Hello again! I hope that you enjoy this chapter. Three things: One, the summer has finally started for me, so no online classes, which I am very happy about. Two, I really hate group projects (random, I know), and three, I don't own Percy Jackson or the Riordanverse.

Disclaimer: Author's note killed two birds with one stone, but just in case: I'm not Rick Riordan.

~headline: a musician with writer's block, how convenient~

…

There are some things Percy likes about being a teenage musician. He has his own schedule, he makes money off of writing music, doing the thing he loves, and most days, he can sleep in. But what he absolutely hates, is the publicity stunts he constantly has to pull. His management team is entirely flawed, and they always find a way to get him a headliner. Percy's not complaining, it makes people buy his music, but it doesn't give him the best look as a person. He's no longer relatable.

Really, the multiple scandals Percy has been in are all misunderstandings. He's a nice guy. He's not a hooker, or at least, he doesn't think so. But the media seems to think that. Really, what he hates the most about being a musician, is that he's given up normality. There's only one person he can feel truly normal with, and he doesn't even know her in real life.

Acropolis. Or A, as he calls her. He has no clue who she is, and she has no clue who he is. And it needs to stay that way. One, it would ruin their friendship, and he wouldn't have anyone to go to. Percy doesn't know what he'd do without her. He has about two genuine friends, Nico and Leo in real life. They make him laugh, but he can't go to them with his problems. That's what Acropolis does for him. She gives him a space where he can feel real and normal. That's one of the reasons he has to keep his identity hidden from her. Because once she knows who he is, he'll cease to be normal. He'll become Percy Jackson, the famous playboy pop-star, rather than Pylos, the nice boy with a passion for music. He likes Pylos more than Percy.

Percy is misled by his management. Percy has had multiple scandals involving other celebrities. Percy has had more fake girlfriends than real ones. Percy is cool, confident, and not held down by anyone. Percy is a star. But Pylos isn't any of those things. Pylos shows off his emotions, he talks about how he's feeling. Pylos has morals, he knows what it feels like to lose someone, he knows what it feels like to be hurt, abused. Pylos is in love, genuinely. Pylos wants to be held down, he wants to have someone to come home to. Pylos isn't a star. He's just a boy with a guitar, hoping the world enjoys what he plays. More than ever, he wishes that those two personas could come together, he wishes that he could show the world who he really is: a mix between the two. He's glad for the fame, he's glad for the exposure, but he hates the fact he can't be himself anymore. He would give up all the fame, all the money, all the management to feel normal again. If he could sing and play for everyone, but still be seen as an actual person, rather than a celebrity, he would do anything. So many people want to become famous, and he wishes he could warn them: there's a dark side to it all. A really dark side, one that not many come out of. The corruption in the music industry, it can ravage your soul, just as it's done to Percy.

Don't get him wrong, the fame is good. Sometimes, he loves it, sometimes, the greedy, selfish part of him loves that fact that girls and guys all over the world would give anything for a kiss. But that part slowly fades away, when he sees what he's really dealing with: wannabes searching for fame. He feels like he can't trust anyone anymore, not even Nico and Leo, his friends. The only person he can find true solace in, the only one who really understands pain like he does, is Acropolis. Although she's not famous, she understands loss. She understands depression, she understands it all. That's why he needs her. That's why he loves her.

Percy just hates the feeling of not having a normal life. Before, when he just posted covers on youtube, he got recognized occasionally, but he didn't have security guards following him wherever he went. The paparazzi didn't care about him, there were always bigger people to worry about. Good times.

Now, those good times are no longer. Percy only leaves the huge loft apartment he lives in for work and publicity. It has multiple bathrooms, three bedrooms that he rarely uses because most nights, he falls asleep on the couch, composing. Whenever he wants to leave, for something else, it needs to be a party, or a publicity gathering. He has at least one security guard outside, and all of his windows are permanently shut in case of the paparazzi.

Percy never has any room to breath. Sure, the large apartment gives him enough space, but he's constantly looking over his back, making sure that nobody can see him. There was one scandal a couple months ago where a fan snuck in, and took pictures of him changing, which took a lot of money to resolve, and ever since then, Percy's been extra cautious.

People see him as this "party monster," but in truth, the media only points their camera at him when he slips up, or looks like he's doing something wrong. And it sucks. It really sucks.

The worst part of it? He has no escape. He has nightmares about his future, thinking of the future he'll probably have— some single, washed up musician with a couple million dollars to live off of. Percy knows he's lucky, but he also knows his life sucks. He loves music, but the industry? It's hard to combat with.

He worries he'll never escape, that he'll be stuck in this everlasting structure of scandal, apology, music. Over and over and over again.

He knows people have worse lives than him— Acropolis, his friend, lost her mother, and now she's in LA because her father, who cheated on her mother had to take her in. She's in a way worse situation than him, and to top it off, people are dying in the world. Percy's lucky he still has his mother, and, at least, a version of his father. So his problems seem pretty inconsequential compared.

He wonders if he's seen Acropolis anytime in the last couple of days, around LA. Probably not, she said she lives in an area with all these McMansions, and although Percy lives in a rich neighborhood, it's sheltered from the public, since so many famous people live there. Still, he can't help but wonder what she looks like. Acropolis doesn't know this, but he's slightly in love with her. He knows it's crazy, he's never even met her before, but how she makes him feel normal and real, of course, as real as it gets. He'll never get to meet her, obviously, but he dreams sometimes. Dreams of what she looks like, how she'd hold him, maybe even kiss him. He thinks that she'd be a good kisser, even if he doesn't know what experience she has. Maybe she's blonde. Maybe she's brunette. Maybe she has dark skin. Maybe she has pale skin. Maybe her eyes are blue. Maybe they're green. Hell, they could be gray, and he wouldn't know.

He imagines he'd love to stare into her eyes, no matter what they'd look like. He thinks that they'd be pretty. No matter what she looks like, Percy knows he'll find her beautiful. With this relationship, for the first time ever, outward appearance doesn't matter. Because Percy's so smitten with her personality, he doesn't even have a type.

…

A normal day for Percy starts with a phone call. He usually is able to sleep in until about nine am, his management gives him that. Most nights, he stays out pretty late, or stays up pretty late, writing songs, testing out compositions, and seeing if anything actually sounds good with his guitar. Sometimes he goes to publicity gatherings. Other times he parties. It's the classic life for a famous musician, even though it feels wrong to say that. He's supposed to be in his senior year, he doesn't even have to go to school. He dropped out, because even if his next album is a total flop, he has enough money to sustain himself for a long while. Even so, he'll never look at the money, and think that's his worth. He loves writing music, he always has. It's one of the things he finds pure joy out of. But for the past month, Percy's been in a major writers block, something that he started experiencing once he was picked up by a management team. It's like they try to squeeze all of the motivation out of him.

This particular morning, Percy picks up the call on the first ring, already up fairly early. His manager, Dionysus (weird name, he knows), is on the phone, and he immediately starts talking. "Johnson," he says. Dionysus, for the two years they've worked together, has never been able to get his name right. "We need one new single by the end next week for your album. We'll put it out for publicity on it."

Percy sighs. His album. It's supposed to be coming out soon, and he's going on tour sometime after that. The album already has four finished songs in it, but he needs to write more. Eleven more songs, to be exact. This motivation block is really killing him though. "Yeah," Percy says, "I'll go into the studio today." Well, Percy goes into the studio everyday, so this really isn't a change.

"Good." Dionysus practically spits into the phone, before hanging up. Percy looks down at his bed, and then at his phone, before sighing, and falling flat onto his face. He has to get ready today, and that means carefully picking out each piece of clothing to wear, making sure he doesn't smell weird, and checking the mirror at least four times.

He gets up from the bed, and sets his phone on his bed-side table, a small white piece of furniture with several guitar picks littered onto it. He picks one up and inspects it, before setting it down, and stretching.

The first step of the day: a shower. He gets into the shower, and washes himself with the several products he is forced to use for promotions on a daily basis. They're not bad, but it does get annoying when you can't have a change. He grunts a bit as he gets out of the shower, and wraps a towel around his body, before retreating back into the bedroom.

"Okay," he says to himself quietly. "Here we go."

He opens up his drawers, which have several pieces of designer clothing in them. In the end, putting on some jeans, a blue t-shirt, and a puffer jacket that probably costs two thousand dollars. Being January in LA, it isn't extremely cold outside, but the temperature does drop to around forty to sixty degrees fahrenheit.

Of course, accompanied with that are sunglasses, and a hat for a slight disguise, and then he slinks out of the apartment, one of his security guards closely following him.

Percy doesn't like to brag about it, but he owns a Tesla. He's always been about sustainability, and always knew he wanted an electric car. Once he saved enough money to get one, he bought it, and now, it's one of his biggest prides.

He drives to the studio, which is about thirty minutes away, scanning the familiar side-walks of LA. Acropolis could be any one of those people walking by now. She could be that woman, waiting at the bus stop. That teenage girl with a backpack strung over her shoulder. Heck, she could be that guy vlogging as he walks down the street. She could be anyone, he doesn't know.

But most likely, she's at home. Acropolis told him that she wouldn't start high school until next week, and since it's Friday, that probably means that she is hanging out at her new house (which she's told him multiple times she hates). He chuckles to himself about it as he pulls into the drive-way to his studio.

His security guard, who was trailing him in a car nods to him, and he looks both ways, to make sure nobody has seen him, before he books it into the studio.

The studio is the one place, other than his house, where he feels vaguely safe. It's a five room place that's big enough to home a family of four by LA standards. One room is where he actually records stuff, it has all the musical instruments in the world. They say it's the room where all the "magic" happens, but Percy likes to think it's the next room, where he writes all the songs. Out of all of the rooms, it's probably his favorite.

Papers and words are plastered all over the walls, and a long, white pull out table sits in the middle of it. Percy always sits at the front of the table, and all of his co-writers (or editors, as he calls them, they just give him suggestions, and don't actually write anything) sit in front of him. There are four of them overall. The first two are his friends Leo and Nico. Leo's a funny guy, but he isn't a musician, and to be honest Dionysus has tried to get Percy to fire him multiple times, but he always refuses. Nico, the other, has genuine talent, but he's more of a producer than a musician. Nico is the one person Percy goes to when he's struggling with a word or a line.

The two other people are Silena, who is the sweetest person Percy has ever met. Percy doesn't think she knows how to be mean. Finally, Austin, who is one of the best composers Percy knows. He can pick up any musical instrument, and know how to play it immediately.

Overall, Percy's surrounded by a talented group of people. He writes most of his songs, but the others help him edit them down and find words.

The two other rooms are where his management team works. They cluster around these rooms, running back and forth all day as they plan out logistics, album covers, and really everything necessary for Percy's career. Some of them he likes, some of them he hates, but most of the time, he's glad to have them by his side.

Today, Percy is really struggling with the writing. He pulls three shitty lyrics out of his ass, and his co-writers all silent, Leo silent nodding, because really, the guy doesn't have great music taste.

Percy sighs. "I know that was shitty. Just tell me so."

Silena is the first to speak, cracking her knuckles as she looks over the sheet of paper in front of her. "It wasn't your best." she says slowly, obviously trying not to be mean. "Look Percy, is there anything that you can do to give you some motivation?"

"Yeah, I guess." Percy says, biting his lip. He could talk to Acropolis about it. She knows that he composes, and writes music, but she doesn't know who he is, or that he's popular. That's a part of their arrangement.

Silena looks at him gently. "So why don't you do that?"

"Yeah, instead of giving us shitty lyrics," Nico grumbles. When Silena looks at him, annoyed, he rolls his eyes. "Look, you're having writer's block, we get it. But you need to come up with something by next week so we can actually record it. That's the bottom line. It doesn't have to be your best, but it needs to be something."

Percy swallows. "Okay." He says, pulling out his phone. "Can I go to the recording room for some privacy?"

Silena nods, and then everyone else does, following suit. Percy walks out of the room, holding his phone, clicking onto his email. He switches accounts, going to his personal email as opposed to his business, and pulls up his latest exchange with Acropolis.

"Hey A," he types, "are you there?"

It takes her a couple minutes to respond, "yeah, what's up?" she types.

"I'm trying to compose a new song, and I was wondering if you could help me out."

Acropolis takes a couple seconds to respond to this, but she soon does. "Sure, what do you need?" she asks.

"You're good with words." Percy says, "can you give me a sentence?"

"Like, for a potential song?" She types back.

"Sort of." Percy tells her. He can't give much away, because of course, he needs to keep his identity secret.

She takes a while to respond, before typing back a sentence with a single sentence. "What about: I'm all bad energy, there's a supernova in me."

He smiles at it. It definitely needs some tweaking, but after a couple minutes of staring at it, he gets— what's this? An idea. Before typing anything else, he tells her, "yeah, that's perfect A. You're the best." Well, nothings perfect, but this one line is giving him an inkling of motivation, something he hasn't had in weeks. It's not the best lyric in the world, but it's something that he can work with, and that's what's most important.

"I know." She replies fast. He smiles at it, shaking his head.

"So quick with it."

She replies, following along with him, "alas, I admit it."

"But seriously," he types, "thank you. I think that's what I needed."

Her response makes his cheeks go bright red. "Of course P. No problem." There's a little heart emoji next to it. She's never sent him one of those before. And it makes him feel special, that little red figure. He looks away from it once, trying to control himself, but his head snaps back, captured by the small piece of text.

He clicks his phone off, and then goes back to the studio. Once he enters, he can't stop himself, he's bursting with lyrics, all ideas flooding his head at the same time for the first time in weeks.

"I have an idea," he says.

…

~sometimes, you gotta persist, and keep going~

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I have the entire story plotted out, so I know exactly where I'm going with this, which is really effective for me, but I wanted to leave a piece of advice about writer's block just in case: staying away from writing makes it worse. Sometimes, you need to just keep writing, no matter how hard it is. It may feel like every word you write, you're falling deeper into a hole, but you'll eventually get out of it, I know that for a fact.

Also, not all of the quotes are by me, some are, some aren't, but all of the song lyrics you will read are by me. I have written them, I own them. They will appear in future chapters, and they are in no way great, but I don't want to use already written songs, so I just made a few of my own. Additionally: there will be little movie/tv/book references scattered throughout the story, so if you see them, then feel free to point them out.

Thank you guys so much for the support. All of you are awesome. Thanks so much for reading this chapter! Leave a review, I'd love to know what you think! Stay safe and healthy!

TheLil'Lion