Status: Back in action.
Achilles
Prologue (11 July 2014)
He drags himself out of the water, although it’s not very dramatic; he doesn’t fall to his knees, he just bends over and coughs until the water rushes out of him. A gasp or two or three and he can almost breathe freely, the air prickling only a little as it slides down against the grains of salt lodged in his throat. He straightens out, runs a hand through his hair, bright copper turned dark rust. A lightning flashes across the horizon as he starts towards the house, ignoring the sharp stones and shells that wedge themselves between his toes, and the heaviness of his legs as his jeans cling to his skin like the hands of needy mermaids. A sigh of relief escapes his lips when he finds the key in his pocket, and water pools under him on the rough wooden deck as he fumbles at the door. He makes his way to the bathroom in complete darkness, the single naked light bulb hanging above the bathroom mirror is the only light he feels his eyes can take. He takes an accidental look in the mirror while he struggles with his wet clothes, but his red-rimmed eyes quickly swim out of focus. Leaving his jeans and white t-shirt on the floor, he steps into the shower - the pressure is not quite right, but it’s hot enough - and lets out a sigh; this has been a really bad night. He works what looks like Adrien’s father’s shampoo through his hair until his scalp soaks in the thick and herbal scent, until he can’t feel the roughness of the salt anymore.
Adrien’s room is almost bare; there’s only a wardrobe, two mattresses pushed together, wide and white like an open book, and a grimy window that amplifies the sounds. Théo looks through the drawers lazily, struggling to keep his eyes open. He finds a pair of shorts, a flannel shirt, good enough for the night; he curls up on top of the covers, settling in for the wait.
***
Adrien gets in roughly an hour later, soaked to the skin from the heavy rain. He marches through the house without turning any lights on, and he bumps into nearly every single piece of furniture on his way to the bathroom. He frowns at Théo’s discarded clothes, all wet, and then he carefully peels off his own, letting them fall on the top of the pile. He carefully avoids looking in the mirror in the process, although he can already feel his cheek splitting open like an overripe peach. The muscles in his shoulders are tight, and he knows that the angry red marks along his right ribs will turn into dark bruises by tomorrow morning to perfectly match the ones on his right side, still not healed since the accident. He stands perfectly still under the jet of water, and he can feel the tightness slowly slipping away; there’s no sharp pain as he moves. The towel is slightly damp but he dries himself off and ties it around his waist anyway, and he even brushes his teeth just to postpone the moment he has to face Théo.
The light in the bedroom is on; it wasn’t when he entered the house. The deep breath he takes settles painfully between his weathered ribs, and he wills himself to pull the door open. There’s a pause, a stillness in the air as they look into each other’s eyes for just a moment, and then Théo crosses the room in two big steps and they are tangled in a fierce embrace, much against their will. Adrien hisses out in pain and Théo pulls back, startled.
“What happened to you?”
“Took a little beating. I guess I had it coming. What happened to you?”
“Lost my balance,” Théo says, and it almost sounds poetic. “Tell me what happened. Tell me everything.”
“I will if you will,” Adrien replies, surprised for some unknown reason.
“Certainly,” Théo agrees, but none of them move to do so, and they finally burst out laughing. Tomorrow, they agree, tomorrow I’ll tell you everything. They flick the light off and get under the covers, holding tightly onto each other despite all the pain. Outside, the rain is pouring relentlessly, and to the steady rhythm, against their better judgement, they fall asleep.
Adrien’s room is almost bare; there’s only a wardrobe, two mattresses pushed together, wide and white like an open book, and a grimy window that amplifies the sounds. Théo looks through the drawers lazily, struggling to keep his eyes open. He finds a pair of shorts, a flannel shirt, good enough for the night; he curls up on top of the covers, settling in for the wait.
***
Adrien gets in roughly an hour later, soaked to the skin from the heavy rain. He marches through the house without turning any lights on, and he bumps into nearly every single piece of furniture on his way to the bathroom. He frowns at Théo’s discarded clothes, all wet, and then he carefully peels off his own, letting them fall on the top of the pile. He carefully avoids looking in the mirror in the process, although he can already feel his cheek splitting open like an overripe peach. The muscles in his shoulders are tight, and he knows that the angry red marks along his right ribs will turn into dark bruises by tomorrow morning to perfectly match the ones on his right side, still not healed since the accident. He stands perfectly still under the jet of water, and he can feel the tightness slowly slipping away; there’s no sharp pain as he moves. The towel is slightly damp but he dries himself off and ties it around his waist anyway, and he even brushes his teeth just to postpone the moment he has to face Théo.
The light in the bedroom is on; it wasn’t when he entered the house. The deep breath he takes settles painfully between his weathered ribs, and he wills himself to pull the door open. There’s a pause, a stillness in the air as they look into each other’s eyes for just a moment, and then Théo crosses the room in two big steps and they are tangled in a fierce embrace, much against their will. Adrien hisses out in pain and Théo pulls back, startled.
“What happened to you?”
“Took a little beating. I guess I had it coming. What happened to you?”
“Lost my balance,” Théo says, and it almost sounds poetic. “Tell me what happened. Tell me everything.”
“I will if you will,” Adrien replies, surprised for some unknown reason.
“Certainly,” Théo agrees, but none of them move to do so, and they finally burst out laughing. Tomorrow, they agree, tomorrow I’ll tell you everything. They flick the light off and get under the covers, holding tightly onto each other despite all the pain. Outside, the rain is pouring relentlessly, and to the steady rhythm, against their better judgement, they fall asleep.