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Orpheus was, to put it mildly, bone-tired.
It had been a long shift taking orders and waiting tables. He loved his job and all his regulars, truly. The sense of community in Hermes’ bar was irreplaceable, especially with summer in full swing. But with the warmer months came more patrons, and the drinking and dancing often went on into the wee hours of the morning. Tonight was no exception. Orpheus tried to hide how his feet ached as he bade Hermes goodnight and climbed the creaky stairs to his second-floor bedroom.
Mr. Hermes still noticed, of course. He always did. The god had simply given a knowing chuckle and told Orpheus to sleep in the next morning.
Wanting nothing more than to collapse in his bed and fall blissfully asleep, Orpheus kicked his boots off before the door even closed behind him. He’d nearly made it to his bed when he froze and grumbled to himself. He’d washed his sheets before his shift… but had left them on the clothesline outside to dry in the afternoon sun. He’d meant to bring them back up earlier, but forgot and spent his break with a certain lovely girl instead. He didn’t regret it; he’d spend every waking moment with Eurydice if he could. But the fact remained that his bed was unmade.
Putting his boots back on, fetching his bedding, and making it all the way back to his room was way too much for Orpheus' post-shift brain to handle. He seriously considered just going to sleep on the bare mattress before he pulled his drowsy self together. The spare room across the hall! Hermes usually kept a fresh set of sheets in its closet. Orpheus made a mental note to thank Hermes profusely for his foresight in the morning.
If he hadn’t been half asleep already, Orpheus might have remembered Eurydice had been staying in that same room since she arrived.
He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he made his way across the hall, silently promising to replace the extra linens with a clean set tomorrow. Turning the doorknob mindlessly, he peeked into the normally empty room and inhaled sharply. A familiar-shaped lump under the covers rose and fell with the cadence of breathing.
He immediately shut the door as quietly as he could, mortified and thankful Eurydice hadn’t been awake to notice his blunder. She was still guarded enough that she’d surely be disquieted at the idea of Orpheus seeing her at her most vulnerable. While she was strong as they came, life had done a number on her. All the kindness and good intentions in the world couldn’t change that overnight.
Having been jolted fully awake now, Orpheus was resigned to gather his bedding from the clothesline when he heard the soft voice he’d recognize anywhere.
“Orpheus?”
He pressed his forehead against the wooden doorframe, sighing softly. Damn. Tentatively, he cracked open the door again, poking his head in.
“Yes. Sorry, I was only looking for some sheets and I—,”
Orpheus stopped mid-sentence, a deer in the headlights.
Eurydice’s blanket was tucked around her shoulders so that only her head and a single arm cupping the pillow beneath it were left uncovered. The moonlight filtering through the window highlighted the curve of her jawline. Her hair was splayed out around her on the pillow, framing her face like a perfect halo.
Orpheus gave himself a little shake. “Didn’t mean to — I’ll go, sorry.” He turned to leave, but halted when Eurydice spoke.
“Orpheus.”
Pivoting to look Eurydice in the eye, Orpheus watched her work her jaw as if coming to a decision…
…and she freed her other arm from the blanket, extending it toward him in a silent invitation.
The fact that his heart didn't well and truly burst right there is nothing short of a miracle.
He made his way over as Eurydice lifted the corner of her blanket and scooched over to make room. Leaving enough space between them for her to be comfortable, Orpheus slipped under the covers beside her and flipped around so they were facing each other on their sides.
“No funny business,” Eurydice mumbled sleepily once they were settled, poking him in the shoulder.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Orpheus tentatively shimmied closer and put an arm over her side. “Is this okay?”
They were both stiff, bodies still getting used to being this close, until Eurydice melted completely into his touch. “Yes.” She tilted her head up and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, slow and sweet. It felt only natural for Orpheus to bring his hand up to cup her cheek.
When they broke apart, Eurydice’s eyes were like saucers. She looked down, anxious but undeniably sure, then laughed softly.
“You’re still wearing your suspenders.”
“I am, aren’t I?” Orpheus laughed in turn, rubbing his forehead. “It was a long day.” Dimly, he registered that he probably should have changed out of his work clothes before joining her.
But Eurydice didn’t mind, and so he didn’t either. She said nothing more, just reached down and unbuckled his suspenders for him. The process of tossing them over Orpheus onto the floor was the perfect excuse to move even closer. Gently guiding him onto his back, Eurydice curled into Orpheus’s side and laid her head on his chest.
Some time passed like that, the two of them breathing together in comfortable silence until Eurydice shifted slightly.
“Did you mean it?” she whispered, so quiet Orpheus could barely hear it.
“Hm?”
“Did you mean it. When you said it’d always be the two of us?”
Orpheus looked down at her, at the face of the woman that held his whole heart in her hands. Her chin resting on his chest. The way her eyebrows pinched together. How her gaze was already searching his face, deep and imploring.
I’d follow you anywhere, he thought. I’d write a thousand songs for you and it still wouldn’t be enough. You never have to question my love.
Instead, he said the only words he knew Eurydice needed to hear.
“Forever and always.”
Eurydice’s bright smile put the moonlight to shame. She hummed in acknowledgment and laid her head back down, heaving a happy sigh. Orpheus kissed her hair and wondered how he got so lucky to have this woman in his life.
At some point, Orpheus’ hand had lifted to trace gentle whirls onto Eurydice’s arm, fingertips barely brushing her shoulder. He hummed softly. Nothing special, just a tune that had been rattling around in his head the past few days. Almost immediately, Eurydice’s breathing slowed as she fell asleep.
Though his eyelids were heavy, Orpheus forced them open for a little longer to savor this moment. Like most people, Eurydice looked younger in her sleep, he mused. But more than that, she looked so peaceful. Less world-weary. Like a great weight had been lifted off her mind.
This was his new mission, to give her this feeling of calm forever. Once spring returned, and the world was back in tune, survival wouldn’t be such a struggle. But until then, she deserved to know this love and safety in his arms.
A part of Orpheus, however small, was afraid Eurydice would be gone in the morning. That she’d decide it was too much too soon and leave without so much as a goodbye. But with her beside him like this, solid and warm and here, it wasn’t hard to quiet that nagging side of his mind. Orpheus’s last drowsy thoughts were of a beautiful spring day spent in sunshine together. Side by side, forever and always.
Birdsong outside the window woke Orpheus the next morning. He blinked slowly as consciousness returned. Eurydice was no longer tucked into his side. Instead, she was splayed out across the bed, limbs sprawled out every which way. Her hair was sleep-mussed, sticking in all different directions, and she had pillow marks across the entire left side of her face.
He smiled. She had never looked more beautiful.
Placing a light kiss on Eurydice’s forehead, Orpheus sat up to rub the sleep off his face. The sound of Eurydice grumbling in protest was almost muffled by the pillow. A soft laugh escaped his lips when she reached up to wrap her arms around his middle and pulled him back to her.
Well, Hermes had told him to sleep in, hadn’t he?
He burrowed back under the covers and laid on his side, tossing one arm over his eyes and the other around Eurydice. She didn’t even bother to open her eyes before hooking a leg around him. Her skin was warm from the summer sun, rising in the window alongside them.
Orpheus got the feeling that he wasn’t alone in hoping that every morning could be spent like this.