Olives - Achilles x Patroclus

4. Grape Skin

"I wish to make Patroclus my companion."

Father looks me in the eye steadily. Choosing a companion is a chore for an older prince, and one that should be done with utmost care. For a companion is one in which we entrust our life, someone who would follow us till the ends of the Earth, who fulfills the duties of both protector and friend. 

Patroclus was not the most qualified candidate. His feet were nimble, but his ability to wield a spear or sword lacked quite severely. He had the potential within him, but he didn't seem to try or care whenever another pointed a blade at his heart. 

But my thoughts had not drifted from him for an instant this past month. My curiosity, which I thought I could tame, grew only with every passing day, as his eyes continued to darken, and the light within his features began to slowly fade. His smirk, which sprung at first from his flushed lips, morphed now into a permanent scowl. 

I thought of him and only him, how he preferred his own company over the other boys, how he picked at the skin of every fruit he touched, how he pushed away every chance to prove himself. He was so unlike anyone I'd ever seen that I felt repulsed at my past quick judgement.

I didn't particularly like him, but even so, deeming him my companion could finally coax my heart into snuffing out its need to pry. It would stop his name ringing in my ears and my soul yearning for the chance to know him.

My father didn't say no in the end, but making him agree was still quite the hassle. He listed endless luxuriant names of officers and members of his table. But he obliged finally to the fact that it was inevitably my right to choose.

...

"What am I doing here?" 

I was with him at last, and from here, his eyes seemed infinitely harder to understand.

"I've chosen you to be my companion, Patroclus."

We were standing outside, beneath a wrinkled birch tree. Up close, he smelled of pine and sunbaked dirt. It was on the bridge of summer and fall, and all about us, small fingerprint shaped leaves scattered in applause. The ground seemed a little less firm around him, the wind a little less still. Something in his gaze marked in me discomfort and a squeamishness I couldn't describe.

"Why me, Achilles?" He half-whispered. His eyes settled at last on my own and as he shifted slightly closer to me I fell a half-step back. My heart smacked against my chest. The way he said my name made me unsettled.

"I don't know." I replied. My breath had been snatched by him, and I suddenly felt regret at my decision. Instead of feeling honoured at having been chosen as the companion to a demi-God for goodness' sakes, he behaved like a scolded child. But all the while we stood there, there was something that kept me from leaving.

He didn't say anything for a while, but eventually muttered: "You have something stuck in your teeth." 

He grinned, and then left me to pick out hastily the grape skin in my gums as he walked away.