Dusk had fallen upon Mount Pelion, the grass and wildflowers gently swaying in the cool breeze. Achilles lay next to Patroclus, strumming at his lyre as Chiron sat close by. The music was quiet and bright as the stars over their heads. Patroclus heard yawn from beside him, and turned his head to see Chiron settling more deeply on his folded legs. Patroclus asked if he was weary, to which the centaur replied with a nod.

“Then we will leave you to your rest,” said Achilles, which was odd for him because he was not usually so quick to go, nor to speak for Patroclus. But Patroclus was tired himself and did not object, and followed Achilles into the cave.

Inside the cave, Achilles was already in bed, his face damp from a wash at the spring. Perhaps he is especially tired from his mother’s visit, Patroclus thought. Thetis had kept him longer than usual today, though Patroclus had learned there was no point in questioning anymore. Anytime he asked, Achilles would say, “She is well.” And that was that.

Still, he asked. Perhaps it was just because he liked the sound of Achilles’ voice, especially so when he was tired and his tone became softer. Achilles responded with the same reassurance that Thetis was well, and the cave went quiet once more.

“She cannot see us here,” Achilles murmured bluntly.

“Hmmm?” Patroclus hummed questioningly.

“She cannot see us here. On Pelion.” There was something in his voice, a strain. “She says–I asked her if she watches us here. She says she does not.”

The realization and thinly veiled innuendo suddenly hit Patroclus harder than a wave crashing into him at the beaches in Phthia. She cannot see us here. He felt dizzy, his mind turning and turning through Achilles’ words. Patroclus realized he was still standing half-frozen at the water basin, the towel he was using to wash his face still raised to his chin. He forced himself to put down the cloth, to move to the bed. There was a wildness in him, of hope and terror.

If Achilles noticed, he didn’t say anything. He pulled the sheets back for Patroclus as he lay down next to him, their bodies a hair’s breadth away from each other. Patroclus had the feeling that there would not be the usual storytelling tonight that usually occurred after dusk; he instead felt something deeper–more intimate.

And he knew that Achilles felt it too.