Chapter Text
Achilles has been a model for years now. His parents signed him up for everything possible: ads, posters, background extras, advertising posters… you name it.
Although he never thought about being a model for an art class.
Not because he didn’t like the thought of standing in a table naked and posing for minutes, that part didn’t bother him. It was simply because he didn’t give it too much thought. Not until his friend, Antilochus, suggested that to him.
His father, Nestor, did art classes for everyone who wanted to join, and he was looking for a model, and Antilochus immediately thought of Achilles.
“You won’t be posing for thaaaat long. A couple of minutes for each pose, I think”
Antiochus said as he was trying to convince his friend to accept the proposal
Achilles didn’t mind staying still for some period of time. Even though he’s a restless soul he learned to stay still thanks to his work “But who goes to those classes?”
Antilochus shrugs “Probably grannies and some teenager who draws anime. Don’t worry I highly doubt there’s any hot dude in there”
Achilles thought about it. A job for just a few days, maybe a week, where he only has to sit still, possibly take a nap for a few minutes, and where he'll surely be paid? What could go wrong?
“Alright, I’ll talk to your father”
—
Achilles double-checks the address Nestor sent him. According to Antilochus, his father has a rented studio on a shady-looking street, but he promises that the place is well-maintained and, in his own words, even cozy.
Achilles is praying that his friend is telling the truth.
He checks once more that he has everything he needs to bring and, after taking a deep breath, knocks on the door.
After a while, the door opens and an older man with long white hair appears, smiling.
"Achilles, my boy! It's been a while!" Nestor says as he steps closer and hugs Achilles. "You've grown so much! You've gotten taller, huh? I'm sure the modeling agencies are thrilled with you." Nestor finally pulls away after nearly crushing Achilles's ribs. "Thank you so much for agreeing to be my model. I appreciate it very much."
Achilles steps back, a bit shaken from the hug, but smiles at the old man. Nestor is someone important to him, like a second father.
“Thank you for having me, it’s a pleasure.”
They step inside the building going inside the studio. They pass through a narrow hallway, the walls painted a somewhat tacky green. Achilles was beginning to regret his decision until Nestor opened the door. Inside, there's a stereotypical artist's studio: the studio is round and spacious, the walls are a light blue, somewhat worn. It has long windows that let in natural light. The tables are placed toward the end of the studio to create space, and the easels are arranged around a table in the middle, where Achilles will pose. The room is warm, as Nestor has turned on some heaters so Achilles wouldn't get cold.
Nevermind, it's a good place.
"You've arrived at a great time. Everyone is already in their seats. Take your time," Nestor tells him before he addresses the class. Achilles nods and goes to the bathroom to change. He closes the door and begins to take off his clothes and puts on a green bathrobe he had at home. What can he say, he doesn't want to walk in completely naked. Not yet, atleast. He doesn't want the grannies to think that he's an exhibitionist.
Achilles makes his way outside the bathroom and goes back to the studio and gets on top of the table. Nestor smiles and claps his hands. “Alright, everyone! To warm up we'll sketch really quick sketches in 3 minutes three times. After that we'll do more detailed ones in 10 minutes and the last ones I'll let you 20 minutes. Understood? Achilles, whenever you want.”
Achilles nodded and got to work. He took off his robe and after stretching, he starts posing. He lifts his arms up and rests them on top of his head, a relaxed and not very complicated pose. During the three-minute pose, Achilles glances at the people in front of him. Antilochus was right; they're all bored grandmothers who have too much free time or some teenagers no older than 16 who look like they love watching anime.
During the second pose, Nestor gives Achilles a broomstick and poses using it to support his weight on the side of the stick. This time, he rotates his position so that people can draw him from different angles. Achilles again analyzes the people attending the class. As before, they are either very old or teensgers. What caught Achilles' attention was seeing a girl around his age, mid twenties. She has dark skin, long, curly, very dark brown hair. She is wearing a floral headband and a very floral outfit: a white tank top and a long skirt with flowers in shades of green, pink, and yellow. Huh, that's curious.
And during the third pose, Achilles turns around again to face the side of the circle he hasn't yet turned and places the broomstick behind his neck, his arms resting on the stick, and repeats the procedure from before. He sees a woman in her mid-40s, a teenager who probably isn't older than 14 wearing a Sanrio t-shirt, a woman who is probably in her 60s with a friendly face and-
Wait a minute.
A guy, probably his age, perhaps a little older than Achilles, peeks out from behind his easel to better observe his pose and hides again to draw. A guy. A dude. A man. The worst part is that he's not just any guy; he's the cutest guy Achilles has ever seen.
The guy has short, dark brown, curly hair, very curly, and it looks like it's super soft to the touch. His skin is an absolutely gorgeous shade of mocha, and his eyes are grayish, but not the kind of color that makes you uneasy when they look at you because you can feel them sucking your soul, no. His eyes are warm behind the glasses he has perched over his nose. This guy also has some facial hair, not too much but it's there and it's noticeable.
He wears some baggy clothing, a black oversized t-shirt and some baggy jeans.
His hands are stained black as he draws with a charcoal stick, and has a look of concentration in his face.
…good God.
Before he can think anything else, time runs out and it's time to move on to the longer poses.
–
After two hours, everyone has already packed their things and left. Achilles dressed up again stays with Nestor to help him clean up the studio a bit.
“So, how did it feel today? Did you feel comfortable?” Nestor asks Achilles as he turns off the radiators.
“I did” Achilles answers as he folds some blankets “Everything was perfect and I felt really comfortable. And the people were nice too”
Nice is an understatement, at least for one specific person. Achilles can't stop thinking about that guy no matter what.
He expected that during the longer poses he could dissociate or even nap, but he'd be lying if he said that his heart wasn't bearing faster than normal whenever curly hair guy peeked over his easel to look at him, whenever Achilles saw how he scrunched his nose in deep concentration or how he would keep drawing despite being on break. Every single thing this guy did made Achilles feel warm and fuzzy inside, despite not even knowing his name.
Gods, Achilles is such a loser.
“...By the way, Nestor, can I ask who that guy was? You know, the only guy here besides you and me” Achilles adds, hoping Nestor would indulge in his curiosity. He has a lot of faith in the old man, considering he's a chatterbox
“Ooh, you mean Patroclus?” Nestor says.
Patroclus, that's his name. Pa-tro-clus.
“Patroclus is a really good kid. I think he's your age, maybe a bit older than you? Very talented. He just finished studying fine arts and he's always with that girl with curly long hair, Briseis. I think she convinced him to tag along to my classes. He's a bit closed, but don't let his initial awkwardness pull you back, he has a very kind heart.”
Achilles nods, hanging on every word the old man says, wanting to gather all the information he can of this so called Patroclus. Just graduated from fine arts, introverted, kind, has a friend… “Uh-huh, okay. Does he come often to your classes?”
“All the time. He's always early, even if his friend is always late” Nestor keeps talking as he puts away the broomstick. “So? Do you want to keep coming? Three times a week from Monday to Friday for two weeks?”
Achilles nods. At this point, he doesn't want to come because of the money or because of his passion for modeling.
He just wants to get closer to Patroclus.
Achilles brain is already scheming ways to approach the guy, thinking of things to say so they can become closer. His talk with the old man has been extremely useful, because he already knows where to take the reins and start his magnificent plan of "wooing the introverted artist."
“Sure. See you on Wednesday.”