the world's a little blurry, or maybe it's my eyes, the friends I've had to bury, they keep me up at night

percy was never the same after the tragic battle of manhattan. before, he was always energetic, seemingly happy, and always cracking a joke or saying something sarcastic. now he was secluded, almost numb.

you and percy were best friends. you’d been since two summers ago. you know him better than anyone. you saw the way he looked burying the people who died fighting in the battle, who gave up their lives for them, for olympus. he blamed it on himself, and ever since then, he wasn’t the same.

one night, you couldn’t sleep. you snuck out to the lake, hoping to find solace in the sound of the low crashing waves. as you approached, you saw a familiar figure sitting in the sand. percy.

you sat down next to him, leaning a head on his shoulder. he looked heartbroken. “what’s wrong?” you asked softly, already knowing the answer. “i just can’t sleep,” he muttered, his voice aching with grief.