It would be nice to have a home of my own. Baby was currently in Australia, at Artie’s house. After witnessing his epic breakdown, Artemas had been worried, and suggested without prompting that some alone time might benefit Baby – somewhere where he could get away from people and just be himself. While he loved the peace and quiet, and the fact there weren’t any people around, Baby was still conscious of the fact that he was doing the godly equivalent of couch surfing, even if the couch in question was a custom king-sized bed.
Why haven’t I ever done that? Put down roots – forged a life outside of being an immortal being? Leaning back on the wide porch, Baby thought about his brothers. Artemas had been into his books and parchments back from Baby’s first memories. He learned to crawl and walk in Poseidon’s library. Before they found mates of their own, Lasse used to spend his time with Thor, and Nereus was always off having adventures with Thanatos’ son, Sebastian. All three of his brothers bought houses on the earthly realm – more than one in most cases – living life among the locals, caring for the people around them. They all lived fulfilling busy lives in other words.
But I haven’t. In fact, it’s not as though I’ve really done anything with my life at all. Why? Gods, time passes so quickly. The fact of it all was, Baby had roamed the earth ever since becoming an adult. He knew he was looking for something, and occasionally he’d thought he’d found it, but then a nagging itch would start under his skin, and he would move on. It was as if - as if there was something, someone or something out there, just out of reach, waiting for him, but never coming into view.
It would be so easy to blame his fathers, but Baby felt his innate restlessness went so much deeper than fatherly neglect. Poseidon was the father he’d spent the most time with during his life, but it wasn’t that much time in the grand scheme of things as Artemas, Lasse and Nereus had basically raised him. Of course, Himeros had only been around the last hundred and twenty years or so. He’d just popped up one day during, no, it was after a riot… where was it? Where was it?
Baby had to think for a minute. Crete. It might have been a bar in Crete, but he wasn’t sure. Baby had made some comment to a local that hadn’t been taken well. Something about the man’s ass most likely, and the man’s wife took offence. Baby remembered the woman storming over to hit him, and then stroking his chest instead. Which upset her husband. And his brother. And his two uncles and a sister in law. Baby sighed at the memory of what followed afterward. There was a lot more stroking than hitting went on that night.
It was in the aftermath that Himeros appeared; when the locals were passed out in various states of undress and the sun was just beginning to peer over the horizon. Baby was looking for his boots. Only half-dressed and completely worn out, he peered up as he felt a godly signature, to see a sexily clad young man who barely looked twenty, hovering a good two feet off the floor. The man smiled at him, before giving Baby a long slow clap. “Oh, Baby,” the god said, “there is so much power in you. Hmm.” He’d closed his eyes and hugged his hands to his chest. “I’m basking in it now.” The eyes had flown open and Baby was struck with a sense of familiarity. “Why on earth didn’t Sei tell me how strong our beloved offspring had grown?”
“You’re Himeros?” Baby remembered forgetting about his boots, stunned by the light that seemed to shine from his second father’s body, the words “beloved offspring” teasing his heart. He remembered leaving with Himeros that day, staying at Aphrodite’s a full month before he could see the light for what it was – Himeros’ glamor. He’d fled back to Poseidon’s to talk to him. But Sei had been busy, saving the seas, or fucking some random nobody. Baby didn’t know, but they never did have the talk he longed to have. And from then on, like the tides, Baby wove backwards and forwards, between Himeros and Poseidon ever since.
A kookaburra cackled as it flew overhead. I’ve never had a best friend. Baby wasn’t sure where that random thought popped up from, but he turned it over in his mind, testing its validity. Unfortunately, it was true. Baby knew a lot of people. A lot more people knew of him. But as Baby thought about it, he realized his family were the only ones who put up with him longer than one night, and even that was grudgingly.
He’d wanted to go on adventures with Lasse and Thor, until Thor told him to piss off because he was even more of a troublemaker than the god of storms.
He’d begged Nereus to let him go with him and Sebastian when they went off fighting different wars, only to be told he was too young and didn’t have any fighting skills. It wasn’t as though anyone was prepared to teach him any, then or since.
Once Baby had lost his virginity, Artemas was forever telling him not to touch his precious books. Sei never wanted to hang around with anyone who might prove to be competition when he was looking for his latest fuck… or at least that was what Baby used to tell himself when his father was unavailable, but as he thought about it now, he realized no one wanted him around because they just didn’t like him. Which sucks big time.
Himeros’ side of the family were no better. Eros and Pothos hated him from the moment Himeros had introduced him to Aphrodite’s inner circle, as they called it. Any time Himeros’ back was turned, their faces would twist into ugly snarls. Baby had been spat on, pinched, and called “ordinary” which to anyone in Aphrodite’s realm was the highest insult, more than once. And all that was before Himeros got this idea that Baby was the key to splitting up Poseidon and Claude.
Sitting up, Baby leaned over and hugged his knees. The truth was, he liked being with people. He did read, he enjoyed learning new things on the internet. He’d been around the world enough times to know what was going on in most of it. He even listened to the local news, wherever he was, so he’d have something to talk to the locals about.
But no one wants to actually sit down and have a conversation with me. It seemed, no matter where he went, no matter how he dressed, it was as though his body and his looks were a curse. People saw him, they lusted after him, and the conversations Baby longed for never happened.
I wonder what it would be like, living an ordinary, everyday, normal life? Baby looked around at his surroundings. They were far from ordinary. Artemas’ property was beautiful, remote, and teaming with life, but none of it could talk. He tried to imagine what it would be like, living somewhere remote permanently. I could write a book, farm some land, become a fisherman, although Baby hated fish with a passion. I could play music, try art, maybe compose something beautiful. The shadows from the trees grew longer, and still Baby didn’t move, lost in his head, imagining the type of life he could create for himself, if he didn’t feel so weighted down by just how useless everyone around him made him feel.
/~/~/~/~/
The night sky was almost pitch black when Owen landed at the home he recognized as belonging to Artemas, son of Poseidon and Baby’s oldest brother. Most of the birds were sleeping, but there was still plenty of life teaming around him as possums, rats, mice and even spiders, foraged for their food, mated, making babies, and sometimes dying in their efforts. The air was somewhat cool, refreshed by a breeze coming in from the sea some twenty miles away as the crow flies, but the lingering warmth of an Australian summer was still present.
Baby appeared to be sleeping, his body curled in the fetal position of the hard-wooden boards of the porch. No pillows. No blankets. Just Baby on the boards. With no lights on inside, Owen could only guess that his mate had been in that position for hours. There was a sadness in the air, a sense of futility and as Owen breathed it in, it was as if that sadness ran straight to his heart and stabbed him. The almost physical sensation made Owen wince.
This is my fault. Owen accepted his shortcomings, stemming as they did from his arrogance, his longing to keep hold of his solitary and orderly life just one year longer – a feeling he’d had since Baby reached the age of consent. But one year turned into two, then into five, and now a thousand years later, Owen couldn’t shirk what he’d done. The broken mess on the porch was his responsibility and it was him that was going to have to fix it. And fast.
With his senses so finely tuned to the life around him, Owen picked his way up to the house, his feet landing softly so as not to disturb his sleeping mate. But as he approached the stairs, Baby stirred, his eyes flying open, he was looking right at him. Baby’s hair was mussed, his mouth open in shock. But he recovered quickly, jumping to his feet, planting his hands on his hips.
“Who… Who the hell are you? This is my brother’s house. No one has the right to be on this property except me. Artemas promised me.”
My mate is scared. Owen could sense it, just as he could sense the moment life left a cricket that had wandered too close to a hedgehog. He held his hands wide, away from his body, showing he meant no harm.
“My name is Owen. I came looking for you, because I wanted to talk to you.” Keeping his voice calm was difficult. Baby’s aura was startlingly bright, as if charged with electricity, and changing colors from one second to the next.
“You want to talk to me?” Baby hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants. “That’s a new one. Fine. Talk. Tell me why you saw fit to bring your own light show.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what you mean by light show.” Owen stepped closer, but Baby’s aura flickered wildly, and he stopped. “I had hoped to sit on the edge of the porch so we could talk.”
“I’ve had a million men want to so-called talk to me, and the moment they get within touching distance, they don’t do anything with their mouths but give orders, or they’re using those same mouths to slobber all over me. I didn’t come onto you. I purposefully stayed here so no one could talk to me. But it’s fine. If you want to talk, we can talk but keep your distance.”
Oh, my poor mate. Owen clicked for his chair. He sat gingerly, not entirely sure that the four legs were squared on the uneven ground. But the chair didn’t topple over which was a positive.
“You’re a god,” Baby said bluntly.
“I am.” Owen never hid who he was from other gods.
“Not one I’ve seen before, so I’m guessing not Greek, Roman, Norse, or Egyptian. Owen is not a godly name I can recognize.”
“My true name is…” Owen’s mouth moved in the ancient forgotten language of his people, the syllables rolling off his tongue and weaving through the air.
“Wow. I can see why people call you Owen. So, you are…?”
“Very, very old. Beyond ancient.”
“With short bright white hair that glows under the freaky light you brought with you. Okay.” Baby sounded skeptical, but at least he wasn’t zapping away. In fact, his aura seemed to settle, and he moved so he was sitting cross legged on the porch. “What did you want to talk about?”
Tilting his head slightly, Owen considered a first question. He didn’t know if Baby knew about mates, even though his brothers all had them. So, he thought of the easiest way to ease into that conversation. “What do you see when you look at me?”
“Aside from the light beaming from the top of your head, or it could be down onto your head, it’s hard to tell at this angle, but I imagine I see the same thing you see every day when you look in a mirror.”
He has every reason to be cagey, Owen reminded himself, deciding to lay his cards on the table. “I’ve never seen my reflection. I can’t see, at least not in the traditional sense. I never have been able to. I’m blind.”