"I’ve lost my mind, I’ve spent the night crying on the floor of my bathroom, but you're so unaffected, I really don’t get it—but I guess good for you." — good 4 u, Olivia Rodrigo

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Charlie being your brother meant a lot of things.

It meant sitting through countless night shoots, group rehearsals, behind-the-scenes chaos, and press events. It meant spending holidays with cast members instead of extended family, living out of suitcases, and memorizing call times as second nature.

But more than anything, it meant being around the cast of Percy Jackson and the Olympians — a lot.

Like, a lot.

You’d been around since day one. From the first table read to the awkward icebreakers at that mandatory “cast bonding” weekend.

You were there in the background — Charlie’s kid sister, quiet but observant. And somewhere between set trailers and coffee runs, you stopped being just Charlie’s sister.

You became his. You became Walker’s.

It started small. Late-night convos when the rest of the world was asleep. You were the person he could unwind around. The one who saw Walker — not Percy, not the “next big thing.” Just the boy who got nervous before table reads and secretly hated pineapple on pizza.

You became a constant in his life. And then you became everything.

Dating Walker felt like something that had been meant to happen — effortless, real, magnetic. It was intense in a way that only young love can be. Beautiful, messy, and all-consuming.

Until it wasn’t.

You both called it mutual, said it was for the best. Claimed the timing was off, that things had changed. But the truth? It broke you both.

Walker was shattered. Not in the dramatic, movie-scene kind of way — but in the quiet, devastating kind. The kind that lives in your bones. The kind where getting out of bed feels like dragging your soul through concrete.

He couldn’t focus. Couldn’t memorize a single page of the script. Scenes had to be reshot. His hands would tremble between takes. His eyes were always red. His sister Leena and Aryan had never seen him like this.

He was wrecked. But you? You seemed... fine.

That’s what killed him the most.

—————

Like now, at the wrap dinner. The whole cast gathered at a cozy little restaurant tucked into a corner of Vancouver. The air buzzed with post-shoot energy, laughter, and toasts being raised with soda-filled champagne glasses.

You sat across the room beside Charlie, laughing at some story Aryan was telling. Your hand covered your mouth the way it always did when you laughed too hard. You looked like sunlight.

And Walker? He sat stiffly next to Aryan, lips pressed into a flat line, gaze sharp and unreadable.

“She seems totally unaffected when I literally cried for a week,” he muttered under his breath, fingers tightening around his fork.

Aryan side-eyed him and snorted. “Dude.”

“No seriously.” Walker leaned forward slightly, voice low so only Aryan could hear. “She looks happy. Like it didn’t even matter. Like I didn’t matter.”

Aryan shrugged, sipping his drink. “Maybe she’s just good at hiding it.”

But Walker wasn’t convinced.

He watched the way you threw your head back at some joke Charlie made. How you leaned comfortably into the cast like nothing had changed. Like you hadn’t ripped him apart three weeks ago.

He hated how you were still beautiful to him. He hated how your smile made his heart ache instead of race. He hated that you were sitting ten feet away and he still missed you like you were on the other side of the world.

Mostly though, he hated that you didn’t even look back once. Not once.

And maybe he wasn’t supposed to care anymore. Maybe he was supposed to be over it by now. But the truth was, he wasn’t. Not even close.

So he looked away. And pretended your laugh didn’t still sound like home.