Song: Every Time You Lie
Artist: Demi Lovato
*I know this certain scenario never actually happened in the series, but it just fit the song.*
(Rachel's POV)
It was a late Sunday afternoon when he told me.
I was relaxing in my art studio, creating stories with my paintbrush. I gazed at my most recent masterpiece, a mix of reds and pinks and oranges and purples. The jumble of different lines and textures reminded me of my newfound relationship with Percy—entirely unexpected, somewhat confusing, but absolutely beautiful.
Knock, knock, knock.
Percy, I thought with a smile. I set down my brush and palette, ripped off my paint-splattered smock, and halfway-jogged to the door.
When I opened it, sure enough, he stood there in all his son-of-the-sea-god glory.
"Percy," I breathed. He gave me a tight smile. "Come in."
He shuffled in past me, and sat down on the bleached-white sofa in my parent's condo living room. He didn't take off his shoes, which I thought was odd; he liked to feel at home here.
"We… need to talk." He said somberly.
I halted mid-sit; my brain had just switched to Uh-oh mode. But I quickly shrugged off that feeling and continued to sit down.
"What about?" I asked hesitantly.
"About… us." He hesitated for just a second, like he was slightly unsure, and then kept talking. "I don't think it's going to work."
I was silent for a painful minute. And then I came to an enraging realization. "It's not her again, is it?" I growled.
Last summer, after the Battle of Manhattan, Percy and that idiotic daughter of Athena, Annabeth, had started to date. Just two weeks ago, Percy had come to me. I was obviously blissful; who wouldn't want a boyfriend who could take them on underwater dates? But I'd always had a suspicion Percy would too weak to stay and go running back to her. And now, my worst fears were confirmed.
Percy fiddled with his thumbs. I could feel myself growing enraged.
"Percy!" I slapped his shoulder. He winced, but didn't defend himself. "You said you were over!"
He still didn't answer. And then the truth dawned on me.
"Do not tell me you only dated me to get back to her!"
"I'm sorry, Rachel—"
I waited for the heartache. I waited for the pain to develop in my chest. I waited for the unbearable ache of knowing I had been played.
But there was nothing.
The only thing I felt was the shame of letting myself get lost in his sea- green eyes while the truth buzzed around me.
"Don't say you're sorry, because I'm not going to listen. You lied to me, Percy."
"Rachel, I didn't mean to—"
"You still love her, Percy. I can see it in your eyes."
He didn't look at me.
"Goodbye, Percy." I stood up.
"Rachel, we can still be friend—"
"No, Percy, we can't. Please, just… leave."
His head hanging low, he did as I said. Before leaving, he stopped in the doorway and looked back shamefully. "Goodbye, Rachel."
I closed the door in his face. I turned back to my living room, and smiled.
I guess I never loved him. He was just a crush. Nothing more than a pretty face, soon to be lost in the wind. The weight that came with him—the burden of Annabeth's dirty looks, of Percy's cluelessness—was never worth it.
I went back to my painting, and picked it up from the easel's grip. I stepped onto the balcony and heaved it over the side.
And good riddance, I thought, as the canvas soared down twenty-three stories, straight into the Dumpster.