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Percy can hear Piper breathing softly beside him. His bed, usually so large and encompassing, feels small. One extra body and suddenly he's in a coffin instead of a king.
He almost thinks his... friend has fallen asleep and he can get up and escape to the lounge. But then she turns over and her brown eyes blink up at him. She is so achingly beautiful. He wants to flinch.
"I'm sorry," She sighs. The words are quiet in the stillness of midnight. But they ring as loud as church bells in his ear.
"Don’t." He strangles out. "I don't think I can bear it if you say you regret this."
"I don't." There's vehemence backing her vocal chords. He doesn't know if it's for or against him. He hates that he's unsure.
"I don't regret this Percy I just—" She cuts herself off. Takes a shaky breath. Again. "I just don't hold people close."
There's something worse than vehemence in her voice. Indifference.
"It makes it easier for them to hurt you."
He should keep his mouth shut. He's never been good at that. "You ever think that you're hurting others by doing this?" The swipe of his hand between their chests is enough to sever the invisible string connecting them. And more than enough to pierce the thinly veiled fear that keeps her at bay. She does flinch.
He turns over with a sigh and closes his eyes. She doesn't say anything.
He knows she'll be gone in the morning. She doesn't even wait till he falls asleep before her footsteps echo away from him.
He shouldn't be hurt. His heart squeezes like python murder. He knows the back of her better than the front. Gone. Again.