Figs

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I wake up to find Patroclus' pallet empty. The sun a golden hue, emanating off of his messy blankets. I stand up and stretch, yawning off the rest of my slumber. I run out of my room smiling, handing myself the task of finding my beloved companion.

I look through the palace hallways first, smiling when I see the storage closet where I found him only 4 months prior. I remember the look of disgust he gave me when I first stepped into the room. I remember only minutes later the look he gave me while I was playing the lyre, pure adoration.

I look in the breakfast area next. I see all of the foster boys eating and making crude jokes about things that don't matter to me. I don't find what matters most; Patroclus.

Next I check the garden. As I walk through the rose bushes, I feel the soft grass in between my toes. I feel the cool soil on the souls of my feet. And suddenly, I find a brown head bopping in between the trees a couple feet in front of me. A head that I've memorized as though it was the most important in the world; the head of Patroclus.

I stay quiet inching forward only a few steps at a time. Finally, when I see he's close enough I break out into a run. When I reach him I wrap my arms around his stomach and rest my head in the nook of his shoulder.

He gasps and I laugh at my triumph of Patroclus.
"I have been looking for you." I tell him
He turns to face me and I release my hug to look into his brown eyes. He crosses his arms.
"I have only been gone for an hour." He says
"An hour is too long without you Patroclus."
He rolls his eyes, although I see the tips of his mouth turn up and a red tinge tint his cheeks.
"What have you been doing." I say
"It was supposed to be a surprise." He says sadly
"It still can be. I'll close my eyes." I close my eyes peeking slightly.
"Achilles you are not as secretive as you think you are." Patroclus says. I close my eyes fully, smiling.
He opens my fingers placing something soft in my hand. After he closes my fingers around it I open my eyes.
"A fig!" I say. He smiles.
"I was coming back from picking them, when you decided to attack me." He points to a basket full of figs on ground behind his legs.
"Come, let's eat them in by ocean." He nods

Patroclus follows me out of the garden and when we reach the sand, we walk just far enough so that when we sit down our feet lay in the cold salt water.
I bite down on the fig, the juices overflowing onto my chin. We eat as much as our bellies can hold in comfortable silence. I look at Patroclus. I see how his skin is like the bronze shields that I practice with. I see how his eyes have sparks of gold and look like sunlight reflecting from the leaves onto bark. I see how his lips look like the bows I use. They are full, plump and strong enough to knock and arrow. I want to touch them. I see the fig juice glinting off reflecting the sunlight and I want to taste them. I see his dark hair, disheveled from the windy salt air. The curls dancing on his cheeks.
"What are you looking at Achilles."
I do not answer. Instead I take one of his rough curls and push it behind his ear. He tenses but relaxes and I put my hand on his cheek, cupping his chin. He leans into the touch. I look into his dark eyes full of something I can not decipher. But I believe we see the same thing.
"You are beautiful Patroclus."
He looks away, lifting his head from my hand facing the ocean.
"I am not." He says quietly
"If I need to tell you everyday that you are beautiful Patroclus, for you to believe me I will."
He faces me and smiles. He pushes a lock of my blonde hair behind my ear.
He looks at me with confidence that I had need seen before. I match it and we look at each other for what seems like days.
"We should probably get back" I say breaking the silence. He nods and stands. Giving me his hand to help lift me up.
"I'll race you to you." He says, a glint of mischief in his brown eyes.
We run.

That night before I meet sleep, I stare at Patroclus' sleeping body on his Pallet. His breaths as even as the waves in the ocean. Before I close my eyes I smile. Thinking of his bronze skin, and golden eyes and dreaming of licking the fig juice off his lips.

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