Let's Kill Caesar

19: The Gods Hate Me

After a few minutes of silence, Valerian lit another cig, eyes sparkling in the yellow flame of the lighter. Endymion's secret lay heavy between them. It had for years. Yet in true Valerian nature the man barely breathed even a whisper about the undeniable desires of his best friend. For that Endymion was more than grateful.

"Do you think they're listening to us now?"

Valerian's eyes were pointed to the sky. Endymion cocked his head. "Who?"

Cassius smirked, a puff of silver smoke curling around his face. "Those marble statues we sacrifice sheep and bulls to. I bet they don't give a shit." 

Endymion sighed, chest tightening. "You really think they'd let Rome rise if they didn't care? Romulus and Remus were sons of Mars."

"I 'spose. But tell me, why don't they visit us mortals anymore? There's certainly enough hot people to draw in Jupiter at least?"

Endymion hissed and gave Valerian a hard shove. "Don't. I don't want the gods to be angered."

It sounded like a joke. Endymion hoped Val heard it that way. He didn't need to surrender another vulnerability. So before his tongue got the better of him, he left.

***

Endymion's stomach was upset as he drove back into the city. The meeting with Valerian had only shaken up his thoughts, swirled his reason through a rusty butter churn.

That sick feeling remained even as he waltzed home, as he locked his bedroom door and took solace in his wardrobe. Endymion sighed and rubbed his face, heart sinking to his feet. So much for clarity. He should have known better. A lot better. 

The young senator laid on his back, fingers grazing the rough of the walk-in's carpet. Endymion needed time to prepare. He had not forgotten the news of the Senate's gathering. If he was honest it had been an itch at the back of his brain all day. Especially the fact that Bastian had the balls to summon it. 

There was no doubt it would end badly. Power struggles always did. More so when the pride of Narcissus Pompey was involved. 

"Who gives a shit?" Endymion gnawed his lip, fingers automatically grabbing his phone, scrolling onto Bast's Assembly page like a total prick. He didn't have to scroll far to find a post tagging himself. 

The first that popped up featured a picture of the two of them two months ago. It had been just a fun night of clubbing: Endymion and Bast had worn matching grey graphic tees, both raising pink cocktails to the air, eyes sparkling with mirth. 

The caption still made Endymion's heart ache. Here's to my other half, endywendy - may we get wasted for many more moons!

That day Endy had suffered relentless humiliations from his parents. He'd called Bastian all flustered and... He dropped everything for me. 

Endymion's head dropped, cheeks burning. "And now he isn't talking to me."

In a horrid way Endymion was grateful. It would make his betrayal easier. Because that's what it was. A betrayal.

He had sided with the very people who strived to destroy his best friend. He had fought for them to accept him. And no doubt there was more fighting to come. 

"Why the fuck did you let yourself be sucked in by Cato? Are you that big of a coward?"

Endymion slapped his forehead. Here sat the son of Dominicus Brutus in his closet debating foolish loyalties. Some politician. Somewhere in the world Aelius was leading Rome's finest, rising to the degree of old Roman values. A beacon of respect amongst even the defiant Greeks. 

Endymion gazed down at his phone again, thumb brushing Bast's beaming face. He found himself wondering again what skewed wisdom Alma would speak. Enemies? Not yet. Discordia has no reason to strike.

Endymion's throat bobbed. He went to dial Bastian's number when a text came through.

CATO: hey pipsqueak - the assembly is gathering in the comitium. Not sure why so don't ask questions. Just get here ASAP.

The senator's arms prickled with goosebumps. Oh gods. Endymion had been hoping for the last hours of the day to be spent in well-deserved solitude. 

"Obviously Jupiter hates me."

Endymion struggled to his feet and wearily sifted through his clothes. The toga felt a lot heavier than last time. The purple lined edges were dull, almost grey. Probably due to the fact that whenever Endymion adorned himself with it something unexpected decided to squeeze its way into his life. He could only pray Bast didn't endanger himself more than he had at the previous meeting. Which was a waste of a prayer considering it had been Bastian who summoned the Senate for tomorrow. 

"Gods have mercy." Endymion peered at himself in the mirror slotted on the back of his bedroom door. His fingers run hurriedly through his hair, trying to flatten it into the perky curtains.

As he combed the edges of his hair, his hands brushed against the rippling of his ears. 

The Romans were a practical people. Their society's foundations were order, duty, strategy. An outsider might take that as meaning superficial fretting was mostly eradicated. A mere flaw of human spirit. It was quite the contrary. Endymion chose this hairstyle for more than its ability to accentuate his knife-sharp jaw. 

Bzz! Bzzz! Bzzzz! Endymion groaned and grabbed up his phone from where he'd left it on the floor. "I swear if this is Cato..."

BAST🥹: Hey - there's an assembly gathering. Don't be late, it's not a good look.

A reluctant smile crept across his face as he replied, thanks 😊

Endymion groaned and adjusted two uncouth strands of hair. Let's hope the sprinklers aren't set off this time. 

His stomach was swirling in knots as he pocketed his phone, grabbed his keys. Endymion's hand shook as he turned the door knob. 

The house remained undisturbed as he slithered out, footsteps light and swift. His hand rested against the pocket bulge of his phone, waiting for another text. Something to calm his thoughts. Something to demolish any sense of truly worthy guilt. Please, if the gods are listening...help me. The prayer was selfish, barely an act of sanctity at all. It was a request worthy only of some demigod. For that, the gods decided to punish him.

A roughened hand clamped down on Endymion's shoulder. "I'm assuming Cato called about this impromptu assembly?"

"Yes father."

A chill spread over his skin as the man grunted. His son sucked in a breath of strength and turned. His plastic smile turned to a deep frown. Dominicus was adorned in his Senate toga, ashen-brown hair brushed back in old fashion. Endymion swallowed. Okay. Message received - I need to make sacrifices tonight.  The stocky man lifted his chin, staring down pointedly.

"I'm riding in our car - you ought to join me." 

Endymion blinked. "Really?"

"Of course - two Brutus men arriving separately would be a humiliation for our house."