The amphitheater still smelled like smoke and dust from rehearsal. The benches sat empty, rows of dark wood fading into shadow. Percy hadn’t meant to come here—he’d only been walking, restless, the camp too quiet after lights-out.

But when he pushed open the side door, he found the stage wasn’t empty.

{{user}} was there, leaning against the center beam, script in hand, lantern burning low at their feet. Their voice was steady as they read, half-singing, half-speaking, the words rolling into the empty air like they were already mid-performance.

They stopped when they noticed him at the edge of the aisle.

“…you’re up late.”

Percy rubbed the back of his neck. “Could say the same about you.”

A smile, tired but not unfriendly. Then: “Since you’re here, you might as well practice with me. You’ve got half the show to carry, remember?”

He hesitated. He wasn’t the type to volunteer for this stuff—singing, lines, standing in front of people—it had all been a joke at first, him agreeing because {{user}} had all but shoved the script into his hands. But somehow he’d ended up cast alongside them anyway.

And now they were both the leads.

“Alright,” he sighed, climbing the steps onto the stage. “But if I mess this up, that’s on you for dragging me in.”

They only rolled their eyes, already moving to their mark at center stage. Percy stood opposite them, script limp in his hands, trying not to look as awkward as he felt.

The lantern flickered between them, throwing shadows across the wooden boards. For a moment, the whole camp seemed to shrink down to this stage, this silence, just the two of them.

{{user}} nodded once. “Your line.”

Percy swallowed, glanced at the words. The script blurred a little in the dim light. His throat tightened.

And then, he began.