The two walked up the hill with a heavy silence. He made sure to keep her close. He knew that her silence was hiding the crushing weight of the guilt and the mourning that would suffocate them whenever they were near. Her arms were full with flowers, bright blue ones that she would have loved, even though she was too cool for flowers. A boy in the Demeter cabin had grown them just for today, just for her.
He tried not to be jealous of the demigods with powers, he really did.
It was hard not to feel cheated when some kids got magical abilities and all he got was pain, suffering and an absentee father.
They stopped in front of a looming pine tree. Annabeth's attention was fixed solely on her feet. Luke carefully placed a hand on her shoulder and tried to force down the hurricane inside him. "...Do you want help planting them," he asked, his voice cracking with the anguish he tried to swallow.
The young blond stood there for a moment before she sobbed and nodded her head, her curls bouncing as tears ran down her cheeks.
Luke squeezed her shoulder and kneeled in front of the tree. Annabeth copied him a few moments later and held the flowers to her chest. "H-He said that when we plant the stems, the flowers will start to grow here," Annabeth whispered. "They're magic."
The boy nodded and carefully pushed the dirt aside as if parting waves. It was not deep. His heart beat restlessly in his chest. A part of him feared that if he dug any deeper, he would hurt the tree, that he would disturb her grave and see her lying there, her startling blue eyes wide open and empty. His hands quivered as he pulled back and placed them on his thighs.
"T-That should be good."
A pair of grey eyes burned his skin. "...That's not deep enough," Annabeth insisted. "They'll just fall over."
"They're magic, aren't they? They'll be okay," Luke said.
Annabeth found his answer insufficient. Before he could even blink, her hands angrily slashed the earth until his original spot had been deepened by at least an inch. Luke bit his lip and tried not to panic. She then gently started placing the flowers in the hole, letting their stems touch the dirt as she held them upright. Luke took a few and copied her. Once each of the blue flowers were in their proper spot, Luke and Annabeth both took a handful of dirt and smoothed it over the stems.
They hesitantly pulled back and watched the flowers stand up.
Luke waited a few moments before he felt angry. "They're not doing anything."
"Give them a second," Annabeth insisted. "I saw them do it before. You just gotta wait."
A few heartbreaking seconds passed before the flowers slowly stood tall. The dirt beneath them glowed faintly as they took root. Grass and clovers grew below them and hid all evidence of their magical transplant. Luke watched in awe before he stared up at the pine tree.
Annabeth rose to her feet and approached the tree trunk as if it would burst into flame at a moment's notice. With a deep breath, she lowered herself against the trunk and sat against the tree. Her fingers weaved through the grass as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
Luke felt another wave of unbrindled, anguished rage wash over him. It sucked at his feet like a retreating tide, beckoning him to follow it into the ocean. He took a deep breath and forced himself to count to ten. He wished that it was colder within the camp. The cold would give him a distraction. He forced the anger down. Today was not the day for the pain and the anger. It was too valuable for him to drown in those feelings.
Instead Luke joined Annabeth under the tree and rested a hand on his knee. He turned his wet blue eyes upwards to the tree branches above him and tried to smile. Try as he may, he couldn't force himself to smile. It withered and died before long.
"...Happy birthday, Thalia," Annabeth whispered next to him.
His heart dropped. Luke took a deep breath and let it go.
"Happy birthday, Thalia," Luke whispered after a few moments. "...We miss you."