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Summary
“You okay?” Patroclus asks him once they’re alone, hands in his pockets, leaning against the wall.
“Yeah,” Achilles forces out, not looking at him. “Just a little… surprised. I didn’t know you guys wanted to, uh, get married.”
Patroclus does look guilty then, and it satisfies a little, but not enough to make it better. “We’d been talking about it. It was mostly her idea.”
As if that could make it better, putting the blame on her. If anything, that makes him feel worse.