Sunburn- phoebus apollo

--viii. your on your own, kid

RHEA JACKSON

A few weeks before the end, Rhea was sprawled out on the Aphrodite cabin floor, watching as Silena painted her nails and listening to some indie band Apollo had recommended to her several days previous. At the time, everything was fine, and nothing hurt.

Except—

"You have something on your mind," Silena said. She didn't look up from the pink polish on her fingers, because she knew Rhea didn't like making eye contact when they started talking about serious things.

It was really considerate of her, so Rhea decided to be truthful.

"I think I'm in too deep with Apollo," she finally admitted out loud, her fingers absentmindedly petting Silena's purple throw rug. "I think I'm..."

She didn't finish, but there weren't very many ways that sentence could have ended, and she could tell Silena got the gist, because instead of answering verbally, she merely glanced up and gave her a 'duh' sort of look, which Rhea didn't appreciate.

"Tell me about it," Silena prompted, her voice kind and nonintrusive. "Whatever you want to say, I'll listen. It might do you some good."

Maybe. But Rhea didn't know how to articulate anything she was feeling when everything she was feeling had become so disastrous there were no words for them.

Because see—Rhea hadn't meant to become attached. She'd never really considered it a realistic possibility, because what were the odds of her actually getting a happy ending? Surpassing all of Apollo's former love affairs? She'd thought the chances were small.

But then she'd actually met the god, and the connection had snapped into place immediately. She'd seen him smile, and that was the end of her. In the back of her mind, she could still see Cassandra, dying because of Apollo's selfishness; Daphne, dying because of Apollo's lovesickness; and Hyacinthus, dying because of Apollo's pride. All of those visions were still there, lingering like a scab that wouldn't peel off, but the worst parts of Apollo's sins were overshadowed by the days he and Rhea would lounge around in her bed, humming love songs and counting the stars on her ceiling. They were overshadowed by their diner dates after sunset, their walks by the river. Apollo's guitar under her bed, his car rides through the sky. Nights where he would take her out somewhere quiet, because he knew her dreams were too loud. Mornings where he would knock on her front door, hugging her so tight like he feared she'd disappear. Like he feared she'd never open the door again.

Sometimes, when it was just the two of them, lying side by side in the moonlight, Rhea's mind would swirl with the possibilities of them; of their future life. A time when they could finally be together in peace; when they could finally stop fearing a tragedy. Maybe they would go somewhere nicer, where the world still sucked but humanity was kinder. Maybe they'd ride the subway together, sharing earbuds that crooned out the latest pop song. Maybe they'd hold hands down the street, laughing about something stupid. Maybe they'd be that annoying couple that all of their friends were jealous of, knowing that they were a forever kind of thing, and nothing would ever threaten that.

But those were scenarios that played out in gentler worlds, and those worlds didn't exist.

"I think he might kill me one day," Rhea said. Maybe it wouldn't be on purpose, but perhaps intention didn't matter when the end result was always still the same.

Because she saw Apollo's worst tragedies in her dreams, and she wondered if he ever thought about all of the dead things he left behind.

"That's not always a bad thing," Silena replied. "There are worse things than death. But I don't think you need to worry about that, Rhea—out of everyone he's ever loved, Apollo loves you best. You saw all of the scariest parts of him first, and you chose to stay with him, anyway."