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Published:
2025-09-11
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2025-10-01
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Breathe

Summary:

Patroclus needs Achilles. Achilles needs his glory. Apollo needs Hyacinthus.

But Patroclus is not Hyacinthus.

---

Inspired by 'Habeas Corpus' by aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh

Notes:

sooo i was super disappointed with the sheer lack of apolloclus (apollo x patroclus) fics and decided to feed the masses :)

this is not beta read so please point out mistakes and i'll correct them!

have a nice dayyyyy

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: Flee

Chapter Text

CHAPTER ONE: FLEE

I know I will not be remembered as Patroclus.

 

I am unassuming.

 

My strength will never be renowned.

 

No, they will remember me as his lover.

 

Because I was not the strongest.

 

He was.

 

Perhaps I could have been known as Patroclus.

 

But I do not need my name to be known.

 

I just need his hands, his fingers, hardened by battle, yet so soft on my skin, his eyes, watching me.

 

I do not need glory.

 

I do not need attention.

 

I just need him.

 

But does he need me?

 

“Of course,” he whispered, his lovely oh-so-familiar fingers cupping my face. I resisted the urge to lean into his touch. No, I was not pleased right now.

 

“Then why won’t you listen to me?” I urged, leaning back, ignoring the way my heart yearned for his touch once more.

 

My eyes do not rest on his face. After all, it is not all that I love about him. They move to his silky strawberry-blonde hair, to his bright emerald eyes that I had woken up to everyday ever since we had left for war, to his pale pink lips that were sweeter than figs.

 

My beautiful Achilles faltered. I did not like his expression, so hesitant, so defeated. But my anger and exasperation was too great now.

 

“Please… It will be over quickly if you come back,” I breathed out, my hands reaching out to touch, to kiss, to devour, because we are both monsters in a pit.

 

I just want to leave.

 

I just want to love him.

 

But my love is not enough for him.

 

I am not enough for him.

 

My expression darkened when he did not answer. “Achilles! My love! Please!” I grasped his hand, the one that had been on my face before. I wished it still was. But that was not enough.

 

“I can’t.”

 

I can’t.

 

My eyes began tearing up. “It’s always about you, isn’t it? Your pride, your glory? It’s your everything, isn’t it? It’s more important than me?”

 

My fists clenched. I knew I was being immature. I knew that he could do what he wished. But right now, I felt only anger.

 

I just want to love you. Why won’t you let me love you?

 

But at the end of the day, he bowed down at pride’s feet while I trailed behind him, yearning for a devotion that he would not show me.

 

I should be happy he looked at me. That out of all people, he leaned down, kissed my hands, and took me into his arms.

 

But humans cannot love without exploiting.

 

Humans cannot not be selfish.

 

Two monsters in a pit.

 

My heart was in his hands, ready to shatter at his very will.

 

“Why?” I demanded, ignoring the salty tears streaming down my rosy cheeks. Achilles had always said they grew red when I got upset. Like an apple, he had said and laughed at my reddening face.

 

“I just can’t.”

 

He did not look at me. My body trembled.

 

Why won’t you listen?

 

What won’t you love me?

 

What would make you love me?

 

I untangled our fingers.

 

I am being immature.

 

I know you can do what you wish.

 

I could never hate you.

 

Never. Never. Never.

 

So I turned. I did not want to see him right now.

 

I walked to the exit slowly. Perhaps I wanted him to stop me, to beg me to stay.

 

He did not.

 

I hate you.

 

I stumbled out of the tent, feeling like a newborn fawn, unsteady on my legs. I did not care how I looked as I ran into the forest near the camp.

 

I did not know if any Myrmidons tried to stop me. If they did, they did not succeed.

 

The dirt crunched under my feet as I stumbled through the thicket like a boar, undignified and clumsy. I did not even care about the grime as I plopped down by the bark of a large oak tree and began to scream.

 

I screamed about Achilles.

 

I screamed about Agamemnon.

 

I screamed about Thetis.

 

I screamed about Briseis.

 

But at the end, my thoughts always circled back to him.

 

I cursed his name, wished that he did not exist, begged for divine intervention, but I could not hate him.

 

I just wished I was enough.

 

Suddenly, a crunch. A shift. My head shot up. I did not bring a weapon, and this forest was ripe with Trojan soldiers.

 

I immediately shut my mouth and ducked my head, hoping the bushes and foliage would conceal me.

 

Achilles, please help me.

 

“Hello, little one…” The voice that spoke was sweet and melodic, as if always on the verge of bursting into song. It was angelic and had a calming quality. I shivered. It felt like it was sticking to my ears, trying to dig inside my brain and claim it for its own.

 

I shivered and froze, trying to breathe as little as possible.

 

“You can’t hide from me,” The mystery person hummed, his voice light and amused. Like it wasn’t scared at all. This person did not know if I was an ambush soldier. Were they stupid?

 

Suddenly arms grabbed him from behind, warm and strong. Like Achilles, I couldn’t help but think.

 

Then the panic kicked in. I was by no means a weak fighter, the second best of the Myrmidons. But no matter how much I struggled and kicked and fought, my captor only let out a sound of amusement.

 

Finally, they spun me around and pinned me against the oak tree, the imprints of the bark digging into my skin as I finally caught a glimpse of the stranger’s face.

 

Gold. That was the first thing I saw.

 

His eyes were like molten rock, glowing and bright, his hair was like spun silk, his skin was the rich brown of the nuts Achilles and I used to throw at each other back when we were carefree and young.

 

I sucked in a breath. God.

 

But I was not the only one who felt shocked.

 

The god stared at me as if drinking in my appearance like I was water to a man dying of thirst.

 

His finger shakily reached up to cradle my face.

 

“Hyacinthus?”

 

I froze.

 

Surely, he wasn’t…

 

“I am not Hyacinthus,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I knew it. Perhaps it was not so smart of me to keep up against a god.

 

The god’s expression flickered for a moment. I shrank back. I did not want to die. I wanted my Achilles to be here now, even if he could not protect me.

 

Bronze fingers grabbed my arm and held me against the god’s chest.

 

I could not hear a heartbeat. A god.

 

But he was warm. Like Achilles.

 

But he’s not Achilles.

 

“Hyacinthus,” the god, who I now knew was Apollo, trembled with emotion. I frowned, but I did not protest. I was scared.

 

I felt like I was being suffocated in his arms, like something was rushing to consume me inside out.

 

Apollo leaned back to stare at my face. I did not know what he saw there, but I do not think he saw what he wanted to see.

 

“Why aren’t you happy to see me, love?” the sun god asked, his tone almost pleading, his fingers digging into my back as if he wanted to fuse my body with his.

 

I did not know what to do.

 

He was staring at me so hopefully, like a child begging for a toy.

 

“I am Patroclus, lover of Achilles.”

 

I saw the way his body froze, his breath stilled.

 

His hands tightened on my body.

 

"Is that so?”

 

My breath quickened, my face began to heat up in panic.

 

Like an apple.

 

“Then you would be a valuable prisoner for the Trojans.”

 

I tried to back away, but my back hit the trunk of the oak tree.

 

“And you would be a lovely Hyacinthus.”

Chapter 2: Want

Summary:

Patroclus gets carried away to King Priam's palace (or whatever). Apollo tries to get Pat to do the deed with him. Gets absolutely rejected.

Notes:

hey guys!! sorry, haven't been active lately but i'm back guysss! the masses shall be fed!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWO: WANT

It was terrifying.

 

Terrifying to be held. Terrifying to be cradled by such a being, a being that could swallow me whole and still feel empty.

 

Women around the camp had whispered his name.

 

It is better not to be pretty for you shall be taken.

 

It is better not to be special for you shall be carried away.

 

It is better not to be kind for you shall die early.

 

Now, I saw what they meant.

 

It is better not to be seen at all.

 

I was not a stupid man. I did not feel pride or hubris to the degree of my dear swift-footed Achilles.

 

Even so, my fingers clenched, and my chest tightened, like for a moment, I felt as if I would attack the other. But that feeling vanished when I felt the heat.

 

It was all-consuming.

 

Like the sun.

 

I felt so small.

 

So insignificant.

 

And the light became too bright, and I closed my eyes in fear of being blinded – and it would not be beyond his abilities.

 

Music.

 

Marble.

 

The coolness under my feet.

 

I was no longer in the forest.

 

For a moment, I felt a stab of fear. He could have brought me to Olympus for all I knew. The fear subsided as I realized there were others here, other humans. Other mortals.

 

I was in a throne room, a man perched on top of furs and luxury gazing down at me and the god holding me oh so gently, like I was a glass figure, and he was a lumbering troll.

 

I wondered who had the gall to gaze down at a god.

 

Then I remembered my Achilles.

 

My vision cleared, previously blurry from fear and adrenaline, recognizing this man.

 

King Priam, ruler of Troy.

 

Apollo’s word came rushing back to me.

 

“Then you would be a valuable prisoner for the Trojans.”

 

“And you would be a lovely Hyacinthus.”

 

“This man is my beloved,” the sun said, his voice commanding, full of authority only the divine could summon. The servants cowered and the musicians stilled, afraid of angering him with their ‘awful’ playing.

 

The shadows shifted and I realized that they were not shadows at all.

 

Fifty men and fifty women emerged, their gazes bashful and averted from the god’s form, as if they were fearful of his divine being, too mortal to gaze upon the god of music.

 

Or perhaps they were afraid of blinding themselves. After all, humans can’t help but only think for themselves.

 

Humans cannot not be selfish.

 

I could not hear what else the golden-eyed deity said, despite the volume and authority pouring through his voice like sticky sweet honey, except it was bubbling and as fiery as lava.

 

I felt myself be led away by hands that were not mortal. It was strange. Immortal hands had some strange softness to it, but not in a comforting way. In a condescending way. Like they were whispering, “I could crush you, but I didn’t. Thank me. Worship me Love me.”

 

But I could never love anyone but my sweet Achilles, my one and only, no matter how exasperated or angry or hateful I felt toward the other.

 

He saved me.

 

I will save him.

 

An abrupt pause nearly sent me crashing face first into the shiny marble floors, so clean I could see my own temporarily discombobulated expression in my reflection. Luckily, arms caught me.

 

It reminded me so much of Achilles.

 

Before everything.

 

Before war.

 

It was a hot summer afternoon. Chiron had told them to go out and collect some berries so he could squeeze some of that delicious juice out of them.

 

The two boys were playing in the river. After all, it was cool, and the air was oh so hot. Beneath the shimmering sunlight, the water splashed around, reflecting the glow like little stars.

 

“Patroclus, come here!” called the sweetest boy with the sweetest voice.

 

The other boy trudged through the waters and blinked curiously into the water the sweetest boy was staring into like it held the secrets of the universe.

 

The sweetest boy grinned and plunged his hand into the glowing ripples, pulling out a slippery scaly fish. The other boy recognized it as a trout. Chiron had taught them to recognize different species of fish.

 

The other also tried to imitate the sweetest boy, plunging his hand in and swirling it around, trying to find a target.

 

He was staring so intently at the waters that he failed to notice his balance was tipping.

 

Teeter…

 

Arms caught him. Laughter rang out behind him.

 

The sweetest boy pulled the other boy up before he could be swallowed into the river. The other boy stared at him like he was a siren pulling him up onto the shores.

 

And he was.

 

Look at me.

 

See me.

 

I don’t want anything more than that.

 

Because you are everything and I am nothing.

 

Just stay with me.

 

You’re all I need.

 

You’re all I want.

 

I don’t deserve it.

 

But I’m so selfish.

 

I-

 

“Love?”

 

The voice snapped me out of my reverie.

 

My immediate instinct was to observe my surroundings. Because Achilles used to always sneak up on me.

 

It was a bedroom. Luxurious. Fancy. How did I get here?

 

The answer was perched on top of the bed’s mattress, looking at me almost hungrily. It made me uneasy. It made me scared.

 

“Come, beloved,” Apollo said, his voice low and sultry. It may have sounded seductive to everyone else in this entire world, but I only shivered and backed away, my back hitting the wooden door behind me, shut tight.

 

The god frowned. “Come here.”

 

I did not go. My legs couldn’t move.

 

The god began rising slowly. “Come. Here.”

 

I let out a shuddering breath and shook my head.

 

I am so stupid.

 

I will be smote.

 

The I closed my eyes, bracing myself.

 

Instead I only heard the distinct scent of something burning, a flash of light, and the god was gone.

 

I stood there silently.

 

I am as good as dead.

 

Oh, Achilles, where are you now?

Notes:

once again, pls comment mistakes! and compliments! maybe even ideas!

Chapter 3: Wind

Summary:

It has been two days and Patroclus is awfully bored. Luckily, someone arrives.

Notes:

HIYAAAA!!! i am now referring to your all as my little sun-boy lovers! get it? sun is apollo and boy is pat. dont dunk on me, im trying to refer to you guys endearingly.

soooo i realized i have this little problem were i forget to add new tags as i add new chapters! and also, i forget to tag some aspects of my story! so im asking you, sun-boy lovers, to please tell me new tags to add as i continue to add chapters!

anyways, no more gatekeeping! enjoy the story!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

CHAPTER TWO: WANT

It has been two days.

 

Two days of watching behind my back.

 

Two days of silently praying to anyone but him.

 

Two days of hoping I would find a way out before my love found out.

 

Because even he could not afford to anger the gods.

 

It had been a concept he had never understood. His one weakness, aside from me.

 

My eyes flicked toward my hand, kissed before by sunlight, women, and him. Now, none of those things were here, but their presence lingered.

 

I had never been a child that yearned for the morning. It had been a lesson I had learned a long time ago. The sunlight is for the strong to shine in. The darkness is for people like me to hide in. So the ones in the sun may not find us forever.

 

The darkness had been comforting.

 

But long ago, I learned another lesson. The ones in the light may pull others in it. For the better or the worse, so they could burn to death together.

 

My eyes travelled higher to my wrist, where a band of love, happiness, and the silver of the Moon’s tears. A band given to me by my most cherished, the one who had taken me into the light. He had wanted to give me the gold of the sun at first, but I had refused. I had said it would be too heavy for me, though it had secretly been because I wished the brightness of the gold in the sun would not overshadow the light of my love.

 

Perhaps this was karma. Undeserved luck gifted by the trickster of gods, now punished by the God of Truth descending and carrying me away. Those two had always had a rivalry.

 

I snorted. Perhaps, I was finally going crazy. Or maybe, the lack of Achilles was addling my brain. My life before the sea-splashed boy had been like a candle without kindling, meaningless and dark. No god, trickster or not, would have taken a second glance at me.

 

I sat up, my brown hair cascading down my shoulders. I wished the room had a window, though I would feel much less safe if there was sunlight shining into my new chambers.

 

The room was illuminated by a single candle. I contemplated setting my sheets ablaze and taking myself into the fires, though I knew the effects it would have on Achilles would be detrimental.

 

I could not do that to him.

 

Nevertheless, my fingers found their way to the handle of the candleholder, my dark, stoic eyes reflecting the blaze, and for a moment, I felt a spark of joy. Knowing I held so much power in the palm of my hand. I could knock this down and this entire palace could go up in flames.

 

Perhaps in some tragic fairy tale.

 

There was a sudden creak that made me startle and nearly actually drop the candle. I quickly set it back on the table it had been on earlier and turned around, tense. The aura I felt did not feel like a god’s, but it was not a human either. At least, not a weak one.

 

Golden eyes stared back into mine. They glowed slightly, but not as much as a full-fledged god’s. I would know, after all, my dear’s eyes shone like such. I could not help but think back to his, that were as green as the leaves of the oak tree in the summer, while it was flourishing and the flowers smiled back at my defeated expression.

 

The man stepped forward, and I saw that he was as tall as me, perhaps even a little bit taller. A sign of divine heritage, as most gods were extremely tall. I had seen Athena back in the Achaeans’ camp, arguing with her little treasured champion, Odysseus. She had towered over me, and her gaze had been empty yet intense all at once, like an owl’s.

 

Apollo’s gaze was different. He looked with hunger, a desire to consume all that he saw with a burning ferocity, whether it was lust or hatred. His eyes shone bright, as if wanting to capture everyone’s attention, and perhaps he did.

 

“Hello?” I blinked as a hand waved in front of me, the man now looking at me with concern as I came to.

 

I immediately took a step back. I probably could not kill a demigod, but at least I could hold him off. And he had stupidly left the door open. “Who are you?” I demanded.

 

The man regarded me with those bright orbs of his, shining with divinity, and that was what made me realize. The same desire to capture.

 

This is a son of Apollo.

 

“I am Troilus, son of Apollo and Hecuba.”

 

Oh.

 

“I am here to inquire about your intentions with my father.”

 

Wait… what?

 

“Why?” I said, nearly laughing. Did this demigod really think I could do anything to the god of music? If so, he was dumber than I thought.

 

He stepped forward, making me instinctively back up slightly, his eyes flicking toward the candle, then to me, as if he had seen what I had thought before he had arrived. Perhaps he had inherited his father’s all-seeing eyes.

 

Troilus’ eyes shifted to look at me, his gaze almost as intense as his father’s. “My father seems to have taken an interest in you,” the demigod began, his fingers fidgeting. It was distracting, but I managed to tear my eyes away from the way his hands were changing into various shadow puppet hand gestures. Perhaps it was a habit of his.

 

“You must understand, mortal,” Troilus continued. I frowned slightly. It seemed the man had picked up the way his father spoke, as if mortals were animals beneath him. However, when I peered into his eyes, I did not see condescension. “My father loves deeply. I simply do not wish for you to break his heart as many have before you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps he should not go for those that do not love him as he loves them.”

 

Troilus’ lips twitched upward slightly, as if I had amused him with my witty comment. “Yes, perhaps he should. But he does not listen to my advice, nor the advice of the other gods. He had always had a spat with Eros, who now is giving him hell.”

 

I settled back down on my new bed sheets, my body untensing as if the fabric was sapping away my wariness. “And so everyone has heard. Gods have no concept of hubris and do not need any, but their pride is… bigger than most.” I spoke carefully. Even now, with my annoyance with Apollo, I was not stupid enough to insult the immortals lest they hear and strike me down.

 

Troilus looked around, as if expecting a god to pop up out of nowhere. After a while, he muttered, “I cannot help but agree.”

 

I thought back to how the sun god had reacted to his rejection of lovemaking. At least he had shown a little character development, considering he had not immediately forcibly taken me.

 

Troilus was interesting.

 

“You got any stories?”

 

“Oh, do I ever.”

Notes:

not beta-read so once again, please comment mistakes, suggestions, and new tags i should add! :)

Notes:

hope yall enjoyed and once again pls comment mistakes

or compliments, i live off of them

byeee folks