Collection of Patrochilles Shorts

All My Love Could Never Bring You Home

      "Hey, hey take it easy," Patroclus soothed, coaxing Achilles back down against the pillows. "You hit your head--got a real nasty concussion." Achilles' eyes swung wildly around the room before settling on Patroclus. "I told you not to try to fix the roof by yourself but did you listen? No." Patroclus sat back in the flimsy hospital chair, running his hands through his hair in exasperation.

      Achilles remained silent, eyes tracing and retracing every plane of the face before him--stubble laden jaw, smattering of tan freckles across a sharp nose, plump lips pulled tight in worry, dark skin sallow in fluorescent lighting. "I almost got it," Achilles muttered, voice hollow. His tone immediately had Patroclus on high alert, concern lighting anew. He sounded more out of it than the doctor said he would be.

     "You did, but you also fell off the ladder and onto your annoyingly dense head," Patroclus said, trying for humor but falling short. His voice was still rough with tears so the quip didn't quite hit like it was supposed to. In his defense it'd been a long day--he was exhausted, emotions striking too many highs and lows in such a short period of time. He'd never been more terrified than when he'd looked out the backdoor to see Achilles lying motionless in the grass. He'd screamed himself hoarse trying to wake him, gone numb as he waited for the ambulance to arrive. The sweet rush of relief as the doctor confirmed it was only a concussion: "No lasting damage...plenty of rest...he'll be fine."

      "I had a dream," Achilles said, bringing Patroclus back to the present. His voice was still hollow, blank expression morphing into something sad--something ugly. The color was all but drained from his face, golden skin paling.

     "About what?" Patroclus asked, grasping Achilles' hand a little tighter, scooting the chair closer to the bed.

      "Us," Achilles said, and after a minute of silence Patroclus thought that was the end of it, his brows drawn in confusion.

      "Okay––"

      "We were...fighting for something. I can't remember what but I had this...this armor on and we were outside a city and there were bodies everywhere and...and it was so hot, I could smell them--"

      "It was just a dream," Patroclus said, trying to reassure him, to calm him down. Tears began to well in Achilles' eyes, breath hitching.

     "No, no, it felt so real and we, there was a plan where you'd wear my armor and pretend to be me, it was so fucking stupid, Pat, so stupid but we did it and--"

      "Achilles," Patroclus tried, but the other man only barreled on, bringing their clasped hands to his chest, like if he let go Patroclus would vanish into thin air—turn to dust and be carried away on the breeze.

      "I actually thought it was going to work, I thought--but they brought your body back to me, Pat, there was so much blood, he took you from me, he killed you and I couldn't, I couldn't--" Achilles rambled, sobs racking him, grip on Patroclus tight enough to bruise.

      "I'm here and we're okay," Patroclus vowed, own tears welling up at seeing his lover so upset. "I'm fine, I'm here." Despite doctor's orders, he climbed onto the small bed, hugging Achilles close to him, planting butterfly kisses on his cheeks, his nose, his lips. Anything to push that horrific dream far from his mind. Eventually Achilles calmed, though he retained a vice grip on Patroclus's shirt, their legs tangled together.

      "I loved you, Patroclus, so much...and all my love could never bring you home," Achilles whispered.

"I would've stayed with you, right there by your side. You're my home and I'll be with you always," Patroclus said, resting his forehead against Achilles'. The unspoken, "dead or not" hung heavy in the air between them. "I love you."

      "I love you," Achilles echoed, anger and pain giving way to bone deep affection for the man beside him. He didn't think he'd tell Patroclus how the dream really ended--how he'd raged, killed and killed and killed until he was put down. Didn't think he'd tell him that if that was their fate, that if they'd lived long ago, loved like they loved now, that he'd do it all again.

      "No more fixing roofs by ourselves anymore, okay?" Patroclus asked, beginning to card his fingers through Achilles hair, watching as his eyes fluttered closed. Achilles laughed.

      "No more fixing roofs by myself," he affirmed, content to lie here for another eternity, forget his dream, and listen to Patroclus breathe--a ballad all its own.

***Written for the Tumblr prompt of Billie Eilish lyrics: "All my love could never bring you home."***