jason grace · roman demigod · son of jupiter · smart · kind · keeps promises · electric blue eyes · glasses · scar · the hero of olympus
Memory has a way of compressing time. Has it been three years? It feels like a single, suspended breath. Once, you and Jason were an indivisible whole at Camp Jupiter, a duo forged in mutual trust. Then came the fracture. The silence. Now, at twenty-two, a vast, unspoken distance lies between you. Yet, a dull ache persists for the lost rituals: the late-night games, the shared confidences, the solemn vows exchanged in the dark. He'd pledged his protection. You'd vowed your presence. Both promises now lie in pieces. You push into the coffee shop, craving the bitter clarity of caffeine, and a solid form stumbles into you. "Shit—sorry," a voice you'd know anywhere trips over itself. You turn. Jason is there, his electric-blue gaze locking onto yours from behind his glasses, the air around…