Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hypnos’ mother always said that before he was born, he was a star.

He likes to imagine what it would have been like; shining brightly in the great void, a mere blip in the infinity of nothingness. Surrounded by the darkness that birthed him and held in the lax arms of oblivion, cradling, comforting, close.

Supposedly, he is still made up of the same stuff. His rotten flesh and festering blood is supposed to be comparable to the brilliant supernovas burning millions of miles away, somehow blinking light into their pitiful earth from great distances.

But Hypnos doesn’t burn. He never has, not with passion, or purpose, or anything that could make a person light up in a facsimile of the regurgitated dead celestial matter they are supposed to be. 

Though, if some people are to be believed, Hypnos will be burning very soon.

He hopes those people are wrong. Even Hypnos does not believe he deserves to burn in hellfire for the rest of eternity. He probably does deserve the multitude of awful things that have happened to him in his life though. Deserves it and more, if he’s honest, but he’s always been selfish. Selfish, lazy , pathetic and stupid and worthless – and all the other colourful names you could think of.

Personally, Hypnos would love to be a star again.

After all, his mother always did love star-gazing. She even wanted to be an astronomer when she was a little girl, all for an excuse to keep gazing into the night sky.

Perhaps, if he was another gleaming point of light like the ones she so adores, she would look at him again with a love she had not shown him  in a very, very long time. (Perhaps she would at least look at him)

He had left his room tidy anyway, to make Nyx even more proud. As alien as it was to see his room in such a clean state, she would at least think of him somewhat kindly when she finds him. It would certainly make the task of boxing up his things easier. 

With trembling hands, he closes the now empty pill bottle, lingering on the bumps and grooves of the lid. It comforts him, grounds him, even though he has no use for comfort.

Not now, at least. Not ever again. 

It’s stupid, the thing that finally tipped him over, that finally had him make up his mind and square his jaw in acceptance of what needed to be done.

It was during a particularly rough day, when reports had come back, and Hypnos’ had been abysmal. His grades were always pretty rough, but this time he had done bad in every subject . Even the ones he’s alright in, like English. Even the one he’s good at, Art. His brother Thanatos had confronted him, eyes blazing with anger as he scolded him.

Nyx had already expressed her disapproval by deciding to not talk to him, letting her disappointment bleed clear from her silence. (It’s always silence, with her. Oppressive, heavy silence, to the point where Hypnos would rather suffer her icy anger, the kind that makes him feel like he’s being flayed alive) Hypnos made no effort to stop the tirade.

Than is right, anyhow. He can’t explain himself. 

Hypnos just…couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when he’s always so exhausted, not when he’s constantly feeling like there’s weights tied to his limbs, dragging them down with such force it hurts . He’s always so fucking tired, even though he’s constantly sleeping– neglecting homework to collapse onto his bed the moment he comes back from school, dozing off before class and during it, and finding a quiet corner at breaktimes to nap even more . 

It’s no excuse, of course. That’s what Than would say. That’s what his mother would too. You can’t amount to anything in life without a solid education and good grades. You can’t get good grades if you are constantly asleep. Hypnos is- just being lazy, just shirking off his responsibilities because he can. The only people who need sleep as much as he pretends to are the ones bed-bound because of a myriad of tragic and life-ruining illnesses with names you couldn’t pronounce.

His family has always held their breath for the moment that Hypnos finally learns this, and starts changing for the better.

But Hypnos could never change, anyway. 

He’s feeling lightheaded now, and there’s this terrible pain shooting from his stomach– roiling and pointed pulses of agony that emanates from his belly and turns the blood in his veins into molten slush. He doesn’t mind the pain though.

It’s better now, because he can no longer feel that horrible sense of wrongness (not unlike the sense he always feels, staring into a mirror, but more urgent and far, far more frightening) that he felt as he swallowed all those pills a handful at a time, devouring them like the greedy dog he has always been. He no longer feels that hysterical cowardice telling him to stop , to put the bottle down, to call someone, anyone .

Oh, but who would he call?

Not his twin, surely. Sneering, serious Thanatos, so very cruel– but all in an effort to help Hypnos, right? All to guide him, to make sure he doesn’t become anymore of a failure like he already is. Well, how could he tell him that he wasted his efforts, that all he’s been doing is trying to fix a grave, trying to save nothing but a corpse that he likes to call ‘brother’?

Not Nyx, his mother, his aloof, imperious mother. Who made it clear that the innocent, wailing, babe she held gently in her arms all those years ago is not Hypnos, and that somewhere along the line he replaced her perfect and promising son with himself, a pathetically wretched mess . No, what would she even say? 

“ Go on then child. It gladdens me to see you taking initiative for once in your life. Attempt at minimising any mess, if at all possible.”

She always disliked the idea of suicide and disliked the people who did it even more, but for Hypnos, he thinks she’d make an exception. Especially since she wouldn’t have to deal with his antics anymore (Even more so seeing as she doesn’t really like him much in the first place). He’d be a lot more palatable to her as a non-sentient, burning light millions of miles away.

The farther the better, she’d say.

Or his older brother Charon, who left the moment he turned eighteen, when he and Than were young enough to not understand why, but old enough for it to hurt. If he didn’t care enough to stay before he had done anything wrong, why would he care now?

Not that he could contact him anyways. Charon never bothered to stay in touch for the last eight years.

His mind feels like jelly now and his stomach is still pulsing with a demanding pain that causes him to double over from the nausea, but he continues his musings, if only to beat out any residual fantasies his mind might still be harbouring.

He couldn’t call Zagreus, who may be his best friend, but doesn’t consider Hypnos in the top ten in his list of friends (Hypnos doesn’t even have a list of friends). He’s Than’s boyfriend, after all, so he probably agrees with everything Than says anyway.

He’d be awfully polite though. Delightfully so. “I’m sorry mate. But I don’t particularly care. It’s your choice, really.”

Certainly not Dionysus, his other best friend–his only other friend, really. No, not struggling, teenage drunkard Dio, sweet and funny Dio who makes his heart ache in what might be love. He couldn’t bother him, he has far too much to deal with on his own; a shitty dad, a dead mum. No, he wouldn’t do that to him. He owes Dionysus too, so Hypnos couldn’t in good faith annoy him with this. It was because of Dio he first thought of this idea, after all. 

One day, Dionysus had smuggled some of his dad’s wine out of the house, and invited Hypnos to share it in some beaten down skateboard park. Hypnos had snuck out and they had gotten drunk.

And in that curious state of half-lucidity and delirious contentment, he had looked up from Dionysus’ shoulder– into the peerless, unfathomably dark blanket of sky looming ahead, and found some irrefutable truth shining in all the corners of aether he couldn’t quite see.

I could end it all. I could end it all, and sleep forever and rest my aching bones– and nobody would notice. I could join the stars and nobody would care.  

It should have been a depressing realisation, but it wasn’t.

It was thrilling , utterly invigorating and so very relieving . Here was the clear path he had been waiting for, the answer to all his problems written in the freeing murkiness overhead. Here was the card to keep in his back pocket, his ever-tempting last resort, his way out . He could suddenly understand why Nyx loved star-gazing so much.

She was never looking at the lights, not really.

She was listening to the all-knowing black.

And when he had snuck back in through his bedroom window, listened to the sounds of his twin’s gentle snoring from the other room, and thought of how disappointed Nyx would be if she realised he snuck out (Not that she spends enough time looking at Hypnos to notice) as he creeped into bed, he couldn’t help but smile.

So no, he couldn’t call anyone anyway. He’s spent far too long being this- spoiled rotten nuisance, weighing people down from greatness they could have easily achieved by now (Like Thanatos, who has spent so long trying in vain to help teach Hypnos calculus. Who knows what good he could have done with that time instead, if he didn’t waste it on him? He knows his brother wonders that too, must have wondered it the moment his eyes fell on his report card).

He’s not going to bother anyone anymore. He’s going to meet his end lying on the floor of this too small bathroom. (when did he start laying down? He doesn’t remember resting his head on the clinically cool tiles)

There’s a sudden sharp spike of pain, greater than any before and he groans, sluggishly moving his arms to clutch his stomach. He can’t quite manage the strength to press down enough to relieve any of his pain. Hypnos can’t even manage the strength to keep hold of the pill bottle, which rolls from his loosened grip onto the floor.

But the pain keeps coming and coming and coming , an unyielding march trumpeting with blood-curdling sirens his imminent doom. Yet the unstoppable torment brings about a certain clarity to his addled mind, and he’s struck by the realisation that this is really happening, and he’s really, actually dying . Something about that makes the feelings of uncertainty he’s been trying to tamp down break free, and fresh, dreadful panic flairs. 

He’s scared. He’s so damn scared to die. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck - what is he doing? Is this really going to be how he dies?? No, no he can’t- he doesn’t want- he can’t. fucking. breathe . 

He’s crying now, pitiful whimpers as he curls up into a fetal position. He tries to steady his resolve and calm down.

No- it’s fine. It’s only going to be scary for a little bit longer. This is what I want. It’s the only way. It’s the only way to make everyone happy. Mum’s gonna be proud of me now. Mum’s gonna love me when I’m a star. 

Curse his traitorous body, the tears won’t stop. Hypnos resigns to just close his eyes and wait for the pain to stop. 

Not much longer now. Everything is going to be alright. I deserve this.

(What exactly he deserves, he doesn’t know. The rending agony, the ignoble and lonely demise? Or the love that he’s nearly achieved, that’s brushing against his fingertips and just out of reach? Both, probably, because he’s always so fucking selfish-)

“Hello there, stranger.”

Hypnos’ eyes fly open in shock and he gasps in a painful breath. It’s hard to focus his eyes but he swears there’s a man standing in front of him. Not anyone he’s ever met before.

He seems to be in his late thirties, or perhaps early forties, and is honestly really handsome, with earthy dark skin, bulging muscles and softly intelligent eyes a gleaming black like the void Hypnos so wants to return to. His hair is long, his beard is neatly trimmed and his clothes are kind of odd, with bits of what looks to be armour, and this long almost-dress and pale teal cloak. And is Hypnos going crazy or is he holding a spear…?

He tries to croak out a warning or a question or anything , but his tongue is as leaden as his limbs, and all he can manage is a truly pathetic sound akin to the whines of a wounded prey animal. 

“Ah.” The man squats down, gingerly placing his spear to the side. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Patroclus, and I know what you’re doing.”

Patroclus…like the Greek warrior? From the Trojan war?

Ok, wait, Hypnos knows what this is. He’s hallucinating . A possible effect of pill overdose, which he had learned during his research on what the best way to go would be. (He had settled on overdose fairly quickly. A knife or razor would be far too messy, the same would go for jumping and rope wouldn’t work either, because if he messes up the loop it could take him more than half an hour to die, dangling and choking in the air)

Why he’s hallucinating a character from one of his favourite myths, he has no idea. But he’s glad of it, in a twisted way. He won’t have to die alone now, and he won’t have to bother anyone either.

And there’s a kindness in Patroclus’ eyes that has him feeling weak in a way that’s not because of the drugs. 

“I know what you’re doing, because I recognise the anguish in your eyes. I too, contrived to end my own life. I, too, thought it was the best way. The only way.”

The ragged gurgle that escapes from his lips is supposed to be a protest. Patroclus’ death wasn’t suicide . It was a sacrifice, if anything. It’s not like he set out to die when he strapped on his lover’s armour. 

“No? Do you think I did not know what would happen to me, if I led our soldiers out while pretending to be Achilles, the greatest of Greeks? I’m good, certainly, but not even I am good enough to avoid death for that long. My fate was written in the blood of every Trojan I had slain, and sealed in each one more I slew. I would be a fool to not have realised that.”

But that still doesn’t make any sense to Hypnos. Patroclus himself wasn’t the one that wielded the blade that ended his life. So surely it didn’t count?

“Still, I faced Hector down. It’s the strangest thing, to surrender yourself to something you spent ten years trying to avoid. But in all that idle time, as violence raged on around us, I would stare into the beating waves of the sea, and I found I didn’t like the man who stared back. I knew I had to fix that. I knew the only way I could get rid of the man I saw in my salty reflection was to kill him, and let Troy fall around him as a result.” 

He smiles, soft and sad. “So yes, my death was by my own hand, in a way. All for a noble cause of course, as noble as war can be. I imagine you think you have similar reasons to bring about your own death?”

Those words sound funny to his rapidly deteriorating mind. Hypnos would laugh, if he could. He’s not being noble, he’s being weak . He’s a sniveling coward desperate for his mother’s love. What part of that could be comparable to the actions of great heroes of old like Patroclus ? 

“Well, all this time to reflect has given me plenty of wisdom, if you’ll allow me to impart some, young stranger?”

Patroclus reaches out to gently stroke Hypnos’ tangled curls. He can’t feel it, obviously. He can barely even feel the once shocking cold of the tiles, or compute the sounds of his ragged breathing. It’s all just…numb.

“You seem to be fond of stories, given the fact I’m here in the first place. So why don’t I tell you one more?”

And Hypnos can’t help but listen, intrigued, even though the world keeps dipping in and out of the darkness he so craves. He loves grand tales and fables, with strong heroes who face impossible odds with no one to believe in them, losing everything dear to them, and yet coming through shining despite it all. He loves to pretend he’s one of them, strong and never aimless, always striving towards their purpose of greater good.

(He’ll never hear one again, after this. And that thought is almost enough to make him resist his decisions)

“Think of a hero, perhaps the main character of his story. He is one of the greatest heroes of all times, and he has earned this title in a very simple way. He without fail, sees the best in everyone. A trait that some might call a weakness, he has undoubtedly turned into a strength.

Imagine now, that he goes through the trials and tribulations typical of a warrior, and makes it through them all, some unscathed and others wounded despite his vast prowess.

And finally at the end of his journey, he comes face-to-face with the main villain. The villain tries his best to goad the hero into a fight, even knowing he will likely lose, but the hero refuses.

Because he can see the villain, see the choices that led him to such a path, the pain that forged him and urged him onward, pain so like the hero’s own. So he does not kill this villain, though it may make things easier, though it is what everyone expects of him. Instead, he extends his hand and says:

I see you. I know what created you. We need not do this. I can show you another way to all that you desire. It may not be the easier path, but you will feel better having taken it. ”

And that sounds a bit too much like something Nyx tells him and Than, and Hypnos makes a choked sound at the idea of it— one of his mother’s numerous bits of advice, being used in this context, assuming he’s right about where this is going, which he hates , because doing this was already hard enough without someone trying to -  

Patroclus’ hand moves down to cup his cheek. Hypnos desperately wishes he could feel it. 

“In your story, you have become your own villain. And now you seek to become a hero again and destroy yourself, as many would seek to destroy their villains. But the greatest of heroes always let their adversaries live. I see it in your heart, young stranger. You are far better than any old character of fiction, and with your strength you needn’t kill your villain to get him to stop hurting you.”  

No no no, he’s not strong enough. He doesn’t know where the soldier got this from, but he’s not good enough. Why would he think that? Why would he say that, now?

Hypnos lets out a keening sort of cry, fighting the urge not to throw up, something he can barely muster the energy to do. 

“So won’t you let him live? Young stranger, do you have the strength to keep going? It may not be the easier path but you will feel better having taken it.”

He’s properly sobbing now, which makes the laborious task of breathing even harder. 

No , he can’t, it’s too late anyway. He can’t listen, he’s scared already, he can’t feel worse.

Fuck is he making a mistake? 

(No, no he isn’t , he’s going to be a star-)

…He’s so tired. He just wants to sleep.

“Hypnos?” A voice, soft and uncertain on the other side of the door. Thanatos . “Are you in there?” A frustrated sigh, and Hypnos’ heart fills with despair.

He can no longer control the noises he makes, chokes and gurgles and whimpers, so he can only hope that Than can’t hear it. ( Does he hope that? Does he want his brother to find him? To save him? Fuck- he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t KNOW-)

“I wanted to apologise. I- shouldn’t have been as harsh with you as I was back then. I know you’re trying your hardest, in your own way. Blast- I just…Are you…crying?”

The door opens slowly and Thanatos pokes his head inside. His eyes widen when he sees Hypnos, sprawled on the floor. He rushes to kneel at Hypnos’ side, frantically shaking his shoulder. Hypnos can’t bring himself to react, or even look at his brother. 

“Hypnos! What is-” Than spots the empty bottle. “Oh fuck- wait, no no no I’m sorry, please don’t-”

He tilts Hypnos’ head to look at him, and whatever he sees as glazed, drooping eyes meets an identical pair, scares him badly.

“Hypnos what have you done - Shit, I don’t know- what do I- I- Mother! I’m getting Mum-” The panic in Than’s voice makes it splinter and shake, and the sound of it makes Hypnos’ heart ache. He didn’t want to hurt Thanatos. He just wanted to make everyone proud, and stop being a bother, and be a star .

He can feel it now, the darkness crowding his vision, the grasp of the sweet, merciful, Night. It's so close. He's so close.

He’s very distantly aware of Thanatos, cradling Hypnos’ in his arms and yelling for their mother. 

And the sound of his brother crying must be another hallucination of his, but it’s the last thing he hears before everything finally, blissfully goes dark.