Chapter Text
Annabeth would never get used to the overbearing beam of the fluorescent lights of a high school gym. It makes her feel claustrophobic- the cacophony of teenagers yelling and laughing, the thudding of the bleachers every time the preferred team makes a shot, the flash of blue she sees every time she catches Percy’s eyes on the court- it all takes her breath away. She remembers the brief moment they had before he went to play, and she took her place on the bleachers. His poorly disguised nervousness and her endeared smile at his behavior.
“You made it!” He exclaimed, wrapping her in a hug and lifting her off the ground before she could get her bearings.
Her laughter was pressed against his ear as she folded her arms around his neck, “I promised I would be here, didn’t I?”
“I’m glad you are! I can’t tell you how nervous I was.” He cleared his throat a little and Annabeth watched the slow crawl of red up the back of his neck, “ you’ve never seen me play before. I’ve got to impress you, huh”
That’s not entirely true. She remembers sitting with Silena and Katie in the shade back at camp, watching Beckendorf, Travis, and Percy toss the ball back and forth between each other. Streetball, as Beckendorf referred to it. He was good at it. Percy, that is. And impossibly handsome.
“You’ll do great, Percy. Better than great. You’ll be amazing. And besides, even if you don’t…” she hesitated here before continuing, “I’m still your number one cheerleader.”
She left before she could decipher the look on his face.
If she’s being honest, she’s not entirely sure why he invited her, seeing as they seem to fall into these awful screaming matches every time, they talk for more than five minutes lately. Still…she’s grateful for the fact that he did, especially when she thinks about how shaky her position was in his life at the moment. It causes an anxious pull in the pit of her stomach, and she tugs at a loose coil of hair that falls in line with her eyesight. She wore it natural and put a blue headband on it. For luck. The knot grows bigger as she sees Percy pass it to his teammate, a tall, brown-skinned guy who has been more or less in sync with Percy the entire game. He looks up and smiles when he sees her cheering. She waves and thinks about the last time they talked before she flew back to New York.
They were sitting in an awkward silence, her in San Fransico bedroom and him in his New York apartment. He had taken the initiative to call, fed up with waiting on her to take the first step towards reaching out after she had promised to keep in touch. It started off decently. She was excited he called, a melancholic emotion in the depths of her brown eyes that was an understatement to how appreciative she was at his acknowledgment that he had not forgotten her, she wasn’t just a placeholder in his journey to finding someone infinitely more agreeable. The mood was high, and they laughed and talked like they used to. It only went downhill after Annabeth complimented a potted, silvery flower resting in a decorated ceramic pot on his windowsill. From the way his face fell and the subdued “thank you” that fell from his lips, she could tell who had gifted him the plant. She could tell he gifted him the pot.
After a short pause, Percy cleared his throat, “So… I actually called to invite you to my basketball game. It’s the last one of the season,” he smiled here, a little shy. “It’s the championship. Very big deal. It’d be nice to have a familiar face in the audience.”
“What? Rachel’s going to be too busy chained to a tree to attend?” she snorted. She regretted it as soon as she said it.
“Really, Annabeth? I’m inviting you. I miss my best friend and it’d be nice to see her without the backdrop of a war” The flash of annoyance and exhaustion across his face sent a pang of desperation through her heart. She doesn’t mean to be so difficult, so insecure. It’s just hard.
Well…when he puts it like that. She put her head down, closed her eyes, breathed in, let it out. When she looks up, she can see that furrowed brow of concern on his face. “Okay, Seaweed Brain. I’d love to come to your game. My winter break starts next week so I can fly out a couple of days before!”
His responding smile feels a little like sunshine falling onto her face.
By the time the final buzzer sounds, yanking her out of her memories, Annabeth realizes that Percy’s team has won and, if the blue confetti raining down from the ceiling is indicative of anything, Percy will be riding on cloud nine for the rest of the night. She gets off the bleachers and slowly makes her way to the court where everyone seems to want a piece of the players. Pictures and hugs galore, she can barely break through to Percy before he reaches out and grabs her wrist, yanking her to him in an all-encompassing bear hug. She’s a good eight inches shorter than him and it doesn’t seem like he has plans to stop growing anytime soon, so the haphazard press of her face against the sweaty gauze of his jersey is inevitable. It doesn’t bother her as much as it should, however.
She squeezes him as hard as she can, screaming a muffled “Congratulations!” into his chest, laughing at his excitement. He can barely speak, what with his teammates clapping him on the back and rubbing his head. He makes sure to keep an arm around her, though, even as he uses his other one to shake hands or dap up fellow friends and classmates alike.
Eventually, the crowd dies down and there is room to breathe. He makes her promise to wait for him to get showered and changed and promises a night of celebratory burgers at a new diner down the street. It sounds like a sweet deal, so she makes her way to the bottom of the bleachers content to watch the last remaining stragglers of the game before they shut down for the night. It’s peaceful, a kind of normal that’s always eluded her since she was first dropped off on her father’s doorstep. She could get used to such a feeling.
She’s patiently sitting on the bleachers, twisting the thoughts in her head into repetitive patterns when a shadow falls across the front of her. She looks up to see the same teammate who followed Percy up and down the court throughout the night to victory. A shy, slightly uncomfortable smile graces her lips as he speaks.
“Hey! You good? You waiting for a ride or something?” the boy asks. Annabeth can’t help but notice the contrast of his very straight, very white teeth set against the backdrop of his smooth, brown skin. He was…handsome. Yes, very handsome.
She hesitates before she answers, “Oh no, I’m fine! I’m uh- waiting,” she gestures with her hand in the direction of the boy’s locker room, “waiting for my friend.”
“For real? He plays on the team? What’s his name?” he seems genuinely excited to know, turning his body as though he’s glancing to see the next person walk through the doors.
“Percy. Percy Jackson.”
Her voice is a little unsure, soft even to her ears. She’s never fully adjusted to making small talk and the effortless way in which mortal teenagers seemed to communicate with each other was a foreign concept that always left her feeling slightly adrift and awkward in interactions. The boy didn’t seem to notice though, turning back around to face her with a slight look of intrigue on his face, right eyebrow raised, and the corner of his mouth turned up in interest.
“Deadass? How do you know Percy?” he laughs.
“Oh, we’re old friends. We attend the same summer camp.”
“No shit! Well, he’s mentioned a camp a couple of times, but he never told me they had campers like you.”
Annabeth tries not to take offense and asks, “And what exactly do you consider a ‘camper like me’? It’s a summer camp.” She trails off at the end of her last statement leaving an opening for him to properly introduce himself.
He seems to notice the silent command and straightens up, extending his hand while slightly bowing at the waist to better make eye contact with her. A rush of affection floods through her, causing her to bite her lip to keep from smiling. He’s silly and a little endearing. It reminds her of Connor back at camp.
“Andreas Santos, at your service! And am I allowed to ask for yours, mami?”
Annabeth feels a little hot on her cheeks. She drops her head, away from his intense eye contact, before laughing a little and grabbing his hand. “I’m Annabeth” There’s a small giggle in her throat, but she persists, “Annabeth Chase. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” he grins, a full and exhilarating display that has hers spreading even wider, “and I mean campers as beautiful as you.”
Okay. What?
“Excuse me?”
“ You asked me what I meant by ‘campers like you.’ I meant beautiful.”
“Oh, thank you,” she feels out of her element again, flattered, but skittish. Kind of like a cornered animal. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, noticing its escape from the confines of her headband.
He must notice her unease because his smile dims a little, “Hey, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry if I did.”
“No. No, you’re fine. It’s fine. You just caught me a little off guard,” her smile is shy and when she looks up at him, still standing in front of her, she thinks his might be a little shy too. “So, tell me. How often does Percy shoot an airball?”
Andreas grins, happy to rag on his friend to this beautiful girl with beautiful brown eyes and hair that seems to resemble the soft clouds that float across the bright blue sky. He shakes his head, sighs deeply, and sits next to Annabeth on the bleachers, “Well…”
Annabeth doesn’t think she has laughed this hard in a long time. Her stomach hurts and she’s all but fallen over Andreas’ lap in her fit of giggles, she’s even let out a few of her dreaded snorts that she’ll probably look back on in embarrassment. Still, Andreas continues with his story.
“I kid you not, Annabeth. I love my boy, but he cannot hold a tune to save his life! He damn near had the whole team going deaf with his post-practice,” he can barely get the rest of the sentence out before they start cracking up again, “He says you’re a really good singer, though. Any chance we can convince you to give him some lessons? We’re desperate enough to start a donation- Hey, Percy! Over here, man!”
Annabeth is trying to catch her breath as Andreas cuts himself off and waves his hand. She turns as she sees a tall, freshly changed blonde slowly walk over. He doesn’t look too sore, Annabeth thinks, but he doesn’t hold the same elation on his face that he did in the immediate aftermath of the game. She smiles, happy to see him, but a little uncertain given the persistent air of tension that has permeated their friendship since last summer.
She stands as he reaches the bleachers, reaching out to hug him as he walks into her arms like it is automatic, a simple fact of nature. She closes her eyes when she feels his arms wrap around him, she turns her face into his neck, breathing in that familiar scent of salt and sea and ignoring the strain of standing on her tippy toes. She forgot how good it felt to hug him. She forgot how strongly she misses him even when he is there, present, in her arms. It feels like nothing and eternity and nothing when she hears the subtle throat clearing from behind her. She breathes in slowly and backs up, still keeping her hands on his biceps.
“Hey,” her voice is soft, “Congratulations, Seaweed Brain. I guess all those days on the court over the summer paid off.”
He loses the slight edge he has in his eyes and smiles, “Yeah, thanks for coming.”
He looks as though he wants to say something else when he remembers there is somebody else keeping her company. Annabeth steps to the side, giving Percy and Andreas space to fist bump, bro hug, dap each other up, or whatever it is boys do but Percy never fully lets go of her, choosing to keep a singular arm slung across her shoulder. She raises an eyebrow at that, subtly looking up at him while Andreas is all smiles and exuberant.
“Bout time, bruh! Leaving a lady out here all by herself for over 30 minutes! Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
“It was less than 15,” his voice was detached, reminiscent of how he sounded whenever she’d bring up Luke. It made her frown and the hand that was gently holding his side squeezed him in warning. Evidently, Andreas could feel the lack of emotion because he seemed a little less playful but still good-natured.
“Ah, true true,” nodding his head like Percy revealed some profound fact, “I was just telling her about some of our…escapades since we got on the team.”
Annabeth jumps in, eager to relieve whatever cloud has spoiled Percy’s good mood, “He did. Tell me, Percy? What would possess you guys to fill the swimming pool foam?”
“Not foam, Annabeth, dish soap,” Andreas begins to laugh again, prompting Annabeth to start laughing as well.
Percy doesn’t find it very amusing, cutting off their chuckles with an agitated shifting of his weight and saying, “Listen, man. She has a curfew and we already made plans after this. You mind if we save the trip down memory lane for another day?”
“Percy!” Annabeth is mortified, glancing at Andreas to gauge his reaction to his, admittedly, uncharacteristic rudeness, but he doesn’t seem to take any offense. In fact, he has a knowing gleam in his eyes, looking back and forth between Annabeth, Percy, and Percy’s arm still resting across her shoulder. He pauses, laughs to himself a little, and murmurs something under his breath.
“My bad, Percy. I don’t want to hold you guys up,” he states. Turning to Annabeth, he reaches out to hug her, a comforting hug that promises of new friendship, and says, “It was really nice to meet you, Annabeth. Hey, who knows? Maybe you can come to some of our early games next year! The season’s over so we could grab a bite or go to or movie or something.”
Annabeth can’t stop the rush of melancholy that seizes her body, ever mindful of the fact that there won’t be a next year for Percy. She can’t ponder on it for too long because as she opens her mouth to answer, Percy cuts in.
“She doesn’t live in New York, dude. So that probably won’t be happening. Sorry,” he says, not sounding very sorry at all.
Annabeth opened her mouth to say, well, anything before abruptly being interrupted again by Andreas exclaiming, “Really? Well, I guess we gotta show you around. I could be your tour guide.” He shifted into a slightly more flirtatious tone, but still playful enough that Annabeth could recognize her ability to reject him with no hard feelings.
“She doesn’t need a fucking tour guide, Dre, she has me!” Percy snapped.
Silence took over their group, with Annabeth staring in shock, Andreas smirking as though he had gotten a desired result from Percy, and Percy radiating more and more levels of irritation that was quickly evolving into anger. She stepped away from under Percy’s arm, which did little to calm whatever had frayed his nerves in the first place before stepping up to Andreas. Wrapping him in a hug, she spoke softly, a little embarrassed by Percy’s behavior, but flattered that he had stayed with her and kept her company even when he didn’t have to. He’d intentionally stayed with her and enjoyed her presence and her friendship when it seemed like all Percy wanted to do nowadays was avoid her and trade their friendship off in favor of his and Rachel’s.
“Thank you for keeping me company, Andreas. Really, I appreciate it more than you know. And who knows, maybe next time I’m in New York, we’ll cross paths.”
She could see Percy’s clenched jaw from her periphery.
“Like I said, Annabeth. Pleasures all mine,” he smiled, charming as he’d been all night and as she smiled and turned to drag Percy away before he burst his lid, Andreas grabbed her hand and tugged until she could fully extend and present her forearm.
“Listen, here’s my number. No pressure to call, but if and when you do, let me know the next time you touch down and we’ll do something fun. We could visit a museum exhibit or something. I think you’d like that.”
Whatever anger Percy was radiating previously, seemed like nothing compared to the utter fury she could feel pressing against her back. Annabeth paid no mind to it though; a boy had just written his number on her arm. A ridiculously cute boy, who wanted to hang out with her and who she hadn’t scared away with her coldness and trauma and unresolved phobia of abandonment. She hadn’t scared him away like she seems to be doing Percy lately right into the arms of another and just that thought was enough to make her nauseous in a good way and a bad way. She smiled and nodded, watching as Adreas Santos walked away shouting a “hit me up later, man!” to Percy who all but said “don’t count on it.”
And suddenly, Annabeth and Percy were left alone again. They’d been alone countless times before, but lately, it had been engulfed in a thick cloud of hurt and confusion, a ticking time bomb just waiting on one another to light the fuse and decimate everything in the vicinity. She watched him. He refused to make eye contact with her, focused instead on clenching the strap of his duffle in his pale fist, the thread of blue veins softly pressing against the flat of his skin. His jaw was ticking, kind of like it did in the labyrinth when he asked her why she couldn’t, why she wouldn’t stop defending Luke. He seemed mad, at who or what she couldn’t be sure, but their anger tends to be directed at each other as of late. It didn’t use to be.
She rolls her lips, shifting her weight before speaking up, “ So did you-”
“Do you like him or something?”
The interruption catches her off guard, the question he asks, more so.
“Excuse me? Where did that come from?”
“I don’t know, Annabeth. Where do you think? You bite my head off every time I say more than three words to you and yet you’re laughing it up with some random guy you met after a basketball game!”
“He was being nice, Percy! While I was waiting for you. What, did you want me to tell him to get lost? You wanted me to be rude?”
“Well, you had no problem doing it to Rachel.”
He knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Annabeth’s face grows dark at the mention of her, and it takes all her restraint not to turn around and disappear from his presence like he seems to want every time they interact, lately. She can’t stand how he always puts the blame on her, on how she and Rachel’s relationship is less than stellar. Sure, Annabeth knows she’s not the most friendly or welcoming right off the bat, but Rachel has her own share of faults in the animosity between the two of them. Her callous dismissal of her presence the first time they met, how she purposely gets her name wrong- she knows her name isn’t Annabelle, and that dangerous idea of a joke where she shouted about their half-blood status in the middle of a crowded café after Annabeth had just warned her about the serious nature of their existence. Yes, some of the blame could quite clearly be attributed to Percy’s darling redhead if he’d only get his head out of her ass and back on reality, but he seemed content to exist there, pushing Annabeth to “be the bigger person” all while getting pissy over her interaction with Andreas.
Annabeth all but snarls, surprising herself with the level of venom she’s injected into her voice, “Maybe if you’d pay attention for once in your life, Percy, you’d see that she isn’t exactly knocking down doors to be my friend either. Besides, who are you to talk? For someone to be your so-called ‘friend,’ you treated Andreas terribly! For doing you a favor and keeping me company.”
By this point, they had walked from the gym, out of the school while fussing backing forth the entire time. One of the best things about New York was how utterly uninterested everyone is in anything not interfering with their own lives. Annabeth could see Percy’s agitation, his face flushed from anger and his eyebrows furrowed over his blue eyes. It was the same look he had every time they got into it about Luke or when he saw Connor making her laugh with those corny, flirtatious jokes. She has an inkling as to why that is but refuses to allow herself to get her hopes up only to be disappointed. Besides, he had Rachel now and, although he’s never confirmed it, she knows he’s been to Ogygia, in the arms of Calypso, the sorceress. He turns to face her, furious.
“He’s fine! Annabeth, you do this all the time,” he says exasperated, “We can’t even hang out without someone- some guy all in your face and you enjoying it! You’ve spent the past year acting like everything I do pisses you off-”
“You’re certainly pissing me off right now,” she interrupts.
He continues as if she never spoke, “-and yet some random dude you’ve never even met manages to get a complete conversation out of you- something that I’ve been trying to do since last summer!”
“So why even invite me here, Percy? What am I doing here? What are we doing, arguing in the middle of the street- fighting because I was nice to your friend! I haven’t done anything wrong and you’re acting like I’m the one that’s always going out of my way to upset you!” she screams. It is so utterly pathetic what they’ve become, yelling at each other in the middle of the sidewalk on a busy street. They’re supposed to be going to dinner, to celebrate Percy’s win, his team’s championship win and instead, they’re back at each other’s throats. It gives her a sense of déjà vu, they’d gotten pretty loud back at camp one evening, screaming their heads off in the dining pavilion. It sucks that this is the only way they know how to communicate now.
“Oh, grow up, Annabeth,” his face is so red, so turbulent. “I wanted you here because you’re my best friend. You’re the one who doesn’t act like it. You don’t talk to me, and when you do, it always turns into another argument. You told me, no matter what, I can always count on it being me and you-”
“It is me and you!”
“It's not! It’s not me and you, it’s you and Luke! Or you and Connor. You and Silena and Clarisse. You and Katie. Apparently now, it’s you and Dre!”
She can’t stop the stupid burning of her eyes, a few traitorous tears threatening to slip out, “You’ve got a lot of nerve. What, am I supposed to wait around camp like an idiot while you go painting the town with Rachel?”
She throws her arm back, gesturing to the New York skyline, and watches as Percy catches sight of the ten numbers written in black ink across her forearm. It only fuels his anger.
“I never said anything about waiting around. How am I supposed to want to hang out with you when every time I do, you end up angry with me?”
“You mean the same way you end up angry with me?”
“Because all you can do is talk about how much Luke needs to be saved! How ‘he’s just misguided, Percy. You don’t know him like I do.’ Newsflash, Annabeth, I do know him. He’s tried to kill me; he’s killed our friends. He’s tried to kill you!”
“I’m not just going to give up on him, Percy! He’s my family. He was family when no one else wanted me, when I was alone in the world. I had no caring dad at home waiting for me, my mother was all but an abstract thought in my mind. For five years, he was the only person in the world that put me first. That made sure I felt safe and loved and cared for. So, I won’t just turn my back on him when everyone else seems to have forgotten his goodness, when they’ve abandoned him like I was. I don’t have to forgive him to still believe he’s in there somewhere,” she can hear the desperation in her voice. Truthfully, she’s not even sure what they’re fighting over anymore- Luke or Andreas, Rachel, or Connor. All of these ghosts and people have entered their friendship with no exit in sight, destroying what was good and beautiful and so wholly theirs.
He seems calmer, if not a little more sympathetic, “ I get that Annabeth, but it’s not like that anymore,” he reaches for her hand, warm and brown against the paleness of his. “You’re not alone in the world and he’s not putting you first anymore. If he did, he would’ve never turned to Kronos.”
She yanks her hand from his grasp, “You don’t get it.”
“I do get it! But he’s not here! I am, Annabeth, I’m here. And I wish you had half the faith in me that you do in him,” he says the last word like he can physically taste the disgust on his tongue.
“I do have faith in you!” her voice incredulous, how could he even think that?
“Not enough. Not like you do with him. He’s hurt you and betrayed you and yet you treat me like I’m already halfway out of your life.”
He has no clue. If the prophecy is anything to go by, he’s already got one foot in the grave, let alone half out of her life. “You want to talk about faith, Percy? Where were you last summer, huh? You disappeared for two weeks. We held a funeral for you. I knit a shroud for you-you’re welcome by the way, since you forgot to say thank you. You come back with nothing, but a stupid, silver flower and you think no one would figure it out?”
She’s never seen Percy’s face go blank so quickly. He goes still and quiet and for once she is unable to read any of the emotions on his face. The slight breeze brushing through his blonde curls is the only movement of his person. When he answers, it's quiet and low. “It’s none of your business, Annabeth.”
“Of course, it's not. Not like whoever I talk to is your business, right?” Annabeth’s voice goes quiet to match his. It’s the quietest they’ve managed to talk to each other in months, but it feels more dangerous. Like they’re one whisper away from saying something they’ll both regret.
“We’re not attached at the hip, Annabeth. I don’t have to tell you every little thing that happens in my life. It's not like you do.”
“And there’s that deflection we’ve become so familiar with,” she sarcastically claps.
“I’m not deflecting.”
“My bad, not deflecting, you’re running away.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Percy.”
“You’re the one who refuses to talk about anything. As soon as the conversation gets difficult, you run.”
“The only person running is you, Percy,” she didn’t notice how close they had gotten.
“I’m not!”
“You are!”
They were glaring at each other, Percy staring down his nose and Annabeth up through her eyelashes. She's so furious that she turns and begins walking down the street before she says something she can’t take back. She can hear him jogging to catch up with her.
He grabs her wrist, tugging her around, “Hey, wait! This is exactly what I mean, Annabeth. What do you mean by-”
“I kissed you, Percy. I kissed you and you never brought it up. I kissed you and you disappeared to some mysterious island with a beautiful witch for two weeks, come back and throw my quest into the lap of your mortal girlfriend,” her voice is shaky, fragile with emotion. All of the repressed feelings she had kept secret were in danger of spilling out.
She could tell Percy didn’t know what to say. Or, rather, is unwilling to say it. Maybe there wasn’t much to say. His objection to ever mentioning it again seemed like a pretty clear answer to her. It was time for her to get the hint, to accept that Percy didn’t see her in the same way she saw him. It stung. Hurt, more like, realizing that fact. He is going to be forever just out of her grasp, slightly out of reach in how she wants him.
Standing here with him, surrounded by the noise and lights of the city, Annabeth can’t breathe. He’s been taking her breath since the moment she met him, half passed out at the entrance of the camp. It used to make her feel on top of the world. Now all it does is remind her that she’s losing yet another person in her life, unable to do anything but watch as he slips away.
He had refused to entertain the argument any longer, turning his face to the side and looking out at the city. She’d stared at his profile, observing the sharpness of his jaw and the slope of his nose. How the streetlights caught the blond of his eyebrows. She wonders when he stopped looking so much like a young boy and more like a young man. She wonders if he’s ever stared at her and wondered the same. Truthfully, she didn’t have much of an appetite, but there was no other option for her other than to follow him down the dark and desolate street.
Dinner was awful and silent. Awkward too, but that was a given considering the abysmal mood they were both in by the time they actually made it to the diner. Percy, ever the gentleman, was insistent on paying for her meal even though he could barely look at her. That’s fine. She isn’t too keen on looking at him at the moment, either. Still, when she shivers, he takes it upon himself to cover the slope of her brown shoulders with his letterman jacket. It smells like the ocean and the trace of cinnamon that his mother uses to make her infamous blue cookies- it smells like him, and a little bit like home.
It rained while they sat inside, leaving the air muggy and humid, somehow much darker on their walk to the subway station than it had been when they left his school gymnasium. The lights of the city reflected in the puddles of the wet concrete until they were under the sterile lights of the underground subway. The difference was jarring and disoriented Annabeth, who was already an emotional wreck. She can’t help the twinge of resentment she feels towards Percy at this very moment. Since the moment she met him, his blue eyes and blond curls have been haunting her. She’s always been a runner, forever squeezing out of lives and places when the love becomes stale, but he chases her constantly without a moment's hesitation. Or at least, he used to. Now, it seems the only thing he chases is a trail of flaming red hair or the wispy ghosts of an island long forgotten. Even now as the ends of her hair blow with the wind of the passing subway trains, his head is turned away from her, a far cry from the hot, gauzy summer afternoons where he once confided in her that he could find her anywhere by following the scent of her lemon shampoo.
Now, they stand side by side, waiting for the subway that will take her away from the city and away from him, back to a lonely camp where the melancholy feeling of death lingers ever present in the air. She can feel his warmth through her- his sleeve and the heavy weight of his gaze on the side of her face. It makes her scalp prickle, and she has the embarrassing urge to fidget with the black coil of hair that still hangs within her eyesight. Just as the urge to tug at it hits her, she hears Percy sigh deeply, his entire body exhaling a cloud of exhaustion and maybe even a little bit of grief, too.
When he speaks, his voice is heavy with pain, “I’m sorry, Annabeth. I’m really sorry.”
She waits for a beat, rubbing her eyes under the pretense of sleepiness or a headache. Really, she’s trying to stop the burning of the salt from her tears.
“Me, too,” her voice is teary, and she can hear the stuffiness of her nose coming through.
“It wasn’t supposed to go like this. It was supposed to-” he cuts himself off, a little unsure about how to proceed. “Tonight was supposed to be better than this.”
Annabeth releases a pitiful attempt at a smile, “No? How was it supposed to go?”
“Well,” Percy sighs, the trace of laughter in his voice, “You’d come to the game, sit front row and cheer whenever I made a shot-“
“I did all of those things, Percy,” she giggles. She turns to him, smiling and points at her hair, “I even wore your favorite color for luck.” Percy’s eyes lose focus for a second, his gaze resting on the blue headband she’s wearing.
“Yeah,” his voice is soft, reverent even, as he reaches up and touches the fabric, brushing it with the back of his index finger. She can feel her face get hot as the distance between them gets even smaller.
“Percy,” she whispers.
“Hm.”
“Finish telling me what was supposed to happen.”
Their voices are mere whispers, almost breaths against each other’s faces as they maintain eye contact. It feels intimate in a way, a feeling that Annabeth thinks is familiar and yet entirely new.
The finger that Percy uses to trace her headband with slowly makes its way to her temple. Then to her cheek. It stays there, gently rubbing the roundness of it as he looks into the brownness of her eyes. When he opens his mouth to speak, puffs of his breath are centered on Annabeth’s face.
“You’d cheer whenever I made a shot. And then, I’d take the final winning shot and point to you. Cheesy, I know. I got the idea from a movie I saw,” he pauses as she huffs out a laugh. “After the game was over, we’d go to dinner, but I’d take you the long way. The scenic view so we could catch up. So, I could hear you laugh like you used to. And then-”
Annabeth’s eyes are heavy-laden, and she can distantly feel the slight pressure of both his hands on her face. She reaches up to grasp his hands, slowly rubbing them with her thumbs, feeling the texture of his calluses on his sword-fighting hand, and ceases to breathe when he presses his forehead against hers. She’s on her tippy toes again, but she can no longer register the numbness in her shoes.
“And then what, Percy?”
“And then,” he breathes out, closing his eyes and leaning down, pulling her face closer to him, “I’d hold you like this and kiss you.”
She can smell him, alive and here. Alive and here in a way he won’t be next year and so she whispers, “So do it.”
And so, he does. Until the whistle of the train to Long Island interrupts them, causing them to break apart. She sees Percy open his eyes as though he’s coming out of a fog and when she licks her lips, he breathes out shakily before mimicking the action, as if on reflex. She falls back onto her heels and watches as he straightens up. His hands fall down from her face to her shoulders, before gliding down her arms. She smiles, foolish and naïve. She feels like this might be the start of something new. A little piece of heaven before she’s forced to endure the long span of hell waiting for her after the occurrence of the prophecy. That is, until his thumb brushes against the ten digits of black ink on her left arm. Its only made worse by the presence of a sliver Athena coin bracelet on her wrist, a left-over gift from a dark-haired boy who once held the role of brother, father, and friend long ago.
Percy’s eyes grow dim, and she can feel him retreating away from her, emotionally and physically. Annabeth shakes her head frantically and grasps at his hands as he pulls them away, slowly sliding them into his pockets. She moves her hands up to his face, trying to turn his face back towards her. A fool’s errand in trying to recapture the magic of a lost moment.
“Come to camp next week! We can talk about this. All of it. I promise we won’t- I promise I won’t fight with you,” her voice is hurried and quiet, but no less troubled.
He shakes his head once and steps back, “You should get on your train before you miss it.”
The train whistles once more and Annabeth glances back, before turning back around to face Percy, taking slow steps back. “Promise me! You’ll come next week,” she pauses, thinking of an excuse, any excuse to get him to come. “I’ll need to give you back your jacket! Just come.”
“I can’t! Next time you’re in the city. Or this summer!”
Is he not listening? This can’t wait, she begins to shake her head. As the automatic doors begin to close, she sticks her hands in her- his pockets, feeling the crumple of a piece of paper. She looks down, away from his face as she pulls out a flyer. It’s a flyer of some ritzy resort down in Florida. At first she’s confused as to why it would be in his pocket until an ice-cold feeling slides down her gut. Her hands shake and she looks up seeing the confused and eventually guilty look on his face. The doors close as she turns the flyer over, Rachel’s handwriting of “Get back to me ASAP! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you have a lot of fun! ;)” permeates her vision. Her nose feels runny and hot all over again as she looks back at him, the door closing for good before pulling off.
He had no intention of coming back to camp. No intention of coming back to her at all. She can only stare at him as the train gets ready to move, his eyes locked on hers through the foggy glass. It’s petty, what she does next. Very petty, but all she can think about is how much he’d hurt her this past summer, throughout this night alone. Even if it is unintentional, Annabeth acknowledges that she cannot leave this city, this day, being the only wounded heart. She refuses to. With her breath uneven and her chest heavy with a wet kind of rage, she stares at him and lifts her left arm. A sick satisfaction passes through her when the sleeve of his very own letterman falls to her elbow, revealing the brown slip of her thin forearm. The train jolts and she grabs onto the ceiling strap nearest to her, turning her wrists so Andres’ number is boldly showing. She feels empty at how his face goes stony, her last image of him before the tunnel goes dark, his jaw clenched and his face turning away from her.
It’s fine. She’s absolutely fine. He can go on his vacation with Rachel. He can go to all the stupid art exhibits, sports games, and arcades he wants to go to with her. It doesn't matter that he’s living on borrowed time and spending it with a girl who could never know one-fifth of what it was like to be in their world, in her world. She has her pride and cute boy’s number on her wrist. And if that pride goes before the fall, then so be it.