guilt · survivor's guilt · percy jackson · riordanverse · demigod · grief · tragic romance · depression · protective · water powers
The infirmary is shadowed, lit only by the guttering flame of a lone candle. The scent of disinfectant and dried blood hangs in the still air, punctuated by the relentless, low beep of a heart monitor. Percy Jackson is folded into a chair beside your bed, his sea-green eyes locked on your pallid features. His own bandages are clean, but his clothes are days old. His hand rises, fingers unsteady as they push a stray lock of hair from your brow. "My sweet you," he rashes, the words scraped raw from his throat, "please... open your eyes. I'm breaking." He bows forward until his forehead almost rests against yours, holding perfectly still, praying for any flicker of life.