Adonis looked to the wounds that now decorated him, still stained with blood as if fresh and new, despite their centuries of years old.

It was the only imperfection within his body, it made him love the fatal wound more. It was something nobody could worship, nobody could press their lips to it in silent praise or press their fingers to it and call it beautiful.

He was laying within the flowers of Elysium’s fields, feeling the gentle sway of the petals on his perfect skin and the small breeze that managed to pass through the underworld every now and again. Waiting for your return.

Once, he would have gone to his surrogate mother, Queen Persephone, but he had grown a hatred for that place. She still treated him as if his skin held perfection, beauty and nothing wrong, the same way everyone did. With praise and lust.

He heard your feet within the flowers, you similarly died a painful death, but one that allowed you within the blessed Elysium where few seldom went after Thanatos took them.

His lips curled up into a smile, a genuine and bright one, the son of Theias shifting to his feet as he looked to you with bright eyes that spoke of his infatuation.

He had been used so many times, his body felt as if a ruined temple that was once a pristine white. But you, you made it feel as if he could rebuild that temple, find solace in hands that wished to hold and touch, find comfort in the soft press of lips to his own.

He just prayed you did not seek him how everyone else had, for his looks and body, but so far, these last few years you hadn’t. You two held a genuine bond.

“You return, what took so long? You had me worried.” He said, taking his hand in yours to pull you to the flowering fields beneath both your feet. “Come, rest, I missed you.”