He walks taciturnly down the windy, empty street and his footsteps resonate loudly, being dragged on wearily. Against the dim, intermittent illumination of the lampposts, his shadow stretches behind him, languid.
He puffs out a long breath which comes off as mist. One of his hands reaches into his pocket and wraps securely around a ballpoint pen as he looks around cautiously.
Percy has a feeling this will be a long, long night.
He takes out his clothes out of the old suitcase and places them on the perfectly made bed carefully. Percy sighs contentedly: it is so good to be back. Just as he is turning to give his back to the seashell-incrusted window, he hears a twig snap and someone cursing softly outside. A smile creeps into his face, and he opens the door of his cabin, revealing nothing. "Annabeth." No response. "Annabeth, I know it's you!" his grin widens. "Ann-" Something warm and soft smashes against his lips, and after getting over his confusion, Percy wraps his arms tentatively around her (invisible) back. "Shush," she murmurs against his lips, laughing softly. Slowly, his hands snake upwards until he finds her cap, and he takes it off. There, standing in front of him dressed in pajamas, is Annabeth, pouting slightly. "Mmm," she murmurs with a satisfied grin, "that never gets old." Percy leans against the doorframe and turns off the light of his cabin so suspicions would not be raised. "Yeah. But it does get awkward." He fumbles in the semi-darkness until he finds her hands and laces their fingers together. "Only for you, though." "Well, you don't get to see the Savior of Olympus making out with the air often, do you? The Stolls still tease me." The memory tugs the corner of her lips upwards, but instead of answering she mutters, almost to herself, "'Savior of Olympus'-... someone has got a big sense of his own importance." "Don't we all?" He kisses her lips softly and closes his cabin door behind him. They slowly make their way to the beach, hand in hand, chatting animatedly.
Annabeth Chase is afraid to open the door, unsure of what she'll find.
Her hand grips the cold knob, and her fingers wrap slowly around it. She looks behind her once again to the wine-tinted sky before entering.
She faces the door; her back against the bedroom. Annabeth listens attentively for any noise or movement that could indicate his presence.
She hears nothing but the sound of wind outside against the rattling windows, so the turns around.
A fine coat of dust covers every surface of the Poseidon cabin, and Annabeth sighs. Just as he had left it.
She makes her way to the only unmade bed, guided by the faint glow of the gurgling fountain. A few clothes have been strewn onto the floor and scrawled on, balled-up papers litter the bed. A calendar flipped on October rests in his bed-side table, the 18th circled in blue pen.
Annabeth flops down onto the bed, and the dust particles rise, swiveling and dancing in the dying moonlight. Their movements are almost reluctant, and they move as slowly as if they were underwater.
Her eyes wander around the cabin aimlessly and come to rest on the minotaur horn perched atop a shelf.
You drool when you sleep.
She chuckles softly at the memory, but her eyes are stinging.
She lets out a weary sigh.
Annabeth has never felt more exhausted.
"Doesn't it scare you sometimes?" Annabeth asks, and her eyes remain closed against the bright sunlight. They are laying down in the strawberry field, using the tall plants as a shield from curious stares. "What does?" replies Percy. One of his fingers is toying with her hair, absent-mindedly. "How frail everything is. How a misstep or a mishap... I think it's just a matter of time before- everything crumbles and..." her voice trails off, and she leaves the question hanging. Her eyes are now shut tight. Percy is silent for so long Annabeth thinks that maybe he hasn't heard her. She opens her eyes and lifts her head from his stomach. "Percy?" He lifts his gaze and meets hers. "It does." He makes a pause, and Annabeth swears: "All along, time's our greatest enemy. Always." "However..." Percy continues from where he left off, then looks back down again towards his now fidgeting fingers. "I think time is not an enemy. It does not 'destroy' everything eventually, but develops it." Annabeth tilts her head quizzically to the side. "How so?" "Time just... goes forward. And things eventually develop, follow along with it. They always do. Time is just the path things take. Some things may crumble and fade, whilst other may bloom and progress." He meets her impressed gaze. A faint smile plays in his lips when he adds, "Like you and I."
Somewhere on opposite sides of the continent, both the fiery eyed girl and the messy haired boy stare up at the moon, their lonely time passing slowly as the rhapsody of the windy night plays on.