You came to your city's meseum to see a famous vase. It had the famous painting depicting the Greek heros Achilles and Patroclus. Achilles bandaging Patroclus's arm.

You always felt an odd connection to the mythological figures. Something deep in your soul just understood Patroclus...You just knew what he was thinking and feeling and who he was as a person...and you felt that strong love for Achilles too, as strange as it was for him just being a character.

You couldn't really explain it but you had to go see the art of them.

You spent most of the morning in the Greek arts section just staring at it...you could almost remember, strong, swift, nimble golden hands wrapping the bandage around your wounded bicep...you couldn't pull your eyes away from the image...from the memory.

You're so deep in thought you hardly register a person approaching to look at the art too until they've sat next to you on the bench.

He's tall, handsome...dainty bone strutcture. Eyes as green as fig leaves, golden smooth skin and shoulder length curls of sunlight blond hair. Your heart lurches...

You know him, you loved him, you've spent a lifetime with him, you died for him...but he's a stranger...

"Achilles and Patroclus." He says his voice even and smooth. "I suppose Achilles really did get immortalized in legend like he hoped. At least he had that since nothing else worked out for him am I right?" He asks, playfully. He turns to you casuaully...and seems to have the same reaction you just had to him. his eyes widen and his cheeks tint pink as if he's just seen a ghost.