths are heavy, saturating the cool night air. I try to gather mine, spool it in slowly, but it only causes me to cough, hack, and then breathe harder.

The bed shakes from my weak effort.

Besides me, Achilles croaks as if in laughter, and I want to hit him.

But curse the gods, all the pillows are on the floor. And he's panting so much I can't really be sure it was a laugh.

Though I think it was. I'm nearly positive. There's no mistaking the sheer music of Achilles' laughter, even as a croak.

I smile as I pant and reach out to Achilles' chest. His heart flaps and thrums beneath my fingers.

Golden boy does get tired. This only I know.

My hand slides off his chest, too tired to stay.

"Very dignified for our last night." I manage to puff out between pants.

Achilles tilts his head toward me and manages one word. "Indeed."

Now it's my turn to laugh.

Achilles soon joins in, and together, we rattle the bed—panting, laughing, squirming in each other's sweet sweat.

We are a sight I wish would never end.

But Achilles'  laughter dies down, and I hiccup.

We lie in silence for several minutes, listening to each other's bodies. Feeling the space between us that feels like no space at all.

"But that blanket ..." Achilles starts, and I break down before he's finished speaking.

"What a nuisance!"

Our howls pierce the night.