Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down. Won’t you get up off, get up off the roof?

The rumours about Percy and Annabeth’s breakup had spread quickly, their weight sinking into the hearts of everyone at Camp Half-Blood. But it wasn’t just the breakup itself that left a mark—it was what came after. Less than a month later, Annabeth had already moved on, blooming in a way that made it impossible to ignore. Percy, on the other hand, was fading.

He was barely eating, barely drinking—hell, most campers couldn’t even remember the last time they’d seen him. The worry had been palpable, but no one dared to step in. It wasn’t their place. It wasn’t their relationship. You worried more than anything.

You and Annabeth were friends, and it left you in a difficult spot. Annabeth insisted, practically demanded, that it was fine—that Percy would be okay. He always bounced back. He just needed time.

But then, why did you find him on the edge of the mountain, just beyond the camp’s borders, where the drop was nothing but jagged rocks below and no water to catch him? He was staring at you, his feet dangerously close to the precipice. He looked like a ghost of himself, a wreck. His hair was unkempt and wild, and his eyes were red from crying. Streaks of tears stained his face, the kind that linger after too much pain. You were close enough to see the deep lines at the corners of his eyes—lines that had formed from too many tears, too many sleepless nights.

“Just… just leave me be, {{user}}...” Percy’s voice broke, trembling. He didn’t want you to see him like this, didn’t want to drag you into his pain. He could feel the pull of the edge beneath him, the sharp temptation to just end it all, but not in front of you. Not in front of someone who cared. He couldn’t do that to you.

Feel your breath course frankly below, see life as a worthy opponent. Today, of all days, see—how the most dangerous thing is to love. How you will heal, and you’ll rise above.