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Sleeping with either Achilles or Patroclus—or both—is not safe or careful. Yes, I want them, though I also want to shove Achilles out a window. But Patroclus was right to turn me down the other night. Not to mention… Gods, I don’t even know him anymore. Not really. And I sure as fuck don’t know Achilles at all. They might be just as much monster as Paris is; I didn’t see his true colors until it was far too late for an easy escape. Sex complicates things, even with the most emotionally unavailable person. Sex with two men who want the same thing I do, who will crush my dreams without a second thought?
Surely, I’m not that self-destructive.
Surely.
On the other side of the wall, the bed starts thumping again.
“Are you fucking serious?” There’s no sleeping like this. I might as well not even try. If it were another situation, I might appreciate their stamina, but I’m tired and overwhelmed and listening to Patroclus get his back blown out is making me both crankier and green with envy.
I sigh and climb out of bed. Maybe the couch is more comfortable than it looks. We don’t have overly long until the first trial, and I need sleep and to be mentally preparing. It should be easy. This is what I want, after all. But when I try to gather my thoughts about me, they scatter like marbles.
I’m just tired. That’s all.
As I pad down the hall and step into the main living area, I half expect to find Hermes and Dionysus poking around. They like to play the part of stray cats, always showing up in your house when you least expect it. Except…I’m not home and even those two would hesitate to trespass on Athena’s property during the Ares tournament.
Silly to miss them. Silly to miss my apartment and my carefully curated bedroom. Silly to have the faintest hurt that neither Perseus or Eris have come to check on me or yell at me or even acknowledge how thoroughly I’ve fucked up their plans. I don’t know why I expected it. Our father taught us too well. When he was truly furious at me for one thing or another, he would stop acknowledging my existence. In hindsight, I should have taken that for the blessing it was, but I had even less self-control as a child. I would get louder, angrier, more dramatic, and he would simply ignore me as if I were really a ghost banging on the walls that no one could see or hear.
I shudder. I hate that my siblings are using Zeus’s old tricks. They know how much it hurt when he’d do that, and they’re doing it anyway… I shake my head. “Way to make yourself the center of everyone’s universe, Helen. They’re probably off doing important Thirteen things, and I’m too far down the list of priorities.” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice. At least I’m the only one to witness it.
I circle the living room. Times like these, when I’m feeling particularly isolated, I have the nearly overwhelming urge to call my little brother, Hercules. We weren’t particularly close growing up. Even from a young age, he was too earnest, too pure, and it made him a target of our father’s firm instruction. The rest of us distanced ourselves from him to avoid the same fate. In hindsight, the cowardice tastes foul on my tongue. Maybe if we’d tried to step in…
But the joke’s on us elder siblings. Hercules got out. He’s living in a happy little polyamorous relationship in Carver City, freer in his exile than he ever was within these city limits. Most people who live in Olympus are so focused on the city center that they never stop to think about how we’re essentially rats trapped in a cage.
Ultimately, the barrier’s existence doesn’t matter. For better or worse, I have no intention of leaving Olympus.
I am glad Hercules got out, though. I’m glad he’s happy. He’s very careful to keep his lovers away from us, to shield them from the taint of this city and the Kasios family. Smart man. The rest of us are still dancing to the tune Olympus sets.
I won’t call Hercules this time, just as I haven’t called him any of the other times when loneliness and self-pity threatened to become overwhelming. The idea of his warm attitude is great in theory, but we have nothing to talk about, and an awkward sibling conversation where it becomes clear how distant we really are is worse than not talking to him at all.
I head back into the bedroom and glare at the wall where I can still hear Achilles and Patroclus fucking. “The couch it is.” I drag the comforter off the bed and do my best to make the couch comfortable. It’s obviously not meant for this type of thing, but just when I think I’ll never get to sleep…I wake up to the morning light streaming through the window.
