Thanks for staying with me.
Warning: Yaoi, Slash, Boy on Boy. And it features a relationship between an underaged boy and a man. Keep in mind; this was another time and place. Don't report me.
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It hadn't occurred to me the lateness of the hour. I had left my house at late afternoon. Now the sun was touching the sea and painting the skies pink and orange. I was late!
The stranger must have seen my distress.
"Worry not, youth. I can explain this to your father. Simply say you were helping out a client of his." Relief filled me. My father couldn't find fault in helping potential business.
"Follow me," I replied and we made our way to my house.
As we walked the streets, we did receive the odd knowing stare. A strange man, especially one as attractive as my companion, would receive a lot of attention. Another noticeable detail was his company of a youth like me, who obviously wasn't his son or even related. It also didn't escape notice that they were together without the usual servant or relative to make sure the boy wasn't taken advantage of. I wasn't the least bit bothered. After all, we weren't in a relationship. Still, I couldn't help looking at the floor and blushing slightly. The stranger looked onwards with a slight smile.
When we had reached my house, the sun had already set and the oranges and roses were replaced by indigoes and blues. The lights to the house were lit and I saw a figure at the window slink away. The door opened and my father walked out in a rage.
"Dorian, what do you think you are doing! Who…." Then he froze. His infuriated red face turned sallow and hallow with terror. He had an odd expression I couldn't find a reason for. Recognition?
"I see," he said. "Dorian, who is this man, I may ask?"
"He says he's a client of yours. He wishes to make a request…."
"Yes, yes, I know," he interrupted. "We've met before. What I mean is do you even know his name?" His face turned hard with contempt. I blushed and looked down, feeling like an idiot for the third time this day. In all the excitement of meeting the stranger, I forgot to ask for his own name.
"No," I admitted. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to my right. The stranger met my gaze and gave me a reassuring smile.
"My name is Phoebus," he said. Phoebus? Meaning "the bright one"? It did fit his nature, so light-hearted and warm. Phoebus stepped forward.
"Aristides, I come with a request for your skills as a sculptor. I am interested in a statue of the great god Apollo. I believe you once specialized in making his image for the temples. After all, he is patron of the arts," Phoebus said with a smile. He said the last part in a joking tone, like something he knew secretly. I didn't liked being left in the dark but I couldn't bring myself to ask the man.
"Surely you didn't have to go through all the trouble of coming here," my father said.
"It is not problem from me," Phoebus said. "I like to make my requests in person. It allows me to oversee the entire process, add a little guidance and inspiration. Besides, I have people who take care of my business while I am away."
"And I suppose you want to stay here, under my roof," my father added.
"Would I be a nuisance," Phoebus asked.
This is always a tricky part. Obviously any unexpected guest was a problem but it was more so among my people. You see once a Greek man invites a guest into his house, the guest is treated with upmost hospitality. The guest is never denied anything. This has caused many complications in our legends and stories when a guest's unorthodox, or even immoral, requests had to be fulfilled. The reason behind such dedication by the host was that it was the will of the gods. The very King of them, Zeus, commanded that man show great kindness and hospitality to guests. To show cruelty and negligence to guests was to risking angering the gods. Of course, that doesn't mean we have to take in anyone. The head of the household still had the liberty to choice his guests but it was expected of him to take in those in need.
"No," My father answered. "You are welcome in my house, Phoebus." And so began the contract between host and guest.
Phoebus entered the house. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks but I swear the lamplights brightened a bit as he entered. I followed in his steps when my father reached out and grabbed my shoulder. He wore a stern expression on his face.
"We will speak of this later," he said before letting go.
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Sure enough, my father did speak with me later. Shouts filled the house, mainly from him. I'm sure the neighbors heard most of it. Aristides, known across Greece for his sculpture, was known across Delos for his nighttime shouting at his disobedient son. I was too old to be spanked, he told me, and it took all his control not to flog me back raw. I almost wished I was struck down; the physical pain would have been easier to bear than the humiliation of being talked down like a spoiled brat.
When he left my room, I waited for a while to pass. The lights went out and silence filled the night. I held in my tears as long as I could and only barely sobbed. I fell asleep with a pain and uneasiness in my heart.
That night, I had the oddest dream. I was laying in the moonlight, in a dream world of nothing. Then a golden figure appeared. It kneeled beside my bed, stroking my curly brown hair, whispering comforting words that I couldn't make out but understood. The figure left and I was comforted, drifting into peaceful sleep.
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The next morning, I met Phoebus in the kitchen. If he had heard the shouting last night, which I was sure of, he made no mention of it. A servant was warming bread and had a jug of water ready.
"Good morning, Dorian," he greeted. "Did you sleep well?" I had only the faintest recollection of my dream. All I knew was that I was granted a well rested night because of it.
"Yes, I did have a good night's rest. Thanks for asking." Phoebus smiled before biting a piece of bread. I couldn't place it but something about Phoebus makes you find him trustworthy. But my father had a favorite expression: Smooth surfaces hide deadly currents. He seemed to like saying this when I was greeted by interested men in the streets. But Phoebus was nothing like that. Right?
At this point, my father walked in.
"Ah, Aristides, just the man I wanted to speak to," Phoebus greeted. I watched them while eating bread with a few gulps of water in between.
"How long will my request take," Phoebus asked. My father pasted a smile on his face.
"I'll have to put aside a few projects, but I can shorten your time to a month," my father answered. I was astonished. Usually it took him two months for a good statue.
"Oh no, take your time," Phoebus said. "I plan to stay here in Delos for a while. I want to see the island for all its beauty. It's been a while since I was last here," he said the last part as if enjoying a private joke.
"In the meantime, I need someone to show me around." Then Phoebus looked at me as if just noticing I was there.
"So Dorian, what are planning today," Phoebus asked. I almost choked on my water. After making sure I was fine, Phoebus asked again.
"I have lessons in the late morning and training at the gymnasium at noon," I answered. Phoebus smiled.
"So you have a few hours extra," he asked.
"I'm sorry, but Dorian has to train in sculpting with me," my father interrupted. He had a look of protectiveness on his face. He looked at me, expecting compliance.
"I'm sure Dorian can skip one lesson with you today," Phoebus said with an encouraging look. I was stuck between two people I really wanted to please. Then I remembered last night's shouting.
"I'm sure I can spare the lesson for today," I answered. My father's expression was pricelessly livid.
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The rest of my morning was spent in a light-hearted daze. I had no idea what was discussed in my lessons but I'm sure it didn't hurt to be behind one day. My training in the gymnasium, however, improved greatly. I outran boys four years my senior, which crushed more than a few youths' prides.
My instructor was jubilant.
"You have the fine makings of an athlete, my boy," he beamed. "Maybe in four years you can enter the Olympics. Oh what a glorious victory it would be for Delos."
My skills in other activities improved as well. My intoxicating glee threw the discus a few yards farther. My javelin throw met an all new record for me. But a new tool caught my attention.
I saw a pair of youths, their bare bodies gleaming with sweat in the hot sun, practicing with bows and arrows.
"That weapon my boy, though useful and respectable, is hard to master," my instructor said. Still, I asked for a chance to try. I had difficulty notching the arrows, and my chest stretched painfully trying to pull the arrow back far enough. Being as young and small as I was, the bow wasn't a good match for me and I couldn't even fire the arrows. This sobered my otherwise euphoric mood, but I still looked forward to my tour with Phoebus. After all, I wanted to know more about him, there was a bond between us I felt even if I barely knew him. And it didn't bother me one bit.
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I left the gymnasium in joyous anticipation. I made my way quickly to my house. I had few friends to slow my progress, a father as intimidating as Aristides guaranteed that. A servant let me into the house and after a light lunch of olives, hard cheese, and bread, I found out from the cook that Phoebus and my father were at his workshop next door. I gave the cook my thanks and walked to the workshop. Before I knocked, I heard voices.
"…I won't let him do it," My father said. I stopped. I wasn't one to eavesdrop usually but something compelled me to listen quietly.
"You have to let him do this, that was part of the deal," Phoebus said. I listened with keen intent.
"I don't care, I'm not letting you take him from me," my father hissed.
"If he leaves with me, it'll be by his choice alone," Phoebus countered. "Besides, the boy only lives because I gave him life."
"Are you insinuating something," my father demanded.
"I'm just saying, I brought him into this world and I can take him back." Who were they talking about? Suddenly I felt very vulnerable. I didn't want to risk discovery so I knocked. I heard hushes and my father answered the door.
"Ah, Dorian, I suppose it's time," he answered with distaste. He let me in and I saw the room. My father had a marble bust in the makings, with the beginnings of a beard. Light came from a window and showed drifting specks of dust in the air. On a bench to the side were various chisels and waxes with paints. On another bench was the man I wanted to see.
"Hello Dorian," Phoebus greeted. "How were your lessons?" I felt self-conscious of my fluttering attention this morning and felt my cheeks fill with blood.
"Oh… they were great. I found out dolphins give birth to live young," I scrambled. Phoebus smiled but had a knowing glint to his eyes, like he sensed my scattered attempt at lying. Still, he didn't question further.
"Are you ready to show me the city," Phoebus asked.
"Oh yes. I'll take you to the gymnasium. After all, the best of Athenian thinkers say the secret to a sharp mind is a strong body."
Sorry this was so short. I'll promise I'll make it up to you guys later. For now, stay in touch and send reviews.