Telemachus woke to aching limbs. He blinked blearily and looked about himself to see he had fallen asleep on the hard stone floor. Back against a pillar, knees tucked to his chin, he'd been like that all night. He felt chilled. He didn't want to move.
The voices of so many birds made themselves heard, peeping and singing in the pale dawn light. Telemachus yawned and let his head tip back to the stone behind him. All at once, last night came crashing over him. He closed his eyes as if hoping somehow the crushing memory would leave him alone that way. It didn't.
He pushed his feet forward, letting his legs drop and splay out in front of him. They tingled with a thousand little pin pricks. The sigh that escaped him was deep, loud and long. He just sat there, trying not to think, fingers kneading into his eyes and forehead.
His stomach growled. Waves crashed. Birds called. He breathed. He almost missed the sound of a timid knock at his door. His hands froze as his eyes shot open. Could he just ignore it? He wanted to.
Slowly, and with a shocking amount of difficulty, he got up. Once his stiff legs were underneath him, he stood there just listening. The knock did not repeat. He should just leave it. But before he could think about it too much, his reluctant steps were already moving him toward the door. His heart desperately dragged the rest of him toward that little knock.
Then, he found himself standing before the door, his eyes pouring over its every groove and grain. The part of him hoping the visitor had given up and left waged war with the part that prayed fervently he was still there.
Telemachus reached up and touched the wood of the door. He could hear breathing. It took all of him to get one word out. "Father?"
"Telemachus." He heard from the other side. It was tentative, soft. His father.
Telemachus didn't know what to say. There were so much churning inside of him.
"I-..." the voice began. "Can I see you?"
Telemachus stared at his own hand on the door. The steady rhythm of breathing stopped, like his father was holding his breath. He didn't consider his words. They shoved any thought out of the way and leapt from his lips.
"You want to?" He asked quietly.
There was a light bump against the other side of the door.
"Please." He heard his father say.
The simple word slipped under his skin. He caught the sob that rose in his chest. Leaning in, he pressed his forehead to the door.
"Ok." he breathed.