I BEG YOU, READ THIS FIRST!

Warning: Characters are a bit OC (I didn't really have any particular characters in mind while writing this, it happens a lot now really.)

Heavily inspired by the song 'Terrible Things' by Mayday Parade

Word of Advice: As you go on, you may find the story confusing because no name will be mentioned beyond this notice. The idea of the story is to let you be the one to put roles on the character. Yes, you are free to choose which is which. However, on my own opinion, I prefer and I imagined Reyna as the plain her and Calypso as 'her'. Again, yes, there's a big difference on her and 'her', don't worry you will find out as you go on. Anyway, I preferred Reyna be the her because rather than being immortal and all, notice in HOO, there's more permanence on CaLeo as much as I hate to admit it (I'm an avid Leyna shipper… T-T). And let's face it, Calypso has more chance on being with Leo (though I'm still hoping!).

I suggest you listen to the song though (And while you're at it, keep a handkerchief nearby, not that I'm telling you that you'd be reduced to tears after it, no of course not. But just in case.) don't compare it to my story, Please, my story would look pathetic compared to the real one… and I did add a few thing to mine.

Reyna and Calypso aren't really the best of friends, far from it really, but for a moment lay that thought at the back of your mind and enjoy the story.

Figment of Reality

02/09/14

I was five years old when my mother called me to sit by her favorite spot near the garden on a warm breezy morning. It wasn't much of a surprise considering, she's been asking me to do the very same routine every morning for the past few weeks. She stroked my head lovingly with her dainty hands as she wistfully tells me how dearly she loves my father despite they way they act around each other.

I know.

I witnessed it.

I can see it everyday in her eyes.

We were peacefully soaking in the warmth of the sun when suddenly she paused, as if she was hit by a plethora of memories, I can clearly remember the way she smiled sadly as she gaze mournfully at the void in front of her. Then she began to tell a story-A story that I learned to love and hate all the same.

. . . . . . . . .

He was young then, innocent and foolish with the silly idea of true love to grasp on. It was so concrete and tangible and he was persistent to find it. Spoke of it in all hopes, relentlessly searched and patiently waited for it. It was really amusing at first-he made it so real and believable 'till it was too painful to watch him walk on a thread of a childish fantasy. It was a shame to disappoint him but someone has to tell him at some point. Sadly no one was courageous enough to walk up and tell him that life isn't a fairy tale, because he made love look so promising that people started to believe in it too.

She was only a little girl, yet stripped off with innocence and faced with the harsh reality of the world. She grew up knowing life is fleeting if not, love is just a concept of comfort people want to believe in. She amusedly watched him; it was all new in her eyes- refreshing and fascinating. He was something that kept her mind away from the nature of her condition. It was funny watching him getting baffled and tripping on his words, daydreaming and getting lost in his own world. And his eyes, oh those eyes, she love staring at those vibrant expressive eyes even if they're not directed at her, they were so full of hope and life, something she lacked and wished to have.

He met her when he found his love, she knew him from a far.

'Girl can I tell you a wonderful thing?' was his words when he first approached her. 'I'm deeply, truly and insanely in love with your 'best friend', I'd give everything to keep 'her' forever with me. Here's a present I made with paper and string, please pass it to 'her' with utmost care, its a very fragile thing.'

She watched them exchange furtive glances, slowly work on their courage to walk up and awkwardly approach each other. Carefully thread their relationship, until they were able to walk hand in hand down the aisles- oblivious to the chaos around them. They threw all cautions in the wind, and lived the moment while it lasts. Stayed up late under stars, freed themselves with what's holding them down. They were so in love and happy and she wished she could have it too. Oh God only knew what she would give to have it too, but the best she can do was to satisfy herself through painfully watching them from behind, unable to tear her eyes and trying her best to hold back. Her 'best friend' gushed on how sweet and charming he is - she can only listen agonizingly at every detail. Her 'best friend' didn't know she's the greatest witness of their unfolding story. 'One look from his eyes and you'll know he's smitten with me, oh but don't tell him I'm telling you this.' Was all her 'friend' could say to her. 'I wish we could always stay like this.' Then a sad expression donned 'her' angelic features. She can only sympathetically glance at 'her' as they contemplate on how to tell him 'she's' leaving. They both know everything will eventually come to an end. Every good thing goes.

Everything does.

Time came when her 'best friend' has to go. She witnessed them declare 'its over', but she knew it was far from being over. They reluctantly parted. Bit by bit they light in his eyes began to waver. The illusion of love began to falter and reality started to come together.

Teary-eyed her 'friend' pressed a letter into her hand, begging her to give it to him.

He was given the choice to go after 'her'; he was free to chase 'her'.

They never did.

He let 'her' go while he stayed behind. She found out she's getting worse.

News came, the ship 'she's' in sank. He never heard from 'her'. He assumed the worst.

The letter was only found a few years later.

She never told him her 'friend' lived.

. . . . . . . . .

It was a typical story, it happens everyday, but of course I only realized this later in my life. I can hardly understand this at a young age of five. Remorsefully, my mother looked me in the eye and told me gravely if there be a 'woman' that my father would look at dearly, like the way she look at him adoringly, I should let them be for they deserve to finally live in bliss. It was a silly thought and I wanted to tell her badly. Why would father look at other 'woman' when he has my mother? Nonetheless I nodded my head obediently, not wanting to upset her specially when she has been looking so frail.

A few months after my mother told me the story, she disappeared. No one talked about her until one day my father received an urgent and mysterious call. He came home that night with tears brimming his eyes, he held me tight and silently sobbed. I let him hold me but I was too afraid to ask why, for I too, was afraid to hear the answer.

Even then he didn't mention her name, never heard of him spoke her name again, at least not consciously. I only heard her name escape his lips once, when he exhausted his self and fell into a deep slumber, he whispered it, I barely heard it myself.

After that, anything associated with her were kept away. She never came home, I didn't know where to find her, I never saw her again, I never knew why. I wanted to blame someone. I have to blame someone somehow, I couldn't understand and I refuse to listen. Mother loves us too much to leave us, or did she? I tried to seek answers from my father but he just brushes me off. He just told me that 'people come and go' and 'just get-over it', then he began to act indifferent around me, I don't think he got over her too.

I only began to understand, or so I'd like to think, a year after that when he came home with a pretty woman in his arms. I recognized her from a long forgotten memory, however he introduced her as his true love. I saw a chance to blame someone, and I desperately grasped it and clung my dear life with it. 'My mother left because my father doesn't love her anymore' that's what I've always though and kept in mind. It was sad. The picture perfect relationship of my parents began to crumble to pieces. And I was pained even more when I realized that he seemed to be happier and more content around this new woman than when he was with my mother, even though there's obviously something that's holding them back.

I refused to acknowledge my 'new mom' and I tried my hardest for her to dislike me, in my eyes she will never be my mother. But she never did. I forgot the words of my mother and the promise I've sworn to her.

There was a big rift in my relationship with my father; I can't find it in my heart to forgive him. It felt terrible.

I was eighteen and a day away from moving to my college dorm when my father took me for a drink. He was a bit tipsy when he started talking and I don't think his words registers in his mind anymore, I don't think he will even remember this when dawn breaks tomorrow, but I let him speak, the urgency and desperation was heavily evident on his voice and on each word that managed to escape his slurring lips. I let him spill years of pent up emotions while biting my tongue, maybe if I hear him out, I'll finally understand his choices.

"By time I was your age I met the girl of my dreams. I did everything for true love to win. She was the greatest thing to ever happen to me, but life can play the most terrible game. She was whisked away from my side then came a new one. I learned to accept her but she's not the one. I'm sure your mother told this story one too many time. My son I was that young man, the very foolish one, I was the one in your mother's story. I was the one you pitied and hated all the same.

We were young and thoughtless. Naïve and selfish, we didn't realize love is a story beyond comparison. Never did we ask ourselves, 'what makes our story so special for fate and destiny to spare us? For time to turn a blind eye on us? For love to consider its worth?' We ignored the warning bells and the blaring lights; it was a reckless thing to do and we paid the price.

I know it's unfair on your mother's part. She loved me dearly until she fell apart. But she's a victim as much as we are. There's only one game master and the world is our spectator, they can always walk away or watch our agony, but it's a game we have to play and we can't leave it anyway.

I'm sorry my son its only now that I'm telling you this, but I'd rather be late than to never give you a warning. Perhaps I can't just find the right words to say. Perhaps I'm just too afraid to admit that I never loved your mother as much as I love my first love. And when I did start to value her she was abruptly taken from me. But please hear me out, your mother painted the idea of love so perfectly in your eyes, just the way I saw it so long ago. Yes, it's the most wonderful thing to ever happen, but learn it from me-it's devastating once the veil is pulled away. If love came your way don't get too close and if you must, walk away. Don't give all you have so when you grow apart, you won't lose everything..."

. . . . . . . . .

He blamed his self for what happened.

She was torn between their happiness and hers.

They tried to go on with life with their views being brokenly reversed.

In the end he settled for the poor choice that was, her. With her numbered days, she blindly accepted whatever scrap of attention he can toss her way, desperate for a taste of love and happiness. It wasn't much, but it's the most she can get and she convinced herself to be perfectly content with this.

He never got over his first love; he was never the same.

She struggled to keep things together; making herself believe this is what she wanted.

They both knew she's not what he truly wants; in his eyes she'll always be the careful messenger, handing his intricately woven words to her best friend. Nonetheless they tried to make it work only to have their fragile relationship shatter a few years later.

In a twisted way of life, they met again. He found his first love once more when he lost her whilst shopping for the perfect anniversary gift. Sadly their vows didn't get in her husband and friend's way. Their relationship, even the one with her friend's, was broken beyond repair.

She knew it was selfish of her and in the end she realized she never was and never did became happy. Slowly she recoiled back to her old self, gradually letting go of him. She was no more than a mere spectator once more, watching from behind, wishing it was her instead. Knowing her time is fast slipping away-she pled her husband to keep the façade for the sake of their child. So for a few months they kept things up until she completely walked out of their life.

He never realized her sacrifice for him, only realized her worth when she run away. He refused to acknowledge whatever feelings she stirred in him without knowing she has always been slipping away from his grasp.

She never told him the reason why she fled away.

He only found out when it was too late.

. . . . . . . . .

"Don't fall in love, even if it's the last thing you'd do. Life can be cruel and unforgiving. Look at the three of us, and what a mess we've become. Ridden by guilt and clouded with 'what ifs'-We can never be happy and I can't bear to see you live like this. There's too much to risk and too many cons to face. Don't indulge yourself too much and don't follow the choices I've made. One day you'll learn the truth behind the words I say.

I can only hope and pray that God will show you differently, because life can do terrible things."

. . . . . . . . .

He never admitted nor told her the words she desperately wanted to hear.

She faced death in a cold, and empty hospital room alone.

Tears were the only things that managed to express his anguish when he saw her.

She never heard him repeatedly say those words of love nor felt his warm touch as he clung to her lifeless shell.

He never managed to be entirely happy once more, not even when he had his true love safely tucked in his arms.

She never knew she already seized a part of his heart.

:( PJO and Terrible Things are too good to be mine.

Just a random one-shot I wanted to write badly after three weeks of listening to the same song over and over again, and building mountains of pent-up emotions. I suggest you listen to the song though don't compare it to my story. Please, my story would look pathetic compared to the real one...

By the way, as I've said earlier, I didn't have any characters in mind when I wrote this. So if you think the story is better suited to another couple/s or set of people even in other fandom, let me know, I might consider it.

Please tell me if you have suggestions please or if you see an error, if you plainly want to say 'I hate/love/like/dislike your story', if you want to correct me or if you want to tell me that I don't make any sense at all you are free to do so. I accept criticism and I appreciate criticism very much, I'm open for improvements to give you a better result so please speak out. Questions, comments, violent reactions, ideas, thoughts, suggestions, reviews are gladly welcomed, just leave them here.

So that concludes it all, I hope you'll continue reading my stories. Good day/night! n_n