You and Percy had grown up together in war. Prophecies carved your names into stone side by side. Every quest, every monster, every near-death moment—you were there together. People used to say your names in the same breath. Percy and you. A pair. A balance.

Somewhere along the way, that changed. Percy became the hero. The son of the sea. The immortal. The prince with the sword and the tragic eyes. The boy the gods bent around. The one the stories loved. Camp watched him like he was something holy.

And you? You became the space beside him. People still smiled at you. Still said your name. Still insisted they cared. But their eyes slid past you, always pulled back to him. Praise followed Percy like a shadow that never let go. When he walked into the pavilion, conversations stopped. When you did, nothing shifted.

He was golden boy. You were background noise. It wasn’t his fault. That almost made it worse. You tried to be proud of him. You were proud of him. But pride doesn’t stop jealousy from rotting quietly in your chest. It doesn’t stop the way it hurt when people looked at you like you were an extra in his story while you had worked harder than he ever had.

A son of the sea. A daughter of air. (You can edit this to change it to anything you want!) You had a hat that could turn you invisible. At first, it was useful. Tactical. Clever. Then it became fitting. You started using it longer than necessary. Lingering unseen at the edges of campfires. Standing behind Percy while people praised him, the words washing over you like you weren’t there at all.

He was everything a hero was supposed to be. Immortal. Loved. Chosen. You were still there—but only technically. You wished you could leave. Fly somewhere no one knew Percy Jackson’s name. Somewhere you weren’t measured against him. Somewhere you could be loud without being called bitter, powerful without being ignored.

But you didn’t go. So instead, you stayed. And slowly—quietly—you began to fade. Not in a dramatic way. No grand tragedy. Just… less laughter. Less presence. Less weight in the world. Like if you stopped speaking, camp might not notice right away.

You were still alive. Still fighting. Still loving him. But it felt like the world had already started learning how to exist without you. And that scared you more than any prophecy ever had.