Patrochilles Oneshots

Marigold Paintbrush

*inspired by an idea by @aurorarenai1, thank you!
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The roughly lit hallways had candles cradled into vintage medal hooks, flames spiraling and pricking the air. It provides little warmth as it rained heavily outside, drizzles of raindrops bulking up and coming down harder with every passing second. They trickle on the glass windows, leaving streaks of water behind. Patroclus' eyes run over the observations, noting them silently and continuing into the next room. It was as he had thought- the weather forecast had called for moderate showers and that's exactly what the gray clouds had brought. He breathed a sigh of relief for not wasting his day, for he hadn't visited the museum in a while and he took the rain as an excuse to admire the artistry.

Patroclus' dark brown hair bounces as he strolls into a somewhat empty room with walls full of ancient paintings and relics. He eyes them in awe, feeling wonder as he lets his excitement soar. It was almost a shame that Briseis was busy and couldn't join him, she surely would have enjoyed the ancient scenery.

He stops and stares at a glorious look at work. Paints of blue and ivory painted the screen the rage of the ocean, but below it was simplicity and beauty. Patroclus found himself fascinated by it, making stories about it in his head. His mind colored ships within the lines, cruising over the distant horizon as fish danced beneath the tides. Patroclus felt at peace then.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" A voice, strong and monotone declared from behind him. Patroclus jumped at the sound and turned to put a face to the abrupt comment. He was perturbed by the man's beauty and thought he looked a bit ethereal, especially the way his eyes were a deep emerald, gold specks glittering like ore. He was tall and built, golden hair disheveled and long, tucked messily into a bun although strands poked out towards the sides. He wore a smile of understanding, one that Patroclus felt safe by.

"I-I suppose," Patroclus answered back, struggling for a certain response.

"I quite like their depiction of the ocean. Rough and violent on the outside, but full of life within," the blond recited, eyes twinkling with admiration. He looked fascinated by the art as if he had studied it for hours. Patroclus wondered how long he had been standing there before he noticed. The thought irks him as he slightly nods to acknowledge the stranger's comment.

"I agree, the symbolism is uncanny."

There is silence after Patroclus says this, filled with the adherent and bare room. There were no strangers walking by to rid them of the awkward quiet. The blond just kept marveling at the paintings, entranced by the colors made by the bristles of a paintbrush. Patroclus' eyes switched between the man and the painting, but the stranger's eyes never left it.

"Do you come here often?" The man says suddenly.

Patroclus adjusts himself and hurriedly forms a response. "No, not since I was younger."

"It's calm here," the blond begins, sighing as he breaks up his words, "very peaceful. Don't you think so?"

"Well, sure," Patroclus says.

As he spoke, the blond finally broke his focused gaze and eyed Patroclus. His eyes were gently set, unbothered, and wondering. Patroclus found himself engrossed in them, unable to break away until he snapped himself out of it, scratching the back of his neck from his awkwardness. The blond smirked like he was amused.

"What's your name?" He said finally.

Patroclus hesitated, then answered haphazardly. "Patroclus."

"Pa-tro-clus," the blond repeated, the words flowing elegantly as each syllable rang. Patroclus could feel blush radiate his cheeks from his recitation- he had heard his name said before but it felt prettier now, full of the sweetness of a pastry with all the zest of a lemon.

"And you?" Patroclus asked, quick to move on.

"Achilles," he said, almost with some boredom like it wasn't as interesting.

"Do you come here often?" Patroclus questioned softly.

"When I can," Achilles replied, eye contact unbreaking and emerald eyes sprinkling with light, "I find it calming, and full of life."

"That sounds poetic," Patroclus mused, urging a laugh from Achilles. His laugh was full of warmth and echoed in the empty room. Patroclus wished to hear it long before Achilles adjusted himself.

"So, Patroclus," Achilles began, "what can I do to get your number?"

Patroclus blinked profusely out of surprise as he gulped to think. The blond came off strong, and they had met mere minutes before. He carried himself as confident, he talked arrogantly with hints of bliss. He was the sort of person who burned the ground he walked on, never looking behind him to observe the mess he left behind. However, there was something intriguing about him. A look of ambition trickled with passion. Patroclus imagined hardly anyone defied Achilles' requests- he just knew what to say even if he was wrong. He found it endearing, and there was no harm in giving in once in a while. If Briseis was here, she wouldn't let Patroclus say no, and so, in her absence but with her spirit, Patroclus answered.

"There's a coffee shop around the corner," Patroclus started, smiling.

"It's on me," Achilles spoke up, he looked relieved as if he expected rejection.

"There's one more room I'd like to see before we go," Patroclus said, glancing down a candle-lit hallway into a smaller room. Achilles followed his gaze and nodded.

"The Greek hero exhibit?"

"Yeah," Patroclus replied, making his way toward the entrance as Achilles followed behind him, "I heard they have some cool stuff from the Trojan War."