Because when I've just about had enough…
I huff an angry sigh and sink down onto a bench by the basketball courts. Why does he always have to be like that? So absentminded and preoccupied—he never has any time for me. But that's not what this fight was about, now was it?
I run a hand through my unkempt hair and try to calm down. Once the anger passes, I know what I'll feel. I brace myself for the sadness.
Because it had to happen at some point, didn't it? We're only nineteen, too young to find a love that will last forever. Silly me, jumping into something headfirst when I knew that I needed something that would last.
Percy. Percy, Percy, Percy.
This didn't. But then, if I knew deep down that it would happen, why am I so surprised? Why do I feel so betrayed, and so inexplicably sad? You love him, Annabeth, said a little voice inside of me. The voice of reason. No. Not reason. Something else.
I can't help but to let the events of the morning play over and over again in my mind, from the moment I woke up so close to him to the moment where I walked out on him and his life. The tears begin to fall, one by one to begin with, until my very heart and soul is soaking my t-shirt. I am ashamed of the things I said to him; calling him names that I know now are so untrue. And he took it like a man, in stony silence, but when I turned around and walked out, I saw the look on his face.
Accidents happen, but is this one that I can forgive? I know he would never hurt me on purpose, either verbally or physically, but I keep telling myself that it was intentional, what he did. No sane person could forgive and forget this.
I wipe the tears from my face, deep in somber thought. No sane person… but then again, I'm not what you could call entirely sane.
I know.
I'll let my heart decide.
Isn't that what all the movies and books tell you to do? Isn't that the sign of true love, that your heart pushes on when your mind is nearly gone? Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?
The liquor bottles are everywhere, but he's not drunk enough. I can tell. He's easy to intoxicate—a couple of beers will do the trick, but now he's had more than is healthy and still can't seem to lose consciousness.
I peer in through the door, eyes squeezed shut. I know that this will do it, just seeing his face one more time, and the love thing-y inside of me will decide.
He looks up, emotion etched onto his face and I know. My head loses control, letting my heart flip and flop like it never has before. Something passes between us, some sort of unspoken apology, and he is suddenly on his feet, chair tipped back onto the ground, and my face is buried in his chest, in his soft, sweet, gentle embrace.
Because when I've just about had enough…
I see your face, and my world just melts in your arms.
