Bleak.
That would pretty much sum up the entire week. Bleak, bleak, bleak.
He turns the dry brown leaf over in his hand, examining each and every curve, each outline and vein.
He breaks the leaf.
It isn't quite anger that he feels now. It's more of...almost betrayal. Sadness.
Maybe he'd expected it all along.
He crumbles the leaf into pieces and leaves.
I know you aren't standing in front of me anymore
At dinner, he sees her. His heart wells up with memories.
She's chatting happily, a few strands of her blonde hair lifted up in the wind. In the firelight, her hair looks reddish gold. Dancing flames reflect in her gray eyes.
It sends a pang through him as he sits as his table, alone, as usual. Poking his fork at his food, he watches as she stands up, laughing at some joke that she has heard, a joke he is probably never going to hear uttered from her lips. She and a few friends move away.
Grover slides in next to him with a few tin cans and begins to talk. He doesn't listen.
He spends the rest of dinner staring at the empty spot at the other table.
We had it all
He's lying on his bed, flipping through the scrapbook. He didn't put it together, he didn't have the patience. Tyson did. It's a book of all of their memories. Hippocampi. A black pegasus. Pan. The Empire State Building. A blue cake. A sand dollar.
A single unattached photo falls out. Tyson must've forgotten to stick it on properly. Odd. Tyson doesn't seem the type to do that. He flips through his messy room, looking for a glue stick. Or tape. Or whatever.
It takes him a while. Finally, he rips off a few pieces of duct tape and lifts the picture.
It's her. Smiling, laughing. The Parthenon is behind her, no wonder. Her arm is around him. He looks happy.
He winces.
He sticks the duct tape to the side of the bed and puts the scrapbook away.
He turns off the light.
The picture falls to the ground.
Aren't memories supposed to fade?
The wind whips through his hair but there is no fear. Not here.
The black body beneath him holds him up. This place is neutral. No fear.
Just...emptiness. Numbness. Darkness.
There is no smile on his face. There is no need to keep up the facade. Some things just don't seem to matter anymore.
At least, not here. Not when he is alone.
It seems like he has been alone quite frequently these past few days.
He doesn't mind anymore. He used to.
"Come on, Blackjack." His voice is barely a whisper. "A little faster."
He just wants to forget.
My life is on a dime
He doesn't know what to do, so somehow he's ended up back here again.
He feels consumed by his thoughts. Forget. Forget. His life has become that. A plan to forget everything.
So here he is again.
He uncaps his sword and watches as it shimmers to life. He can't look at it for too long, or he'll see his reflection go back to what he used to be.
His fingers wrap around the leather grip and he slashes.
The dummy falls to the ground.
He remembers Luke's bitter words and how he did the same. Maybe, just maybe, he could understand that.
What is wrong with him?
He slashes again and again and again until his vision is blurred and tinted with red. He slashes until the dummy is no more than bits and pieces of unknown material.
And he continues, slashing and slashing until he cuts himself on his leg. And even then, the pain feels good and he does it again and again until finally, the sword falls out of his hand. He stumbles and for the first time, he realizes what he is doing.
What is wrong with me?
Those are his last thoughts before he blacks out.
Everything could break at any time
Chocolate chip cookies.
That is his waking thought.
He blinks, the room spinning sickeningly around him. He wants to vomit but the taste of chocolate chip cookies comes back. The taste soothes him.
Until he remembers...
He sits upright in bed so much that the nectar spills on him. Chocolate chip cookies. The first time he talked to her...kind of. Not really. But still.
She's sitting next to him now, an odd expression on her face. Half in concern half in...he can't pinpoint it. Something else.
"Are you alright? Should I call Chiron?"
"No." His voice is firm, though he feels like he's falling apart. "No, I'm fine. Just go. Please."
She looks almost hurt. A wave of emotion hits him. She shouldn't look hurt. He's the one who's hurt. He's the one that's gone through all of this.
"Just go."
She leaves and he flops back down on his pillow.
He cries.
In the end, is anything even real?
He's released the next day with long scars on his legs that will never fade. People stare. They've probably never seen blood before.
He wonders who found him. They shouldn't have. They should've left him there. Then maybe he wouldn't have had to deal with this.
He walks back to his room and lays down. He can't deal with all of this. He just wants things to go back to normal.
He thinks of chocolate chip cookies and his mother. He thinks of never coming back.
He knows the thought won't last.
I want to disappear
He's better now and he knows it. He smiled yesterday, just once. A real smile, one he didn't notice until later on after reflection.
Think about that. He does reflection now. He never did reflection before.
It's odd how some things change you.
He's better now. He's gotten over it. Not completely. Maybe partially. He's gotten...almost back to being normal. Almost.
He just has to do something else, one last thing.
He doesn't want to do it.
Grover would tell him to. But he doesn't want to listen. Not this time.
He draws his sword for the first time in two weeks.
Maybe it will help him think.
And pretend that nothing's real
As he approaches the arena, he sees her standing there, leaning against a pole. Her foot is making some sort of design in the dirt, possibly for another building she's planning. He's almost tempted to ask her what it's about but he isn't interested in a long conversation. He isn't interested in any conversation.
She looks up as he comes nearer and pushes a lock of her hair back. "I knew you'd be here."
There is no response. There is nothing he can say to make things normal.
"Percy," she calls.
He sees her mouth move but he doesn't want to respond. He nods and moves away.
"Percy."
He does not answer.
"Percy, please."
Please. Why should he feel obliged to talk to her? Yet, he does. He wants to. He needs to.
What a weak person he is.
"I know we drifted apart. I know we're not as close as before. But please. Listen. I can explain."
I can explain.
I can explain.
The words sting him and he whips around. His eyes are cold, he can tell by the way she steps back in shock. She's never seen him this way. He's never seen himself this way.
He doesn't particularly care.
"You can explain?" The words are bubbling out of him now. "You can explain? I can explain a lot of things. I can explain why my mother bakes blue cakes. I can explain why Pan had to die. I can explain why a hero's fate is tragic. I can explain why Luke Castellan did what he did. I can explain why about so many things, Annabeth. So many things that you don't know. But will that make them better? Will explaining help me relate?"
"Yes." The firmness yet gentleness in her voice has no impact on him. "Yes, Percy. I can make you understand. Things can go back to normal."
It's tempting, really, to give into her. But he does not want to listen. Not at all.
"Normal? You abandoned me." The words come out cracked. "You left me behind. I tried, Annabeth. I waited. You said you wanted space. I gave it to you. You said you wanted time. I gave you month after month after month. But what did I get out of it? Nothing.
"You say you want things to be normal. They will never be normal again."
"Percy. Give me a chance." She's desperate now, he can tell it by the way she's taking steps towards him as if this will help her. "Please."
"I'm sorry Annabeth. I'm done with waiting. I'm done with secrets. I'm done with you leaving and not caring enough to tell me you still care. I'm done with being the only one trying to hold up the sky."
"Please." There are tears in her eyes now. "Just listen, Percy, listen!"
"I was always listening." His voice is quieter now. "I've been listening, waiting, hoping for the past three months. Hoping you'd come around. Hoping the girl I knew and loved would reappear. I was always listening."
The words seem to stun her.
"And I decided. I'm not going to sit around anymore. Because maybe, just maybe, I don't want to know. I don't want to know anymore."
He puts his sword out in front of him and he can see the fear in her eyes. She's already watched the love of her life die before, she's fought him for the sake of the world and he knows that while she will crumble inside, she will do it again if that's what it takes. But this time, it is to save herself. Not the world. Not him. There is no more him. Just her. And she is not sure she can do it.
The cap appears in his hands and he touches it to the sword. The fear in her eyes fades. "Perc-"
"I'm done." He cuts her off. "I'm done with this. I don't know you anymore, Annabeth. I don't know me. And I'm not coming back until I find exactly who I am." He turns away, not wanting to see her face now, nor ever again.
"I'm sorry." The words seem to push themselves out of his mouth involuntarily. "Goodbye."
And he walks away, his heart heavy. He does not know where he is heading. He does not even recognize the person he's become anymore.
Maybe he doesn't want to know.
I think of the possibilities, that just maybe
And I turn away
Because maybe
Maybe I don't want to know
Author's Note: So, was it good or bad? Please leave me a review to tell me your thoughts!
On another note, I might make this a separate story on its own, though chances are probably not since I have so much work already that I haven't finished. Drop me a note so I can determine what's best!
~ tonsostuff