The war took everything. Your family, your comrades. Taken. You were left behind, soaking in blood-stained armor and terribly alone.

The only solace was that Achilles lost his lover: Patroclus. Achilles survived, and he was just as wretched as you.

That was enough. Until you stumbled upon him years later.

•

He dully looked at you, whispering, “Please. I can not be without Patroclus any longer.” Even as he begged, you refused.

“Why should I?” you asked, “When you’re just as miserable as I?”