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When I wake up to ornate ceilings in a luxurious nest of blankets, with a cool presence making a few spots of contact on my skin, I am completely comfortable as my awareness resurfaces fully.
Only to have regret crash against my consciousness as I remember the events that led me here. Oh gods. Oh, no, no, no– I look to my right hoping against hope that my impeccable memory has failed me for the first time– ah, nope; there he is, lying in a tangle of furs, sleeping peacefully and unaware of my growing distress. Boreas.
One of his legs is tangled with mine, and his hands are resting on different spots of my torso, gently pressing into my skin as he shifts a little in his sleep; all while lying mostly on his stomach… And i don’t see any fabric on his toned shoulders that isn't the blankets, so I'm guessing–
Nope. Never mind. It doesn't matter. Meaningless information for the problem at hand.
I stare at the ceiling, pondering what to do. I wiggle my hand free from its soft prison to run it through my hair; it doesn't catch, because it never does, but it definitely feels messy. More gratuitous evidence of the recent happenings, that is just– completely needless. Hmm, what to do now… I have the feeling that throwing myself into the ocean is not a viable option, unfortunately. For now I'll settle for delicately escaping the cozy nest, through every god's ability to sort of dissolve and reappear elsewhere.
I choose the first widow I see to solidify in front of, wearing a soft chiton and my hair loose, stopping at my mid-back. I look up at the moon.
I assume that the gentle, silver glow radiating down on me; is my little sister’s severe disappointment in me, which is unnecessary, because I'm disappointed enough in myself for both of us.
I heaved a sigh and put my face in my hands.
“uuuuugghh,” I groaned.
To be clear this is all Zephyrus's fault– if he hadn't picked a fight, then I wouldn't have slept with his brother! Obviously!
Oh, okay; I can hear you asking now, Apollo, why would you sleep with Boreas because you're mad at Zephyrus? And I hope that this question is coming from you living a nice, drama-free life. Otherwise the answer is simple logic.
You see, it only takes so many incidents of catching someone making obvious (and nauseating) googly eyes at you to realize that they probably feel something towards you. That, and a chaste kiss out of nowhere. Definitely signs of equal measure.
And when you see them again– after the horrific death of your soul mate, who he supposedly also ‘loved’ –they still don't seem to understand that you can see them ogling you, especially when you are having an argument. No, that does not in fact, negate your leering.
So my hypothesis is this; the hopeless, arrogant fool, is still holding some… Emotions (insert gaging sounds here), towards me. And from my research of the topic (the totally reliable source of Boreas himself) is true; I know that the West wind is easily jealous, and likes to throw pity parties about it.
And Boreas is his brother, who he has been jealous of before. And we have a (kinda) romantic past. And well, you know how it is; there was a party, and then a yelling match, vases were thrown, Zephy and I got kicked out, other gods followed while pointing and laughing (clearly at Zephyrus and not me; I can only assume), I made out with Boreas while pressed against a wall, specifically making sure Zephyrus saw and his face all red before he poofed away– And now we're here, in his palace.
See? Makes perfect sense. Not at all a bad idea. Totally worth Artemis and I's mutual frustration in me, and my bad habits.
But like, how bad are they really? I mean what consequences could bash my head open out of nowhere, just because I'm petty and vindictive, sometimes. A lot of times. Who’s counting anyway, it doesn’t matter.
It's fine, and I feel great about myself. The urge to metaphorically vomit? Only mild. The feeling of bugs crawling all over me like I fall asleep in a meadow? Entirely bearable. The crushing guilt of betraying him that makes my non-existent lungs want to stop working so I suffocate for eternity because it's what I deserve? Not even worse than yesterday!
So, I'm actually doing great, if you put things into perspective. Doesn't even breach the top… let's say twenty, worst moments of my life!
My body chooses this moment to force a weird choking sound past my lips, against my will. I rake my hand through my hair and try to focus on the cool air surrounding me instead of the hot tears running down my face. Clenching and unclenching my hands, the need to stabilize myself stiffening my muscles.
I have begun to feel intensely unwelcome in the act of existing. My skin is too tight, with ghost hands haunting my movements. My hair hangs heavy, trying to pull me down. My hands are trembling with nothing to do, I wrap them around my midsection. I'm probably making all sorts of unflattering expressions trying to hold in my despair. Everything feels wrong. Wrong in the, your-godly-essence-taken-from-you-while-being-forced-into-one-state-of-being, kind of wrong. Thank you father for that reference of information.
I breathe out, shakier than I'd expect from divine (not-real) lungs, unwinding my arms from around my body to try to shake the tension out of them, “it's okay.”
“It's okay, everything's fine,” I draw my nails up and down my arms to really emphasize how fine everything is. “You're okay, it's fine.”
The empty calorie reassurances do little to feel the growing pit of despair in my stomach. I put a hand over my mouth– because who wants to hear me being overly sensitive– and sit down against the wall under the window to have a proper knees-pulled-to-the-chest style breakdown, digging my fingers into my arms to ground myself; I retreat within my mind.
My family has always said I was stubborn. And I, in response, have always thought that was strange; Because first of all, hypocrites. Second of all, I have been walking on ice around the Olympians and other gods who have the advantage over me, since I can remember; I mean sure, sometimes it was thick enough to skate across with little issues, but it was still not solid ground. Not safe, not really.
That's what I thought at the time.
I'm realizing now that they must have been right, I must be stubborn; Otherwise devastating things shouldn't keep happening to the people I care about, there would be no reason for it otherwise. So it must be me. I'm causing this, because I'm impulsive, and stubborn, and over emotional, and– what did Zephyrus call me? Oh right, unmanageable– I'm all round just too much then. Dooming people simply by knowing them…Wonderful.
I hiccup some more into the quiet night of the North wind's palace. I was planning on leaving, but then… Why? If I was avoiding making a mistake, that ship has already sailed, so there's no point to leave now. At least Boreas will (Maybe? Probably?) be happy I stayed when he woke up, and he'll kiss me, and lace our fingers together, get tangled up in the sheets…
It should be comforting, flattering even, the thought of being wanting. I love feeling wanted and appreciated, it's like my favorite thing!– And it usually makes me feel less like I'm suffocating.
… Or at least It's supposed to. Well… It’s distracting at least, so that's something to consider. That’s better than wallowing in my own misery. Nothing good comes from self-pity, I should know that by now.
I try to visualize myself not looking snotty and gross, my hair shining and perfect instead of a mess (he’s the one who messed it up); while I try to convince myself that this is a good idea. I evaluate my arms next, to see golden raised lines are left from my self comforting. The (not-real) skin isn't broken this time, which doesn't matter since I can just will away most (but not all, the thanks go again to my father for that lovely tidbit of knowledge) injuries.
I straighten, and brush off and straighten my chiton needlessly, before looking at the moon again. It is a good idea, no matter what disagreements my sister would have prepared for it. I can’t just leave now, it would be rude; and besides that, where would I go? Back to my palace, empty and alone? To my sister's camp, in the middle of the night? Me, a man? Yeah I'm sure that would go over splendidly with her girls.
And even if I did, and I was welcomed, and she was even happy to see me (can you imagine?)– Still not an option. Not when I feel so… So tired. Artemis can talk all she wants about my personality being exhausting, annoying– all of that. But I know that she was concerned when I shut down after his–... death. And I wasn't exactly energetic after the whole stint as a slave (you get all the acknowledgements, don’t you father?), not to mention the situation with her– I mean really, Artemis can act like I'm daft as much as she wants, but I can tell when my twin is worried about something; including when that something is myself.
And I'm tired. Dealing with me at my best is a burden, and I don't want her to have to deal with all that I am right now. No, it's for the best to wait until I have the stamina to not be a problem. She has enough responsibilities as is. And hey! This method has been working thus far, so…
Yeah. Yup. Staying is a good idea for everyone. Myself included.
I take a deep breath that I shouldn't don’t need, running hands methodically against my clothes, hair, skin– anything to pretend I could brush away the stress needling over the expanse of my flesh. Forcing the tension to bleed out of my face, I pull images of everyone I've loved to the front of my mind in hopes that will turn my expression gentle and loving, in place of the empty sadness I'm sure it has been.
I have no doubt I look beautiful. I wish that it soothed me. I wish any of this filled the twisting, sickening hollowness I'm currently trying to replenish. Hopefully Boreas's infatuation will do the trick.
I will myself back into his chambers, slicking back under the furs with him. Cool arms find their home around my ribcage– and it only feels a little like dying.