Heroes of Olympus One Shots and Imagines.

The Dreams Pt.1

Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes of Olympus. I also do not own C.S.Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia.

    "A newbie!" Everyone in the orphanage ran to the window and crowded around it, all craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the new orphan.
    I waited on my bunk with a book. Whoever it is will just be a blubbering mess, full of self pity. Call me unfeeling and cold, but it's impossible for me to feel empathy since I'd never known my parents.
    "This is your room. Y/N, this boy, Leo Valdez, is going to share you're bunk bed, okay, honey?" I didn't look up from my book, just nodded. What the heck was the person who ran this orphanage thinking? Sure, she's a really nice person, but why would you make a girl and a boy share a bunk bed? That's just wrong, even though we're still young.
    I stood up and inserted the bookmark in the place I left off. "Don't expect me to show you any pity." I walked past the boy. He was older than me, two years at the most, and a bit short for his age. "And, one more thing: I get top bunk."
    I left the boy, Leo, alone in the room to cry over his loss, but as I left, I didn't hear any weeping. Only a murmur, "I'm sorry, Mama...I'm sorry, Mama...I'm sorry, Mama..."
    Leo was quiet during dinner. He was eating the spaghetti in one hand, but the other was sketching and designing something on a piece of paper. His eyes were clear and his face was dry with no indication he'd been crying. Maybe I had underestimated and stereotyped him.
    I'd glance at him every few seconds to see if he'd break down, but every time he looked back at me, I'd shove my face in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, occasionally taking a small bite here and there from a dinner roll dipped in olive oil.
    "Time for bed, dearies," the one who ran the orphanage clapped her hands and shooed us all to our bedrooms.
    I climbed the ladder to the top bunk and slid in, flashlight and book in hand. Leo climbed in his bunk as well, taking his own flashlight, pencil, and paper.
    A few hours later, all the other boys and girls in the room had fell asleep. All except for Leo and me, pencils scratching and pages turning every few minutes.
    Finally, I got to the part where Aslan died. It was late and I was emotional. Just this once, I allowed myself to weep over someone. Someone who I'd grown close to, who represented hope, someone who was fictional, of course. I don't think I could ever get close to someone just to have them ripped away from me.
    I didn't realize I'd been crying until someone ripped off my blankets that I'd pulled over my head and asked, "Are you okay?"
    I peered at Leo. "Aslan died."
    "I'm sorry for your loss," Leo frowned, not knowing who Aslan was. 
    "It's fine," I dried my tears. "I don't cry usually. I'm sorry for your loss too."
    "It was my fault," Leo muttered. "I set the factory on fire. The fire that killed my mother. That's what the woman who looked like potty sludge said."
    He looked at me so sadly, that my heart ached for him. He climbed down the ladder, and, to both our surprise, I followed him.
    "Follow me," I commanded him. We brought our flashlights, book, and sketches with us. Then, we climbed the emergency stairwell to the roof of the orphanage.
"I come up here when I need it," I explained to him, sitting near the chimney tops. "What are you working on?"
    "In my dreams, I receive these visions of a really cool ship," Leo explained, his eyes alight with passion. "It's like a warship and it flies!"
    Leo showed me his sketches. They were pretty good for someone our age. "That sounds impossible. It's like making an Argo II."
    "But I think I can do it," Leo grinned at me. "I also think Argo II's an awesome name. I hope one day I can use it to escape this life."
    "I wish you could take me with you," I muttered.
    "You can count on that," Leo beamed at me.