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The sea breeze licks at Patroclus’ skin with the rough edge of salt, adding a tang at the back of his throat when he inhales deeply. The ocean hisses and crashes in front of him, calm in the sweet spring weather, and stretches further than the eye can see. Sunshine spreads its palms on his forearms, almost painting his skin the same shade of gold as Achilles’.
There is something in his hand; he is rubbing his thumb over it, and it piques Patroclus’ interest. A knowing smirk plays on the perfect cupid’s bow of Achilles’ mouth, and Patroclus is not ashamed to find he wishes to taste the salt of the sea upon them.
“I found something for you,” Achilles tells Patroclus, and Patroclus feels a flip of anticipation in his stomach; he loves when Achilles speaks like this.
“Oh?” He asks, soft as the feel of his hair brushing against his cheek in the breeze. His eyes reluctantly pull away from Achilles’ face to trace the golden line of his arm as he holds his hand out in front of him, palm up but fingers closed. Teasing, deliberately slow, Achilles opens his hand and shows the thing that he has found for Patroclus.
A small oval of deep royal blue. Specked with salt, and opaque, the object looks like a stone but Patroclus knows it isn’t. As though he is picking up a baby bird, Patroclus takes the oval from Achilles’ palm and rests it on his fingers. He rubs his thumb over its surface and finds it to be rough in places and smooth in others. Patroclus feels as though he is holding a piece of the ocean’s heart in his hands.
“What is it?” He asks in a whisper, and feels the steady warmth of Achilles pressing his shoulder against Patroclus’ own.
“I do not know,” Achilles answers earnestly, “but it is beautiful, and so reminded me of you.” There is simplicity to his words, as though there is no need to lie about such things, and the strength of them fills Patroclus with heavy love. Looking away from the tiny object in his hand, Patroclus looks instead at Achilles with wide eyes.
Not knowing the words to speak, Patroclus instead licks his lips and glances down at Achilles’ in a silent question. Achilles smiles his answer, leaning forward to brush his nose against Patroclus’ in a wave of movement that smells like the salt of the ocean and the warmth of his body. As his hand closes around the gift, Patroclus leans forward and lets his senses absorb everything Achilles.
“Thank you.” Patroclus whispers, and feels Achilles smile against his mouth. Leaning back, Patroclus smiles at the way Achilles holds back a grin and inclines his head. In that moment the world seems so far away and, as he tightens his grip around the thing that had reminded Achilles of himself, Patroclus wishes they didn’t have to return.