Whispered words from a velvety voice had woken him day for day
Adoring admonishments and pleading prayers had rolled off his tongue so easily then
Fingers flitting over his skin, caressing it with tender care.
Hushed conversations, tired and weary from war.
Pain, like a pearl being crushed by the pressure of victory.
A sole cry, rising above the noise of all others. A cry full of pain, full of yearning.
Yearning to be reunited, to feel like them again.
Whispered words and adoring admonishments, pleading prayers, and flitting fingers.
He wanted to feel him again. Patroclus, the victory's cost.