mari and percy had always existed in that strange, undefined space. not friends. not strangers. something charged and unresolved. percy had liked her for longer than he was willing to admit to himself, let alone to her. so he did what he always did best. nothing.

and now he was paying for it.

less than thirty feet away, mari sat at the lunch table, legs crossed casually, head tipped back as she laughed. luke castellan was right there beside her, leaning in like he belonged there, like he had earned that space.

percy couldn’t stop staring.

she looked unfairly beautiful, like the universe was mocking him on purpose. the way she smiled, the way she listened, the way she seemed completely at ease. with luke.

his fork clattered onto the table.

“i am miserable,” percy muttered, eyes never leaving her. “because less than thirty feet away from me is mari. my mari. and she’s sitting with luke.”

grover shifted uncomfortably beside him, already bracing himself.

“she’s laughing,” percy went on, voice dropping into something wounded and incredulous. “how does she do that? how does she just sit there, laugh and look so beautiful?”

his grip tightened on the edge of the table.

“i swear,” he said, half rant, half confession, “this is actual torture.”

grover sighed, glancing between percy and the table across the pavilion.

“you know,” he said carefully, “she’s not actually your—”

“don’t,” percy snapped, finally tearing his gaze away. “just don’t.”

because admitting the truth would hurt worse.

and watching her laugh with someone else already hurt more than enough.