"El."
"Phoebus."
I knew that the boy band Gods of the Sun were touring in Los Angeles. What I didn't know was that I'd be awakened in the dead of night to its lead singer knocking at my door.
"Why are you here?" I ask, suddenly aware that I have nothing on but a camisole and a pair of tiny shorts. Perfect for sleeping, not so much for reunions. I cross my arms in front of my chest in an effort to feel less exposed.
He gives me one of his blinding smiles, but his eyes remain quiet. "I was tired and you're the closest thing I have to home. Can't I stay for a bit?"
"No," I say vehemently, knowing deep down that I could never refuse him.
I am weak. He makes me weak. If I was anything close to the heroines I read about, I would have closed the door, despite all the heartbreak I might go through.
He is the sun and I am a planet, trapped in his gravity. If he pulls me in too close, I will get burned.
I don't meet his eyes. It would make me cave, but I'm only prolonging the inevitable.
"El." I can't stop the shiver that my name on his lips sends down my spine. After all this time? "El, you owe me."
"That was different, Phoebus, and you know it. I didn't ask. You chose to let me in."
"Please, El. I just want to feel safe."
"Fine, you bitch" I mutter, unable to say no. I sidestep his hug under the pretense of letting him into my apartment.
He surveys the sparsely furnished shoebox apartment with interest, and I have to commend him for hiding the disgust that is surely lurking below his eyes.
"There's a kitchen, a bedroom, and the living room. It's nothing close to your mansion, but we can't all be gods, now can we? You can take the bedroom. I'll take the couch."
"No," he says, turning to look at me and I melt under his warm gaze. "I can't let you leave your room for a guest."
"If you don't take the bedroom I swear by Athena's holy right tit that I'm kicking you out. You let me sleep in your bedroom remember? It'll be my payback. Where's your stuff? Right," I say as he gives me an are you kidding look. "You don't need luggage, do you?"
A familiar, genuine smile makes its way across his face as he collapses on my couch. "I've missed you, El."
"If only I could say the same."
His smile turns mischievous and I look with horror as he starts to take off his tight white shirt. "What the fuck do you think you're doing in my living room?"
"Do you ever wonder where the inspiration for angels came from?" he asks, and I can do nothing but gaze in amazement at the white wings that unfurl from his shoulder blades. They brush the ceiling, although I'm sure the low ceiling is a factor in that.
I stare at them so I don't have to stare at the other thing right in front of my face - his naked torso. There is some merit behind the phrase "the body of a Greek god." His chiseled pectorals and sculpted abs bring up memories that I wish I had forgotten of a night long ago.
"That is pretty cool," I admit. "How come you never showed me before?"
"You were a minor, El! I couldn't have taken off my shirt in front of a minor."
I blink in confusion before walking into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Granted, it's the middle of the night, but I can already tell that we'll be talking the whole night.
Just like a twisted parody of old times.
A thought occurs to me. "Wait a moment, that's not true. Didn't you take your shirt off when we-" I break off, not wanting to relieve the memories.
When I walk into the kitchen with two cups of coffee, he's standing, staring at something with a stupid grin.
I suppose I should have qualms about calling the literal god of the sun stupid, but that never stopped me from calling him a fucking asshole or anything of the like.
"What in Zeus's left buttcheek are you staring at?"
"The hyacinths. You kept them, after all this time."
My cheeks warm when I realize what he's talking about. The hyacinths on the coffee table. I've wondered why they never died, but I suppose a gift from a god doesn't follow normal rules.
His comment reminds me of the ring, strung on an intentionally long sterling silver chain, resting against my heart.
"I brought you a cup of coffee," I say, holding the mug out to him. "And put on your shirt already. I'm impressed, okay, you motherfucking show off? They're taking up half the room."
"If you had to wear a straightjacket for years, would you ever trap your arms again?"
"Fair."
Our fingertips touch briefly when he accepts the coffee cup. Maybe it's because he's a god or maybe it's because he's the sun god, but there's always been something warm about his touch, on the thin line between burning hot and a comforting warmth.
I used to think I was a relatively smart person until I fell in love with a god. Then I realized how absolutely goddamned fucking stupid I was. To love somebody who could have anybody.
To make matters worse, he had once said, "You know, you're the only female friend I've ever had." And being the god of truth, he can't lie, so I knew he wasn't lying.
But why would he lie, anyway?
"So what brings your sorry ass back here?" I ask, gently blowing on my coffee to cool it. He likes his steaming hot so I didn't let it cool.
He takes a seat across from me, the couch sinking beneath his weight. "The gods are dying, you know."
Not news to me. They were essentially dead when the Romans conquered them, maybe even before.
It was hubris that killed them, Phoebus had told me. When Ancient Greece was conquered, the gods agreed to abandon the mortals. Most of them went to sleep. Except Phoebus. He decided to turn into a statue so people could admire him, even when dormant.
They thought that the mortals would be begging for them back. But when they awoke, it wasn't a desperate, chaotic world they found, but one that had moved on without them.
A wry smile makes its way across his face. "Do you remember when I told you about the existence of the gods? I said, 'You seem awfully complacent for one who just found out about the existence of the gods.' And you told me, 'Why shouldn't I be? We have no need for the gods.' It was the most profound thing a fifteen year old ever said to me."
"That's because the fifteen year olds you've been with have been too busy moaning your name to say anything profound, you goatfucker."
"Now, now. What would your mother say?"
"Shut the fuck up," I groan, burying my face into my hands, knowing full well that he could be serious. "How is my mother coping with her mid-life crisis anyway?"
"Not well. Athena always liked knowledge, but she liked controlling knowledge even more. Now they're doing all kinds of things without her. They named a bunch of space missions after me, you know. Pretty cool."
When I don't respond, he frowns. "I was trying to get you to say my name, you know."
I know.
Suddenly, the coffee tastes too bitter on my tongue, the walls too confined. "We haven't seen each other in four years, you bitch. I don't owe it to you to say your name."
"El, you left me. Why did you do it, anyway?"
Because I loved you too much to stay, knowing that you didn't love me back.
I bite my lip and look away, but his watchful eyes are trained on me. "You're not going to answer?"
"I wouldn't be telling the truth. And you can tell when I lie."
He regards me with sad eyes, but I remind myself that it's nothing compared to the years of sadness he gave me. "Alright then. I'll be going to sleep then. Just please, El. Say my name. I haven't heard it in such a long time."
If that's what it takes to get him out, both out of the room and out of my mind.
An expression akin to euphoria crosses his face when I almost whisper, "Phoebus Apollo."