#propheticmessage

"Oh, my love—if only you could see yourself.."

"I still remember how I looked before I was blinded, Hermes. And even in my memory, I do not think my appearance could hold a torch to how I remember you."

Hermes felt his cheeks flush in an instant, his eyes peering up from behind his dark brown bangs at Tiresias' shadowed face. Light brown curls of hair that seemed dry—but still shined in the glowing light of the cyan river below the cliff they both had been resting upon, a bandage over his pretty eyes with no pupils, his perfect lips formed into a small smile. Even the sound of Tiresias' gentle voice in the quietness of the Underworld was enough to make Hermes nearly feel as if he could swoon.

But, it was not fitting for a God such as himself to swoon, was it? He'd been ever the confident charmer, and he would not lose such an image even to someone he held so dearly.

"Please, darling—no other soul I know is more beautiful than you. I would have believed you yourself to be a gift from Aphrodite herself, if I didn't know any better."

Hermes lifted a hand. Tiresias lifted his head, and with a growing smile, he lifted his hand—slipping it into the grasp of Hermes' palm. Curling his fingers around Hermes' palm, and letting Hermes hold his hand, Tiresias laughed lowly.

"If I didn't know you were a God, Hermes, I would have thought she had gifted me the most beautiful man in all of Greece."

"Oh? Do you not think me the most beautiful already?" Hermes playfully chuckled, lifting his other hand to grasp Tiresias' cheek gently. Tiresias leaned his cheek into his touch, his lips curling upward even more.

"My dearest Hermes," He hummed, "You are more than beautiful."

Such sweet words uttered by the man who let him rest his head in his lap. Hermes felt as if with those words, he'd been struck in the heart, like an arrow piercing the life out of an innocent animal being hunted. He felt his divine heart thump within his chest, and couldn't keep the warmth from spreading to his ears.

As he let himself stare at the prophets beautiful smile, and imagine the idea of eternity with him, an uncontrollable hum of content rose from within him, and his shoulders lowered with relief.

Tiresias tilted his head slightly. His smile slightly faded. "Why are you sighing, Hermes?"

"..I am simply in content, darling. Who would not be in the embrace of someone such as you?"

"Hm.." Tiresias let his lips curl upward again, and he lowered a hand to gently pass over Hermes' scalp. His fingers began to gently caress at it—affection present with every movement they made. "Who would I be not to let such a lovely soul rest his head upon my lap? I'd consider myself a fool to say no to you."

Hermes laughed, a bit shakily. Tiresias was usually very sweet already, but he only ever really acknowledged words of affection with gentle hums or smiles—or silent affection of his own. He wasn't one to flirt so casually. It wasn't that Hermes minded—he just..

"I say, darling, you do not normally flirt this much with me." Hermes leaned slightly closer, grinning from ear to ear. "Where has all this boldness come from?"

Tiresias gently laughed, moving his fingers to Hermes' cheek. "I am not trying to, my love. I only speak with sincerity."

At such softly spoken words, Hermes nearly felt himself sigh again. He hadn't exactly meant to, but he found himself turning over completely, resting himself further into the embrace of his lover.

"You wound me with your sincerity, darling.."

"..hm."

He could feel Tiresias looking down upon him, moving his other hand to gently rub his palm against Hermes' shoulder blades—perhaps to try relaxing him into slumber again as he often did when Hermes rested like this. His sweet Tiresias, always such a soother.

Yet, with such playful and short-lived romances in Hermes' immortal life, he did not know if Tiresias spoke the truth. Did he speak sincerely? Was he only flirting with the only enjoyment he likely had in this cold afterlife of his? Or—

Hermes felt his heart slightly sink. "Do you need something from me, darling?"

"..no." Tiresias replied, softly. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, normally, such words of flattery only come when people want something from me." Hermes forced a chuckle into his words—no, he.. he chuckled. He wasn't making himself. He was always filled with cheer—he would never force it.

"Is there something you'd like me to do for you?" Hermes inquired, his voice softening.

Tiresias went quiet, and spoke in a slightly gentler manner. "No, my love. I simply wanted to praise you."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't judge you if you needed something. I'm always here to—well.. lend something, if.. anyone needs me for a favor or two."

Tiresias paused again. Something felt like it had shifted in the air for a moment. Slightly, Tiresias' gentle caressing upon his scalp seemed to soften a little more.

"My dear, why would I only praise you if I wanted something?"

Hermes blinked. For a moment, he flickered his gaze to Tiresias', tilting his head. He had no longer been smiling—only giving a worried frown upon his lips. In the face of concern, Hermes cast his gaze away.

He tried to laugh. As best as he could.

"I.. I was not implying that. I was—I just was wondering if maybe you wanted something out of me. Most people don't normally say such exaggerated praise to me. Of course, it—it's not like their praise is wrong, even when exaggerated.. I'm—"

He trailed off. Tiresias didn't speak.

"I'm.." He curled up. What was this? He didn't like this.. feeling.

He tried to muster more words. Yet, he saw no direction that led to Tiresias smiling again. The only direction he could take, perhaps, was doing as he always did when it came to things like this.

He turned around—shutting his eyes and trying to grin as he rested the back of his scalp on Tiresias' leg. "My dear, you have no idea what you do to me. You—"

"Don't."

"..what?"

"You know what, my dear. Don't change the subject."

"I'm—I'm not—I just.. it's—" Hermes huffed, "It's nothing to fret over! I'm alright!"

Tiresias looked upon him, his frown not fading. Why wasn't he smiling yet? Surely, there was something he could do to find a way out of this.

He tried to think. What could he say to make Tiresias of Thebes laugh? What was there to do? He felt a flush of something overcome his face—and a harsh thumping begin in his chest. He needed to think. He needed to say something. Anything. He didn't want Tiresias to know how he—

..he didn't want him to feel worried, was all. He couldn't have that. Not when he was already so bad at being open about himself. Not when—

"..Hermes."

In an instant, Hermes lost focus on his thoughts. He found his cheeks met with two gentle hands. Something within him weakened, and he found nothing he could say.

"Do you feel as if my praise is a lie?"

"..n—no. I'm.."

"..."

"I.. I suppose so. But, it's—I'm.. I'm not—"

"..."

"I—" Hermes shook his head, his voice weak. "I don't know—"

"My dear.." Tiresias spoke lowly, letting his thumb caress Hermes' cheek. A touch so soft it made a terrifying wetness begin to build in Hermes' sockets. He blinked it away, shaking his head.

Tiresias leaned his head slightly lower, nearly whispering, "..you are everything to me. You are more than everything. I love you more than anything I could possibly imagine. I would not hold you, be here with you, or even speak to you if I did not mean anything I told you."

"..."

Hermes frowned. Wetness began to build in his eyes, and frantically, he blinked it away. He couldn't let it pour out. He couldn't let anything spill out. Not here. Anywhere but here.

Yet, the gentleness of Tiresias' voice made it hard to hold back.

"And I would not use flattery simply to get you to do what I want." He uttered, "Do you understand, love?"

Hermes didn't know what to say. The only thing he could manage to muster was a nod.

"..ye—yes." Hermes weakly nodded. Tiresias rubbed his cheek with his thumb again.

With such a frown upon his face, it was hard to tell if he was just trying to get him to think that so he wouldn't suspect anything. Did his lover think he would not respond to such needs? He was Hermes. He'd always do what people needed of him. He would always do what people wanted of him. Because he—he was.. he was a divine being, and he—

"You are no wish-granter, love." Tiresias quietly spoke.

"..wh—"

"You are more than what you think, dear. You are a being I hold so dear that my soul would know you even if I were to live again and have my previous memories erased. I love you beyond the word 'love'."

Tiresias spoke more quietly. He rubbed his thumb against Hermes' cheek, wiping something wet Hermes hadn't noticed trailing from his eye down his jawline.

"I mean everything I tell you. And I want you to know that. Anyone who tells you any different, and anyone who has taught you any different, is someone not to worry about. I will not, and I mean never, mean so cruel to you."

"...hic.."

"..shhh.."

Tiresias shushed him. He wiped every single tear that trailed down Hermes' cheek, looking down upon him with a soft sympathy barely anyone had given him.

Hermes tried to speak, his voice shaky.

"I don't.. no one's ever—"

"Shhhh.."

"I.. hic.."

"There's no need to speak to me. You do not need to do anything. I will let you rest here for as long as you may like."

Hermes felt himself lean closer again, nodding as much as he could.

"You would let me?"

"I would let you do anything if it brought you peace, Hermes."

"..hic.."

"Shhh.. rest your beautiful soul, dear. I will be here as long as you need me to."

Hermes couldn't control himself. He curled up almost completely, turning over as Tiresias' caressed his head. He didn't know why he was getting so emotional over something so simple. Why, with his lover of all people, did he give into tears? Why now in the face of his lover? He never wanted him to see him like this. He felt like he could never see him like this. But..

..as Tiresias held him, shushing him gently, every word Tiresias spoke to him seemed less and less a mean of deception into getting what he pleased.

Tiresias—his lover, meant every word he spoke.

This shade, whom he barely knew when he was still alive, loved him. He didn't just feel attracted. He didn't only want gifts. He didn't simply feel prideful at the idea that a God had loved him.

Tiresias loved him.

And while that was soothing to know, Hermes couldn't help but feel a piercing pain at his vulnerable heart like an arrow.

This man loved him.

And Hermes would have simply brushed it off, try to find a way out of the relationship as not to hurt him as many of his previous genuine lovers had been, or would have tried not to acknowledge it.

But, he found himself saddled with something else that brought him horror.

He—he liked Tiresias. Tiresias, the one who always spoke so sweetly to him. The one who always listened to him. The one who never seemed to resent him no matter what he did—even if he did get annoyed at times.

He knew he liked Tiresias. Of course he did. Why else would he have taken him as another lover?

But, in the moment, he found himself realizing—as his soul itself felt as if it were being embraced—he did not just like him.

He loved him too.

Not because he found him attractive. But because in every capacity and in every way, he loved everything about him. He loved being with him. He loved speaking to him. He loved listening to him. He loved even the most small parts of him.

That was what scared him. For the first time in centuries, even though he swore not to let himself fall into such a state—he was yet again in love.

As Hermes shut his eyes, he saw only but one vision as a thought formed in his head. One that stabbed him with such an alarming horror it made him nearly begin to hyperventilate.