His Return

16. Personal Space

November 5th
Long Island, U.S.A
Camp Half Blood
House of Perseus
11:40 PM

1 week later

A sight Nyx thought that she would never see.

Perseus sat at the dining room table of their house with a stack of papers and a pen, reading glasses affixed on the bridge of his nose as he filled information onto the documents in front of him.

She knew that he only worked so hard to avoid contact and conversation with her, because honestly, he barely gave a flying fuck about the demigods. What she said to him a week before in the pavilion had obviously angered him, but from that point, things only got worst.

He hadn't been intimate in any way with her since the incident. He refused to sleep on the same bed as her and the last time he touched her was when she bumped into his chest in the kitchen some days before. She would try talking to him, but it proved to be hopeless as he ignored her words and apologies. Nyx knew that if she didn't do something soon, he would make a decision that would shatter her heart forever.

She walked to the table and stood at the chair to the left of him. She placed her coffee mug onto the wooden surface and glanced at her husband.

"Perseus."

He lifted his head and looked at her, his expression boldly aggravated.

"Can we talk?"

He returned his attention again to his papers and resumed writing, sending a clear message that he did not want to speak with her.

She could feel their relationship slipping away from right under her as he refused to converse with her, but she would not let him go so easily. He was hers and she was his. And that was the way she always wanted it to be.

She outstretched a hand and lifted his chin up to face her, using the other hand to remove the pen out of his grasp.

He attempted to shrug her off, but she only tightened herself around him.

"I asked you if we could talk."

This time, he abandoned being being gentle and ripped his hand out of her grasp, making her groan.

"And I made it clear that I am busy."

He retorted to her through gritted teeth, his voice holding finality. For the first time in years, Perseus could feel something that he hadn't since he was still claimed as a son of Poseidon.

The familiar yet foreign feeling of the tugging in the pit of his stomach made itself acquainted with him once more, the waterlines throughout the house rustling with the pressure.

"You are always busy. You always seem to be working, but I am not stupid, Perseus."
"You do not care about the demigods. You only work so hard to occupy yourself so you don't have to talk to me, and I get it. I get that you haven't forgiven me for what I said, but at least can we sit down and discuss this as adults?"

As she spoke, Perseus found the sensation to break something unbearable. He felt his control over himself slipping. He could feel the shadows in the dimly lit room gathering around his feet and hands, threatening to release itself upon the primordial of Night. But alas, he knew he could never allow his power to hurt his wife, even upon him not being on the best terms with her. He had made a promise to himself since he was twelve years old, that he wouldn't ever be like Gabe. He would never let himself become so careless. So blinded by anger that he would put his hands on a woman, whether purposely or unintentional.

So when he slowly removed his glasses and placed it onto the counter, she understood exactly why he refused to talk with her. It was because he was not yet ready to confront her about the topic, but now, it was far too late for turning back. She provoked and forced him into the conversation, and now she was going to have to deal with whatever it is that he was going to say to her.