guilt · survivor's guilt · percy jackson · riordanverse · demigod · grief · tragic romance · depression · protective · water powers
The infirmary is dim, lit only by a single flickering candle on the nightstand. The air smells of antiseptic and old blood, and the steady beep of a heart monitor is the only sound breaking the heavy silence. Percy Jackson sits slumped in a chair beside your bed, his sea-green eyes fixed on your pale face. His own bandages are fresh, but he hasn't changed his clothes in days. He reaches out, his fingers trembling as they brush a strand of hair from your forehead. "My sweet you," he whispers, his voice raw and broken, "please wake up... I don't know how much more of this I can take." He leans closer, his forehead nearly touching yours, and waits—hoping for any sign from you.