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Finally, after twenty long years, he lay in their olive tree bed, with Penelope in his arms. He should have been happy, for he had what he had longed for all these years, what he had sacrificed so much for. He should have been happy, but he wasn’t, because every time he closed his eyes to fall into the sweet embrace of Hypnos, he saw Eurylochus.
They had been fighting Menelaus’ war for seven years, with no rest, no peace, no time or place for love. He missed Penelope fiercely, her absence carving bleeding wounds into his chest each night. The comradery of his brothers couldn’t replace the embrace of a lover. But still, Eurylochus was always by his side, soothing that ache just a little bit. They would drink together in Odysseus’ tent after a long day of fighting, reminiscing about Ithaca, and their loved ones. He was the only one who could make him laugh even amidst the blood and shit and longing. His best friend, his second in command. His Eurylochus. And when one night, after too many cups of wine Eurylochus pressed his lips against his, searching for something, was it such a terrible thing that he did not push him away? That he leaned in for more?
“Just tonight, my captain. Let us pretend. We deserve a little happiness.”
So what if it wasn’t all pretend, what if he enjoyed Eurylochus’ caresses, his skin against his, his lips on his neck? What if he didn’t always imagine it was Penelope?
“Just one more night,” Eurylochus had said, always just one more night.
When did it turn from just satisfying their desires into something tender, something akin to what he had once felt for his wife? Or was it always like that, from the first moment?
Then they won and set sail for home. But home was far away, they couldn’t even fathom back then how far.
Eurylochus was always the more cautious one of them. Odysseus was too lost in the happiness of finally being on their way to Ithaca to see the dangers Eurylochus warned him of. Only once he was looking at Polites’ dead body did he understand that it would be a hard journey. But Eurylochus was right beside him, soothing his guilt, keeping his hope alive. And even when his lover was afraid, when he would have rather run away, he followed Odysseus, and when his doubts came in, he still obeyed him. But then Odysseus went too far, sacrificing six of their brothers without a second thought. Eurylochus begged him for an explanation, but he had none. He just wanted to get back home, no matter the price.
And he paid the ultimate price. He doomed every one of them, he might as well slain them with his own swords. He killed Eurylochus. He killed him. Even as lightning sank their ship, even as his crew charged at him as one, Eurylochus just stood there, with disbelief in his eyes.
And he knew then, that Eurylochus had loved him.
And he loved Eurylochus.