Chapter Text
Fall was not far away. A sliver of breeze in between the final waves of heat. A leaf beginning to crumble. He knew that lady Persephone would leave in just one month. That was one month he had to make the song perfect. Perfect so that if they needed extra food, it would grow. Perfect so that if there was no firewood, he could bring back that warm breeze that was usually paired with the blossoming flowers, and not the changing leaves.
He decided to leave the bar early that day. He knew all he would do was think about it if he didn’t just go home and do it. It would be much more productive to work on it a little bit now. So he did. He got up, told Eurydice he was going home, and went home. Reaching for his lyre, for the strings that were so familiar to him, so welcoming.
He would work. He would work on the song, even though it was finished. There were always things he could polish. Notes he could master. Anything to make sure it wouldn't happen again. That she wouldn't leave him again. So that he could provide.
It was later when Eurydice walked through the door. Orpheus was glad. He was glad she was back on top, enjoying herself with Persephone on the surface rather than the factory. He would prefer she didn't have to go back. Or want to. Because that meant Orpheus was doing something wrong, and he didn’t know if he knew how to fix it.
”Orpheus?”
Her voice cut through his silent thoughts. “What?”
“I said I thought you finished the song.”
Oh. Did she really say something? And he didn’t hear her?
Just like the first time.
“Orpheus?”
again, his mind had wandered.
”uh- yeah, it is. I just wanted to polish it.”
”Alright.” She walked by and into their room.
She was going to wait for him, you know. Wait so that she could talk to him before they went to sleep. Like they usually did. She loved hearing his voice before they fell asleep. Well, she was hearing his voice in a way. From down the hall, his voice traveled into the room. But it wasn’t the smoothness that came with his voice during their midnight talks. It was just… different. There was a type of focus that didn’t come naturally to him.
She fell asleep later than usual. She didn’t know what time. All that she knew was that he wasn’t with her.
•
Hermes knew. Hermes knew that look on his face. He knew by the way he was just.. out of it. He knew that Orpheus had something on his mind. Something that he wanted to do.
This happened. Not too often, of course. But it was that state he was in. That state of focus. That state like if he didn't get things done, he would tear himself apart. It happened. He would disappear with a task, and wouldn’t show his face for hours on end. And with it, came frustration.
Frustration that he couldn't put into words, so he decided not to tell anyone. To keep it to himself. To take out on himself. It was suffocating. It was panic inducing. And then the panic would come.
Orpheus would fall deeper into his focus, and if anything go wrong, he would panic. Panic like his life depended on doing this right. Trying to grasp any sliver of hope that he was doing it right this time, even though he never did anything wrong in the first place.
And then Hermes would step in. Because no one else knew him like the God did, which was sad. That not a single mortal understood his pain. Understood his needs. Because he was different. He thought different. He acted different.
He expressed emotion different.
So Hermes would step in. Because Hermes understood that he was different, and he understood how to help him. He understood how to help him function despite the fact that Orpheus thought it was impossible. He had known the boy since he was so young, and he knew that he could get trapped in his head. And he wanted to help him.
So he did. Every time Orpheus needed him, Hermes was there. He always was, and always wanted to be. For even Gods would risk everything for a mortal.