You never really understood why Percy wanted to join your group.

You were popular — loud, sunlit laughter, the kind of person who could turn heads and make even the Ares kids soften a little. He was the new guy — half smile, hero eyes, the boy everyone wanted to like. So when he asked to sit with you that first day, you said yes.

Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe you just liked the way he said your name.

He fit in fast. Too fast. Everyone adored him. He joked like he’d always been there, trained beside your friends like he’d known them forever. You thought it was nice, at first — someone who made you laugh again when camp politics got messy, when quests got brutal.

But then things started to shift. Little comments. Small looks. Every mistake you made, Percy was there — harmlessly pointing it out. When you tripped during sparring, he was the one who joked loud enough for the group to hear. When you messed up a training schedule, he laughed like he didn’t mean to.

You thought maybe you were imagining it. Until today.

⸻

The dining pavilion buzzed. You pushed through the crowd, trying not to flinch at the whispers that followed. You’d just embarrassed yourself in front of the whole camp — nectar spill, burnt offering, whatever — and your group had promised to “save you a spot.”

You smiled anyway. Walked over. And there he was.

Percy Jackson, sitting in your seat, laughing with the people who used to have your back. His blue eyes flicked up, caught yours — and for half a second, you thought you saw guilt. Then it was gone.

You stopped. “What’s going on?”

No one answered.

“You can’t sit with us,” someone muttered. Your tray slipped slightly in your grip. You blinked, forcing a laugh that hurt your throat. “Funny.”

No one laughed.

Your stomach hollowed. “Seriously?”

Percy’s jaw tightened — just enough for you to notice. “Maybe it’s better if you just… sit somewhere else.”

That was all. No anger, no explanation. Just words that cut deeper because they sounded calm.

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. You just turned, slow, eyes burning but dry, walking until the laughter faded behind you.

From the table, Percy watched your back disappear into the crowd — and for a moment, the victory felt like ash in his mouth.

He’d told himself you deserved it. That you were arrogant, cruel, fake. That this was revenge for something you didn’t even know you’d done.

But now, with your name echoing in his chest and that last look on your face — he wasn’t so sure anymore.