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“Well, that was a quick one today. What was it this time?”
“He made it all the way to the supermarket! Came home, has been a puddle for the past… Three hours?” Hypnos’ too-happy, high pitched comment immediately comes from the kitchen.
Using roughly all 3% of his energy, Zagreus raises a hand and flips him off.
“Don’t be crude.” Thanatos tsk’s. Zag considers flipping him off too, but that seems exhausting. Instead, with a low groan, he slowly rolls over on the plushy red couch to be able to actually face Thanatos. On the other end of the apartment he sees Hypnos milling about the kitchen in his snuggie. Smells like noodles.
“I’m fine.” Zagreus objects, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Just need a lie down.”
“Sure.” With that, Thanatos is gone, disappearing into the hallway to his room.
Zagreus rolls his eyes and turns them to the ceiling, sinking deeper into the plush, red couch. He loves Nyx, sure. She’s basically his mom, biology aside. Her and his dad’s sense of styling just might be described as ‘eccentric’ or ‘like an opera house threw up in the living room’. It’s all red, gold, skulls and tassels. While the couch is comfortable – and it’s all better than how achingly boring (and alone) his bedroom is - it makes his eyes hurt.
Worse than that – he’s sick of it. Sick of being stuck in here, always. Sick of barely making it down the street without almost collapsing and having to ask a neighbor or call somebody up because he doesn’t even think he can make it back home, let alone up to the stairs and back onto the red, plush, comfortable couch of shame. All right in time to get another lecture about ‘respecting your own boundaries’ or ‘not making such a fuss’, depending on who’s home and in what mood.
“Well! Glad to see you’re back in the land of the living.” Hypnos drops himself into his arm chair, propping his fluffy slippers up on the coffee table, pale legs peeking out from under his luxurious, bright red, wool lined blanket-coat-thing. He’s got a bowl of instant noodles in one hand, a fork in the other, like the type of barbarian he is. “Fifa or CoD?”
“Can’t. Gonna go for a walk.”
“A walk! What a concept. All the way to the bathroom?”
Zagreus glares at Hypnos, who is, infuriatingly enough, just ignoring him and digging into his noodles.
Smells good. He’s kind of hungry, honestly.
“… Kitchen.” Zagreus mutters, slowly sitting up and running a hand through his black hair. His head swims for a moment, but he’s fine, he’s fine.
Let’s try this again.
He heaves a sigh and swings his legs off the side of the couch, which puts the rest of his body at an odd angle, but alright. He pointedly does not meet Hypnos’ eyes as he slowly sits upright, pauses to let some blood return to his head, sighs again and pushes off to stand up. Kitchen. Kitchen. That he can do.
His legs are still a little wobbly and there’s black dots in front of his eyes, but he can walk the apartment blindly, it’s fine. A few steady breaths and he can already feel carpet giving way to cool tiles underneath his feet, one more and hit hands touch smooth, cold countertop. He leans against it, and his head reluctantly settles. It’s a bit too soon, he knows he’s running on empty. But his body needs fuel. There’s more instant noodles in the cabinet; there’s granola bars and trail mix in the drawer.
Easy. Lazy. Convenient.
Zagreus bites his tongue and turns to pull open the fridge instead. Eggs, leftovers, milk. It means standing at the stovetop, minding a pan to fry or reheat – dizziness, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. Sweating, overheating, wobbly knees.
He’s not going to let anyone walk in on him splayed out on the kitchen floor again. Nyx still worries, even though he’s told her a hundred times he was fine, just resting, trying to cool down. With bitter disappointment in the back of his throat Zagreus closes the fridge and grabs the bag of trail mix, bringing it back to the fluffy, suffocating couch.
“Dibs on Bayern.”
“I could grab you a blanket, if you like.”
“Thanks, Nyx, but I’m quite alright.” Zagreus admits, even though he’s curled up in fetal position on the damn couch.
“Something to drink, perhaps?”
“I’m good.” He tells the back of the couch, eyes closed. He can hear his not-mother’s footsteps around the apartment, doing who-knows-what. It’s too loud, but at least she’s not asking anymore. For a little while, at least.
“And your vitamins?”
“Mom.”
“I’m just checking, Zagreus.”
He grumbles against the back of the couch rather than letting his frustration out into a reply. He knows it isn’t meant poorly, but all that does is make it absolutely impossible to reject the hovering. Nyx doesn’t deserve his anger to be directed at her.
For some time it is blissfully quiet. Perhaps he even nods off for a while – Zagreus wakes with that telltale dryness in his mouth and heavy eyes, and the cool touch of a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s just me.” Nyx says softly. “I’ve got tea and some oatmeal. You need to eat.”
It takes a heavy sigh to sit up, but Zagreus can’t argue with her, even if he isn’t hungry. Nyx doesn’t sit down to watch him eat, as she once did, but he can feel her eyes on his back as she picks up around the apartment. By the time he’s sitting back with the tea cooling in his lap, she passes by, strokes a cool hand through his messy hair, then perches on the armchair Hypnos has at some point abandoned to go annoy someone else.
“I know it’s getting late, but I think we should go downstairs. Just to walk a block, nothing more. You need some air.”
The annoyance makes a swift return. It shows on his face, clearly – why else would she suddenly look so pitying?
“I’ll go in the morning.” Zagreus says firmly, though guilt burns in his chest at the way his words twist her features.
“Have you been off that couch at all today, boy?”
Well, there goes his good mood. He could have known. Touch a controller, even think about booting up a good shooting game, and seconds later Father will be coming home.
“I’ve been off plenty.” Zagreus snips, selecting a map he knows by heart so he won’t even have to focus to know where the snipers will be camping out to get his ass.
“For anything useful, too? Like cleaning up that room of yours?”
“I went to the supermarket. We were out of eggs.”
“Hmph.”
Zagreus bites his tongue at the age old hum of disappointment, keeping his eyes on the screen as he hears his father stomp off. Hypnos is out cold in the armchair, sleep mask pulled down over his eyes. Dead to the world, as usual. Not that he has any right of speaking.
Night has fallen by the time he can’t take it anymore. He said he’d go to bed in a minute, but that was about an hour and a half ago. It’s just a short walk down the hall, yet he’s been here, on his damn couch, watching trash television. Like something invisible’s keeping him in place, like he’ll be pulled back into the couch’s orbit the moment he tries to get up. He wants to get up. He wants to stop listening to these stupid problems and terrible commercials. His body just isn’t getting the message, is all. And what would it mean, anyway? He’d be in bed, awake. Hopefully eventually drift off. And then he’d just do it all again tomorrow. Wake to that resigned feeling. Drag himself out of bed after hours of just thinking about it, when either the hunger, thirst or need to pee become too great to stand further ignoring. Be tired, all day, no matter how many hours of sleep he got in, how long he stayed slumbering instead of facing the day. Possibly night, by then. Whichever. Whatever.
Another half an hour passes. He shuts off the tv, at least, and spends it in silent darkness, stewing in is frustration. Maybe some other destination, then. Fresh air. As if by a miracle, he stands. His feet find his sneakers, his arms slip into a jacket. He closes the door behind him as quietly as he can and wanders down the hall, down the stairs, to the concrete steps leading up to the apartment building. He sits in the quiet night air, under the hum of electric streetlights. It’s peaceful, and somehow, a welcome change from sitting in the quiet and dark on the couch. It’s a change of surroundings, at the very least.
Zagreus draws in a deep breath and looks up at the few stars visible despite the electric lighting, listening to the trilling of crickets in the still-warm air. He’s tired, his limbs are heavy. But for the first time in a while, his head is quiet.
He doesn’t know how long it’s been when he hears the door to the apartment building behind him. Dread spikes in his chest for a moment, thinking it’s Nyx, worried again – or worse, Father coming to scold him. But then a pair of feet in mint-colored flip-flops enters his vision, and he hears the click of a lighter, followed a moment later by cigarette smoke.
“Out late, kid?” Achilles wonders, sitting down next to him on the concrete steps. His blond curls are held back by a rolled up bandana being used as a headband, his shorts and open blouse about as suitable for the warm night air as Zagreus’ red windbreaker jacket.
Zagreus nods, quietly relieved it’s just the upstairs neighbour. Achilles has lived above them as long as he can remember, and the man has always been good to him.
“Needed a second to step out, that’s all.”
“I can’t blame you.” Achilles nods, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Small house. Big people.”
He casts a glance aside at Zagreus, a smile tugging at his lips. “Bigger personalities. I think I’d lose my mind.”
“Oh, I do plenty of that, don’t worry.” Zagreus chuckles, an easy smile coming to his lips.
Silence stretches between them for a while. But Zagreus can feel Achilles’ eyes on him. He can almost hear the man thinking, formulating questions. Waiting for him to say something, perhaps. And just like that the peace and quiet is gone – his mind is spinning out of control again, worrying. Beating himself up over nothing – over everything. He doesn’t even wait for the question to truly be asked. Zagreus just sighs deeply and opens his mouth before the words are pulled out of him.
“I’m just so… So sick of it. I’m sick of it, Achilles.” His voice quivers and he hates it, hates how weak it makes him feel. “I want to be out there, living my life like everyone else. I want a life. I want to live. To do everything everyone else does all day and not feel like… Like I’ve got to lay down for a day and a half ‘cause I stepped inside a fucking supermarket. I don’t want to come home and set the bags down and just drop down on the couch without even unpacking them just because I… I can’t.”
He doesn’t realise he’s crying until he wonders why his hands have gotten all wet. Achilles’ hand is heavy on his back, slowly rubbing between his shoulder blades.
“I don’t want to be crying because I’m just… just tired. People have real problems, not like this. Why can’t I just push through it? Why can’t I just –“
“Easy now. That’s a whole lot of negative feedback all at once.”
“I know. I should just suck it up.”
“That’s not what I said.” Achilles’ voice is firm, but kind. Zagreus doesn’t know where he gets the patience. “Sucking it up is the last thing I think you should do.”
Zagreus sniffs, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “What, you’re gonna buy me a snuggie to match Hypnos and let us lay around on the couch all day?”
“I think he has some qualities you could stand to learn more of, certainly.”
Zagreus looks up, incredulous. If Achilles joked more often he’d certainly think he was being messed with. But the blond man just tilts his head and continues, “Hypnos knows his limits, for one.”
“I know my limits.”
“When you hit them head on at a full sprint, you do.” Achilles points out, visibly amused by Zagreus’ scowl.
“Hypnos just does nothing all day, it’s easy to stay in your limits like that.”
“Hypnos gets more done than you give him credit for, Zag.” Achilles says gently, “More than most people give him credit for, I’d wager. But what I meant is acceptance. Hypnos embraces his reality. Who he is, what he does. Whereas you…”
Zagreus sighs. “Whereas I hit my problems head on at a full sprint?”
“It’s an admirable quality, I do admit. It’s clearly worked well for you in the past. But perhaps this problem needs a different approach?” Achilles says gently, to which Zagreus just shrugs.
“If you’ve got suggestions, well. I’m all ears, I suppose.”