The worst thing they could have done, really, was to underestimate Achilles.
Achilles had never been a proud boy, not openly. And not for anything that didn't merit it. He could be boastful, and he liked to show off, because he knew he was good. In everything he set his mind to, in everything he was challenged to, he would be good at. Sports and music were what he excelled at. From the summer afternoons back in ‘97 and ‘99 when he, Antilochus and Automedon would spend sunny days playing baseball in Peleus’ backyard in Lamia before they moved to the United States—barefoot and wearing cheap copies of Yankees uniform jerseys over sweat-soaked white tank tops—to that 2001 talent show where he performed Bohemian Rhapsody by himself on an acoustic guitar he’d been given for Christmas their first year in Los Angeles. He would always stand out. He would always shine.
Patroclus was the first of the two to enter college in 2003, and from then on, he knew college baseball wouldn’t be for him. At least not at ELAU, and definitely not on his academic scholarship for vet school. Achilles entered two years later on an athletic scholarship. The ELAU baseball team won the 2006 NCAA season after a half-decade of losses with Achilles as their hitter. He was made for the game. His height was an advantage—he reached six feet by the end of his senior year in high school. Door frames were a common enemy, but it was a boon in confusing the five-foot-six USC pitcher—as was his speed. He averaged eight to ten meters per second, which allowed him to score a run in less than thirty seconds. Ridiculously, stupidly fast. Enough to confuse opposing fielders and reduce the number of outs per inning.
Everything went well for the first two years. Patroclus graduated from medical school and got a job as a veterinarian for a pet clinic nearby. Achilles left the frat house and they moved in together in an apartment not far from the school. The Achaeans won the 2006 and 2007 seasons. The days of celebration seemed endless, and their little gold coin could never be missing. Their best player. Their star hitter.
In such a short time, he earned the respect and adoration of the team. They loved him. And Achilles had no problem indulging his teammates by showing up to the parties they threw, just as Patroclus had no problem tagging along and making sure to keep his patient load as low as possible for at least one night. But truth be told—and it was a personal preference on both of their parts—the perfect celebration happened in the confines of the home they had created. Cooking dinner together with Anna Vissi's 90s hits filling the silence and a bad romantic comedy to watch curled up on the couch in front of the TV. It didn't even have to be that. Just each other's silent company was enough to create the perfect reward.
2008 was the year it all went downhill.
It wasn't Phoenix's fault. No one blamed him. He was an old man, and his retirement was a federal right. They held a memorial party for his years working at ELAU at a nearby pizza restaurant they always went to after a friendly game. Everyone loved him. Everyone adored him.
The real problem came when the university hired the Atrides as its new coaches.
Well, actually, Patroclus didn't like to point fingers. But at least Agamemnon was objectively a bad coach. If he had to point fingers—even just one—it would definitely be him. And his boyfriend would definitely agree.
Everything had been fine at first, as far as it went. He remembered Achilles telling him that he didn't like them, and that they were Greek. They were one of the few on the team that Patroclus knew for sure were Greek after Antilochus and Odysseus. That had been the only thing his boyfriend had to say about them at first.
Then came more complaints. That Menelaus had said his technique was mediocre and wanted to change it, that Agamemnon's strategies weren't working, that they weren't organized. As a result, Achilles came into the apartment every day in a foul mood. And eventually, Patroclus stopped asking him why he had such an attitude. There wasn't a need. He could easily guess.
Occasionally, he accompanied them to their practices and could understand his displeasure. Agamemnon was a deplorable coach. His strategies weren't bad, but his plan for executing them was shaky, and the team's spirit was shattered. Arguments were more common among the members. They narrowly won the regionals against UCLA. And the season was just beginning.
Patroclus and Odysseus weren't close friends. They barely saw each other when Patroclus attended practices, and Odysseus conveniently happened to be there, on the field instead of in his small event coordinator's office. The last time he accompanied Achilles to one of his practices, he sat next to Odysseus and they had a conversation. In the middle of their conversation, a commotion erupted on the other side of the stands—a tangle of shouts between Agamemnon and the star hitter—followed by the clang of metal against the grass after Achilles slammed his bat into the ground and strode off the field furiously. It wasn't the first time something like this had happened, and everyone knew it wouldn't be the last. Beside him, Odysseus sighed deeply and voiced what everyone—or at least Patroclus—was thinking.
"Those two are just alike; just as stubborn, and neither of them realizes it," he murmured. "If things keep going like this, we'll have to get them a couple lobotomy before the super regionals. Change their brain chemistry completely."
And yes, Agamemnon was a detestable, bitter coach whose strategies barely worked, but none of that was what caused the enmity between Achilles and him. No, not at all; it was their similarities. They were both stubborn, proud, and obstinate. If one shouted, the other sought to shout louder, and so on. There was no direction to any of their arguments. No matter what, they would never reach an agreement.
There was once a time when Patroclus tried to explain this to Achilles, which led to an argument that ended with him sleeping in the room they reserved for Thetis whenever she visited the States. This also became more frequent among them, the arguments, the disagreements. Since Achilles arrived at the apartment every day in a terrible mood, it became easier and easier for them to surface. Over anything. Over the dishes, over the clothes, over dinner. Eventually, the afternoons spent cooking and listening to the music Achilles' older sister instilled in them or watching romantic comedies on the couch became a rarity. Silences and hours of distance replaced them. And it was quite pitiful. Neither of them deserved that.
"Well, it seems to me he acts the same," Briseis replied when she told him about the situation.
They had just had a cat spayed and were taking a break to catch up. Patroclus looked at her in disbelief. As if she'd just said something in Chinese.
"What? No... That... That's not Achilles. Achilles isn't like that."
"With you."
Patroclus sighed.
"Yeah, well... I guess you're right."
"Look, Pat, I don't want to make it sound like I'm making light of the situation, but it's not weird for him to have such a terrible attitude. I mean... He's been like this since high school."
"I don't know, Bri. This week Neo was supposed to visit us, we'd go to Malibu, see his dad at the super regionals, and watch movies together; now Dei had to find a way to take him to Skyros with her boyfriend because Achilles is apparently too angry to spend time with his son. What can I do? He's never done that."
“Maybe you should confront him. But don't do it alone.”
“And with whom?”
“With someone he trusts, I don't know. His mom, his dad, his best friend…”
For the next practice, Patroclus brought his secret weapon. One of his favorite people in the world. The best person to snap Achilles out of his abnormal state.
“So... I don't understand. Do you suspect he's cheating on you or something?”
“What? No!”
“And what do you think is wrong with him?”
“You'll see. He's in a terrible mood.”
“...Is he not always…?”
Patroclus sighed. “Poly…”
The woman let out a lively, mocking laugh. At thirty-six, Polydora looked better than ever. With a youthful freshness, even after giving birth to her first child. She looked just like Achilles' cool, twenty-something sister who visited Peleus' house from time to time in Lamia.
To Patroclus, she was always like an older sister. She was very pretty, very nice, and helped him cope better with the trauma of a neglectful father. Much later, he discovered that she was also a victim of Achilles' jealousy. A topic for another time, but still quite funny.
He still didn't understand why they didn't get along that well. They were perfect matches. Both with a spitting image of Peleus reflected in the mischievous glint that shone in their green eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, sorry. He's always like that with me, okay? So to me, this is like you being worried because you woke up, looked out the window, and the sky was blue. If you're fighting, it's fine, it's normal, it's natural. Dad and Thetis fought all the time."
Patroclus looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
“... Maybe not the best example. But it'll pass, I promise.”
When they arrived at the field, the boys were already in their positions, and Achilles was waiting on the bench for his turn to bat, a frown softening when he saw Patroclus and solidifying again when he spotted his sister.
"What's she doing here?"
"Don't worry. Are you waiting for your turn?"
He nodded. "If they even remember that is my turn"
They did remember, after Antilochus scored on the third attempt. It was Achilles' turn. Patroclus and Poly sat in the stands watching practice and catching up. But it wasn't long before things went south.
Achilles hit the ball on the first attempt. A weak but useful move, apparently. Enough to score a first strike, given that Antilochus had barely scored one after the two strikes. That only reinforced his role as a star player. At least that was Patroclus' train of thought. Apparently, not everyone thought so.
Before running around the bases, Agamemnon paused the game to give feedback on his performance.
No, feedback sounds like an overly diplomatic verb; there's respect in feedback. What Agamemnon did was far from that.
"Aeacid, you swing like a sissy. We have to do this again. Start over, okay?"
Patroclus knew Achilles was seething inside just by watching him stand there, silent, his mind working tirelessly to avoid hitting the Atreide.
"What are you waiting for? Are you deaf? Should I speak in another language? Éla, agóri! éla, éla, éla! ”
Beside him, Poly made a face of disgust.
"Is that the guy you were talking about? So annoying."
Patroclus nodded. "He's one of the coaches. Although I don't see his brother anywhere."
"What happened to the previous one?"
"Phoenix? He retired."
"I see..."
On the field, Achilles obeyed orders without question. He took his stance again; arms and hands apart, the bat at twenty-five degrees to his body. Across the field, Eurydamas threw the ball in his direction, and Achilles made sure to swing with more determination. The ball flew to the other side of the field.
It was a good home run. Patroclus couldn't find a mistake. Polydora, beside him, stood up and began shouting encouragement. He smiled. He couldn't expect any less from his star hitter.
Agamemnon didn't seem to agree with any of them. When Achilles reached Home, he approached him, shaking his head.
Poly frowned. "What's that old man's problem?"
On the field, Achilles crossed his arms as the man approached him.
"What's your problem now, old man?" he asked. "What did I do wrong this time?"
Agamemnon sighed deeply. "Look, I know you think I'm very demanding, but..."
"Isn't that what you are?"
"I simply want this team to strive for excellence."
"You already have me. You don't to strive further."
That answer drew an unpleasant gasp of astonishment from Agamemnon's throat. He snapped his fingers and began pointing at Achilles while looking at the rest of the team.
"See?! See?! This is what I was talking about! He's an arrogant, spoiled boy. He thinks he's more important than he really is."
“Tell me how many games we've lost since I joined the team, you damn old dog!”
He was angry. Who wouldn't be? Anyone, in a situation like this, would be furious. But Achilles was too volatile. What in any human being would be mere exasperation was multiplied a thousandfold in him.
“And he disrespects me! Look, prinkipikó , brag about those accomplishments all you want, but that was before I came to knock you off your high horse, you hear? Grab the damn bat and let's start over until I decide it's good.”
“The only reason I'll grab the bat for is to smash your skull—”
“Well, that's enough with you two.”
Patroclus hadn't noticed Odysseus's presence on the field. But yes, there he was, on the bench with a thermos of water at his side. He'd gotten up to break up the argument.
He wondered how many times he had to do that. Interrupt the arguments between those two before they got out of hand and someone ended up with a broken nose.
"It's always the same with you!" Achilles yelled from a safe distance away from Agamemnon. "You can't admit I'm the best this team has. If it weren't for me, USC would have used all of you as a mop years ago. Am I wrong?"
That last bit was said on air, waiting for a response from his teammates. But no one agreed with him. Everyone fell silent.
Patroclus wondered if it was his time to step out and storm in. Even Poly squirmed beside him. But no one did anything.
Agamemnon let out a laugh, humorless. Accompanied by raucous applause.
"Now what? We all agree. You've got your head in the clouds. And for what? You're not good enough to be so arrogant."
Achilles clenched his fists. "I see. If that's the case, then I don't see why I shouldn't quit the team, right?"
That had been like a bucket of cold water for Patroclus. Quit the team? Was Achilles on drugs? He couldn't! It was his passion! Ever since he was little, he'd wanted to aspire to the big leagues. He was so excited when ELAU, a number one university in the NCAA rankings, gave him an athletic scholarship that he drove Patroclus to buy dozens of junk food in the middle of the night and told everyone he met along the way. The woman smoking on her porch, the Hispanic man smoking weed in front of the gas station, the cashier, everyone. He even called Polydora on the landline, and their screams woke Peleus, who shared his excitement before telling them to shut up.
How could he even consider the idea of leaving it all? In his junior year, no less? For something so trivial?
"Achilles..."
"No, Odysseus, it's over. I won't put up with this disrespect for another day. Not from Agamemnon, not from any of you. I'll be watching from home as the Priams drag you across the field. I'm leaving."
And so he did.
That day, Patroclus had to say goodbye to Polydora earlier than planned. He promised to get in touch with her another day and took her to her house. He really hoped to take her and Achilles to a café. He wanted to make the conversation more pleasant. But it didn't seem like it would happen anytime soon.
When he arrived at his apartment, he was greeted by the sound of an acoustic guitar coming from his room. Incoherent sounds that suddenly turned into Radiohead's No Surprises and then returned to random notes. Achilles was trying to distract his mind with something and was failing.
Patroclus thought about going to see him and talk about what had happened that day, but decided it was best to just let it be. Wait until the fire is completely out. He put his keys back in their place, poured himself a glass of water, sat down on the couch, and turned on the television. Every time Thetis visited them, she found a channel that exclusively showed Turkish soap operas. They never found it, no matter how hard they looked. He wondered if he could find Hatırla Sevgili with English subtitles.
After giving up and realizing he'd never find that channel, he decided to skip one of those stupid MTV reality shows. My Super Sweet Sixteens was on, and a blonde suburban girl was throwing a tantrum over the cake they chose for her. That'll do it. That'll keep his mind off for a while.
However, his mind wasn't completely clear; why would Achilles give up baseball? There were reasons why Patroclus decided not to play it after high school. His school had a good baseball team, and it was fun and exciting, but that was it. He didn't want to know anything after that—maybe a friendly game now and then and nothing else. But Achilles planned to play for the Yankees someday. The big leagues. How could he give it all up because of a tantrum that had surely passed by now? Was he crazy?
It was too late to change schools. He would lose his scholarship. He would abandon his passion. There were so many negative implications to his quitting.
Yet there they were.
After a while—maybe an hour or half.—Achilles appeared in the doorway of the room they shared.
" Agapité mou ."
His voice came out softly, barely more strident than a murmur. So different from the bellows from earlier. Patroclus smiled and looked up.
" Nai, zoi mou, psychi mou, kardiá mou ?"
Achilles smiled back. Still wearing his ELAU Achaeans jersey, untucked and half-buttoned. His hair was in a low, almost undone ponytail.
"What are you watching?" he asked.
"A trashy reality show."
"Oh?"
"Yes. My Super Sweet Sixteens or something like that. In this episode, Haysleigh wants a Great Gatsby-themed birthday party, but her mom, Susan, thinks that theme is too promiscuous for a girl her daughter's age. Quality entertainment, I know you'd like it."
"That old woman is an idiot. The Great Gatsby isn't even that dirty.”
Patroclus smiled and made room on the couch for Achilles. However, instead of sitting down, he wiped his smile and looked away. He suddenly looked self-conscious. An expression on him that Patroclus thought impossible.
"You took Poly to her house?"
"That's right."
"And you're not going to talk about what happened?"
Patroclus inhaled deeply and reached for the remote to turn down the TV volume. He wasn't paying much attention to it anyway.
"You already know what I think."
"You think I'm crazy."
"Yes."
"And that I'm making an impulsive decision."
"Yes."
"So?"
Patroclus sighed. "I also think you're an adult, and I trust that you know what's best for you. There is nothing I can tell you that you don't already know, and as your boyfriend, the best thing I can do is be there for you and support you wherever you are.”
That seemed to reassure him. "So you're not going to lecture me?"
Patroclus shook his head. "Not at all. Now, why don't you come watch TV with me, Kardiá mou ?"
The next few days were fairly routine. He continued working from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon at the pet clinic. Achilles skipped practice, so he came home earlier and spent more time with the guitar and keyboard that Patroclus forgot they had in their closet. The truth is, he took up music theory to fill his place at that university as a student, but he wasn't the most committed. It wasn't something he wanted to dedicate his life to, after all. Baseball was.
To Patroclus's satisfaction, every time he arrived at his apartment over the next few days, he found it clean and dinner ready. Or an attempt at it. Sometimes he resigned himself and bought dinner. Other times, what greeted him was a naked body in the sheets, ready to please him. That, too, had suddenly become quite common. It was as if he were trying to make up for his silence and hostility the previous few days.
"You seem happy," Briseis observed during one of their breaks. "Have the problems in paradise been resolved?"
"Something like that. He left the team and is happier than ever."
"Oh? Well, good for him. For you both, more like it."
"Thanks. We'll have to see how long that lasts.”
Not much, apparently. But it wasn't Achilles' fault. Not this time. Not entirely.
Odysseus and Automedon arrived at their apartment Saturday of that week. Achilles was practicing a Nirvana song, or something like that. The last song they performed for MTV Unplugged back in ‘93. He'd been in his room since noon, singing " My girl, my girl, don't lie to me. Tell me where did you sleep last night ."
“Who's dying?” Odysseus asked.
"Kurt Cobain. Again."
"Then tell him to come out, then. We need to talk."
Achilles came out of his room and offered them food and drinks, which they enjoyed amicably at the table in their humble home. It was nice to know that Achilles held no resentment or disdain toward them. That this was reserved solely for Agamemnon. It gave him comfort. He wasn't that problematic.
Odysseus put a price on the table. He said the super regionals had already started, that they had lost the first two matches, and if they lost the next one they would be disqualified. So, Agamemnon was offering him money to keep playing. That he regretted it and needed him to come back.
It seemed like a simple thing to accept. Achilles didn't need the money, but he craved his repentance. Patroclus didn't see why he wouldn't agree to the proposal on the table.
But he was Achilles at the end of the day. And if there was one thing about him, it was that he was as stubborn as a mule.
"If he wants to apologize to me, he'll have to do it in person."
Odysseus resigned himself and stopped insisting. Automedon, who had remained silent throughout the conversation, said, "I told you it would be useless," while wiping pizza sauce from his mouth. Achilles locked himself back in his room, and Patroclus concluded it would be wise to dismiss both men on their way out. Apologize too, perhaps.
When he opened the apartment door, he shook Odysseus's hand.
"I apologize on his behalf."
"Don't worry, we know how he is."
"I wish I could make it up to you somehow, though. Is there really no more hope? Nothing else to do?"
Odysseus was about to say something, but was immediately interrupted by Automedon.
"If you want to be of any help, put on that uniform and play in his place. My cousin went to the same high school as you and blondie and I've seen you play before. You're good."
Patroclus shook his head. "I'm rusty."
"What better oil than practice?"
"I'll think about it, okay?"
"Well, please think quickly. The game is Monday against USC, and we don't even have a strategy prepared."
Automedon clicked his tongue. "At the end of the day, that bastard was right, wasn't he? We're nothing without him."
Patroclus disagreed, and so did Odysseus. But at that point, what else was left?
Convincing Agamemnon wasn't easy. They had to organize a friendly game at the university on Saturday. Patroclus had to take time off work and invent an excuse for Achilles about where he would be that afternoon. He was left batting against Automedon. And, despite his defeat, he bought him a beer after the game and they caught up. Agamemnon seemed pleased with that performance. And Patroclus was ready to give it his all against Tampa the next day.
Another day of Patroclus lying to Achilles. He told him he'd have a sleepover with Briseis that night, but in reality, he was going across the state to play a baseball game against Tampa University. He warned him he might be back home in the early hours. Achilles became suspicious, but didn't make it any bigger than he thought he would. He was busy with a school project, after all.
They won that game by ten runs. They celebrated with a small party at a club near the college. Agamemnon made a toast to being able to lead them to victory without Achilles, and Odysseus and Menelaus spent the rest of the night singing drunken Greek songs about wandering sirens and hedonistic pasts.
Patroclus was proud of his performance. It was his first match in years, and he had performed excellently. The next morning he would explain everything to Achilles, and he would surely understand.
That morning, he arrived home tired, sweaty, and exhausted. But after bathing and changing into more comfortable clothes, he found serenity in his bed and the familiar scent that accompanied it. Achilles noticed his presence and hugged him. And that was enough.
Later that morning, however—when Patroclus finished telling Achilles the real reasons for his absences—he received no warm hugs.
He received no disdain either, not one of his explosive outbursts of anger; only silence. Silence, then a look of surprise and disappointment. I could almost hear a "et tu, brute?" coming from his mouth.
"Why didn't you consult it with me?"
"I figured you wouldn't agree. I wanted to help them win a game before letting you know."
"Well... no. But... if it doesn't get in the way of your work..."
"It's just a favor, okay? The super regionals are almost over, and we won't have to hear any more baseball until further notice."
Achilles sighed. "Okay."
That same night there was another game. And things went downhill.
It was the second super-regional game of the week. Patroclus was ready to replace Achilles, who had stayed home to wait for him. He promised to watch the game on television, and Patroclus appreciated that.
In any sport, it's good luck to play games on campus. An omen that ELAU has benefited from many times. This game would be one of those. The game against USC would be on ELAU's field, with its blue and silver flags waving in every corner and the student in the Achaean soldier costume motivating the team.
Maybe that gave them more confidence than they really should have had. Maybe it was the game the night before. That made them let their guard down, for sure.
Or maybe they were just meant for failure.
They were doing decently. It was obvious that with players like the Priams, they would have a hard time standing out, but that didn't stop them from putting up a good fight. Antilochus was an excellent hitter, Automedon their best pitcher, and their strategy was more than polished.
The Atrides had wide, bright smiles on both faces, even Odysseus seemed engaged in sportsmanship. If Achilles was watching from home, he was surely proud of his team's performance, even in his absence.
Then he stood face to face with Hector Priams. His team's star player, an excellent pitcher. And Patroclus was sure of it. For the force with which he threw the ball deflected completely off his bat and instead struck him in the head with the force of a bullet.
Patroclus had read about the symptoms of a concussion in medical school, only the documents he read focused on cats, dogs, or even rodents. They weren't much different from what he'd felt when he woke up. Before he was even aware of where he was, he rolled over to the other side of the stretcher and vomited into a bucket that, conveniently, was there.
His head pounded with a force he'd never thought possible. He had to lie down to focus his vision and take in his surroundings. He was in a hospital, on a stretcher, with another change of clothes, pajamas that didn't look like hospital clothes. The curtains were closed, letting in the morning sun; it was daytime. There was a screen in front of him next to a whiteboard with intelligible scribbles, but it was off. There were three controls next to it on a small table. He didn't remember how or what had brought him there.
He only knew that his head hurt, he felt nauseous, and he was hungry (although he doubted he'd be able to eat anything without vomiting).
A few minutes later, two nurses entered the room with papers, medication, and a bottle of water. They both had a bizarrely bubbly attitude and made him take two pills. At least drinking water made him feel better. A little.
"We're so glad you woke up," one of the nurses said. "On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in right now?"
Patroclus felt a stab of pain in his head. He squeezed his eye shut and placed a hand on it. "Seven— Eight."
"That's pretty high. Do you think you can answer a few questions, or would you rather we let you rest?"
"Let's just... get this over with, okay?"
"Good. It's just to make sure the injury is not worse. You have a concussion, and it's important to make sure you're okay before we release you."
"Someone's been waiting anxiously for you since last night."
His head throbbed, and he thought. Achilles .
The questions came and went, and came and went. Yes, his name was Patroclus Menoitiades. Yes, he was born on February 25, 1985, and he is twenty-three years old. Yes, he was born in Central Greece, in Lamia, the capital of Phthiode. Yes, he lives in Los Angeles, California. Yes, he knew the madman who fell asleep in the hospital lobby after fighting with a nurse for not letting him sleep in his room. Of course he knew him. That was his boyfriend.
That seemed to convince the nurses that his injury wasn't the worst. He didn't suffer from memory loss and could formulate the answers they asked of him fairly well. He only felt dizzy from time to time, and his head throbbed with sharp stabbing pains. The nurses prescribed him medication and specific instructions for the following days, along with rest, lots of rest.
His boyfriend was indeed waiting for him in the hospital lobby; His hair was disheveled and his face puffy from crying all night, possibly. Beside him were Briseis and Odysseus, who seemed to have recently arrived at the hospital. Achilles was the first to notice his presence, and therefore the first to stand up and jump into his arms before Patroclus could take a step closer to the receptionists.
Ah, who was he kidding? The receptionists could wait. Nothing else mattered when he had his boy in his embrace.
Then she broke the embrace and kissed him on the lips without warning. Then she moved on to his cheeks, his nose, and his eyelids. The kind of desperation that comes with relief.
"Achilles, darling, I'm warning you, I threw up not long ago."
"I don't care," he muttered in a raspy voice. "I don't care, Pat. I almost lost you because I was stupid and couldn't deal with my own problems alone, and that damn idiot..."
"Okay." It was Odysseus who interfered. "Calm down, Aeacid. You almost broke Antilochus's nose last night because of that attitude of yours."
Patroclus saw Achilles roll his eyes and Briseis behind him made a disgusted expression.
He held his face in his hands with a defeated air and sighed.
"This will never happen again. I promise, Pat. I will never put you in danger like that again. I swear.”
Patroclus smiled at the sincere tone of her voice and nodded. No matter what happened, it couldn't get any better for them from now on. He was sure of it.
2009 was their year. Patroclus knew it. The rest of the team knew it. Even the Atrides could feel it. It was in the atmosphere, in the air they breathed and the whispers that passed through the university halls. They had already hit rock bottom, and the only thing left was to gather momentum and climb as high as they could.
Agamemnon and Achilles made peace, despite the coach's persistent skepticism. Menelaus seemed much more accepting of Achilles' role on the team, but it took his brother time to fully put aside his differences with Achilles. It didn't matter at all. That wouldn't negate the star hitter's moment to shine. Everyone knew it.
Patroclus knew it more than anyone, without a doubt. The night before the super regionals game against USC, the team threw a frat party. Achilles and him had stopped attending those parties as regularly; as the years passed, the atmosphere became less enjoyable. But they'd won every game before that one, and it was something to celebrate after all the disaster of last year. The night was young, and Patroclus's vision was blurred by two bottles of vodka lemonade. He didn't usually drink much, so he allowed himself to indulge that night—just a little. His boyfriend, on the other hand, was much more indulgent. It wasn't advisable in the least for athletes to consume such substances frequently, but Achilles didn't care. He wasn't an alcoholic, but he did have a bottle of whiskey that he opened once or twice a month. He wasn't a smoker, but in the same pocket where he kept his keys, he had a half-full pack of Marlboros. And so on.
That night, he had three shots of tequila under his skin and a margarita in one hand when he approached Patroclus with a drunken smile. The room was almost completely dark except for a few LED lights, and the people around them were dancing to a song whose name Patroclus couldn't identify—a Rihanna song, or something. Achilles stumbled onto his lap and put an arm around his shoulders.
"Tomorrow... You and I will be winners."
His voice came out hoarse and damp with alcohol. Patroclus smiled; watching his drunk boyfriend was always funny. He wrapped his hand around his waist and planted a kiss on his temple.
"I bet we will, love. I bet we will."
A smile graced his Achilles's flushed face.
"You don't understand." He laughed. "You'll see tomorrow. Everyone will see tomorrow.”
And so it was.
It was their most anticipated game in a long time. Even Deidamia, who had limited any interaction with them to agreements regarding Neo's custody, decided to attend the game with her son in her arms. Patroclus remembers that she'd always been a baseball fan since high school, so the stadium wasn't strange to her. He was glad to see her so happy after so long.
The pace of the game was normal. The strategy this time was much stronger than the last game the year before. The USC team had arrived with their egos sky-high since that loss, which made it easier for them to mop the floor with them. Paris was an incompetent hitter, anyway, and everyone knew it. The least effective of the Priamides, someone who only stayed on the team out of sheer nepotism, being the son of the college’s principal. And yet he had the nerve to enter the field with a smile on his face. One that he kept even after Automedon beat him in his round.
It was as if he was sure they would win after all. Whether by luck or magic, Patroclus couldn't quite understand. But that didn't matter. All he knew was that it was ridiculously satisfying to see that arrogant smile fade when Achilles scored his tenth run against his brother Hector. Another victory for ELAU.
Patroclus remembers the shouts, the applause, the chants, and the whistles. There were still two more games left to finish the baseball NCAA, but based on their performance up to that point, the trophy would be theirs. Still, their celebration was more about victory after the previous year's embarrassing defeat. For them, that was already a win.
There were a lot of people crowded at the foot of the stands. Despite that, it wasn't difficult to find him. He was in the center, his clothes soaked with sweat, and Neo was sitting on his shoulders with his father’s cap on. The people around him showered him with praise, congratulations, and jokes. His attention was focused on all of them, smiling at them with princely airs. His Achilles.
On a miraculous night like that, the impossible could happen. And so it did. Agamemnon approached Achilles and congratulated him on his performance in that day's game with a friendly handshake, which the player reciprocated. It didn't mean they were friends, nor that he regretted their previous relationship, but it was progress.
The group had dispersed, Deidamia had said her goodbyes, and only they remained. It didn't take long for Achilles' green eyes to fall upon him, his face flushed with heat and adrenaline from the previous game. He smiled at him, and Patroclus smiled back. And the two embraced.
"You were right. We're both winners."
Achilles shook his head and broke the hug.
"Not yet."
Patroclus tilted his head.
"What do you mean?"
A lively gleam lit his eyes. Around him, the team was leaving the field to go to the celebratory party at the frat house. Achilles' eyes flickered to Odysseus's office across the field, and he dragged Patroclus over.
He was confused; what were Achilles' intentions? He considered the possibility that he had a gift hidden inside the office waiting for him, but he dismissed the idea completely the moment they entered the room and Achilles closed the door behind him and started kissing him.
He considered that possibility, too, but he figured he'd wait until they got to the apartment. Until he'd wiped the sweat off himself and could relax in front of the television. However, Patroclus had once again underestimated his boyfriend's impatience.
The kiss was peaceful at first, nothing too big. Just the fluid touch between two mouths longing to meet; as if they had never met before. Achilles kissed him tenderly and patiently, sometimes breaking their union to plant little kisses all over his face. Patroclus's heart was filled with cotton. His boyfriend's kisses always made him feel soft and warm inside, and those sensations were intensified by the soft kisses Achilles placed on his neck and the way he outlined his chin with his lips. He felt pampered, but he was also capable of reciprocating with kisses and caresses from his long blond hair to his waist.
Of course, that's what he meant. Ever so shameless. He thought he could do whatever he wanted.
Well, Patroclus would show him it wouldn't always be like this. Between kisses and stumbles, they found themselves at Laertida's desk, and as Patroclus stumbled to his seat, Achilles entwined their legs while swaying his hips self-consciously. Like someone who didn't care. So shameless.
"I couldn't stop thinking about this," he confessed, planting breathless kisses along his boyfriend's neck. "I spent the whole game pent-up thinking about you."
"That you did" Patroclus questioned in the same tone; panting, breathless, holding onto his boyfriend's body for stability.
"Yes..." Achilles moaned desperately. "Yes, yes..."
Patroclus almost laughed at the sight of him so desperate. Gradually rubbing his pelvis against his boyfriend's thigh as they tried to accommodate themselves on the desk. So pent-up that only Patroclus' voice was enough to make him squirm. So needy that any touch could bring him to the brink of climax.
And Patroclus knew it. Of course he knew it; who could know better, besides him? So many years and they hadn't exploded any bodies besides each other, they hadn't loved anyone more than each other.
He was sitting halfway on the desk with his boyfriend straddling his lap, rubbing his hips and kissing his neck. Looking at him with glassy eyes, full of urgency.
"You're so impatient today. What's wrong, agape mou?"
"I want you to fuck me against the desk and tell me how good I was today, how good I've been, how perfect I always am.”
Patroclus held a laugh deep in his throat and kissed his boyfriend again passionately, caressing his body and drinking in the sounds that came from his mouth with hungry lips.
Achilles probably had a small bottle of lube in his pocket—knowing him, ever so shameless—but he didn't take it out, didn't even make a move, just continued rubbing himself against Patroclus. Against his hips. Against his face. All of him. All of his body. All of him.
Ah, the years would pass and they would never tire of each other's bodies. Everything always felt like it was the first time. The same electricity. The same vehemence. The same heat.
Achilles certainly made the same sounds. The same obscene moans. The same curses in the air, mixing Greek and English. The same gasps, the same faces, and the same trembling.
"I love you, ngh..." he moaned, clutching his uniform shirt as he continued to hump his fully clothed lap. "I love you so much, Pat... Pat... Pat, my love... ah..."
Patroclus accompanied him urgently, moans and grunts as he pounded into his boyfriend's pelvis. His beautiful boyfriend, damn him. His sun-blond hair, his slim but powerful body, and his mesmerizing green eyes always managed to captivate him like no other. There was no one else in the world for him. Only his Achilles. His beautiful Achilles.
Ah, it was a delight to watch him break; how does he manage to change from that stoic, impenetrable countenance on the field while playing, to the tangle of obscene moans, reddened face, and dilated pupils desperately seeking to cum in his lap?
"I should take a picture of you like this," he gasped. "Show everyone on that team what you really are."
"What am I, huh...? Your dirty little whore?"
Patroclus shook his head and held her face in his hands. "No. Mine. Only mine. My love. My heaven. Half of my soul. Only mine."
Achilles whimpered through pursed lips and leaned down to kiss his boyfriend. Patroclus could feel him close by the way he quickened his humping and the way his thigh muscles tensed.
"Are you really going to cum like this, my Achilles?" Patroclus whispered against his ear. "So desperate you can't wait to get to the flat, can't you?"
Achilles groaned and nodded.
"Mm, I should have known," Patroclus moaned in a mock tone. "You can't spend even a minute away from me, can you?"
"N-No... ngghh..."
"Gosh, listen to yourself, you can barely speak."
“P-Pat… ngh… Patroclus…”
“It's okay, love. Let it go. Come for me.”
And that was enough. Achilles began to tremble electrically, his face buried in his neck as he clutched his boyfriend's shirt tightly. Patroclus held him, gently stroking his back and kissing his temple.
These were moments Patroclus cherished more than sex itself: feeling the tension dissipate from his Achilles's body and letting himself go in his arms. He loved, more than anything in the world, the way his lungs contracted naturally again and his heartbeat found its natural rhythm.
"Y-You're impossible..." Achilles murmured.
Patroclus smiled. "You're one to talk.”
"It's not fair. You distracted me. I'd been planning an hours-long heated session here and you held me back with your hands on my hips."
"I didn't do anything. You don't know how to be patient," Pat rebuked, then laughed. "Who would have thought you'd come so easily. Don't you guys practice endurance in training?"
Achilles clicked his tongue. "Shut up. You had me, objectively a hot stuff, on your lap, moaning and rubbing against you, and you didn't come. Should I report a case of erectile dysfunction to the hospital?”
Patroclus laughed again, then took his boyfriend's hand and led it to his hard crotch.
"There's no need.”
Achilles bit his lip.
"You really are impossible."
"Why? Because I fuck you senseless the way you wanted? Don't worry, you can still have me if you want it so badly."
Achilles thought about it as he stroked his hard-on, still imprisoned by his clothes. Patroclus felt his breath hitch.
"You know, I don't know if I still want it."
"For God's sake, get on your knees and stop complaining."
It was Achilles' turn to smile. He said nothing and was diligent in his work. Good. That's how he liked it.
Achilles knelt in front of him, and the sight might have been enough to make Pat come: his eyes glazed over, his hair disheveled, his clothes all out-of-place, and his face as red as a peach. Even worse was the way he looked at him with his dilated pupils and his expression of feigned innocence. Oh, that shameless bitch.
He rubbed his face against Patroclus' erection, still within the confines of his pants, and watched him with wide eyes and a drunken grin on his face. Patroclus was clinging to the desk behind him as if his life depended on it. Partly, it did.
"You should take a picture of this."
Patroclus wasn't in the mood to talk further, but he indulged Achilles anyway.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes, to remember this moment."
"Mm, you're right."
"You finally realize."
"We should put it in the dining room, let everyone see how obsessed you are with my dick.”
That made his Achilles smile even wider. Without further ado and putting aside his hesitation, he undid his belt and pulled down his pants and underwear, exposing his member. Erect, swollen, and wet from all the rubbing a few minutes ago.
His breath caught as Achilles licked slowly and torturously from the bottom to the head, looking down at him with a mocking expression. The shameless one. Patroclus stifled a moan and placed a hand in his boyfriend's hair. No more grabbing yet. He just let it rest there.
He began sucking on the head without taking his eyes off him, returning to that expression of feigned innocence as he took it deeper into his mouth and covered the area he couldn't fit with his fingers. Patroclus pressed his lips together and stroked his hair to keep from getting carried away. He didn't want to give him the pleasure just yet.
Achilles seemed to realize this, so he pulled away from his erection with an obscene gasp and simply masturbated him with a wet hand.
"Okay, you're being annoying. You can moan, you know."
"I won't give you the pleasure."
"Oh, so that's what this is all about."
If Achilles liked anything, it was a challenge. And their little... adventure—if you will—didn't have to be one. But Patroclus knew his boyfriend, and he knew he'd take it personally.
Of course he knew. How could he not? The last time Achilles took something personally, Patroclus ended up in the hospital. He'd have to pray to God that wouldn't happen again.
Has anyone ever died from a blowjob? Didn't that happen in a South Park episode?
Maybe Patroclus would die from the way Achilles licked the sides of his cock, or the way he pumped his head back and forth, andthe way it found more and more room inside his mouth. God, he had to hold back the urge to grab him by the hair and thrust all the way down his throat.
Achilles could see his desire through those knowing green eyes. That's why he had that lively expression on his face, even as he licked along the base and between his balls. God. Damn it. How could this man be real?
He was so close. His legs were shaking, and he could feel it building in the pit of his stomach, like an electric shock ready to explode. Achilles knew it, and that's why he made it his mission to suck as deep as he could. Again and again. From top to bottom. The closer he got to the base with his lips, the closer he went to the head and masturbated him with his saliva. How obscene. Damn shameless.
Patroclus merely moaned as he clutched his long hair and tied it into a messy bun with one hand. Achilles continued with his magical movements of his throat and tongue, driving him ever closer to the edge.
He couldn't go on like this. It was too much. Achilles was too much, in every way, in every way. As a player, as a friend, and as a lover.
And Patroclus knew it as well as he knew the sun would rise every morning. Why did he act so foolish if he always gave in in the end?
And he did, cumming into his very insistent boyfriend's mouth with a shrill moan. Achilles hummed softly as he licked the remaining drops from his lips. That bastard.
Now relaxed, Patroclus looked down at him, his eyelids heavy.
"You're impossible."
Achilles plastered a feline grin on his face and leaned up to kiss him. Patroclus averted his face.
"You're not going to kiss me with a dirty mouth, fucking disgusting."
His boyfriend tilted his head. "You don't taste what you sell? What a shady business."
"Whatever you say. I don't want to give you the pleasure yet."
Achilles rolled his eyes and kissed his cheek instead, wrapping him in a hug.
"I love you, Pat, so much," he confessed. Though it wasn't really a confession, just a reaffirmation. They'd loved each other so much since they learned the meaning of the
Patroclus let out a pleased sound. "Me too, my love."
"Thank you for being there when I'm unbearable."
"You're my boyfriend. There isn't a single part of you I can't bear."
Achilles smiled and leaned in to kiss him again. This time, Patroclus lets him, wrapping his arms around his waist.
He would always be there for Achilles, just as he knew Achilles would be there for him. Through his ups and his downs. Through thick and thin. Even when the whole world turned against him, Patroclus would have a place for Achilles. Their small apartment or his veterinary office. There wasn't a place on earth with his name written on it without his boyfriend's name accompanying it. And he knew it was reciprocated.
Achilles and Patroclus and Patroclus and Achilles and Achilles and Patroclus. Forever, and ever through thick and thin.
After they broke away, Achilles pressed his mouth to Patroclus’ ear.
"You know, sucking you off got me hard again... What do you think about going all the way this time?"
Patroclus sighed. "Wait until we get to the flat.”
Date: April 3rd-May 11th, 2025
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