Loverboy (PERCABETH AU)

Chapter 31

Percy POV

The apartment felt too quiet, like the walls themselves were holding their breath. The hum of the refrigerator, the occasional car outside, even the faint creak of the radiator sounded amplified, like they were pressing against my ears. I slouched deeper into the couch, hoodie pulled up, fingers intertwined, staring at the ceiling. My chest felt hollow. Not empty like nothing existed, but empty like something vital had been ripped out, leaving me suspended, weightless, lost.

The door clicked, and I barely glanced up. Piper stepped in first, Jason right behind her. I didn't move. Didn't acknowledge them. I wasn't sure I even wanted to be acknowledged.

"Percy," Piper said softly, her voice careful, almost like she didn't want to startle me. She didn't wait for an invitation, just came into my space, her presence gentle but deliberate.

Jason leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, silent but observant. "Hey," he said quietly. "We figured we'd check on you. You've been holed up in here all morning."

"Mm," I muttered, barely audible. My voice sounded foreign to me—flat, hollow, detached.

Piper lowered herself onto the couch beside me, careful not to crowd me. "We were there yesterday," she said, softly. "We saw what happened. We know."

I stared at my hands. I didn't even want to speak. "Yeah..." My words caught somewhere in my throat, tight, heavy. That was all I could manage.

Jason moved to the armchair across from me, folding his hands over his knees. He didn't lecture me, didn't push. He just... stayed. "You don't have to say anything," he said. "Just... let us be here."

I nodded faintly. Nothing felt real. My chest burned, but not in a normal, painful way. It was hollow. Detached. The apartment's warmth didn't reach me, the sunlight spilling across the floor didn't touch me. I could see it, feel it, but it didn't exist in my world.

Piper nudged a granola bar toward me. "Eat. Just a little. For now."

I tore the wrapper with shaking fingers. Chewing mechanically, I realized I didn't taste it. I didn't want to taste anything. I didn't want to feel anything, but the ache in my chest was relentless anyway. The apartment felt smaller, tighter, even though the space hadn't changed.

Jason leaned forward, voice measured, like he was speaking through glass. "Percy... you've been... like this all morning. We saw yesterday. You don't have to bottle it up."

I shook my head faintly. "I don't even know what I'm feeling," I admitted. "It's... weird. It's not sadness. It's not anger. It's not even regret. Just... empty. Detached. Like I'm watching my life happen from the outside, and I can't touch it, can't change it, can't be in it."

Piper reached over, brushing her hand lightly against mine. "That's... normal," she said. "Heartbreak doesn't always make sense. Sometimes it's just this hollow... space. But you'll figure it out. And we'll be here while you do."

I nodded slightly, the smallest movement. Their words didn't reach the emptiness inside me. They couldn't. The hollow pit left behind didn't have a shape, didn't have a name. I thought about Annabeth. About the way she had looked at me yesterday, the words she'd said, the way she had left. That look in her eyes... sharp, raw, impossible to ignore. And I didn't understand why it had hurt so much—or why the hurt felt endless, unyielding, impossible to push away.

Jason leaned back slightly in the chair, exhaling slowly. "You don't have to pretend it's okay. You don't have to make it okay for anyone. Just... let it be what it is."

I stared at the ceiling again. The sunlight had moved across the apartment, shadows stretching and folding into the corners, but I didn't notice. I barely noticed the sound of their breathing. Everything felt filtered, muted, as if the world had turned down its volume and left me in the middle of a room no one else could see.