Too quiet

It's too quiet. It's too quiet in the flat that used to hold two people. Oliver's very presence is so loud. Without him here, taking up space, it just feels empty.

Percy flops gracelessly on the couch, cursing himself over and over for being an idiot. First he drove away his family, but, as if that wasn't enough, now he drove away the man he loved – loves – with all his heart.

He curses himself for being stupid. He curses himself for being ambitious, for wanting too much.

He wants to curse Oliver, too. For leaving, for abandoning Percy. But he can't, because, frankly, he knows it's his own fault. He's lucky that Oliver stayed as long as he did, watching Percy work himself to death, leaving nothing left for Oliver.

He swears loudly, just to break the silence. It feels oddly satisfying, given that he so rarely does.