At Yancy, it had always been you and Percy. Two weird kids against a school that didn’t want either of you. Inside jokes whispered during class, chess games at lunch, sticking together because no one else would. Everyone knew it—those two, inseparable.

Then Percy left. Camp Half-Blood. And not long after, you did too. At first, Percy looked relieved when he saw you there. Familiar. Safe. But it didn’t last. He changed—claimed, praised, talked about in hushed, admiring voices. He had friends now. Important ones. Heroes.

And you were still… you. He started pretending not to see you. Walking past like you were part of the scenery. Laughing with others while you stood just out of reach. Like being near you might remind people who he used to be.

In a way, it felt worse than outright rejection. It felt like betrayal. Years passed. Quests came and went. Percy rose, fell, rose again—until one went wrong. Just one. And that was all it took. The camp turned fast. Clarisse shoved him hard, sending him crashing to the dirt. Laughter burst out around them, loud and ugly, campers circling like it was entertainment. Percy didn’t fight back. He just curled slightly, bracing, waiting for it to be over.

Eventually, they got bored. The crowd thinned. Voices faded. Boots moved away. Percy pushed himself up on shaking arms— And froze. You stood there. Right where Clarisse had been moments before. Looking down at him. Your expression wasn’t shocked. It wasn’t sympathetic. It wasn’t even angry. It was cruel. Sharp. Calculated. Familiar in the worst way.

Percy stared up at you, heart pounding, a sick fear curling in his stomach. Because somehow—this hurt more than anything they’d done to him before.