A/N: Hello! This is another one shot for ya guys! It's a bit chaotic, but here you go! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.
Percy was a shooting star.
Sally had known this from the very first second, when the nurse finally placed her baby in her arms. He had rocketed straight into her life with a bang, pulling her along into a crazy new world she was thoroughly unprepared for.
Percy had always been a tad bit crazy, a wobbling mess that raced across the sky, reaching out for something in the far off distance. He had spent his life in pursuit of something brighter, something that seemed right outside his grasp.
And, like a shooting star, she had distanced herself from him. She had thought it would be better to observe his effect from a distance, if only because she thought it would be safer. And maybe she had thought wrong and been selfish, but what person doesn't look at a shooting star and yearn to be a bit self concerned?
Who doesn't gaze at the falling star and make a wish, claiming it for their own? Sally couldn't help but wish every time Percy was near. She asked and prayed and begged every god she could name, regardless of origin, for another moment with her son. Another day where he was safe and breathing and living on the surface of this planet.
But wishes run out, and Sally was left behind on the fire escape, clutching a picture of better times past, staring at a nighttime sky, praying for another shooting star to wish on.
Paul stood by her side, a warm arm wrapped around her waist. He kept his eyes on the street below, almost as if he was waiting for familiar green eyes and crazy black hair to emerge from the crowds and wave up at them from below.
They both knew it would never happen.
Percy's time had run out. The streak of light had reached the other side of the sky and raced just out of sight.
Shooting stars were fleeting. They didn't last.
He wasn't coming back.
Percy was a candle.
This wasn't particularly a new idea to Poseidon. He had often found himself comparing mortals to candles, ever since he had first stumbled upon the metaphor so long ago.
The new concept, however, was the different meaning the word suddenly took on after meeting his son for the first time. He would never be able to look at the flame the same way again.
In a single instant, the word changed from something weak and dull into a beautiful, wonderful phenomenon. Candles suddenly lit the way home, shining a bright light into previous darkness. They became a beacon to the lost and a sign that everything would be okay.
They became the feeling of happiness and pride.
And yet, as he sat alone in the throne room on Mount Olympus, too tired to even risk a glance at the water he controlled, he couldn't help but remember his original comparison.
Mortals were candles because they were so, so, so weak. Candles were a fire never meant to last, something that could be extinguished in a second. To an immortal, the lifespan of a candle was almost too quick to comprehend.
Poseidon stared off into the darkness. He wished he had a candle to light up the darkness that existed in the hole where his heart used to be.
Percy was a bonfire.
Annabeth hadn't always seen Percy this way, but now she couldn't imagine him as anything else. She was reminded of it every time he smiled at her.
It might have been a weird thought to anyone else, but it seemed true enough for her.
It was never hard to stretch out next to Percy, warming herself on the little pieces of conversation and watching the light of laughter. She loved to smile and lean into his warmth.
With him, she felt at home and safe, even if they were surrounded by wilderness and darkness. The fire danced carefully, the gleam echoed in the mischievousness of Percy's eyes.
What she wouldn't do now to feel the same warmth again. Even if she was surrounded by the rest of the seven in Rachel's cave, all huddled up together on the floor, she couldn't stop the feeling of emptiness. Externally, she was warm. Internally, she was hollow. Dried tear tracks marked her face and she stared blankly at the ceiling.
All bonfires, if unchecked, had the potential to create catastrophe. Annabeth was no stranger to the darkness that resided within Percy, and the events that eventually caused his self destruction.
But even during the darkest of days, when his mind had threatened to devour him, Annabeth had always felt safe in his presence.
Bright fires burn fast. She knew this. All fires eventually died out.
Why was it so hard to feel warm again?
To the world, Percy was the sun.
He was a bit of a goofball, and while maybe he made several mistakes and tripped over his own shoelaces, the sun never seemed to give up on the earth.
It was there, every single morning, greeting the world with a soft yellow glow. And like the sun, Percy was there for anyone who needed him.
He was everywhere, the new campers would soon find out. You could sometimes hear the soft chuckle of an older camper as they remembered a silly memory, and Chiron's tales of how he stumbled his way up to success were an all time favorite at the campfire.
It was so easy to remember him.
Over and over again, they told the story of the demigod that could, the story of the boy who held the sun in his smile, the story of the boy who brought back a light and purpose into their constant fight against an undying army.
When Percy left, the sun set with him. It was the end of an era.
But the campers would soon learn that flames weren't the only things that created warmth.
It was the way of the world that fire never last, but that never meant memories couldn't be just as warm.
A/N: Thanks for reading and please review! I love to read them!
Constructive criticism is always appreciated!
~DreamingCerulean
Published: December 29th, 2018