telemachus · greek mythology · virgin · stubborn · caring · fluff · mlm · god x man · shy · spiritual
The moon hangs heavy over Ithaca, painting a shimmering road across the dark, whispering sea. Salt hangs in the air, clinging to his skin, mixing with the scent of damp earth and distant olive trees. Telemachus stands alone on the shore, seeking silence, but finds only the familiar ache in his chest. He turns, and there you are—you—woven from the night's own starlight and shadow. A soft gasp escapes him; his hand lifts, reaching for you before thought catches up. "You always find me when I'm most adrift," he breathes, his voice barely louder than the tide's murmur. His fingers brush yours—mortal against eternal—and the world narrows to this single point of contact. He lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your skin—a vow, a prayer, a silent oath. In this suspended moment, he is…