DISCLIMER: I DO NOT OWN PERCY JACKSON
Anxiously waiting
He looked on with a deep sense of dread in his soul; knowing not of his inner conflict, life continued on. The sun was bright and seemed to glare down on him in disgust. A large pine tree stood proudly above him; swaying away from him in the breeze, trying in vain to move away from the twenty year old. His arm was propped on the knee of his bent leg and his long black hair denied the world the simple pleasure of gazing into his expressive sea green eyes. Bodies of many rushed to their next college course, though in their haste (for society did not wish to disappoint him) his peers dedicated a second of their time to send the boy a hateful glance. He smiled and thanked society and all humanity for not breaking their promise of making his life a living hell.
A near empty backpack was his only companion, what lay inside the bag was his best friend. He and his friend had known each other for years; his friend knew all of his secrets and never failed in helping him. Everyone thought him strange for always wearing a jacket, even in the summer months; everything about his was strange. He was the shadow in the corner of the classroom, the shiver of cold that traced every dip and rise along your spine, and the eerie sense of danger you felt when home alone late at night.
Yet his heart was heavy for some unknown reason; he looked to his backpack. He could leave and make the feeling go away… though the dread was a weight around his ankle. Depression was not new, though this was a new feeling. He assumed that what was eating at his heart was dread, though as he paused to think, he realized it wasn't dread he was feeling. Sadness? No. Resentment? No. Hopelessness? No. This new emotion was not one that he had come accustomed to. It was… anxiety? Yes, that was it; but why? The more he thought about it the more stressed he felt. Lifting an arm, he rubbed his clothes arm roughly. A small smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he felt a recent wound open; the pain distracted him from his wild emotions.
Ever since he was fourteen, he had been a cutter. Most of the time he would do so on his arms, though when the need arouse he would rack the blade across his legs, and on the anniversary of his mother's death he would scar his stomach. He never attempted to commit suicide like his mom; he wouldn't give the world the victory of watching him fall in defeat. He was strong enough to live, though there is a difference between living and surviving. The boy was too engrossed in the bliss that came with his open cut to notice that someone had approached him.
The tree gently moved in the breeze and gave the two shade. The sun stopped glaring at the boy and only glowed with a loving light and his peers seemed to stop breathing as they took in the sight in front of them. The boy slowly lifted his gaze to the being in front of him. She looked to be a year younger than him, golden curls framed her angelic face and gray eyes smiled down at him; the new girl that moved from California to attend NYU. It was obvious to him that she was new, all of his classmates knew of the incident with his mother; they even attended her funeral for she was very loved, which is why he couldn't understand why she killed herself. He stared at her, his black hair prevented her from seeing the perplexed look in his eyes. Without a word, she sat down beside him and placed the backpack that was in her way in her lap. He watched as confusion clouded her eyes and didn't get the chance to stop her as she unzipped his backpack.
She opened the backpack and found another bag, he refused to watch as she looked though his bag. She opened the second bag and found it filled with bandages and a disinfectant. She then dug further into its contents, she would find the blades. He listened closely, waiting for her to scream and run. When he hear her zip the bag closed, he frowned in confusion; she didn't gasp, she didn't run, all she did was put the bag back into its place. He turned to look over at her and she smiled when she got a glimpse of his sea foam green orbs.
"What's you name?" she asked casually. Lines showed between his eyebrows as his confusion deepened.
"… Percy," his tenor voice was husky and even a little hoarse.
"My names Annabeth." She replied. She wasn't talking down on him, nor did she have that annoying preppy school girl tone, she was simple… talking to him. He stared at her, showing no interest in holding a conversation with her.
"…My mom left my dad. One time I caught him," She continued. Before he had the chance to protest, she grabbed his arm and pulled back the sleeve to reveal his cuts. They were art and his skin was his canvas; most were old and scared his pale skin, while nearest his elbow a fresh couplet of lines pulsed an angry red.
"-he told me that he was throwing away an old razor and cut himself on accident. I almost believed him until I caught him doing it again, but he has his reasons. It makes me wonder If I would do the same If I was sixteen with a baby only to have my boyfriend leave me financially unstable." She continued. Percy just stared at her, his eyes wide as he watched her trace his scars with her index finger. Why would she tell him that? Why did she just casually uncover my cuts? If the mother left a baby with me at sixteen, I would do the same. He shook his head to get rid of the thought.
"What do you want me to say? That he will stop? Are you going to try and get me to stop?" He asked, his voice deep and husky. She just shrugged and looked towards a group that had mentioned her name, only to realize that they were gossiping about her.
"I'm not going to stop you. You can do whatever the hell you want." She scoffed, and turned her attention back on him. Smiling softly, she grabbed his free hand and laced her fingers with his. "Everybody deserves a friend. Trust me, I know you do whether you are willing to admit it or not." A comfortable silence consumed the two. Percy squeezed her hand lightly in thanks; he now understood his feelings from earlier. He was waiting for someone, and she was sitting right beside him.