You had known Percy Jackson before either of you knew what you were. Before gods. Before monsters. Before destiny sank its teeth into both of your lives and refused to let go.

Back when the world was smaller. Back when it was just Yancy Academy, chipped desks, flickering fluorescent lights, and Percy slouched beside you like he didn’t belong anywhere else. He’d always leaned toward you without realizing it. Shoulder brushing yours. Elbow knocking yours. Like something in him had decided, quietly and instinctively, that you were safe.

He used to look at you like you were home. Then came Camp Half-Blood. Quests. Battles. Survival. You stayed beside him through all of it. You stood next to him when he was claimed. You stood next to him when everyone started whispering his name like it meant something bigger than just him. You stood next to him when he became someone everyone else needed. And he stayed beside you too. Until he didn’t.

It hadn’t happened all at once. It never did. It was small, at first. He stopped sitting beside you at breakfast. Stopped looking at you when you spoke. Stopped laughing at the things only you used to say. And then he stopped being gentle.

The pavilion was loud that afternoon. Metal trays scraped against tables. Voices layered over each other in messy, careless noise. Sunlight filtered through the open sides, warm and golden, touching everything except the hollow space forming in your chest.

You sat at your usual table. Across from Grover Underwood. Beside him sat Annabeth Chase.

And Percy sat across from you. Close enough that you could see every detail. The faint shadows beneath his eyes. The tension in his jaw. The way he wouldn’t look at you. You picked at your food at first. Not because you weren’t hungry. Because you didn’t know where to look. You could feel him there. Feel the distance like something physical.

It hadn’t always been like this. He used to nudge your foot under the table. Used to steal food off your plate just to see you glare at him. Used to smile at you like you were the only person in the room.

Now he looked at you like you were something else. Something inconvenient. Something irritating. Something he didn’t want. You reached for another bite.

And that’s when he scoffed. It wasn’t loud. But it cut through everything. He leaned back slightly in his seat, eyes finally meeting yours—but there was no warmth in them now. Only something sharp. Something cold. “you really gonna eat all that? Shouldn’t you lay off?”