The argument had been building for months. It wasn’t loud at first. It was in the way he stopped looking at you when she walked into the room. In the way your jokes landed a second too late. In the way you started finishing sentences in your head instead of out loud because you already knew he wouldn’t hear them.

You had loved him when he was just Percy. Before prophecies. Before titles. Before people looked at him like he was made of something legendary.

You’d planned to tell him once. You’d even practiced it. Then he’d become famous. Important. Golden-boy hero of Camp Half-Blood. And somewhere in the middle of that glow, Annabeth had stepped into place beside him like she’d always belonged there.

Now you were standing in the middle of the training arena, long after everyone else had left. “You don’t get it,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady and failing. “You were different before.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Different how?”

“Real,” you snapped. “You were real.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m still me.”

“Are you?” The words came out sharper than you meant. “Because it feels like you only see people who see you as a hero now.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No?” You laughed, but it didn’t sound like you. “I was there before all of this. Before anyone cared.”

His eyes flashed. “You think she wasn’t?”

“That’s not what I—”

“You’re acting like I owe you something.”

The words hit harder than you expected. “Owe me?” Your voice cracked. “I never wanted you to owe me.”

“Then what do you want?”

You hesitated. You wanted him to choose you. You wanted him to remember who he was when it was just the two of you sitting on the docks talking about nothing. You wanted to tell him that you’d loved him before the world did. But the moment had passed months ago. He shook his head, frustration boiling over. “Yea well at least she treats me like I’m somebody!”