The end.
The fucking end. Everything was over; and she didn't get to see it end. There was just as much disbelief - no there was more than when she found out he left.
There were too many endings with them and so few beginnings. Even when things were awful as long as they were together, a team, they were the best times. No matter how scared, or tired, or angry they got, they were always happy. Maybe that's insane to think that you can be sad and happy at the same time, but they were. And maybe they were insane; they were two kids fighting for their lives. But they were living.
The end. Their end, every thing was over. They started running away together ten years ago; being chased by monsters, sleeping in unsafe places, running away together. They were the best years of her life. They ended with her dying, and then him leaving, and now he was dying.
No, he wasn't dying. He was dead. There was the proof right in front of her. She could barely stand, only balanced on her two crutches. She could barely balance on them as it was; she was tired and broken. Now she was on the verge of collapse.
She wasn't suppose to care, right? She didn't care about boys, she was a hunter. This was the person that tried to kill her. This was the person who she pushed off a mountain.
This was the person she ran away with.
They were always running. Running from the cops, running from the monsters and she loved every minute of it. And when they finally got away, they would sit down, panting and sweating. And laughing. Sometimes, when things are too serious all you can do it laugh.
He would never betray anyone; he wouldn't. How could he? How much torture did the gods and the fates have to put him through to turn that scared fourteen-year-old boy living on the streets into the person responsible for what just happened?
He knows what he did… he knew what he did. And it saved them all. But he shouldn't have had to save himself. She should have been there to save him. That's what she was suppose to do, that's what she was always suppose to do. But she didn't. And she should have.
Her whole life seemed like a sad story, and so was his. But they were so much more than that, especially when they were together. It meant everything to her; he was her sad story and she was his.
Why did they need the gods or the camp? Why did they need to be told what to do, they did just fine on their own. Running through the empty streets of some town in some state at some time in the early morning, with some sandwiches stolen from some Quick Check. They didn't need to be pushed around by people who thought that they were better than they were. They didn't need to be spat on like dirt. They could and were so much more than that.
Gods, they should still be like that.
If anything tried to question their ability to kick ass, they proved them wrong. They were the perfect team. Nobody stood a chance against them. They were their own two-person revolution.
The end. That revolution ended. And a new one began. And this time they found themselves on opposite sides. That wasn't they way she wanted to fight. This was civil war. How could she fight him, even if it wasn't him. It was his army. Fuck, even if it was just him it wasn't. He ceased to exist, he was Kronos now. He wasn't that boy anymore. He made his choices and she should have been there to stop them from happening.
The revolution is over. The barricade fell. And so did he. Her sad story was over, but the next one wasn't a happy one. It was just sadder. It was soul crushing. He was her best friend. And he meant everything to her.
She never needed to depend on anybody. But it had been nice to have somebody there to depend on if she ever needed to. And now she did and he couldn't.
How are you suppose to act or feel when your best friend dies and you know that there was something you should have done. Something you could have done to save him. But you didn't do it and now there was a shroud in front of you and you didn't want to see what was under it.
She stared at the shroud, knowing what was under it. Knowing she needed to see him one more time. But not sure if she was ready to. She was ready to see him again, but not ready to see him for the last time and not ready to see him like this.
She felt sick, unsteady, and completely unprepared.
But it didn't mater, because she had to see it.
The end.
It was really the end.
He laid there, eyes closed, like he was sleeping. She stopped breathing and started shaking, her eyes burned. One crutch fell to the cracked floor of Olympus as she reached her hand to the side of his neck, checking for a pulse; checking for that shard of hope that she still had somewhere in her.
The end.
There was nothing. The other crutch fell as she fell to the ground, crying hard, but silently. She was in extreme physical pain from her legs and from falling, but she couldn't tell. She felt numb like there was nothing left of her. Her body trembled and she found it hard to breath, but she couldn't stop. There wasn't anything left to do but sit there and cry. What else is there for you to do at the end?
Because while he would be dead forever, she would live forever.
The end.
She almost wished it was hers too.
Inspired by Disenchanted by My Chemical Romance
Also posted n Tumblr and DA
Luke/Thalia for ship week