Cajón de-sastre

That’s what he tells himself as he walks a little bit ahead, clearing the way so that Achilles doesn’t have to. Though he seems far more energetic and lively than the previous days, he’s still a little too pale and slow-moving for Patroclus’ liking— but, again, his reason for trudging through snow covered trees and low hanging branches, and having his coat caught in thorn bushes every few steps isn’t quite so altruistic. In truth, avoiding any and all conversation he might have with Achilles is much higher on his list of priorities right now. Now that this whole anthos business is done and over with, for the time being at least, Patroclus doesn’t want anything to do with Achilles that isn’t beyond the typical.

Oh, and staying upwind so that he doesn’t catch Achilles’ scent with every step is a small blessing. So, really, staying away from him as much as he can is doing him wonders right now, thank you very much.

When they walk into the cave, their boots covered in melting snow and ice gathered on the sleeves of their coats, Chiron is already up by the fire, waiting for them. He pushes himself up and steps close to Achilles, tipping his chin up so he can examine his face.

“Feeling better today, I see,” the centaur remarks.

“I am.”

“Your complexion is much healthier, and your eyes… well, let’s just say they’re back to their usual colour. Your anthos is over, I take it?”

Achilles nods, while Patroclus gapes. He is well aware that the centaur knows of Achilles’ condition, that he has been treating him for it, but he has never spoken about it in front of him . The fact that Chiron speaks about this so openly makes Patroclus distinctly uncomfortable; he shifts on his feet, not quite knowing what to do or say; if he should say something, or if he should just pretend he didn’t hear and busy himself with something else.

This isn’t really an option, as Achilles says eagerly, “Patroclus has helped me greatly with it. He did whatever was in his power to make sure I had everything I needed.”

“That’s not— I didn’t do anything!” Patroclus blurts out. They both turn to look at him, and he chuckles nervously. “I just kept him company, that’s all. Been a long couple of nights, I’ll tell you that.”

Achilles shoots him an annoyed look over his shoulder, and Patroclus stares at him right back. Wasn’t it Achilles that said that he never wanted to talk about it again, that he wanted to pretend like it never happened? Telling Chiron what they did—all the sordid details that make Patroclus’ blood race just thinking about them— would probably defeat that purpose.

Chiron, as if sensing his unease, focuses his calm brown eyes on him.

“You understand, I hope, that you were not kept in the dark out of malice or ill-intent. Achilles wished to keep this matter private; since he was a patient as well as a student, I was not at liberty to discuss it with you, or anyone else. But now that we all know, I believe it is time we spoke more openly. If you ever want to talk about your situation, I am always available.”

“Ah… thank you,” Patroclus murmurs awkwardly, glancing between Achilles and the centaur. “But that won’t be necessary.”

Chiron cocks his head slightly to the side, studying him. “Learning something of the kind about one’s nature would be enough to rattle anyone. I expect you have many questions; I would be glad to answer them, and so would Achilles, I’m sure.”

Achilles blushes and nods, glancing shyly at him. There’s so much hope in his eyes, however tentative, and it at once tugs at Patroclus and frustrates him. It would have been so much better for both of them, wouldn’t it, if Achilles had been this eager to help him and clarify things for him before binding him to his service, or before they actually slept together? That way, Patroclus would have no reason to resent him, or to not trust him. Now it all seems like a farce, a play-pretend at caring when they all know that Patroclus is only there to serve a purpose.