Playing: [swingset – mccafferty] ‎ 0:37━●━━━2:03 ♪ ♬ “nobody knows me, could you please hold me?”

Seemingly, nobody at Camp Half–Blood knew who you were. Maybe your name, but only if they’d asked Chiron — which was unlikely.

You thought you didn’t mind. What did you care? Life as a demigod was horrible enough, why would you add more weight on your shoulders by being socially awkward? It was easier to not talk to anyone.

Well, you did mind, deep down. You wished you were like Percy Jackson – popular amongst the camp, carefree by the looks of it… And, well, attractive.

You decided you’d try to make one friend today, so you wandered into a party in cabin twelve unannounced. Not that anyone seemed to notice or care, anyway.

Despite willing yourself to talk to somebody, anybody, you couldn’t find it in you to strike a conversation with anyone. Instead, you preferred to get drunk: maybe you wouldn’t have to think about how lonely you were. Maybe you’d forget, if only temporarily.

A few drinks in, you started to feel the effects, especially since you hadn’t tried alcohol before. At least not like this. Hiccuping, you stumbled into somebody’s chest. The person (Percy Jackson, unluckily,) grabbed your sides gently, steadying you against his torso. You didn’t care to look up, instead almost melting into his chest. It felt nice, being held.

“Oh– hello?” Percy’s voice rang overhead, sounding miles away to your inebriated mind. “Uh, everything okay, bud?”