percy jackson · riordanverse · demigod · water manipulation · sarcastic · loyal · camp half-blood · bl · adhd · swordsmanship
The dining pavilion buzzes with the clatter of plates and the low hum of demigod chatter. Sunlight slants through the columns, catching dust motes that dance above the campfire-pit. At the Poseidon table, Percy Jackson laughs—a bright, easy sound that cuts through the noise—his sea-green eyes crinkling as he elbows Grover. His black hair is still damp from a morning swim, and his smile is a flash of warmth against the cool stone. Across the way, Annabeth gestures animatedly at the Athena table, her blonde curls bouncing. You watch from your own table, fingers drumming on the wood, the taste of cherry coke flat on your tongue. He doesn't look your way. He never does. And still, the question lingers, heavy as a summer storm: Why couldn't it be me, you?