𝐏𝐘𝐑𝐑𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧

18 - third base is calming panic attacks

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

THE RELATIONSHIP ELIA HAD WITH ETHAN NAKAMURA WAS COMPLICATED. There's truly not a better word for it. Eight-year-old Elia, with her cheery personality and inherent warmth had been determined to make grumpy Ethan her friend, no matter how hard it was. She wasn't quite sure if they'd ever became exactly that— but he'd tolerated her enough to let her hang around.

He'd certainly changed, that much was true. He still had that gloomy, stand-offish look to him, though when Elia had known him, he'd had two eyes. But his remaining eye looked darker and more endless, reminding her of the shadows in her blood. His glower had remained the same, though he'd grown a lot taller and leaner, his hair shaggy over his forehead. Elia wasn't really sure whether she should be amused or intimidated by his new personality, still similar to the old one but a lot more angry.

When they finally came to a stop, Elia slumped against the wall, bracing her weight on one arm while Percy's hands flitted over her carefully, as if searching for hidden injuries. Rachel, who had been leading them, had sat on the floor, breathing hard, while Annabeth whipped around and reached for Elia's face, which was covered in blood.

"Stop, Annie, I'm fine," the blonde murmured, gently pushing her best friend's hands away, her gaze settling on where Ethan had collapsed on the ground.

The dark-haired boy yanked off his helmet, his face glistening with sweat. "You people are crazy!" he panted, his dark eye flickering over each of them.

Her eyes hardening into blue steel, Elia pushed heavily off the wall, pulling out of Percy's grip and stepping toward Ethan. "What are you doing?" she asked sharply, glaring down at him. He rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to retort but the daughter of Apollo cut him off. "No— don't say shit. I get to talk." She stepped closer, reaching down to grab his arm harshly and yank him off the ground. "You left. Over a year ago. I thought you were dead, did you know that? And now you're here, doing stupid shit over a stupid grudge. What the fuck, Eef?"

Ethan's fists clenched at his sides and he leered down at the shorter girl. "No, Elia," he growled. "You do not get to act like you know more than me just because you get a quest and fucking Percy Jackson gives you a second glance for once."

Elia swallowed, the words hitting her in the gut. He knew her struggles with her self-worth, the belief that she harbors that she needs to do something great to be of any use to anyone. The thought that she has to keep being great or she'll lose her novelty, and they won't want her anymore. "I'm trying to help you, Ethan," she snapped, jabbing her finger into his chest.

He barked out a laugh. "No one helps anyone here," he spit. "This is war. Don't be naive." There was a condescending note in his tone that made her rage rise. She was not naive. She tried to be an optimist as much as she could, because giving up in this world felt like signing her own death warrant.

"Don't be a hypocrite. You're the naive one," she snarled, crossing her arms over her chest. Percy, Annabeth and Rachel were watching in varying degrees of confusion and concern. Elia tilted her head to the side mockingly. "Or do you really think Luke cares about you? Do you think he even knew your name while he was watching you fight to the death?"

Ethan seethed, jaw ticking. For a moment, Elia thought he might wind up and hit her, and she was ready for it. She'd like to see him try. After a moment, he pried his mouth open, gritting out, "I don't care if he knows my name. I know who I side against— the gods and their tyranny."

Elia's jaw almost dropped as she waited for him to get blasted to pieces right there. She let out an incredulous laugh. "You think Zeus is a tyrant?"

He didn't dare nod, but she saw it in the depths of his remaining eye— yes.