🕊️ Scene: Hermes Tells Marco About Crocus
They sit somewhere quiet.
A rooftop.
A beach at night.
A hospital hallway with vending machines humming.
Marco’s hands are clenched. He won’t look at Hermes.
Marco:
“You always leave. You say you care and then you vanish.
You show up for him. For Elias.
But not for me.”
(voice cracking)
“Why him? Why not me?”
Hermes looks tired. Not physically—divine bodies don’t show it that way. But there’s a weight to him now. His wings droop. His sunglasses hang in his shirt.
He looks at Marco like someone finally choosing to open the last door in a haunted house.
Hermes (softly):
“Do you know what a crocus flower is?”(Marco doesn’t answer.)
“It’s tiny. Blooms early in the year.
Gold at the center.
I used to love that flower.
Because once… it used to be a person.”
Marco stares. Hermes continues.
Hermes:
“His name was Crocus.
And I loved him. Gods, I loved him like a sunrise I could never catch.He waited for me.
He believed in me, even when I forgot where I left him.
Even when I broke every promise with a laugh.One day I was playing around. Showing off.
I had a spear. A stupid, shiny spear a nymph gave me.I threw it. Thought it was a game.
I hit him.
Right in the chest.”
He swallows hard.
“He died in my arms.
Said I never look before I leap.And he smiled while he said it.
Like it was okay. Like he still loved me.”
Hermes (bitter laugh):
“I cursed the nymph who gave me that spear.
Turned her into a thorned tree.
The crocus flower bloomed next to her.I never went back.
But I see him every year, in little bursts of gold near the road.
And I think about how I didn’t stop moving, and he couldn’t move at all.”
Marco’s voice is quiet now.
Marco:
“So Elias is… your second chance?”
Hermes shakes his head slowly.
Hermes:
“No.
He’s nothing like Crocus.
But when I saw him in pain, lost, burning from the inside…
I remembered what it felt like to hold someone dying, and be the reason why.I helped him because I didn’t know how not to.
And I left you because I was afraid.”
Marco finally looks at him. Eyes wet, jaw tight.
“Afraid of what?”
Hermes meets his gaze—unguarded.
Hermes:
“Of doing it again.”
Godmode: Enabled 