Patrochilles Trash book

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   Okay so just imagine Patroclus still being alive when he is brought to Achilles, but he's fatally wounded and CRY.

   As Achilles saw the approaching figures before him, he knew the truth instantly. Trying to cut his throat he remembers he gave the sword to Patroclus, everything for Patroclus. There was no reason for the men to approach him in the heat of battle except for only one reason...

   The form in their hands drips red, leaving stains upon the green grass as he lays Patroclus down before the already sobbing hero. Odysseus starts,"Pelides, he is still alive." Achilles weeps, large shuddering cries that leave the men on edge."He killed Sarpedon, he is a hero-"

   "Achilles." It is soft, and comes from the body on the ground, a blood stained hand reaches for the clean one. Achilles looks upon the face of his lover, who smiles then grimaces, free hand twitching to the gaping hole on his stomach where crimson seeps and smears over smooth skin.

   "Oh Patroclus, it's all my fault."Their foreheads touch and Achilles tears are salty, dripping onto his face."You mustn't kill Hector. It will only hurt me more." With a shock Achilles realizes it was Hector who did this, who stripped his most valuable part from him. Achilles would play his fingers to bone on a lyre for him, face down the gods, dive into the sea. But he cannot save him from Thanatos, who looms over him.

   "Please don't leave me like this." He begs, pleading his one companion."Don't worry. I will see you in Erebos." He uses the old name for the underworld, where spirits go after burial."No!" Patroclus smiles and touches Achilles temple, leaving scarlet splotches for the world to see.

   Achilles jerks upwards, lurching into the tent and out again, clutching something in his smooth hand. He unfurls his fingers, showing the dying man on the ground a tiny figure playing a lyre, carved roughly from wood."I kept it. All these years, I kept this. I love you so much, please don't leave."

   He places the boy in his hands, curling bloody fingers around the familiar statue."Achilles-" he begins but is silenced by one last kiss from his lover. Who cares if the world sees what we are, I will die shortly, the hero thinks. He can hear a gasp from the men around him, but he doesn't care. He repeats Patroclus' name over and over, cradling his head in his muscled arms.

Hector will pay.