Mirrors
Annabeth Chase hated mirrors.
She hated them; and-she would never admit this-she kind of feared them.
It had started as a trip to the amusement park. They had visited the Hall of Mirrors, when it was just her and her father. Somehow, she had gotten lost. The floor-to-ceiling mirrors surrounded her, caving in on her, and she saw, accusing her, magnified and broadcasted (in a way): the person she did not want to see, because it made her seem weak and helpless and scared: a sobbing, crying little girl who couldn't help herself and had to rely on others.
As she grew older, the fear was gradually subdued and remained only as a vague emotion at the edges of her consciousness, and this had scarred her; despite everything, she did not like mirrors.
She hated them because whenever she saw her reflection, she became self-conscious; the cursed metal (A/N: Is a mirror a metal substance? I have no idea) magnified her flaws and showed them to her, plainly and without mercy, like a messed-up blueprint. Every pimple, everything scar that marred her appearance. Annabeth was not vain or fussy about how she looked, gods forbid (she was no daughter of Aphrodite), but like every other girl, she wanted to at least look decent.
And then she started dating Percy, and the urge grew stronger. She knew he would never leave her on account of her looks, but mirrors reminded her just how many girls there were that were prettier than her, just how many girls there were that seemed better for him. How maybe, just maybe, she wasn't good enough for him. If only she knew he thought her perfect.
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Percy Jackson hated mirrors.
He hated them; and-he would never admit this-he kind of feared them.
It had started as a trip to the circus. They had visited the "clown mirrors", when it had just been him and his mother. Somehow, he had gotten lost. Oddly-shaped mirrors surrounded him, caving in on him, and he saw, accusing him, magnified and broadcasted (in a way): the person he did not want to see, because it made him abnormal and out-of-place and the odd-one-out: the mirrors distorting his appearance and making him look strange, whom normal society would not accept as one of their own.
As he grew older, the fear was gradually subdued and remained only as a vague emotion at the edges of his consciousness, and this had scarred him; despite everything, he did not like mirrors.
He hated them because whenever he saw his reflection, he became self-conscious; the cursed metal magnified his flaws and showed them to him, plainly and without mercy, like a messed-up blueprint. Every spot, everything scar that marred his appearance. Percy was not the type of guy who cared about how handsome he looked, gods forbid (he was no son of Aphrodite), but like every other boy, he wanted to at least look decent.
And then he started dating Annabeth, and the urge grew stronger. He knew she would never leave him on account of his looks, but mirrors reminded him just how many guys there were that were hotter, just how many guys there were that seemed better for her. How maybe, just maybe, he wasn't good enough for her. If only he knew she thought him perfect.