Who the hell thought making me a Half-blood was a good idea? {ON HOLD}

Act Two- Fragile glass and brittle clay.

Disclaimer: The world of Percy Jackson, its characters and settings are the copyrighted works of Rick Riordan and his publishing companies and affiliates. No profit was made from the writing of this story nor was any malice intended in any way, shape or form to the author or the actors/actresses who so brilliantly have brought them to life.This author is not responsible for underage readers. Please observe the ratings, warnings, and age of legal consent for your country.

Trigger Warning for Dissociation and Depression

Somehow, I get released from the infirmary only 24 hours after I enter it.

Everyone believes that the hellhound was just a freak accident. Clarisse and her siblings don't even remember what happened, and I'm still unclaimed. I've truly destroyed Canon by now- even Fanon is six feet under.

I have no idea what to do. I have to get a quest, but I can't get a quest unless I'm claimed, and I won't get claimed unless I use my powers. It's like an ethical problem: stop World War 3 by sacrificing any chance at normal happiness or keep your happiness, safety, and personal relationships by letting the world burn. Thing is, I've always been terrible at ethics because my morals are absolutely all over the place.

On the day after getting released from the infirmary, I stick close to Luke.

He hovers, fretting over me like I'm a fragile piece of glass and he is the only thing that can stop me from breaking. I stick close to him right back because I'm the only one who sees that he is brittle clay and I'm the sun who overbaked him. Guilt and worry seem to be our twin masks nowadays.

His face shutters whenever he looks at me; the smile turns plastic, the pride in his eyes turns to guilt, and the almost healthy glow from his peaceful nights has become pale with the bags under his eyes darkening. I know he's the one who summoned the hellhound. Now? Now I know he regrets it.

It's a blaring flag that announces that I've made progress in manipulating converting Luke onto my side, yet the sight of it makes me sick to my stomach. The first time I brought up the gods, Luke had shut down as if his normal 'wallowing in self-pity' had turned to 'drowning in liquid guilt.' I ended up being dragged back to the infirmary after throwing up my breakfast. I did this. I hurt him. He might have hurt so many people, but this is my fucking fucking soulmate and yet I'm purposely worrying and hurting him.

I think I understand why so many people claimed you could never hurt your soulmate; we're both self-destructing from simply unintentionally hurting each other. I don't want to know if reality would only make everything worse.

-

In the end, I make a decision.

I need the quest to happen. I don't think I can live with myself otherwise.

I asked Luke to go and meet me by the lake before dinner. The wait for him to arrive was agony; the scalding tears that fell in the cold lake, the fear making my heart pound, the dull ache in my head, the broken, sharp shards I recognise as my heartbreaking- I was paralyzed and shattering into the wind.

He finds me sniffling, sobbing into my knees as if my entire world was crashing down somehow. It was. I am twenty and twelve, and I feel far too young to bear the weight of so many lives. So many lives for the silly little price of my heart and soul. Humanity is selfish, but I cannot be. I must not be.

"Percy?" he asked, kneeling next to me. "What's wrong?"

I sob harder. 'I'm so SORRY!' I wanted to scream at him. But I couldn't- not if I wanted to save him.

"I'm scared," I admit, and it is not a lie.

"Shhh," he soothes, drawing me into a hug. "Nothing will hurt you, I promise. I won't let the monsters get you."