Take My Tears and Carry Them
Summary - Patroclus helps Achilles wash the blood from his body after an unusually traumatic day on the battlefield. Even when clean, a hint of the awful, metallic scent remains on Achilles’ skin. Despite this, Patroclus cannot refuse him comfort.
Tags - blood, mentions of death & suicide, pov patroclus, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, non-graphic sex, canon compliant
Words - 2.8k
Author’s Note - I’ve loved these characters for so long, but it was only recently while listening to the new Auri album (post-TSOA re-read), that I felt the need to write about them in the hopes of dealing with my reading hangover (and eternal heartbreak over their fate).
𖤓𖤓𖤓
I sit with a handful of rags that had, until recently, been a whole linen sheet. I’m about to bundle them up when I hear a swishing behind me. The entrance flap of my tent lifts, allowing passage to a newcomer. The sound is followed by a soft thunk as the heavy material falls back into place, hitting the sand. I already know it’s Achilles, returned to me after a day of fighting. I sense a presence that is distinctly his without needing to look around for confirmation.
The sliver of sunset that hit the back wall of our dwelling is gone as soon as it came, leaving only the glow of oil lamps. The air around me is suddenly thicker. There’s tension and anticipation, both pressing against me, pulling me this way and that like a river current.
“I’m back,” Achilles says.
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