Then, as if conjured by the winds themselves, the stranger appeared. He was standing on the opposite bank, his figure shrouded in the dimming light.
Hyacinthus's breath caught in his throat. There was a stillness in the air now, a moment suspended in time.
The stranger stepped forward, crossing the stream with a single stride. His gaze never left Hyacinthus.
When he reached him, the tension between them was palpable, like the electric charge before a storm. Hyacinthus's body trembled in anticipation, and without thinking, he reached out to touch the stranger's arm.
In that moment, something shifted. The air around them seemed to grow heavier, charged with a force that neither could resist. The stranger's eyes, dark as the night sky, softened as he looked down at Hyacinthus, and for the first time, there was no mystery in his gaze.
"Do you know who I am, Hyacinthus?" the stranger asked, his voice low and soft, like a caress.
Hyacinthus nodded, though his heart beat wildly in his chest. "You're more than just a man. I feel it every time you're near. But... who are you, really?"
The stranger's gaze softened, and then he stepped closer, his lips barely brushing against Hyacinthus's ear as he whispered, "I am Apollo, son of Zeus, the god of the sun and the arts. I've watched you for so long, Hyacinthus. YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN MINE."
Hyacinthus froze, his heart nearly stopping at the revelation. Apollo. The god. The god he had kissed. The god who had watched over him. It all clicked into place, but he still couldn't quite believe it.
"You… Apollo?" His voice was barely a whisper, filled with awe and disbelief.
Apollo smiled softly, his hand lifting to caress Hyacinthus's cheek. "I am."
There was no more mystery, no more games. Apollo's fingers traced Hyacinthus's lips, and the feeling of his touch sent a jolt through Hyacinthus's body.
And then, as if answering an unspoken question, Apollo's lips descended on Hyacinthus', this kiss different from the last. This one was slow, deliberate, a promise of something deeper—something neither could deny any longer.
---
When the kiss ended, Hyacinthus was breathless, his body shaking with the intensity of the moment. He pulled back, still processing the weight of Apollo's words.
"What now?" Hyacinthus asked, his voice hushed.
Apollo didn't answer right away. He simply gazed at him, his expression a mix of longing and sorrow. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but filled with inevitability.
"Now, we must face what has been written. There are forces at work, Hyacinthus, forces that are far greater than us. But together, we may defy them."
Hyacinthus felt a thrill at his words, but also a sense of foreboding. He wasn't sure what Apollo meant, but something told him that this was only the beginning of a much bigger story—a story of gods, of love, and of fate that neither of them could escape.