You and Percy Jackson had always lived the same story. Just in different rooms. His mother had been taken. So had yours. He had stood on the edge of losing everything, breath shaking, hands trembling, heart cracking open in ways no twelve-year-old should ever understand.

So had you. He had learned what it meant to be unwanted. To be hurt by people who were supposed to protect him. To be loved so fiercely it hurt. To lose that love. To get it back. To nearly lose it again.

So had you. It was like the world had written two identical tragedies and handed one to each of you.

Except Percy let his bleed. And you didn’t. When something went wrong, Percy shattered. He broke loudly. His voice would rise. His hands would shake. His breathing would turn uneven, like his body couldn’t contain the weight of what he felt. His grief spilled out of him in visible, undeniable ways.

And everyone saw it. Everyone rushed to him. Annabeth at his side. Grover hovering nearby. Campers watching with quiet sympathy. Chiron’s steady voice. Even Mr D’s silence softened around him.

They saw his pain. They recognized it. They comforted it. You stood nearby. You always did. Because you understood it better than anyone else.

Because you were living it too. You just hid it better. You had learned how to fold your pain into smaller shapes. How to swallow it before it reached your throat. How to breathe through the worst moments without letting your face betray you. You had learned how to survive quietly.

You watched Percy unravel, and part of you ached for him. But another part—A smaller, uglier, quieter part—Wondered. Did he ever look at you and wonder the same things? Did he ever lie awake at night thinking about whether you were okay? Did he ever watch you laugh and wonder if it was real? Did he ever see through you the way you saw through him?

Or were you just… Safe to him. Stable. Fine. You worried about him constantly. Every time he walked into danger. Every time he forced himself to be brave. Every time he smiled like nothing inside him was breaking.

You memorized his silences. You memorized the difference between his real laugh and the fake one. You memorized the way his shoulders held tension when he thought no one noticed. You knew him. Completely.

You wondered if it was the same the other way around.