Disclamer:
I don't own the series. These characters are fictional, and made up from the genius (who uses a LOT of cliffies, but still) Rick Riordan's mind.
AN:
By the way, Reyna might be a little bit OC in this chapter, but it gets better as the chapters progress.
o.O.o
Keyword:
Used to
Prompt:
Swept away
Quote:
If you love someone, you have to let them go.
o.O.o
She decided she was going crazy.
She sees him at night. Her mind playing tricks with her. He would be there, next to her bed, and for a second, she would smile and forget he was gone.
But he's always swept away by the wind, at the end.
The eight months without him are hard, but the ones without him are harder.
Every time she hears thunder, marvels at lightning, she is reminded of what could have been hers. The wind lashes out at her like a whip, and the sky reminds her of his eyes, the clear blue that she could drown herself into.
(She didn't like the feeling.)
Without him, the world is grey. She falls into a routine, no one to bring her to the coffee shop down the street at random times.
She hates to be one of those girls that pine over their exes, but gosh, it hurts, even if she's not technically pining over him.
She lives, and she's okay, but she wonders where it all went wrong.
Why he couldn't remember her.
Juno had said that he would get his memories back soon, but clearly she had a different idea of soon. It has been a year of worthless waiting, and yet, he still doesn't remember the secret glances over the praetor's table, the kisses after the war.
How he would share their jellybeans, eating the blue ones she hated. That night when they were stargazing, when they had their first kiss.
Gone. All gone.
o.O.o
He appears when she is at her weakest. She would see him, and stare. He would still be there, but every time she touched him, her hand goes through, and just like that, he is swept away. It's a figment of her imagination. More like a mirage, if you asked her.
The real Jason was at camp-half blood. Living his life in peace with Piper.
He moved away, three years ago, and yet the pain still hits her with a sharp pang every single day. She often lays on her bed at night, imagining what he is doing. Unintentionally, of course but when she realizes, she swears never to do that again.
It is a promise made to be broken.
She has little things that remind her of him. Of course, she burned all the pictures of him secretly at night, just to try and feel something, but she kept the old sweatshirts he used to wear and the pokemon posters that used to adorn the his wall in his old home.
Used to.