Chapter Text
The knock on the door wasn’t unexpected.
Jason had been waiting for it.
Ever since his resignation lit up every screen in the country—every headline blaring shock, every commentator speculating madness or scandal—he knew this wasn’t something Percy could ignore.
He just hadn’t expected him so soon.
It was past midnight. Rain tapped gently against the windows, steady as breath. Jason didn’t move when the knock came again—calm, even.
Then the door creaked open.
He hadn’t locked it.
Percy stepped inside, soaked from the rain, his black button-down clinging to his arms, water dripping from the ends of his dark curls. He looked… the same. Unruffled. Impossibly composed.
But his eyes—gods, his eyes—held something Jason hadn’t seen in years.
Urgency. Desperation. That terrible, fragile look Percy used to wear only when he was afraid of losing something he couldn’t name.
Jason didn’t speak.
Neither did Percy.
The silence between them stretched like a battlefield full of ghosts—old wounds left to rot, unburied and aching.
Finally, Percy closed the door behind him. Took one slow step forward.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he said, voice soft, uncertain.
Jason didn’t look at him. “Yes. I did.”
“You didn’t even tell me.”
“I didn’t think you’d care.”
Percy flinched like the words struck him. But he didn’t stop. He crossed the room in a few measured steps, closer now. His voice dropped, gentler.
“I do care. You know I do.”
Jason’s laugh was low and bitter. “No,” he said, without blinking. “I don’t.”
Percy stared at him. “Jason—”
“Don’t.” Jason’s voice cracked. “Don’t say my name like that. Like it still means something to you.”
Percy’s lips parted, then closed.
Jason looked hollow, eyes red but dry. “You don’t get to be here now. Not after five years of silence. Not after all the lives that’ve been lost just so you could keep pretending you’re untouchable.”
“You think I wanted this?” Percy’s voice sharpened, splintered around the edges. “You think I chose it over you?”
“No.” Jason’s gaze finally met his. Unflinching. “I think you chose it over yourself. That’s worse.”
Percy inhaled, slow and tight.
Then, after a pause: “I didn’t come here to fight.”
Jason’s throat worked. “Then why are you here?”
Percy hesitated. “Because I saw the news. Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Because part of me thought…” He swallowed. “Maybe this was for us.”
Jason looked away.
“Say something,” Percy whispered.
Jason closed his eyes. Then, in a voice so tired it scraped the air:
“Leave me alone, Percy.”
The room stilled. Percy’s breath caught.
“I can’t do this again,” Jason said, quieter now. “I can’t want you. I can’t hate you. I can’t keep surviving both.”
Percy stood frozen. And for the first time in a long time, the walls around him cracked. His hands trembled at his sides.
But he didn’t beg.
He didn’t reach out.
He just nodded. Once. Sharp and final.
Like a man accepting execution.
And then he left.
The door shut behind him with a soft click.
Jason sat down on the edge of the couch.
His hands shook.
He didn’t cry.
He just breathed—slow, steady, empty.
And tried to believe that this was mercy.