The Song of Achilles

by Madeline Miller

He ran at me, pushed me backwards onto my cot. Leaned over me. “I’m sick of talking about her,” he said.

talk about making sure your crush doesn't think you like someone else. oh, Achilles, you repressed teenager.

“Patroclus.” Pa-tro-clus.

this matters so much to me :crying:

He paused now, considering. I loved this about him. No matter how many times I had asked, he answered me as if it were the first time.

i want a man like this—because I am deaf and will say "huh?" or will simply not hear his answer the first time haha

His eyes opened. “Name one hero who was happy.”

“You can’t.” He was sitting up now, leaning forward. “I can’t.”

“Tell me.” I loved it when he was like this. “I’m going to be the first.” He took my palm and held it to his. “Swear it.” “Why me?” “Because you’re the reason. Swear it.”

when you tell your significant other that, despite all options and all fates that are tragic and bad for people like you (people with a destiny, a fate. people doomed by the narrative), you will still be the happiest and the best of your kind because you have them. you are in love and that makes it better, different. The fates won't claim you today for this. I am not normal about these two

“I feel like I could eat the world raw.”