Luke was dying.
Amidst all the grandeur that was the Council of the Olympian gods, Annabeth, Percy and Grover lay hunched, eyes strapped to the dying man before their eyes. Luke's body was smoking, wisps of the lung-aching substance curling off his clothes and hair. His face, with his scar red with the agony and stress of dispersing the consciousness of a Titan, was splattered with droplets of crimson blood. His were pained, as if every action was taxing burden on his body's cells.
"Good...blade..." He longingly mused, remembering the days when he, Thalia and Annabeth were carefree and happy, before he turned his back on them and joined Kronos' legion.
"Luke, you're gonna make it. Please, just hold on!" The blonde-haired maid assured her long-time friend turned traitor. "Grover, come with me and help look for ambrosia and nectar. Percy, stay here and please, please make sure Luke stays alive until we get back."
The satyr and Athenian daughter ran off, leaving Luke and Percy to their thoughts. Percy crawled towards Luke, tears dripping off his sea-green eyes.
"They're not going to make it" the son of Poseidon asked Luke, "are they?"
With a struggle, the blond shook his head, and with each shake, crumpled whatever hope Percy had of being Luke's beloved.
"So this is it."
"I gue-ack- so." Luke coughed, more blood decorating his pallid face.
Percy wiped the blood with his wrist, caring nothing for his own welfare. He brushed a few strands of hair that disheveled themselves from Luke's usual crop. And god, those eyes of his. Although Luke was mere inches away from death, his eyes looked calm and serene, like those times when he and Percy would go kayaking in the camp's lake.
No, the brunette admonished himself, I can't afford to think like that. He will never will think of me like that.
And then Luke did something that shoved Calypso from being Percy's biggest what if.
"Did you love me?"
The blond held Percy's gaze, trying to coax an honest answer for a dying man. He wanted the truth, something that was denied from him again and again, by people he trusted and loved.
Percy lost his mind. He couldn't think, let alone breathe. This is really it.
"Yes..." he murmured, softly into Luke's ear, hoping that nobody, not even Zeus, could hear him.
And just like that, Luke was gone. He was satisfied. He didn't need Hermes, or camp, or even Annabeth and Thalia. He didn't need their recognition or concern, or even their love.
He needed Percy.
And if the one you love loves you back, wouldn't you die a happy man?