ENTRAPPED ₂

19

ETHAN WAS SITTING ON MADELEINE'S COUCH. The windows outside were dark. The room was just as it had been the last time Ethan had been there, burned into his memory. The lights were off. A candle flickered on the coffee table.

Ethan was alone now, but before, he had had a book in his lap. Madeleine's nose had been pressed into the crook of his shoulder, her breathing soft and even. Their thighs had been pressed up against each other.

Ethan had pretended to be reading for a while, but eventually, he put the book down. He was a poor reader anyway, and he knew how much trust it took for someone like Madeleine to fall asleep against him.

He stroked her hair until he fell asleep, too. When he woke up, she was gone.

It had been their last night together. Ethan didn't think about it, because if he did, he got angry. When he had called Annabeth that day, her voice was frantic and tight with tears. She had been crying.

Ethan did not cry. Instead, he went to camp and he tore at buildings and broke his fingers on bricks until Lee and Drew restrained him. He put his head between his knees and screamed. He didn't even feel what he had done to himself until much later, when Lee was asleep on the cabin's floor, a wad of gauze still in his hand.

Drew looked at Ethan. Her face was streaked with tears. Ethan didn't know what to say to her. Nothing would make this better.

"Fuck," Drew murmured. The word was so broken. She was giving up. She pressed her nose to her knees and shook her head. "I can't lose another... I can't."

She sobbed. It was the first time Ethan had ever seen Drew sob like that. She hadn't even looked like that when Silena died.

He just stared at her until the sun rose in the sky.

It rained the next day. Ethan didn't often interact with the Olympians if he could avoid it, but he could feel the air buzzing with electricity.

The gods were angry. Ethan knew that much.

Well, he was angry, too.

⎯⎯ ୨ entrapped ୧ ⎯⎯

This time, Apollo was here. The book was discarded on the coffee table. Ethan watched as candle wax dripped onto the cover.

Apollo was gorgeous. He had feathery blonde hair cut into a mullet and sharp blue eyes. Earrings dangled from his ears, little suns. His posture was casual. His white shirt was unbuttoned, so Ethan could see his smooth stomach.

Ethan hated him.

Apollo drummed his fingers on the back of the couch. He was all energy. He shook his head ruefully at Ethan. "I really didn't ever think it would come to this, Nakamura."

Ethan just stared at him.

"Responsive, aren't you?" Apollo asked. "You know, I never liked you."

"Well, good to know," Ethan said coldly. "I never liked you either."

Apollo laughed, but it was a watered-down imitation of what it had been. "Jealous? I would be."

"No," Ethan said. "I'm not jealous. I just think Madeleine could have done better."

Apollo's eyes crinkled. "Yeah, well. Look in the mirror. Of course Madeleine could have done better. That's why she likes you. Her savior complex."

Ethan shook his head. "What do you want?"

"Godly power doesn't look very good on you," Apollo mused. His voice softened. "You really gonna bring her back?"

Ethan looked at Apollo. He finally understood why Madeleine liked him. It wasn't because he was pretty or charming. It was because he radiated centuries of grief. He was like a burial site, an open casket. He made Ethan's grief a small, acceptable thing.