A/n (Warning: novel length):
First things first, I would thank EVERYONE who read and reviewed "Wasted Daylight." Without you guys, I would have never been motivated to write this! I would also like to give a very, very, very, VERY special thanks to Small-she-wolf for putting up with my tardiness and overall motivating me to write. If not for her, this wouldn't be possible. She's funny, compassionate, brilliant, and incredibly helpful. She's my best friend. An absolute angel, whose every word I hang onto whenever I write! I can't even begin to express how grateful I am for her continued support!
I know it took me FOREVER to post this, I apologize for that, but I'm a procrastinator… which is why everyone should be as grateful as I am that Small-she-wolf was here to motivate me. Otherwise, this might've never been written. (If you have the time, show her some love for me!)
For those unawares, Small-she-wolf's going to be posting this same story in French! (And, in case you didn't know, she has already translated "Wasted Daylight.")
Overall, I couldn't ask for a cooler person to be helping me with this story, nor could I ask for cooler and more patient readers!
It's been a demanding process—one that I suspect will only more difficult the more I write—months of filling up notebooks and staying up all night coming up with ideas. Months of going in and out of writer's block. Months of not knowing what I wanted to do with the story, constantly revising it. Months of being happy one day and deeply depressed the next—of writing a whole chapter's worth of stuff, and then being unable to do more than write a sentence before I lose my resolve. After all the ups and downs life's thrown at me, I can say that I have something to show for it. And I'm ecstatic; overwhelmed with gratitude to everyone who has taken the time to leave me reviews; to PM me to ask about the story, or just to ask how I'm doing; to favorite, or follow "Wasted Daylight."
The amount of positive energy is overwhelming and I just want to say "thank you" to everyone for being patient. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!
(So, before we get onto the story, to cover the basics:
This story takes place in an Alternate Universe: there is no camp half-blood, no divinities of any sorts, no items imbued with magical properties—just regular people, and regular stuff, with the occasional unexplainable occurrence that everyone ignores.
Characters are older. (E.G: Percy is almost 19…)
Characters will be OOC. (It's AU…)
* This is a dark story with dark and mature themes.
This story isn't labeled as romance because—though, Luke and Percy do eventually become involved—bear in mind that the relationship in which they find themselves in is NOT healthy. (More Stockholm Syndrome and less Romeo and Juliette) Outside of the realm of fiction, I do not condone any of the behavior I write about.
This story will contain kidnapping, coercion, dubious consent, burglary, substance-abuse, excessive swearing and offensive language, psychological trauma, strong and sometimes graphic acts of violence, graphic sexual content, mentions of child-abuse, and past physical and sexual abuse of a minor. Overall, this story contains content that will offend. However, to abide with site rules; nothing explicit will be posted on here. The story in its entirety will be on my AO3—link to it on my profile page; although, it will probably update slower on there than over here.
At no point during the read, if you are made uncomfortable should you continue. In fact, I implore you to utilize the back button if you find upon something that doesn't bode well with your principles.)
If I missed anything, do let me know! This has taken so much time to write out that I'm just dying to upload it. Probably over the weekend I'll check it for imperfections, for now it's un-beta'd. Sorry!
The longer Percy stared at his book-report, the less sense it seemed to make and the more his head began to pound with the beginnings of a really bad migraine.
He was trying―Percy really, really was―to write this damned paper for his Art History class. In all honesty, however, Percy knew nothing about anything in the course.
Not because he didn't know how to learn; Percy just couldn't be bothered to read the old and over-priced tomes he was assigned, as well as two heavy textbooks, and a PDF. File big enough to crash even the school's computers. To be brief; for one class, it was all too much to read in the short time remaining in the semester.
Besides, there weren't nearly enough pictures of naked women to keep him interested. Not that he was some freak that got his rocks off in class... it was just that, Percy wasn't in the least bit interested in Art History; something he demonstrated on the regular basis whenever he fell asleep during a lecture or review.
To be frank, the only reason the youth agreed to take Art History was because his Guidance Counselor promised it would be an easy "A."
Gnawing at the remnants of his mechanical pencil's eraser, Percy re-read his thesis statement and tried to process the multitude of names of the artists he was writing about and their respective pieces. Most of the words were written in languages he'd barely begun to understand, Percy realized. Glancing over them again and again, eventually he gave up on remembering how everything was supposed to be pronounced.
The other half (Percy's own muddled words) was written in what the youth hoped the instructor could discern as English. However, given the way his dyslexia was choosing to act up that night, Percy was probably going to get low marks on his spelling... as usual.
Percy was pretty sure the professor hated him...
Gah, why'd he let himself be signed up for this course?
His step-father was a powerful man; he greased the palms of every academic superpower known to get Percy admitted into this school. The terms of Percy's enrollment were simple; his step-dad had said that Percy could take any course he wanted, so long as he got passing-marks in it. Percy knew full-well that he wasn't let in for his smarts. The only reason his step-father had even considered sending Percy to college (and to this university in particular) was because the teen had an innate-talent for swimming and the school's swim-team hadn't won anything in years. Being an alumni, it was only right that Paul try to help his former-school out.
All he needed was a passing grade… it didn't even matter what class. So, why the hell did Percy let himself be talked into Art History? Surely, studying Human Sexuality in Mrs. Fairfax's psychology class was infinitely more interesting.
Even with his ADHD, Percy was more than sure he could care more for and excel in, any subject that wasn't art—still and boring art.
Calculus had a practical application; knowing the hidden message in Da Vinci's "Last Supper" didn't.
Plastic cracked under his molars as Percy furrowed his brows and threw himself back in his chair. The sturdy wooden-legs scraped loudly against the floor, the chair moaning at the abrupt shift of his weight.
Percy's dorm-mate, Grover Underwood, stirred ever so slightly but did not rouse. The older man was so hurt off the Special-K he'd been tricked into taking by Clarisse that he couldn't have awoken if he wanted to.
Percy glanced over his shoulder, spitting out chunks of his pencil as he regarded Grover with cautious sea-green eyes.
Grover Underwood had been his friend since he enrolled. Laid-back and honest, he reminded Percy of his life before his mother had gotten hitched to New York's most well-renowned media magnate.
Grover was a shaggy-looking dude with hand-me-down clothes and a mangy-looking goatee. Most of the time when Percy and Grover hung out, the older man was experimenting with drugs or already buzzing from the effects of his last hit―if his dealer didn't come through, then Grover spent most of his time hitting on girls. Not that he had much luck with them, aside from Juniper; his on again off again girlfriend.
Despite being good people, the narcotics were obviously rotting Grover's brain; his grades were so bad, it was a miracle he hadn't yet been put on Academic Probation… or expelled.
Percy always wondered how Grover got into the university in the first place when (as far as he could tell) the older man was, to be frank, a stereotypical recreational drug-user.
Sighing, Percy straightened out in his chair and kicked his legs up onto the desk. He was going nowhere with this paper. Hopefully, Annabeth could salvage it for him before class.
Leaning back in his chair, Percy closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Inhaling slowly, he let his mind wander. Easily enough, Percy found himself imagining that he was floating on the surface of the ocean.
The gentle waves rolling underneath his splayed form; how the water would find its way into his ears, making it hard for him to hear anything but the blissful churning of the sea. The sunlight warming his face and chest; a contrast to the cool, green-blue waves lapping at his back and lulling him into a trance-like state as he gave himself to the will of the surf.
Thinking of the smell of seawater, Percy sighed deeply; feeling weightless as he dared to lean back further and further, until only the corner of his chair's hind-legs were touching the floor.
Percy adored the ocean―it reminded him of his dad and a simpler time. A time before his dad disappeared from the picture and his mother was forced to raise him by herself.
The summers he spent in his early childhood, on his father's fishing boat seafaring were some of the best of his life. The charter bobbing on the waves as fish leapt from the ocean like torpedoes, sending water high into the air as they broke the surface of the churning sea.
Thinking of the ocean used to make him want to tear something apart with his hands. It used to make him want to cry and scream until his tears dried, and his eyes stung, and his voice stopped working because his throat was hot and raw. It used to make Percy's chest tight with guilt.
Misplaced guilt―but, guilt nonetheless because, back then, his mother wasn't ever happy after she received "the call" from his father's fishing company.
The memory grew fuzzier around the edges with each passing day, but Percy could still remember the way his mother had frozen when she answered the phone and was immediately met with the company's owner. The way her eyes glossed over when she was offered condolences for a loss that Sally hadn't yet realized she'd suffered. How her usually rock solid resolve crumpled and how she fell apart in gasping, hysterical sobs.
Percy was so young back then; too young to understand what had just happened. He only knew that his mother was crying and that he wanted her to stop. He'd tried to help her. Percy tried to cheer her up, telling her that Dad would come home and make things right. She didn't smile at him like she normally did; in fact, she only cried harder.
Pulling him into the quavering cage of her arms, Sally had sobbed into his hair until she could pull herself together enough to kiss him on the crown of his head and send him to his room.
When he asked why, his mother almost broke down again. "Mommy needs some time alone. Go play upstairs..." She'd said through hiccups.
And it was like this for a while; his mother always crying and apologizing to Percy even when she didn't do anything wrong.
It didn't stop until his mother had announced that she would be remarrying; then she was happy again. But Percy wasn't because, by then, he had realized that his father was never coming back. And suddenly, it was like he and his mother had switched places, as now he was the one who was sad and angry all the time.
The week before Paul married his mother—as a way to truly break the ice between them—he took Percy fishing, and suddenly the ocean wasn't that bad anymore. It wasn't anything like the broiling black sea that Percy had come to think had taken his father. It was just a wide crystal blue expanse with fish jumping from the ocean and waves that rocked their yacht like a cradle.
From that day forth, it turned into a way for Percy to find solace as his world changed around him and he went from the son of a fisherman to the step-son of one of New York's elite.
Time didn't heal all wounds, but a concerted effort on Paul's part made it easier for Percy to adjust to having his universe turned upside down and shaken like a snow globe.
Paul settled into the role of a father as well as any man made to raise someone else's child could: he didn't force conversation, didn't hover, he was encouraging when need be and gave advice when asked. Percy respected him for not trying to be his dad, but helping to raise him nonetheless.
The chair jerking underneath him jolted Percy from his reverie. His eyes snapped open. Quickly, Percy reached out to catch the desk in front of him before he fell backwards. Somewhat startled, it took him a second to settle back in. Afterwards, Percy rubbed his eyes as fatigue set in.
Yawning, he glanced at the clock and narrowed his eyes at how surprisingly early it was. Damn… he might as well try to fix his paper.
Tidying up his desk, Percy resolved to finish his essay. Retrieving his favorite ball-point pen from the messy cup of writing utensils on his desk, he began crossing out everything in his paper that wasn't good enough to make the final draft.
It was needless to say that, by the time he was done, Percy was aghast at the amount of red lines that covered his work―by the sheer amount of content that just didn't make any sense.
Was his Adderall even working? His essay was such a mess that even he couldn't grasp just what the hell he was trying to get at most of the time.
Percy groaned as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands. "Damn it..." Dropping his pen into the fold of his notebook, Percy grabbed his laptop from underneath a pile of leaflets and trash with the full intention of trying to convince his professor to give him an extension on his dissertation.
Opening the computer, the youth logged onto it and barely half-way to emailing his instructor, Percy got distracted by what his friends were posting on Facebook and dozed off looking at pictures of cats.
Had Annabeth not been the greatest girlfriend in the entire world, Percy would have showed up to Art History empty-handed. And had he been empty-handed, Percy could have kissed any ability to salvage at least a "C" from Art History goodbye.
Annabeth wasn't even taking the course and she was able to write him a fully articulate essay between her wake-up call and his long walk to the "F"-building across the street from the dorms.
Percy's mind was blown by how so little effort on her part could yield something so put-together and informative. And even though Annabeth clearly dumbed it down so the professor wouldn't get suspicious, the essay was still a very intelligently thought-out piece of work.
And when Percy found himself staring at his first "A" of the semester, he wondered just how someone could be so clever.
When Annabeth brushed him off saying that the essay wasn't at all a strain on her already over-packed syllabus, and that, "if he promised to be more proactive in his studies she would help tutor him," Percy almost threw himself to her feet.
When they entered the cafeteria for lunch, Annabeth elbowed him in the ribs and told Percy to stop following so close behind her because, while it was cute that he was grateful, Percy was creeping her out.
Situated between the exit and a window, the two of them sat tucked away from the rest of the student-body in their own little world, sharing a stolen moment in each other's company. Picking idly at their food, the couple conversed as though they'd all the time in the world.
"So, I've been meaning to remind you about Rachel's party tonight..." Annabeth informed, tearing apart her blueberry muffin and nibbling at the crumbs that fell into the folds of her shirt-sleeves.
Percy shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he took a long drought from his generic "vending-machine"-brand soda. Lethargy made his muscles pulse as he felt the side-effects sleeping upright against his desk last night. Rolling his head on his shoulders to try to work the kink out of his neck, Percy felt a headache coming on.
Taking another drink from his pop, Percy furrowed his brows as the oncoming headache grew worse. "Argh, note to self: never sleep on hard surfaces ever again." He thought, pursing his lips as he rocked back and forth in his chair.
Barely registering what the blonde was saying to him then, Percy almost missed the beat when Annabeth asked whether or not he wanted to attend their mutual-friend's get-together: "I'yunno?" He replied with an air of feigned nonchalance; indifference that Annabeth could easily discern as Percy's usual empty-headedness.
She scowled after repeating the question and not receiving the desired response.
Annabeth wrinkled the paper-cup her muffin came in and chucked it at Percy, "I guess I'm going by myself then." The blonde huffed; her irritation almost reaching its boiling-point. She takes the time out of her day to hang out with Percy and he was ignoring her?
Percy swatted crumbs from his clothes as he scowled; his exhaustion showing through as his expression soured. "Hey, what was that for?"
"Never mind; forget I said anything." Annabeth assured flippantly, crossing her legs as she leant back in her chair and buried her face in the dog-eared copy of "The Art of War" that she'd recently taken out of the library.
Percy watched her steely-gray eyes move back in forth as she spent the rest of their leisure-time reading. Knowing that he'd screwed up somewhere along the lines of this exchange, the teen knew that all attempts to talk to Annabeth would be futile.
Pursing his lips, Percy let his head fall into the cradle of his hand. Looking out the window as he waited for Annabeth to go, the youth imagined that he was floating on a raft somewhere out in the middle of the sea. The feeling of isolation was probably about the same.
When it came time for Annabeth to leave, she stood abruptly and disappeared behind Percy like she had taken off for class—only to surprise him after a couple of moments by leaning over his shoulder and pinching him on both of his cheeks. "That'll teach you to ignore me, Seaweed-brain!" She exclaimed with spiteful glee as Percy groused at having his face squeezed.
"Ouch! Okay, okay!" Percy promised. His eyes watering as he tried to wriggle his face free from Annabeth's death grip. When she finally relented, the youth sighed aloud in relief. "I'm sorry," he quickly said when the blonde gave him a dark look; a look that read (at least to him) that she was getting her second-wind and was about to pinch him again.
She smirked self-righteously instead.
"Annabeth," called one of the blonde's classmates from across the cafeteria. "We've got a quiz; we can't be late!" They informed, arms waving high in the air to make sure Annabeth could see them.
The blonde frowned before shouting back, "'Kay, I'm coming!" Grabbing her things, Annabeth placed a kiss to Percy's redden cheek. "I'll text you later," she assured before taking off.
Percy rubbed his sore face, trying not to pout as he shook his half-empty can of soda and watched his girlfriend disappear amongst the hordes of students coming and going.
In the evening after the meeting of the swim team concluded, Percy was left to his own devices as the coach went on to mentor some of the more "disadvantaged" swimmers.
Chuckling as he watched one of the freshmen swimmers slip on the slippery tiles by the pool as he'd gone to cannon ball into the deep-end, Percy rubbed at his wet hair with a towel. By the time he was finished, he could've sworn the towel had changed colors. Shrugging, he threw it over his shoulder and began rifling through his locker for a dry shirt.
"You're going to Rachel's party tonight, right?" Tyson asked, seemingly appearing out of thin air as he ripped open his own locker to tuck away his goggles and swimming cap.
Percy jumped, caught off guard by the other's sudden arrival.
Tyson was a big guy. Anywhere between 6'2 and 6'3, Tyson was almost a head taller than everyone on the swim team. He was bulkier too, with broad shoulders and muscles so heavily defined that they protruded against his thick skin and visibly pulsed from exertion—exertion that clearly didn't faze Tyson.
The larger youth hummed, raking his fingers through his dripping brown-tangles before pulling his eye-patch on; the black triangle of fabric neatly covering the deflated lid of his right eye.
Percy watched him adjust it with mild interest. He knew that Tyson only had one eye left after he got into a car accident as a kid; it was common knowledge around the campus. Rubbing his own eye as he briefly wondered how it would be to have only one eye, Percy startled when Tyson slammed his locker closed and turned to him with an expectant look on his face.
Uh... right, Tyson had asked him something?
Turning away to hide the startled look on his face, Percy slicked his own sodden hair out of the way. "Mmm... hm?" He hummed noncommittally.
Tyson pursed his lips, a look of childish offense crossing his face. For a dude so big, it looked utterly comical to see him pout. "You're not listening to me, huh?" Tyson howled, looming over Percy in a way that was unintentionally ominous. "I was talking about Rachel's party! You don't know!? It's tonight. Didn't Annabeth tell you?"
Percy stepped back as Tyson stooped over him like a great, terrible giant. Tyson's visible eye was huge and analyzing. The longer he stared, the more it felt as though it were boring holes into Percy's forehead.
The youth waved Tyson off before closing his own locker with a resounding click.
Vaguely, he recalled Annabeth mentioning something about a party... seeing as Tyson was mentioning it to him now, Percy was sure that it would be the thing on everyone's mind around campus.
With a sigh, Percy answered plainly, "probably."
At a quarter to eight Percy's mobile went off with a text from Annabeth; the message was short and simple: "Be ready in five."
She wasn't even giving him a choice anymore. Great...
Why was everyone making this get-together out to be so important? From Freshmen Jason Grace, to Senior Silena Beauregard and her boyfriend Charlie, it was as though half of the student-body was going to be there apparently.
Percy had half a mind to tell her that he would rather kick rocks. However, being something of a pushover, Percy kept his complaints to himself and went on to shower and change into something more suitable for a party than sweat pants and a threadbare t-shirt.
He was fixing his askew hair as best as he could when Annabeth arrived with Thalia in-tow. Before he could even say hello, Annabeth interrupted him with an apology as the older girl pushed her way into Percy's dorm. Thalia muttered dark words under her breath as she appropriated his laptop and flopped down onto Grover's empty bed.
Percy leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed as he watched Thalia abuse his computer as she did whatever she had come to do with it. "What's her deal?" He asked Annabeth under his breath, hoping not to incur the raven-haired woman's wrath.
Annabeth answered plainly, "She's got a test due in a half-hour and it'll probably make her late to the party."
"But why my computer? ―"
Annabeth waved him off, "You've got Wi-Fi; need I say more? C'mon, let's go."
They arrived at Rachel's house well after the party started.
Percy found himself loitering in the kitchen, stuck between an already plastered couple eating each other's faces and Annabeth who was chatting up some chick from her Ancient Architecture course; they sat together apparently. And that made them good-friends all of a sudden.
Percy rocked on his heels and tried not to look bored as he watched everyone else enjoying themselves. It was a hard feat, however; seeing as he felt like his time would be better wasted back at the dorms reading the faded comic book clippings glued to his ceiling.
This party was a bust.
The music was being played too loudly. The playlist was an outdated mess, probably put together by a tone-deaf hipster freshly broken up with his girlfriend.
The food was ordered from various take-outs around the city, greasy and overly-processed; not all what Percy had in mind when he thought of things with nutritional value. Soggy cardboard was probably healthier than the mystery meat eggrolls Leo brought.
The attendees were all either drunk, or conversing with someone they'd already seen earlier in the day. Nobody was dancing or telling jokes because everyone was seemingly robbed of their joy at the door.
Annabeth had told him that college kids didn't party like high-schoolers; that they respected other people's property and usually only partied 'til they dropped at clubs.
Percy was sorely disappointed when he had been led into the lounge by Rachel, the redhead hugging and greeting other guests as she welcomed him and Annabeth into her home. He expected people hanging from the ceiling, or at least a drinking contest, instead Percy found that most of everyone was seated and watching a movie.
The party's only redeeming quality, it seemed, was the booze.
Rachel's parents spared no expense in stocking the liquor cabinet. From imported wines to the hard stuff only ever seen in mobster movies, the redhead had it all.
It was a damn shame that he would be enjoying these beverages illegally because, damn it, if Percy didn't want to brag about getting himself a glass of three hundred dollar Pinot Noir to his friends online.
Narrowly avoiding getting flattened by the couple as they finally separated for air and disappeared from the kitchen altogether, Percy dared to pour himself a glass of whiskey.
Sipping from it, he found that he didn't very much like the taste of it.
Tempted to toss the golden-brown liquor out in favor of raiding Rachel's fridge for something less disgusting, Percy pursed his lips when he caught Annabeth looking at him over the rim of her own glass; the blonde's gray eyes following him with a glint of mirth as she chattered frivolously with her classmate.
Something about the way she looked at him made Percy blush.
He looked away when Annabeth broke eye-contact with him to laugh at whatever her classmate had said. Feeling hot under the collar, Percy busied himself with studying the layout of Rachel's kitchen. Not that granite counter-tops or stainless-steel fixtures really interested him much, it was just that the feeling of Annabeth's heated glances raking over him made his knees week.
He and Annabeth had been an item for quite some time now. Almost one year, and neither of them had quite made "the move" yet. At this point, it was almost depressing.
The way she was looking at him, though, made Percy think she was ready to eat him alive―which, in this case, wouldn't be half bad except that just thinking about getting lucky tonight got him hard. And there was probably some sort of unwritten rule about getting an erection in one of you and girlfriend's best-friend's kitchens.
Swallowing the proverbial frog that leapt into his throat, Percy clumsily placed his tumbler on the counter before taking off in what could only be described as an "I have to pee"-walk.
Percy was half-way to bathroom to relieve his problem when Rachel came bounding down the stairs to capture him by his elbow. "Shh, c'mere! I've got something to show you!" She squeaked. Her red hair swayed with her sporadic movements, clearly having had come down from the chignon she had it in earlier.
At least she had the decency to cut lose at a party. It was a shame that it was Rachel's own party she was getting drunk at. There must be an unwritten rule about that too.
Percy was too stunned to jerk away from her as Rachel turned on her heel and pulled him upstairs.
Letting himself be guided down the hallway, Percy vaguely remembered that he was supposed to be returning to the kitchen; that Annabeth and the promise of finally getting laid were waiting for him. And there was also the possibility that the blonde would be livid if Percy up and disappeared for the rest of the night.
And yet, somehow, Percy walked obediently with Rachel clutching him by the bend of his elbow; the redhead giggling and mumbling under her breath as though she had a secret that she was on the verge of spilling.
When they arrived at what he presumed to be Rachel's own bedroom, his common sense finally kicked in. "Hey, wait a minute…" Percy started as the redhead moved to wrench her door open. "Annabeth's downstairs, I don't think we should be―"
Rachel interrupted Percy with a finger pressed to his lips. "Shhh…." She hushed, breath reeking of alcohol. Percy recoiled at the stench, but could not find it in himself to push Rachel away when she rested her head on his chest. "I said I wanted to show you something, right?" Her finger traced invisible shapes into his shirt in a coquettish way, "Well, that's all I wanna do―have a little faith, will ya?"
That would be hard―not automatically assuming that the red-head wasn't luring him into her room to seduce him―seeing as Rachel had something of a reputation around campus.
Percy apologized even though he wasn't sorry and Rachel smiled, pulling away and falling against her door drunkenly. "Oops…!" She giggled, turning the doorknob and stumbling further as the door gave way.
Percy's nose wrinkled as he caught the smell of burnt marijuana and paper, poorly masked by a generic, almost woodsy-fragrance coming from the plugin air-freshener by the desk.
His eyes narrowed into thin slits thereafter as he caught the sight of Grover puffing from a half-spent joint. "Really?" Percy huffed exasperatedly at the sight of several of his co-eds lying across Rachel's bedroom floor. They all looked equally dazed and blissed-out, some mumbling to one another almost incoherently as they waited for Grover to pass the joint back around.
There was music playing from Rachel's beloved record-player, but it was muffled by the noise in the hallway.
The inebriated party-goers barely heard Percy's irritated huff over the sound of ELO. Those who did barely acknowledged his presence as they were too interested in the vintage lava-lamp Rachel had set up on her bedside table.
The youth turned to his red-haired host, mouth thinning into a straight line. "You brought me up here to get high?"
Rachel laughed, picking herself off the floor and throwing her arms over Percy's shoulders. This time, the youth resisted the redhead when Rachel pulled him forward. "Oh, c'mon, Spoilsport―it's not like you've never smoked before!"
Percy grimaced, remembering his first cigarette in the back of one of his old high school friend's trucks; how horrible it had been. Percy doesn't remember coughing so hard.
"Stay with us for just five minutes. I promise, afterwards, I'll let you go back to Blondie." The redhead assured, greedy hands tugging a little harder at Percy until he finally staggered towards the lounging group of smokers with her. "This is good stuff, I swear."
The door was closed shortly after Percy took a seat at the foot of Rachel's bed.
Percy pursed his lips when Grover handed him the joint that was being passed around the room. It was soggy. Like, with other people's saliva. "So I guess 'no-backwash' doesn't apply here?" Percy thought, inching his fingers down the remainder of the filter, looking for a place that wasn't wet to rest his fingers.
Grover's bloodshot eyes met Percy's before the youth raised the blunt to his lips. Grover's expression was oddly serious, despite that fact that he looked totally wasted. "Just like last time, 'kay?" He reminded.
Percy rolled his eyes, "Uh-huh, yeah. So, I see you've recovered from yesterday…?" his words made Grover shrink back embarrassedly.
Feeling everyone's eyes on him, Percy exhaled heavily before taking a drag from the reefer…
—and it was ten times worst than his first cigarette; it was like being punched in the chest.
At the first inhalation Percy felt like he was suffocating. His whole diaphragm constricted at being unexpectedly dehydrated, making it hard for him not to cough as he pulled the joint from his lips and quickly blew the foul-tasting smoke out.
"Whoa there, Percy, relax." Grover soothed, sounding less worried than he probably hoped. Taking the reefer from Percy, he patted his friend on the back to stop the youth from dry heaving. Watching as a few errant tears streaked from Percy's eyes, the brunet clicked his teeth at Rachel―who at this point was beside herself with laughter at Percy's violent reaction. "I told you he couldn't handle it…"
"It's strong stuff," another partygoer agreed, "the strongest my dealer had."
Rachel howled with amusement as she fell onto her back and clutched a pillow to her chest. "I didn't know he was going to fucking CRY!"
Percy blushed, hands quickly moving to wipe tears from his eyes as he finally got his coughing under control. "Bite me, Dare," he spat, the youth's embarrassment making his skin flush rosy red. "I don't smoke like a chimney like you do, so sorry if my lungs still work!"
Rachel rolled onto her side, hitting him in the leg with her pillow. "Ah, Perce, don't be embarrassed! I was only kidding. My first time was bad, too!"
It was Grover's turn to chuckle. Ignoring the angry-look Percy gave him, the brunet leant back casually on his hands, "this isn't his first time, Rae. More like the fifth. He's a lightweight."
The whole room erupted in laughter then and Percy's flush deepened.
"Lay off it, you guys," Groused an unfamiliar man stepping out of Rachel's bathroom. Percy had never seen him around the campus―in fact; he had never seen this guy before in his life. This, he could be sure of because Percy could never forget a face like his.
The irritated stranger currently leaning against the door-frame was handsome to say the least. His hair was light-blonde; cropped short and messy with a barely-there fringe that was spiky. He had intense pale-blue eyes that looked all the more vibrant in comparison to his almost platinum-colored hair.
The stranger was at least a head taller than most of the people in the room; clad in an outfit virtually taken from James Dean's own wardrobe, complete with a fresh cigarette hanging from his obscenely pink lips.
He clearly was of an older crowd, Percy could tell, his striking features noticeably in the process of aging for the better.
Judging just by the way the blond held himself―casually lent against the doorway, flicking his lighter open and closed as though debating whether he wanted to light his smoke or not, pinning everyone down with a stern icy-stare that sent chills up Percy's spine―the teen could tell that the stranger couldn't care less for this little get together of theirs'.
Catching the look the stranger tossed Rachel's way; Percy could guess that he wasn't there for the schmoozing.
"Nice of you to finally join us, Castellan," Travis drawled lazily, propping himself up on his elbows as he regarded the blond through heavy lids.
The stranger rolled his eyes, "had Rachel told me that you, or your shit-for-brains brother, were going to be here, I wouldn't have bothered coming by." There was an air of arrogance in his tone, as well as genuine amusement that made it hard for Percy to discern whether the blond was being mean or not.
Rachel jumped up quickly, surprising Percy—but no one else—as she moved to interrupt Travis and the stranger's conversation before they started trading barbs.
Despite never meeting or seeing this "Castellan"-fellow around, it didn't take a rocket scientist to tell that everyone else in the room knew him―which made Percy squirm all the more when the stranger sat down on the floor by his feet and lay back against Percy's legs.
Seriously, how the hell did everyone else know this guy?
And when did Percy give him permission to touch him?
Better yet, why wasn't anyone introducing them?
They all just started talking and talking and talking as though they'd known the blond for years—consequentially, they ignored Percy's presence doing so.
The youth would never admit it aloud, but he actually felt left out.
Waiting for an opportunity to speak, Percy found his window when he felt his feet going numb underneath Castellan's weight.
"Uh, excuse me?" Percy started, wiggling his toes against the stranger's back.
The blond looked up then. Fixing Percy with a penetrating, investigative-look that made the youth feel small, Castellan looked impassive―unimpressed even. "You're Percy, right? Blofis' brat from the swim-team?" The older asked, never breaking eye-contact as he craned his neck awkwardly to hold Percy's gaze.
The youth started scowl. So, the stranger knew who Percy was, at least.
Watching as the blond's ruddy lips stretched into a wide smirk, Percy realized that, despite the decidedly rude wording, the other meant no harm by what he said.
Percy's mother always talked about these types of people; they had "abrasive personalities", she said.
Bearing that in mind, Percy decided that he wouldn't let it bother him.
"I dunno, maybe; who's asking?" Percy retorted with his own air of derision. It didn't come as naturally to him as it did to the blond, however. Okay, so maybe he was a little bothered …?
Castellan clicked his teeth teasingly, the cigarette between his lips bouncing. Flicking Percy's bottom lip and then laughing when the youth smacked his hand and recoiled like he'd been burned, the blond continued to tease: "Looks like someone doesn't want to play nice. Is it past your bedtime?" His words made Percy blush with increasing indignation.
The blonde turned his attention away from Percy then. "Rachel, didn't you say you're gonna stop inviting little kids to your parties?"
"I'm not a kid! I'm nineteen this summer!" Percy groused.
The blond laughed aloud. The sound was deep and rumbling, sending vibrations up Percy's legs. "Nineteen? Ooh, you're so grownup."
Rachel was lurking by her record-player, perusing her collection for something more suitable to play. She looked up to see the two bickering and she shook her head disapprovingly. "You're such a hypocrite, Luke. Didn't you tell us not to pick on him?"
Luke laughed again as he planted his hands on the floor beside him and pushed himself to his feet. "That was before I saw him pout."
Percy scowled, "I don't pout!"
"Yes, you do." Grover chimed in. It was clear to see, however, that he was barely with them at this point. His consciousness was beginning to fade under the onslaught of outside substances currently in his system. When Rachel put the next record on and the sound of Bowie's "Heroes" began to fill the space between his ears, his eyes closing despite his best efforts to stop them.
"I do not!" Percy bit back, standing and heading for the door―
―only to be stopped half-way when two strong arms wrapped around his waist, snatching him off his feet and spinning him around.
Percy actually shrieked (though he would never admit it) at being unexpectedly lifted. Hands finding Luke's forearms, he tried to pry them free. All he succeeded in doing was breaking a nail; which was horribly embarrassing despite hurting so much. "Put me down!" He howled.
Rachel's giggle was shrill, "do me next!" She pled, watching Luke swing Percy around and around.
When the redhead's turn eventually came, Luke deposited Percy onto the redhead's bed much to the youth's relief. Now if only he could get the room to stop spinning, he could leave.
Blinking spots from his eyes, Percy watched as Luke pulled Rachel into his arms for a poor imitation of the Waltz.
"Hey, wait―" The girl started to complain as Luke's hands found her waist and his body pressed in close to hers. "I don't wanna dance." She groused, struggling when the blond ignored her in favor of trying to catch the rhythm of the song playing in the background. Eventually, Luke had gotten Rachel to settle against him; following his lead as he danced them around the room.
Percy watched the two of them waltz with fading interest; his vision blurry around the edges, and his head buzzing with vertigo and whatever Rachel had him smoke.
Rubbing his eyes, he realized that they'd begun to grow heavy. His senses dulling to the point that Percy felt as though he didn't belong to his own body anymore.
His energy seemed to be draining away; although, somehow, Percy managed to push himself upright. Head swimming as the room seemed to whiz past him, the youth proceeded to crawl to the edge of the bed.
In the back of his mind there was a niggling voice telling him that he was forgetting something really important. It was silenced, however, by the onslaught of random thoughts that entered his mind thereafter as he tried not to fall off the bed.
When Percy finally managed to crawl to the edge of the bed, the youth situated himself on the end and raised his heavy hands to his face to pinch his cheeks. "Pull yourself together..." He thought mentally scowling, clenching his eyes shut to try and block out the bizarre imagery dancing in his sight.
Trying to remember what number came after three (it wasn't five… Percy knew that for sure.) so he could verify that he had all his fingers and toes, Percy nearly fell off the bed when he heard a series of loud knocks at Rachel's door.
Out of the corner of his eye, Percy saw Luke and Rachel separate from their embrace. The youth startled when, shortly afterward, the blond's hand found his shoulder. His grip strong and secure, holding Percy still when his body wanted nothing more than to pitch forward and tumble off the bed.
Percy was astonished to say the least. He didn't even know he was moving.
Any attempt to thank Luke was lost when Rachel snatched her door open, and was greeted by one of the party-goer's Percy had seen in the loft. From the distance, he couldn't readily make out her face, but from the way she moved (nervous and hesitant) he knew she came bearing bad news.
"Rae, someone called the police." The faceless girl informed, grabbing Rachel's shoulders and giving her a little jolt when the redhead failed to give her the desired response. "We need to get everyone cleared out."
When the gravity of the situation finally penetrated the thick fog of inebriation, Rachel's reaction was explosive.
Percy, even after letting the words sink it, wasn't bothered in the slightest although he knew he should have been. Not as long as he was still intoxicated; not as long as Luke's hand kept squeezing his shoulder. His mind caught onto a fleeting thought then: Annabeth. Was she still in the kitchen talking to what's-her-name?
He couldn't ask, however, because he couldn't even talk. His mouth felt numb. His stubborn lips refused to part for his heavy tongue.
Rachel nudged patrons awake and searched the room for evidence of their less-than legal-escapades. Chewing the inside of her cheek, the redhead watched as her friend stuffed a plastic bag of pills into her pocket with tremors going down her spine.
"Shit... shit... okay," The redhead mumbled to herself, assessing the room as she raked her hands through her hair. "You-you clean up. I'll... I'll get everyone out? Yeah, I can do that." Rachel's eyes met Percy's then and she snapped at him with a murderous look on her face. "What part of get out don't you understand? Go!"
"Relax, I've got him." Luke assured. His voice caught Percy off-guard because aside from his hand on the youth's shoulder, he all but disappeared in Percy's mind.
That same hand clutched his shoulder more firmly, his grasp changing from soothing to demanding as Luke pulled Percy to his feet.
The blond was strong, impressively so; Percy knew that for sure. Somehow, Luke was able to get Percy to his feet even without the youth's cooperation.
Percy sputtered as dizziness made him nauseated. Before he could sway on his feet, however, a capable arm wrapped around his waist to stabilize him. His head found Luke's chest seemingly on its own.
The blonde was unfazed by Percy's closeness. Smiling warmly, Luke reassured Rachel, "I'll get him home safe; you... clean this up."
She nodded, biting her fingernails before she moved to alert every one of the current situation.
Percy didn't know how Luke got him out of the house without either of them being spotted by the other evacuating party-goers. As he was helped into the blond's car, Percy decided that he couldn't care less.
The leather upholstery was cool to the touch, Percy felt like he could have melted as he settled back against it. He was virtually purring as he rubbed the back of his hands against the headrest.
Luke left him to his own devices. Rounding the front of his car, the blond opened the driver-side door and leaned inside. Absentmindedly, he fished through the pockets of his jacket, and once he located his keys, jammed them into the ignition.
Percy gasped as the engine roared to life, sending wild vibrations up the length of the car. Gripping the seat beneath him, Percy tried not to get lost in the sensation. Feeling the rumble of the engine shudder through the sleek metal frame of the vehicle, Percy was amazed at how good he was feeling.
When Luke came around Percy's side of the car to secure Percy in the safety belt, the youth was tempted to ask him if he felt the car vibrating too—and if Luke did, did it feel as good to him as it did for Percy?
Feeling Luke's hands fumbling around with the safety-belt before the blond pressed in close to click it, Percy's thoughts fled. Heat wafted off of Luke like the blond was smuggling hot coals under his jacket.
Percy squirmed at the proximity; not at all sure if he wanted more or less of that heat pressed against him as Luke breathed against his cheek and gave Percy's seatbelt a firm jostling to make sure it was fixed proper.
When the older man pulled away, Percy found himself speaking absentmindedly, "you're hot. Like, really hot."
Luke paused, mouth quirking up in the corners. If he wanted to say something then, he didn't. Closing the door, the blond made his way back to the driver's side. Climbing in, Luke gave Percy a sidelong look before turning on the radio. "What's the longest way back to the dorm?"
Percy furrowed his brows, "what?"
Luke turned to face him completely then, hand reaching out lightning fast to grab Percy by the nape of his neck. Forcing the youth to make eye-contact, the blond repeated himself slowly. "What is the longest way back to the dorm?"
Percy's mouth fell open for a moment, his mind working overtime to answer Luke's question. "Uh…" he floundered when he couldn't think of anything.
Luke clicked his teeth, letting Percy go. "Get comfortable."
Percy jolted awake at the sound of Luke's door slamming shut. Looking around, he found that the blond had driven them back to the dorm. The time on the dashboard clock read 4:00am... which meant that Luke had been driving them around, wasting gas, for at least three hours.
Wow... that was dedication.
Sitting up in his chair and wiping a thick trail of saliva from his chin, Percy watched as Luke jogged up the length of parking lot and almost disappeared in the dim lighting. Given how late at night it was, most of the lights had gone off in favor of letting the surrounding streetlights illuminate the campus.
If he squinted, Percy could make out Luke's silhouette as the older man gave the front door's handle a firm tug. Of course, it was locked—the dormitory was always locked. That didn't stop Luke from trying to door thrice more before he relented.
Percy yawned like it was torn from him. As his jaw flexed, it hurt as though he'd been punched in the face.
Rubbing at the place where his mandible met the rest of his skull, Percy gritted his teeth as the pain seemed to crawl up his face until it was throbbing in an unreachable spot behind his eyes.
When the pressure grew to be too great, Percy clapped his hands over his face to try and block out what little light poured in from the streetlamp overhead. Finding little relief, the youth pressed back in his seat hard, almost as though he was trying to go through the upholstery.
When the A/C clicked on automatically and started blowing cool air into his face, Percy found that the coolness helped to take the edge off the pulsing, burning sensation in his head.
He could feel himself relaxing.
―and then, suddenly, Percy's door was being snatched open. Any attempt to protest, however, was lost as the pain in his head spiked from "barely bearable" to "skull-splitting."
The agony made his eyes water. "Fuck," Percy swore angrily, hands fisting his hair as he tried to curl up into the fetal-position.
Luke didn't coddle him; he barely seemed to notice Percy's condition at all. Undoing his seat-belt, the blond pulled him out of the car and manhandled him to the door.
Percy struggled all the way; wriggling out of Luke's hold whenever the blond faltered. However, no matter how much he squirmed, his best efforts did little to impede Luke.
When they got to the door, Percy broke away and stumbled; catching himself on the door's handle just before broke his head open on the pavement. Percy scowled when it didn't open. The small part of him that was still sober knew it was locked and couldn't be opened unless with a student ID. That part, however, was muffled by the other part of him that was still heavily intoxicated; the part that was hoping against hope that if he yanked on it enough it would open.
"Fucking open…" Percy whined, pulling the handle over and over until he tired himself out.
Luke stood behind him, rolling his eyes. Eventually, the blond grew fed up. Approaching the youth, Luke's hand found Percy's side and, next thing Percy knew, he was being pulled back against the older man's chest. "Don't you have a keycard?" Luke (purred) asked, breathing lowly in Percy's ear as he rested his head on the youth's shoulder.
Percy shuddered against him, but failed to react more than that.
It grew quiet between then. The only sound that could be heard was the rumbling of Luke's car and the fluttering of trees as the breeze blew by.
Despite the coolness of the night air, Luke's warmth pressed against his back made Percy feel feverish.
"I-I think I do..." Percy finally said, after what felt like forever.
He could feel Luke's smirk against his cheek. "Mind pulling it out then?" The blond asked with mischief dripping from his tone. "Or do your dates usually have to break-in?"
Percy blushed, "I—what—dates?" he stammered.
Luke rolled his eyes again, more playfully this time. Pressing in closer, practically crushing Percy against the door, the blond took it upon himself to retrieve the ID in question. Slipping a deft hand into Percy's pocket and chuckling when the youth tensed, Luke appropriated Percy's wallet with ease. Teasingly, he brushed his fingers along Percy's thigh as he removed the wallet, and his hand, from the youth's pocket.
Percy, by then, found his head throbbing for a whole new reason. Resting his forehead against the cool glass that lined the door, the youth clenched his eyes shut and tried to block out Luke's presence altogether. This proved to be harder than he thought (impossible even) as the blond kept touching him here and there, or talking in his ear... teasing him, for crying out loud!
He felt dizzy—like he was losing his place in the world—and for the first time that night, Percy couldn't blame it on any substance he'd ingested.
Beep!
The door sounded, having been unlocked without his knowledge.
Percy's eyes flew open as the door gave way beneath him. Arms going out to break his fall, the youth stumbled through the threshold gracelessly—and noisily too. Luke laughed at him, standing in the doorway holding the door open as though he were almost afraid of entering the dormitory.
Recovering, Percy shot Luke a dirty look. "You're a bastard."
Luke didn't reply, but his smile faded just a fraction.
"You're... you're not nice at all!" Percy accused childishly. "That wasn't nice. What you did at the party wasn't nice. You're a… not-nice person."
Luke had to laugh at this because Percy sounded just like a little kid. Percy didn't share his amusement, however. Pursing his lips, the youth continued: "and yet everyone knowsyou; everyone's friends with you. Why?"
Luke clicked his teeth, considering Percy's question. "Who says I'm friends with any of them?" He finally said.
"They know your name. You laugh with them. You're… touchy with them." Percy explained.
Luke made a vague gesture with his hands, "you know my name, don't you?"
"Yeah..."
"And we've laughed together," Luke continued.
Percy frowned, "No, you've been laughing at me."
"Mhm… same thing; if you think your friends are laughing with you instead of at you, you're sadly mistaken." Luke countered with a smug look.
Percy rubbed his temples angrily. "So... are you trying to say that you're my friend?"
Luke's expression was unreadable, calculating almost. His tone of voice, however, was as mocking as it could get. "No," he said with a forced gasp, hands pressed to his chest in a dramatic gesture, "I would never."
"You suck." Percy groused. "Gimme my wallet, I'm gonna―I'm going back to my room."
Luke raised his eyebrows as though surprised at how easily Percy had admitted defeat. Leaning back against the ajar door, he crossed his arms expectantly. "What, no goodnight-kiss for all my troubles?"
Percy sputtered, turning red all over as he looked at Luke as though the blond had grown another head. "What—"
"Well, I did get you back here as promised, didn't I?" Luke reasoned with a smirk.
Percy's face twisted in disgust. "You're a fucking creep, you know that?"
Luke clicked his teeth. Inspecting Percy's wallet, he asked, "What is this made of: genuine leather? Was it custom-made? It looks nice. Expensive."
"Give it back!" Percy snapped, hands tensing into fists at his sides. His whole body felt a tense coil of energy.
"Why? I think I deserve a reward or something for putting up with you. Driving you around, burning my precious fuel, until you were sober enough to take care of yourself. Not having my way with you, even when you got handsy in the car." Luke regarded Percy with dark eyes, his leer increasing in intensity as the youth squirmed.
Percy gritted his teeth, "I-I never touched you!"
"Oh, really? And how would you know? Just a few hours ago you were tripping." Luke reminded, "Or did you forget what you did to the backseat of my car?"
Percy furrowed his brows, hands raking through his hair as he tried to recall the past hours. When all he succeeded in doing was reviving his headache, the youth stopped. Letting his hands drop uselessly to his sides, Percy frowned.
Luke grinned, "I was kidding, Kid, relax."
Percy didn't relax. In fact, his hands balled into angry fists and next thing either of them knew, Percy had approached Luke and caught him by the sleeves of his jacket. His nails dug hard into thick worn leather, leaving nasty splits in the material as he prepared to give the blond a hard shove.
Luke's mouth pressed hard against Percy's then, surprising the youth before he could act upon his rage. The blond's lips were impossibly soft; however, the kiss itself was almost hard enough to split Percy's unsuspecting bottom lip.
Percy's eyes flew open. Shock making his heart hammer hard against his chest as he pulled away. "Wh-what you…"
"There. Was that so hard?" Luke said with a smile, "Goodnight, Percy," he quickly added, shoving the youth's wallet into his hands before Percy could react.
Due to Percy's slack grip, the wallet hit the ground with a muted thud. Neither of them seemed to pay it any mind, however, as Luke retreated to the door. Percy stood like a statue as his mind played catch-up.
Before Luke disappeared in the night air, Percy shouted at him through the closing door. "You fucking suck!"
Hearing Luke's engine turn over in the distance, Percy angrily wiped his mouth. His nerves rattled, his body feeling as though it was vibrating.
Gingerly, he knelt down to retrieve his wallet. Had Percy been paying attention, he would have noticed that Luke still had his ID. Stuffing his wallet back into his pocket, the youth turned and shakily, he made a beeline for the elevator.