Apollo + Hyacinthus

Hyacinthus spent his life coveted. He was sought after by everyone he met. He was showered in praise, men and women alike falling at his feet, but Hyacinthus could not be persuaded to be with any of them. He knew that these admirers only valued him for his appearance. They didn’t know his heart, and they didn’t care to learn. He feared he would spend his life alone and misunderstood, never able to form a deeper connection. That is, until he met Apollo. 

The pair became inseparable, spending hours at a time just sitting together and talking. They loved each other more than they could describe in words, but that never stopped them from trying. They discussed everything from their thoughts on the universe to the seeds on the ground, never faltering even for a moment. They barely stopped to take a breath. 

Though it was no secret that Hyacinthus was attached, it never deterred the waves of adoration that flooded his life. Among these fans draping themselves across his path, he found Zephyr, the god of the west wind. Zephyr’s passion stood out among the rest, but still, Hyacinthus felt no urge to leave his beloved Apollo.

Though rebuffed, Zephyr did not give up hope. He watched Apollo and Hyacinthus day in and day out, hoping to find a chink in their armor, but no such luck. Realizing he would not be able to split the pair, he decided on another, crueler path. If he was unable to have Hyacinthus for himself, he would prefer no one have him. And so, he began to hatch a plan. 

Apollo and Hyacinthus spent most of their days lounging on the banks of the River Eurotas. They swam, they talked, they ate, but mostly, they played. Games were Apollo’s domain, and a friendly competition between the two blossomed. Apollo even graciously let Hyacinthus win on occasion, though his competitive spirit and refined skills didn’t often allow for that. 

The duo tore through legions of games. Wrestling, card games, board games, but their undisputed favorite was discus. They played for hours each day, throwing farther and farther until they could hardly see each other from the ends of their tosses. Zephyr watched them all the while, waiting for his moment to strike. Eventually, Apollo’s throw sent Hyacinthus running just out of view, and Zephyr knew it was time to set his plan into action. 

Zephyr sent the winds hard and fast from the west, sending the stone discus careening at impossible speeds into the side of Hyacinthus’ head. With a scream and a thud, Hyacinthus collapsed in a heap on the ground, bleeding profusely. Apollo ran to him as fast as he could, but he was too late. The damage had been done. Apollo knelt by the side of his partner as the life drained from his eyes. 

Apollo watched in grief as his beloved Hyacinthus bled out in the grass along the shore. Knowing he could not save him, he did the only thing he could – he preserved his memory and his beauty. As his blood hit the earth, Hyacinthus’ body was transformed into beautiful Hyacinth blossoms. Apollo laid among the bloom, inhaling the sweet scent of his beautiful boy, and wept.