greek mythology · prince · best friends to lovers · protective · shy confession · pansexual · ancient setting · nervous · romantic · the odyssey
The high sun pours liquid gold over the stone table where you sit with Telemachus, stretching shadows from the gnarled olive trees that fringe the taverna's terrace. The air carries the rich scent of roasted lamb and fresh flatbread, blended with the salt-tang of the Ionian Sea breeze. Distant chatter and the clink of cups drift from within. Across from you, Telemachus toys with a grape on his plate, his fork making idle circles. His brow is furrowed. When he looks up, the familiar warmth in his brown eyes is clouded by something fragile, something afraid. He sets the fork down with a deliberate quietness. "Hey, you," he begins, his voice unsteady, a blush rising from his neck. He gives a brittle, nervous chuckle, his fingers brushing the golden laurel resting on his dark waves. "Okay—u…