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Why does he do this?
Why does he love her?
Why does he stay?
Percy doesn't know.
She had stopped screaming at him, she'd stopped beating him, but the cold, disappointed eyes she'd shoot in his direction was so much worse.
Why doesn't he just leave?
Some days, he thinks about it. Leaving. But he always, always comes back and he doesn't know if it's because he loves her or because all he knows now is screaming and cold, dissapointed eyes or because of some magic voodoo shit the Goddess has placed upon him.
It doesn't matter, really. Because she's already got him ensnared and he'll never leave. He knows that, no matter how often he entertains the thought of doing so.
(She knows that as well.)
Why does she do this to him?
Why'd she initiate this, then?
A relationship... their relationship could barely be classified as one.
And right now, she's gone again while her dinner turns cold, the one that he'd specially made for her. The candles had long been put out, the wax slowly dripping as time had ticked by, the rose petals on the floor untouched, undisturbed, still lying where he'd placed them.
The darkness is comforting, and he isn't entirely sure why.
He stopped poking at his food a long time ago, having lost his appetite. The Son of Poseidon clenches his fists next to his sides, and his jaw tightens, knowing she won't be back 'til he's long gone, back to his own home off Olympus.
The demigod doesn't know why he ever expected this to work. A goddess... and him. A mortal. Of course she doesn't care, of course she doesn't love him.
He looks behind him, intent on finding that vase he'd broken and then painstakingly put together over the course of weeks, trying to find any imperfections and making them perfect, like she's always wanted.
(It relates to him. It's exactly like his heart right now.)
It's gone.
She's probably thrown it into the trash, knowing the Goddess. One that couldn't stand imperfection, who couldn't understand love. Sometimes, he wishes he's dating Aphrodite instead. Even if she cheats. At least he could understand some type of love.
He keeps staring at his food, clenching his fists so tight that his knuckles turn white. He hears the creak of a door, and sees light intrude into his darkness, the darkness he's always loved.
It helps him hide.
The Son of Poseidon hears some sort of gasp and the voice of the Goddess call out his name, but he can't bring himself to look up into her eyes. Those silvery-grey eyes that look frozen over, cold beyond measure, the disappointment that is so blatant in her critical gaze.
He hears a call of Percy..? but he just can't. He can't do this anymore.
He vaguely registers the Goddess appear beside him, but he's too weak to do anything. The Son of Poseidon prepares for a beating, maybe, so he's mildly surprised when he sees her crouch down to his eye level and she lifts his head to look into his eyes.
He's too weak to avoid it, now.
He registers her say something, but he's too out of it to say something.
Her silvery-grey eyes were shining now, and if didn't know better, he would say there were tears in them. But he did know better. Like she'd ever cry for him.
But she crashes into his body, and he feels her sobs through his shirt, into his chest, and realises she's crying.
He hears her say something else.
Please don't leave.
He holds her there, whispering sweet nothings to her that were exactly that.
Nothings.
(He knows by tomorrow, his heart will be shattered again.)
...
The Goddess strolls through the streets of Olympus, and checks the time on her watch. It's ten o'clock.
She feels a sort of pang in her chest as she nears her house, but shakes it off. She knows that tonight was supposed to be date night with him.
Knowing the man, he'd probably set up some type of romantic evening dinner, and is still waiting for her. She scoffs at his idiocy.
(Inside, she can admit that he's sweet. He's perfect. And that she's at fault. For screaming, for beating him, for throwing away that vase she'd watched him painstakingly repair for weeks on end.)
She remembers Aphrodite coming on to him in that sultry way of hers, and how his eyes momentarily flashed with pain, before he declined. Not lust, nor attraction. Pain.
(The Goddess knows it's her fault. That pain in his eyes. It hurts her.)
She reaches the door to her palace, taking a deep breath. She isn't exactly clear why, but she does so anyways.
As she enters the palace, The Goddess gasps at what Percy's done. Rose petals litter the floor, leading her to a table, immaculately set with two glasses of champagne, two plates of uneaten food and multiple burnt-out candles, leaving her lover in the darkness. He's obviously taken great care for this. A pang hits her heart as she realises he's likely been waiting for hours.
Why? The Goddess questions, What could-
It's Valentine's Day.
She's never appreciated the holiday too much, but The Goddess knows it's fairly important to those mortals.
She sees Percy sitting there, blank-faced, staring at his food, his fists clenched at his sides, the whites of his knuckles contrasting with the darkness around him, and another pang hits her heart. Why did she treat him so?
She didn't know herself.
The Goddess makes her way to him, calling his name again, but he doesn't answer.
She makes her way in front of him, before crouching and lifting his head with a tenderness that surprises herself.
The hurt, the pain, the brokenness, the regret in his beautiful eyes are haunting.
"Percy... I know I don't act like it. I know I do... repulsive things to you. I know I'm manipulative, and I... abuse you, I play with your emotions." The Goddess doesn't know why she's saying this, but she does. "But... I think you are incredibly beautiful." She's sobbing now, her eyes glisten with tears, but he still doesn't react. His eyes still broken, his face still expressionless.
What has she done to him?
She throws herself into his frame, and the chair topples over, but she doesn't care. She sobs into his shirt, showing emotion she's never shown before.
"Please don't leave." me.
The Goddess knows she had no right to ask that of him, but she's selfish, and she needs him.
She hears him whisper sweet words of comfort in her ear – his words coated with honey, with sweetness, but she knows he's faking it. She knows he's hurting, he's in pain, but he won't leave her.
The Goddess closes her eyes, though, and forces herself to believe. To believe the sweet nothings he whispers into her ears are real, even when she knows they're exactly what they are.
Nothings.
(She knows by tomorrow, she'll shatter his heart again.)