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The winter air stung Patroclus’ cheeks as he stepped out the doors of the clinic. He flipped up the collar of his coat and shoved his hands in his pockets, making his way swiftly towards his car. He’d worked late like he did every Friday. His shift had been hectic with cold and flu season in full swing, and by the time he’d clocked out his eyes were heavy and his back ached from being kept on his feet all day.
He was eager to get home, longing for his sofa and a warm blanket and a cup of tea and Achilles. His Achilles. His best friend, his flatmate, his favorite person, his home.
Patroclus ran his fingers absently over the friendship bracelet Achilles had made for him when they were boys, which Patroclus still wore every single day. The colors of the threads were faded and it was on the verge of falling apart, but Patroclus couldn’t bear to part with it. When he felt it around his wrist, it was as if he carried a little part of Achilles with him all day long.
His car was covered with a thin layer of snow. Sighing, he unlocked it and took out the brush to clean it off. He hoped he would make it home before the roads got too bad.
Even on late nights, like tonight, he knew Achilles would be waiting up for him. He could picture him now, curled up on the sofa in one of Patroclus’ oversized sweatshirts (he loved to steal them), watching some silly late late show on television.
He would be there as soon as Patroclus opened the door, like an excited puppy, hugging him and talking a million miles a minute before Patroclus even had a chance to take off his shoes.
He would follow Patroclus around as he put away his things and got something to eat, telling him about this and that, all the little stories he’d accumulated throughout the day.
Patroclus could hardly wait. He had the best best friend in the world.
He settled into his car, turning on the radio as he navigated out of the parking lot. He always listened to the same station on his commute home from work, the ritual of it helping him to unwind after a long day. First came the news – more updates about the war in Troy. Then came the weather and traffic reports, and then, Patroclus’ guilty pleasure: Deidamia’s Dilemmas.
“I can’t believe you listen to this,” Achilles had cackled the first time Patroclus had turned it on while he was in the car. “My mom listens to this. Oh gods, you have a crush on this Deidamia woman, don’t you?”
Patroclus had insisted he did not have a crush on Deidamia. It was just that she had a very soothing voice, while giving expert love advice to desperate callers each evening. What was there not to like?
“Good evening, my darlings,” Deidamia crooned through the speakers. “Welcome to Deidamia’s Dilemmas. For the next hour, I’ll be taking your calls, lending a sympathetic ear to all of your love dilemmas, and giving you my best advice so you can enjoy a magical evening with your sweetheart.”
Patroclus relaxed in his seat, tuning into Deidamia’s melodic voice as he turned onto the main road.
“Let’s hear from our first caller, shall we? What can I do for you tonight, dear?”
“Hi, Deidamia,” came another voice through the static of the speakers, and Patroclus gripped hard onto the steering wheel, nearly swerving off the side of the road. He would know that voice anywhere.
“I’m calling because, there's something I want to confess, something I’ve been thinking about for a long time.”
“What in Hades does he think he’s doing?” Patroclus muttered. He cranked up the volume.
“I’m listening, darling,” Deidamia replied sympathetically. “Tell me, what’s been weighing on your heart?”
“Well…” Patroclus recognized the tremor in his voice, the way he always sounded when he was anxious. “I have this friend. My best friend. He always listens to this station on his way home from work. I think – I hope that he’s listening now.”
“It sounds like he means a lot to you, this friend,” Deidamia urged.
“He does. He means everything to me. He’s the best best friend anyone could ask for. He takes care of me, and listens to me, and puts up with me even when I’m being dumb. I don’t know what I do to deserve him. He’s the best of men.”
Patroclus felt his cheeks grow warm. He’d heard Achilles sing his praises before, but why was he saying all this over the airwaves?
“He certainly sounds special,” Deidamia affirmed. “And what is it you would like to tell your friend, if he were listening now?”
There was a pause. A silence. Static. And then –
“I love him. I want to tell him I’m in love with him.”
Patroclus’ heart stood still.
He pulled to the side of the road, ignoring the horns honking behind him, and stared ahead at the snowflakes falling onto his windshield. Deidamia was speaking again, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying. He didn’t care. All he could hear were his words, echoing in his mind. Had he heard correctly? Had he imagined it?
His vision blurred, and he lifted a hand to his cheek, feeling the wetness there. When had he started crying? he thought. And then – What was he doing, just sitting here? He needed to get home to Achilles now.
He blinked a few times to clear the tears from his eyes, then stepped on the gas.
He parked the car carelessly. He ran to the door of their building, nearly slipping on a patch of ice. He took the steps two at a time. He fumbled to put his key in the lock, but the door swung open before he even had a chance.
Achilles was wearing one of Patroclus’ old college sweatshirts and pyjama pants with little penguins on them, his hair gathered into a messy ponytail.
Patroclus stared at him, breathless. “Hi.”
Achilles blushed, fidgeted. Patroclus didn’t think he’d ever seen him so nervous. “Sorry – I heard you coming up the stairs, so I – anyway – hi.”
Patroclus shifted, brushing snow-dampened hair from his forehead. “No hug?” he asked softly.
Achilles met his eyes for the first time, seeming to search for something there. He took a step forward hesitantly, and wrapped his arms around Patroclus’ middle.
Patroclus held him, soaking up his warmth like the sun. He fit perfectly there, in his arms. He felt blond curls brush against his face, breath on the side of his neck. Words mumbled against his skin.
“Did you hear –”
“Yes.”
“Oh –”
“Say it again.”
He pulled back. Green eyes stared at him, wide and full of questions.
“Please, Achilles, say it again.”
“I love you.”
Patroclus grinned, heart soaring. He wrapped his arms around Achilles again, squeezing him. “Say it again.”
Achilles laughed. “I love you, Patroclus. Aren’t you going to say it back?”
Patroclus paused, let his lips hover near Achilles’ neck, then pressed a small kiss there. He heard Achilles take in a sharp breath. He lifted his head a little, then kissed the shell of Achilles’ ear, then his hair, then his cheek. “I love you, too.”
Achilles’ smile could have put the sun to shame.
Later, following many sleepy kisses, the two of them huddled underneath a blanket on the sofa, legs tangled, Achilles’ head resting on Patroclus’ shoulder.
“You know, you could’ve just told me, you goof,” Patroclus said quietly. “You didn’t have to announce it to the whole city.”
“I thought you would appreciate a grand gesture,” Achilles replied, peering up at him. “Was I right?”
Patroclus pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You were right.”