Hey guys so this is just an angsty Leo Valdez oneshot. It's based on the song Polaroid by Imagine Dragons. Super good song 10/10 recommend lol. Btw no Calypso. Leo never met Calypso in this. Alrighty, so with out further a due, here is the story! Like and comment what you think please! Feed back is good!

Disclaimer: I do not own anythingggg

I ran through the dark forest trying to find my way out. I knew the edge of the forest was somewhere nearby I just didn't know exactly where. I looked over to the right. The cold night air stung my lungs. I watched as my breath formed a tiny smoke cloud in the air. I started walking straight hoping I would find the road soon enough. I shivered against the bitter cold and realized I was an idiot. Nothing new, really. I lifted my hand up and lit it on fire.

Fire. Yes, you have fire tú idiota. (you idiot) I scolded myself in my head. The fire immediately sent warmth shooting down my arms. My pace quickened as the heat spread to my feet. I sighed in relief. I wanted to say I love fire but I guess I really couldn't. I mean, how many people had been hurt or killed by my flames? Any number above zero was too many and unfortunately, my number was way above zero.

As I walked on I heard the low rumbling noise of nearby cars. I gripped my backpack tight and walked towards the sound of cars racing by. I looked back towards the entrance of the forest thinking I would still see the camp but I was way too far into the forest. For a second a feeling of sadness rushed over me.

Maybe I should go back. Maybe I should try to work this out... I thought to myself. No. No, you can't. It's been too long. Too long since you've changed places. Too long since anyone has talked to you. When was the last time Jason even looked at you? I thought again to myself. The sad answer was that it had been too long to remember.

I had been there for too long already. I wasn't needed anymore. I had no one to go to, no one who really wanted me around. Percy had Annabeth, Frank had Hazel, and Jason had Piper. They were all complete. They had what they really wanted in life; each other. Did they need the lonely, sarcastic repair boy around? No, they didn't. They hadn't needed me around for a while and whenever they did need me it was to fix something. That's all it was. That's all I was, a tool.

Whenever I tried talk to them they would simply shrug me off or say they had somewhere to be, something to do. I asked Jason to hang out all the time- nothing. So I would ask Piper- nothing. Then I'd ask Hazel- still nothing. Frank- guess what? Nothing. I'd ask the other sass master, Percy, and- surprise!- nothing. And forget even asking Annabeth. If I ever tried she shooed me off with just a look. The fact was, no one wanted to hang out with a lowly mechanic. All I ever did was seem to get in the way.

"Sorry, sword fighting lessons," Jason would say. "Sorry, hanging out with Jason," Piper would say. "Sorry, I have classes," Hazel would say. And the list went on. Every one of them with a different excuse. I had stayed too long already. It was obvious they didn't want me around. I was too needy, too sarcastic, too annoying, too hyper. I came on too strong.

It was time for me to go. I've always been on the run, that seemed to be what I did best. "Run from the pain," and all. I couldn't stop now. Had I really thought that I was going to be able to find a home? Find somewhere I belong? I really am una idiota (an idiot). It's not like running away was anything new for me. I had done it before this was just one more time. I thought for a minute trying to count how many times I had run away. Six. That made this the seventh.

Seventh time.

Seventh Wheel.

Seventh home.

Seventh family.

Seventh place.

When will it stop? I knew the answer to that was probably never.

I wasn't completely sure where I was going but I figured anywhere was better than here. I had packed my backpack with stuff I thought would be necessary; another pair of clothes, some food for a couple weeks, some money, and photos of lost loved ones I had carried with me through the years. I was great at loosing what I had, hurting what I loved. So many innocent people, so many loved ones, all dead or hurt in some way because of me. I now carried all of their pictures with me as a reminder of what I've done, of how me and my fire is destructive.

I hadn't left anything behind. I mean, yeah I left clothes that I didn't need and other extra supplies but I hadn't left anything behind for them. I didn't leave a machine built by me, I didn't leave my favorite tool, I didn't leave a note explaining my decision or where I was going. I simply left. I packed up my things, made my bed, and left in the dead silence of night.

You're such a let down, my thoughts rang. I was slightly startled at the aggressiveness of the thought but it was true. They had thought I was better, they expected me to be better, everyone did.

It was best that I leave. There were only two things anyone ever wanted me to do anymore:

1. Fix things

2. Shut up and sit down

Let's face it, I was pretty crazy. I was way too hyper all the time. My ADHD was worse than all of theirs combined. I don't blame them for not wanting to deal with me. I wouldn't want to deal with me either. So, it was time for me to leave again. Just one more time. One more start over. I can't slow down now.

As I neared the street I quickly stopped and pulled a picture out of my bag and looked at it. It was a picture of all of us sitting at a table the day we came back from saving the world. I was seated next to Jason and Percy, actually in the group. Jason had his arm slung around me friendly and him and Piper were laughing at whatever I had said. I stared at the picture yearningly. I wish I could go back to that day, back to when they actually liked me, and wanted to talk to me. Back to when I was their friend. Over the past couple months they had pushed me away, I seemed to no longer be a friend.

I walked across the street, dodging the cars as they speeded by. I had to be careful, it's not like they were looking for a scrawny little boy crossing the street. Or maybe I shouldn't be careful. My mind wondered thoughtfully. Maybe I could just... No. No, don't think like that. I scolded myself shaking my head trying to rid those thoughts. I did not go through all that for nothing. Or did I? What did I go through all of that for? What did I even do? Was I even helpful to the team? Did I even do anything that important?

A car honking brought me out of my thoughts. I quickly jumped to the side of the road to avoid being mashed potatoes. I walked on, at first through the tall, dewy grass and then on cracked cement. I finally reached a couple of streets and ducked into an alley way.

"What are you doing, Leo? What on earth are you doing?" I asked myself out loud. "You ran away, as if that's going to fix anything. What are you going to do? Where are you going to go? There's absolutely nothing out there for you. Do you even have a plan?" I asked my self exasperated. I groaned. "Great, now I'm talking to myself. That's the first sign of crazy." I shrugged. I had a feeling I would be by myself for a while, might as well get used to myself and actually start really liking me. What better way then some friendly chit-chat?

I looked up at the pitch black sky with nothing but a couple of stars, not even the moon was out tonight. It had to be about midnight by now. I walked slowly along the alleys. I slumped down and pulled up my hoody against the chilly wind. I was getting tired but I wasn't sure if I was getting tired of walking or just not being needed. I walked lazily across the cracked road, spotted with puddles. I didn't care what happened to me at this point. I yawned. Maybe I should take a break, find somewhere to rest for the night.

I looked across the roads tying to find somewhere that would be good to sleep. I found myself wondering why I hadn't yelled at them yet, why I hadn't cried or screamed yet. I was mad, right? Disappointed? Upset that my only friends didn't want me anymore? So then why didn't I act like it?

Maybe it was because I was used to it. Used to being left alone, used to not being wanted, used to being the odd one out, the seventh wheel. Used to loosing the people that I loved. I thought about my mom. She was the first loved one I had lost. Her death had started my running, started my loneliness, the bitterness.

I sat down against a broken brick wall. I was tired of walking, I just wanted to relax for a minute. My mind wouldn't leave me alone. I grabbed my backpack and unzipped it. I dug around and finally found what I was looking for; a picture of mi mama. I stared down at the picture sadly. I missed her so much. I missed her more than anyone else, more than anything else. I knew I would never miss someone as much as I missed her. I would do anything to have her back with me at this point. I wanted her here with me, next to me, leading the way. I wanted to run back into her arms and hug her tight. I wanted to have her to go back home to. It's hard loosing someone you love that much. I thought back to the last night I had seen her, the last time I had hugged her. I missed her embrace. I missed her smell of oil. I missed the way her long, dark hair fell gently down her back while she worked in the workshop.

I looked back down at the picture. A small drop of water fell onto her hair, staining the picture. I looked up at the sky. Clouds had moved inwards, I hadn't even noticed. They loomed over me, big and grey. It was a prefect metaphor for my life, too bad I wasn't into that kind of stuff. I could have made some real poetry there. Another drop landed on my face and I wiped it away. I quickly stuffed the photo of my mom back into my bag. It was one of my last photos of her, I didn't want it to get ruined. I looked around but there didn't seem to be much shelter. I was pretty okay with that. Maybe a rainstorm is what I needed. A nice downpour to subdue the feelings; put out the fire.

I sat there clenching my bag as it started to rain harder. The rain fell diagonally in giant drops. If I hadn't known any better, I would've thought a hurricane was coming. I simply sat there letting the rain seep through my clothes. I was probably going to get extremely sick from this but I didn't care. The cold rain felt nice against my hot body. Lately I had felt like I was in fire all the time. As if I was about to spontaneously combust at any second. Just explode and burn up everything with me. But it never happened. No matter how mad I got I never exploded. I never yelled or talked or explained my feelings. It was mostly because I didn't really know how to. Maybe if I would have talked it would have just been fixed...

No. I had tried that once before and it got me nowhere. I had tried everything known to man. At first I tried hinting at it. Then I tried opening up about it. Then I tried making it blatantly obvious. Finally, I tried talking about it. Nothing worked. They either shrugged it off or didn't let me finish talking, claiming that they had somewhere else to be. I was just tired of it. So I did what I always do, I ran.

I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. The rain continued falling in a heaver downpour. Soon enough I found myself sleeping soundly. Was it strange that it was probably the best sleep on my life? That's when you know things are going bad; when the best sleep is when you are sitting in a dark alley way, leaning up against a rotting wall in the pouring rain.

I eventually woke up shivering. It was winter out and I was soaking wet. Sleeping in the rain was easily the worst idea of my life, I didn't regret it though. I slowly moved my body. My joints ached and felt cold straight down to the core. Even though it was a good sleep, my body still hurt. I had a huge creek in my neck and my foot had fallen asleep. I slowly stood up and wobbly swung my book bag over my shoulder. I hobbled on down the street, my hair pressed wetly against my forehead. I knew I could've simply set myself on fire, dry myself up, but I refused to. I was not going to use my fire, never again. It had hurt too many people. My fire was a curse, not a blessing. It wasn't a "gift" it was a nightmare. A fiery nightmare that hurt my friends and killed my mom. As long as I was still breathing, I had no intentions of using my fire again.

So I walked on letting the cold take over my body. I sneezed and coughed as I walked and I knew I was in for a long couple of weeks. I finally had to stop and sit down. My legs felt weaker than before and my lungs ached. I sat on a small ledge and sighed. I looked up at the sun which was starting to make its way out from behind the trees.

I reached into my backpack and grabbed out a granola bar. As I grabbed it I felt my hand hit something else. I pulled it out of the bag and looked at it. It was the same picture of all of us at the table after saving the world laughing and eating happily. I stared at the photo sadly. There was no going back to those days. They were already long gone. Who knew if they had even realized that I was gone. They probably thought I was at bunker 9 fixing some machine, not sitting on a ledge out in the streets shivering and possibly dying of pneumonia. I sneezed into my sleeve. The sun was now burning brightly in front of me.

I looked back down at the photo and realized that there was no point in even keeping it. Sure they were my friends and people that I had loved and left behind but they also hurt me. Hurt me in ways they didn't even know. Looking back at this photo made me sad, angry, disappointed. It made me miss what I had but I knew that I would never have it again, even if I was still at camp. The sad fact was that they just didn't care about me. That was that. Nothing I could do about it.

I looked at the sun, squinting my eyes. How had it even come to this? The photo was nothing but a lie now. At one point the photo might have been true but not now, not anymore. I stared at the photo and decided to use my fire for the last time.

I lit my hand on fire and placed the tiny flame on the bottom corner of the picture. I sat there calmly staring at the photo as it burned away. I watched as it turned to ash and followed the dust to the floor. Soon enough the flames had engulfed the entire photo until it was reduced to nothing but some burnt crisps.

I stopped the fire burning in my hand and let go of the left over ashes, spreading them across the ground. I slowly stood up from the ledge and walked on, the sun slowly warming my body.

Let's face it, love sucks. It's nothing but a lie and just hurts you in every possible way. That picture, that polaroid, was nothing but a dream. A wish and hope that things would be fixed and get better but the harsh reality was that wouldn't. There was nothing else to it.

I looked out at the long winding road ahead of me. Today would be the first of many days to come. It was time for me to start all over. Start a new life again, become a new person. Maybe I could be someone I actually like. Someone who is genuinely happy and just loves life, loves what they're doing. It was a long shot but I still had hope.

I looked at the cobbled road bathed in orange light from the sun and the truth dawned on me. This is what I am. This is my life. I'm meant to be alone. I'm meant to run. I'm a lone red rover.