"What's with the sticky-note?"
Annabeth leaned forward from her perch on the counter, looking at the fridge.
Remember you are BRAVER than you believe, STRONGER than you seem, SMARTER than you think, and LOVED more than you know.
Percy rolled his eyes. "My mom wrote it. She's not so into subtlety these days."
Annabeth laughed. "I think it's nice."
"It's from Winnie the Pooh."
"Wow. Even better."
Percy put the frozen pizza in the oven. "She thinks I'm struggling."
"Ah."
"I mean, seriously. They've really been…hovering, lately. They don't usually hover."
When Annabeth was silent, he looked at her. "What?"
"Well. It's nice. I know it's annoying, but they really care."
He shrugged, looking away. "I guess."
Annabeth played with a strand of hair, biting the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "They don't know all that much, right?"
"No. Just a broad rundown."
She nodded, looking strangely relieved.
He came and stood in front of her, twining his index fingers through her hair. It looked smooth, but it was always tangled. It was getting out of hand, almost wild, reaching her elbows. She needed a haircut, but also he loved it this way.
He was close enough to smell her strawberry gum. She grinned. "Hi."
"Hi."
"Congrats on passing your math test."
"Why do you always want to talk about math?"
"Oh? Always?"
He tugged lightly on her hair. The afternoon sunlight was lighting her up, making her golden. He was so close he couldn't see all of her face at once, just the individual shapes of her freckles.
The toe of her shoe prodded the back of his leg, and her eyes flicked to his lips. "What do you wanna talk about?"
And then the front door opened noisily; Percy grinned, rueful, and Annabeth just shook her head. He stayed there for half a second too long, and then swung back to the stove just in time.
"Annabeth!" Sally put down her groceries and keys. "It's nice to see you." She pretended not to notice as Annabeth nimbly slid off the counter.
"What are you making—pizza again? Oh, I wish you two would eat real food…"
Percy ticked off his fingers. "Wheat, dairy, tomatoes…"
Annabeth shrugged, biting her lip. "Makes sense to me."
"Oh, you two." Sally sighed as she went into the living area and opened her laptop.
They ended up wandering into Percy's room, leaving the door open. Annabeth dropped down on his unmade bed, crisscrossing her legs. She picked up a nearby copy of sports illustrated.
Percy sat on his desk chair, lacing his hands behind his head and releasing a deep exhale.
She glanced at him. "Have you been sleeping better?"
He rubbed his eye. "Not really."
She flipped through the magazine, making a face of distaste at a page. He rolled the chair back and forth. "What about you?"
"Kind of. Now that everything with school's happened, and it's just done with, I kind of am. I mean, what can I do? It feels good to be back at camp. I sleep better there than I ever did in that dorm."
There was a moment of silence, and he realized she was looking at him. "You should come back for a weekend. It might help."
He shrugged, looking away from her. "Maybe."
"Even just to be in your cabin, or to talk to Chiron—"
Percy stared at a spot on the wall. "I don't think that's what I need."
She watched him for a long second, and then let it go.
They were interrupted by a knock on the doorjamb. Sally stood in the doorway. "Pizza's ready."
Annabeth bounded gracefully from Percy's bed, as if it were suddenly contaminated. "Thank you!"
She slipped out into the hall. Sally lingered a moment, a certain look on her face as she looked at the room, then at Percy.
"What?"
"Feeling very secure, aren't we, having your girlfriend over when your room's like this?"
Percy looked around his room, only now noticing the mess. He shrugged, unfazed. "She's seen worse."
Sally raised an eyebrow. "Mmhmm. I'm just saying. Some would put in a little effort."
Percy slid past her, miming taking notes.
She ruffled his hair, shaking her head.
Eventually they decided to go out; that was what they did, this year. It never mattered where they went. New York was like a backyard to them, and it always offered something.
Before they left, Percy made a small effort to clean up the kitchen. Paul was home by now, working at the table in the living area. Annabeth had wandered that way, making small talk with Sally.
They discussed her new book for a while, and then he heard Sally ask, "And how's school going? I know it's not easy to do all that catch up."
There was a pause. Percy shook his head, putting away a kitchen knife. There was no graceful way to do it. He would know.
"I—uh, actually I got—" The briefest of pauses. She cleared her throat—
"Expelled."
Annabeth said it as only a demigod could; a little reluctant, but lacking decent shame.
There was a surprised silence. "Oh, honey. I'm so sorry to hear that!" Sally sounded confused. "When did that happen?"
"Oh—a couple weeks ago. It's fine. I already got my GED."
"A couple—weeks ago? I had no idea."
"Sorry, I figured Percy told you." Annabeth sounded preoccupied. "It's fine, though. I'm still going to college. And I'm super busy with my internship, and the Olympus remodel. I'm up there, like, all the time."
"But—where are you living?"
"Oh, camp. And I have a friend who graduated last year, so I stay at her place in the city, sometimes."
"Okay…" Sally came up and put her hand on Annabeth's forehead, as if she were sick. "If you tell me you're okay…" She shook her head. "Why'd they kick out a brilliant girl like you, anyhow?"
"Oh…" Annabeth twirled a piece of hair.
Percy waited.
"Well, attendance stuff, to begin with. And then—uh, mouthing off to teachers." Annabeth squinted. "Being 'impertinent.' Generally disrespecting a renowned institution." She thought. "There was also some stuff where I started a walk-out because of our history lesson."
There was also the time they'd caught her sneaking Percy out the window of her dorm…
Annabeth sighed. "But mostly arguing—sorry—" she made air quotes. "'Mouthing off.'"
"Wow." Sally carried a stack of books to the shelves. "Well. As long as you're keeping busy, then."
Percy went to the doorway and put on his jacket. Annabeth shook her head. "I can't believe you didn't tell them."
Percy shrugged. "Why? They still thought you were a good girl."
He wasn't sure if they'd heard, but he saw Sally and Paul exchange a look as they slipped out the door.
"Is your mom going to think less of me now?" Annabeth sounded pensive as they left the building.
Percy rolled his eyes. "I'm sure she already knew you were an insolent kid with behavior issues. I mean, deep down."
Annabeth hit him; he dodged her, then wrapped an arm around her and she burrowed into his side, sighing as they walked into the glittering city night.
…
"I mean, it just sucks, you know?" Annabeth bit off the end of her licorice rope. "They're such whiny babies. I'm trying to accommodate all of their 'desires,' but they just keep one-upping each other."
It was later that same night. She looked up from the low wall where she sat; Percy was chucking rocks into the river, and didn't answer.
She studied him for a minute. "Hey." She kicked her foot at him, though he was out of reach. "What's up?"
Percy was silent for another minute. Finally he glanced over. "I just wish my sixth grade self could hear you calling the gods 'whiny babies.'"
She rolled her eyes, but bit back a smile. "Yeah, well. I've seen some stuff."
Percy looked out over the dark water, throwing another rock. "Yeah," he agreed under his breath.
Annabeth kept up a flow of complaints about the gods, the problems with her internship, and the long commute from camp. Percy kept pitching rocks, half-listening, and then made them reverse course back into his hand. It was good to be able to control something.
His mind began to wander, which was a dangerous thing.
Nights were different from daytime. During the day, he was busy. There was school, and homework, and the extracurriculars he was supposed to do. There were classmates and friends and Annabeth. There were chores and errands for his mom and, basically, distractions everywhere. It wasn't always easy, but it was better.
But when the sun went down, and everyone went to bed, and it was time for his mind to shut off—that was when it all went south. That was when his mind came most alive.
His sleep was fitful and dark. A grotesque mosaic of dead friends and dead enemies twisted in and out; he would wake in a feverish sweat, sick to his core. Or he wouldn't sleep at all; getting anywhere close meant a deadened mind, open to anything that wanted in. And more than that—than the fevered reminders that marched through—was the blank, hollow cavern that opened in his chest. It was like a cold, dead fog that glided into him, every evening, like twisted clockwork. It just made him—empty.
He looked over at Annabeth. "Hey, do you—"
He stopped, turning back to the water, something sharp in his throat.
"What?" She had her chin in hand, her eyes hard to read.
He looked at her for a long moment. The streetlamps were shining on her long hair, making her curls glow a dark gold, like she was sparking light. There was a hole in the knee of her jeans, showing a bruise on her skin. Her lips was stained red from the candy.
"Nothing." He said quietly. He sat down beside her on the low wall, so they were facing each other, her feet up in front of her. He hooked his hand around her knee, rubbing his thumb slowly, carefully, on her bare skin. He felt goosebumps erupt there. Then he pulled her forward, closer, and saw her swallow, looking at his jaw. Finally he pushed her hair back, behind her ear, looking at the light shining on her temple, her throat, the tiniest of scars under her chin.
There was a question in her eyes, one that was too deep to ask—one she'd been skirting, in her own way, not just that night, but for days and months now.
And so he kissed her, squeezing her knee tighter and tangling his other hand in her beautiful hair. She tasted like red licorice and sweet, dizzying hope. He remembered all the times he'd wanted to kiss her and couldn't. All the years they'd spent making each other crazy.
Her mouth opened under his and he pretty much forgot where he was, which was the best thing to happen to either of them, these days. They stayed there a long time, and ignored everything else.
…
The apartment was dark and silent when Percy got in. He went to his room and flicked on the light, kicking off his shoes. He looked around—Hades, it really was a mess. He knew Annabeth didn't really care, and his mother didn't really care, but…maybe he should care.
With a sigh, he reached for an old textbook and pair of socks, then nudged a pile of laundry toward the closet—and abruptly felt bone-tired. Not the well-earned exhaustion that preceded sleep, but the familiar, empty fog that stole every ounce of energy, and made only one thing reverberate through his mind: why does it even matter?
Giving up, he walked to the couch, crashing down and staring at the ceiling. The truth was stark and alone.
Nothing really matters.
.
.
.
Not sure how long this story will be, but there will be more. Please tell me what you think!