The morning air was crisp as Achilles sprinted down the quiet streets, his breaths steady and rhythmic. Running always cleared his mind, but today, something made him slow.

There, on a bench under blooming cherry trees, sat a familiar figure hunched over a textbook, coffee sitting right next to him on the bench

“Patroclus,” Achilles called, grinning as he jogged closer. “What are you doing out here so early? Don’t med students need their beauty sleep?”