chapter fifteen: all our delusions

Before now, Percy has never known what it is to see someone he loves hurting. It's always been his own problems he's had to deal with, his own shitty experiences to compartmentalise into neat boxes and then shove back into the recesses of his brain. For this reason, most of his memories of days in the trailer are hazy and out-of-focus. But he has no idea what to do with the knowledge that Annabeth is in pain—she's hurting, and he can't help her.

So he cycles to her house and gives her his jacket. So he talks to her for hours on the phone until she falls asleep. So he offers himself up as a buffer against her exhausted, aching grief.

It's impossible for Percy to even imagine losing a parent he truly loves. How can he understand Annabeth's loss when Gabe is all the family he has? He never knew his mom, the woman who'd once been married to his stepdad—and despite Percy's questions, despite his desperation to find out something from Gabe about her, he's never breathed a word to Percy. His mother is an unknown, latent concept: a fantasy that could never belong to him.

Two days after Leo's birthday party, Percy's finishing up his evening shift in the machine shop. As she so often is, Annabeth's keeping him company. He no longer knows if she stays for his sake, or her own. She's sitting on the receipt cabinet, legs crossed, while he works on closing the shop. "Did you listen to that playlist I sent you?" she asks, chin propped up on her fist.

His lip quirks as he closes Lucy's box of tools and slides it onto the top shelf. "Only a few songs—I haven't really had much time. I like it so far, though."

"You should get some headphones, so you can listen to music while you work," Annabeth muses. "Oh! Maybe I'll get you some for your birthday."

He grins, grabbing his jacket from the desk. "It wouldn't be a surprise now, though."

"Please," she says, rolling her eyes. "It's not August for ages. You'll have forgotten by next week, anyway."

"That's probably true," he admits, shrugging his jacket on. It's soft, worn leather, and the nicest thing he owns. Helen gave it to him a year ago. She said she got it from a charity shop, but Percy doesn't quite believe her. "Come on, let's get out of here."

After Percy locks up, they stand outside for a while. It's a nice night; the stars have come out, and the air's fairly warm for spring. In the dim light, Annabeth looks soft and blurry around the edges. Hands deep in the pockets of her windbreaker, she closes her eyes and sighs contentedly. "I like it out here. Let's not go home just yet."

Percy looks around, and an idea comes to him. "Alright. Follow me." He leads her across the machine shop's courtyard, taking off his jacket as he walks. He arrives at the car he's working on—an old model, with a large, flat hood. There are a dozen problems with the engine, and it's taking Percy a while to fix. He lays his jacket out on the hood, then turns around and smiles at Annabeth. "Wanna lay here and stargaze?"

She bounds forward, excited, and leans back on the hood. Her hair pillows out around her head: a blonde halo. Expectant, she pats the space next to her. "Come on, then. What are you waiting for?"

Laughing, he lays down on the hood beside her. Its metal surface is cold, but Annabeth's shoulder is warm against his own. The view is even better than he envisaged; his vision is nothing but a sprawling expanse of gleaming stars. "Wow," he breathes. "I never realised the stars were so pretty in Virginia."

"Yeah. It's beautiful." Annabeth's silent for a moment, and the passing of time is measured only by their breathing. "Wanna know something?"

"What?"

"I kinda think we're all crazy."

He laughs, surprised. "You haven't started smoking crack without me, have you?"

"Not yet," she smiles. "But seriously. Think about it. What makes someone crazy?"

He considers it. "Uh…having delusions? Making shit up? Losing your grip on reality?"

"But what is reality?" she asks. "Our society, right? But what are we without it? What's the point of all our pointless rituals, all the things we do because we've always done them? Get married, go to school, elect politicians? We made up these concepts, and they dictate our lives. They're only real within the context of society. So, aren't we all deluded, by logic?" She pauses. "I dunno. I need to think about it more."

Percy's less logical than Annabeth, but he understands what she's saying. "It's more like—we're misled. Deceived." He pauses. "Then again, some people say that the way we each perceive the world is totally different. So, maybe we are all crazy. To other people, at least."

He tilts his head. Annabeth's expression is vacant, and she stares up into the vast sky. "I think I'm crazy, nowadays," she murmurs.

Percy props himself up on his elbow to look at her, brows furrowed. "Hey. No, you're not."

She doesn't look at him. "I'm exhausted, even with the meds. I'm sleeping so little that I can't even process my days. There's so many fake memories in my head, and I've got no idea which ones are real." She lets out a breath. "I can't even talk to Helen about it. She's somewhere else, locked inside her mind most of the time. She's a zombie. I have to sort everything out for Bobby and Matthew in her place." At long last, she meets Percy's eyes. "I think my dad's death broke her."

Percy feels like the breath's been punched out of him. He already knew some of this, but not all of it. "Annabeth. Why didn't you say anything before?"

"'Cause I feel useless." She looks away again, a cornered animal. "'Cause there's nothing to be done. 'Cause there's no point worrying you for no reason."

Percy sits up, unsure why he's so angry. "Who cares if you worry me?" he gets out. "I want to help."

"What can you do, then?"

"I don't know. But your shit still matters to me."

Annabeth locks eyes with him. "Why?"

"Why? Because I'm your best friend, you idiot!" He shakes his head, frustrated. "You can talk to me."

Annabeth scrubs the heels of her palms over her face. "I'm being stupid, aren't I?"

He pokes her. "Nah. You just overthink too much. You're not stupid—you're too smart for your own good."

She grins back at him. "You think so?"

He rolls his eyes, and mutters, "Fucking hell. What kind of question is that?" He lays back down again, feeling drained—in a good way, though. "Hey, Annabeth?"

"Yeah?"

He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again. "This feels unfair."

"What does?"

"That you've told me about your shit, but I haven't said anything in return."

"Not everything has to be transactional."

"Well, some things are."

A siren sounds in the distance, brash and wailing. "Yeah, some things. Like buying food, getting a haircut. Not everything, though. Not this."

That's not how Percy understands life. He takes a deep breath. "Do you want to know why I'm saving money?"

"Percy, you don't need to—"

"Seriously," he interrupts. There's an imbalance between them, and Percy doesn't like being responsible for it. "I'll tell you, if you want."

She watches him. "Well, I'm curious. But you don't have to."

Swallowing down his fear, he says, "I'm saving up to move out."

She looks confused. "Move out? So you're saving for college?"

"Not exactly." The silence that follows is thick and tangible. He braces himself. "I'm gonna move as soon as I can. In high school, hopefully. My stepdad's an asshole. The trailer…" He's careful not to say too much, to prevent Annabeth from connecting the dots completely. "I hate it there."

Annabeth's jaw clenches. "I kind of gathered that. From knowing you." She reaches out and touches his arm, a steadying force. "You're okay, though? If you weren't, you'd tell me. Right?"

His chest hurts. He has to lie. "Right. I'd tell you."

"Okay," she whispers. "That's good, then." She takes his sleeve and pulls him closer to her, and Percy's world bleeds into beautiful focus. How did they end up here, pouring out their feelings on the hood of a broken sedan?

The truth is that fear is ingrained within Percy's sinews unlike anything else. It's become so deeply part of him that it's burrowed into his demeanour, his mannerisms, everything that can be seen from the outside. He tries as hard as he can to hide it, but nothing could be less simple than that.

He's sitting on the floor of his room in the trailer, back against the door. It's late. His stomach is twisted into a knot of hunger, but he doesn't want to try the kitchen. A sort of pale blankness hangs over his mind, but he doesn't mind. It's been a while since he's moved. He's no longer sure if he wants to.

In the hallway, he hears a thump and a muttered curse. Percy closes his eyes, pensive, as Gabe walks into his own room and shuts the door. Thank God. He rests his head back against the door, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling. Did there used to be so many cracks there? For a while, he imagines tracing the intricate lines with a fingertip. He's tired; he doesn't want to wake up for work in the morning. Briefly, he entertains the impossible idea of sleeping all day tomorrow—the idea of letting his body rest.

He stands up, knees stiff. Wishful thinking is dangerous thinking.

After brushing his teeth and pulling on a warm hoodie to sleep in, his burner phone buzzes with a text from Rachel. Come outside, it reads. Curious, he peers through his blinds to look out his trailer window. Rachel's sitting at a bench with Jane, an older girl from their trailer park. From here, he can see the glowing spark of a blunt between Jane's fingertips.

Careful not to make much too much noise, Percy laces up his trainers and unlatches his window, climbing out of it. When Gabe's been drinking, he sleeps like the dead—Percy doubts his stepdad would hear anything even if he left out the fucking front door.

"Hey, Percy. You came," Rachel greets him. She's sitting at the short end of the bench, where there's space to fit her wheelchair. Her eyes have a dull, reddish sheen to them. Jane's sitting with her legs crossed, trainers bright white in the dark. Her shit's laid out in front of her: a grinder, a lighter, some silver papers.

"'Course I did," he smiles. "You alright, Jane?"

When she nods, her dark, curly hair bobs around her chin. It's unevenly cut, but so is everyone else's who lives here. "Yeah." Raising the blunt to her lips, she inhales and draws the smoke down into her lungs. It billows out around them. Percy knows the smell will undoubtedly cling to his clothes, but he can't bring himself to care. "Want a toke?" Jane asks, offering it to him.

"Thanks." He takes a drag, then another. The smoke is only slightly biting, and washes into his system like lukewarm water. He rarely smokes with the kids in his trailer park, and tries not to become too attached to the beautifully senseless feeling it can give him. The guilt is still there—it's not the same as alcohol, which so often equates to bruises, but Percy can't quite separate the two substances entirely. He passes the blunt back to Jane.

"So, Jackson," she says, accent even more fluidly Southern than Percy's. "What's your deal?"

"My deal?"

Rachel rolls her eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Jane grins sharply at him. "I mean, why do you look so fucking sad?"

Percy hums. "Because we're all marching slowly towards an inevitable death, of course. Why else?"

She shakes her head, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Touché."

Rachel groans. "Can y'all lighten up a bit? I'm trying not to think about death right now. Christ."

"Sorry," Jane says, passing the blunt to her. "He's rubbing off on me."

Percy laughs. "That's rich, coming from you."

She raises a pierced brow. "Damn. Anyone ever tell you that you're abrasive?"

"What the fuck does 'abrasive' mean?" Percy mutters, but it's hard to be irritated right now. His thoughts are slowing down pleasantly, and the world is blurring slightly. Suddenly, he remembers something. "Rach, how'd your physio appointment go today?"

Rachel doesn't respond for a moment. She cups a hand around the end of their blunt to protect it from the cold breeze, carefully lighting the end with Jane's blue Clipper. The flame's reflected for a moment in her pale eyes, a phantom in the darkness. "It was alright," she murmurs. "Right now, they're just trying to stop my calves from atrophying. There's no point, though—it's not like I can use them, anyway."

Jane nudges her, concerned. "Hey, don't talk like that. There's a point to it. Maybe you can save up for surgery, once you get out of here."

"If I get out of here," Rachel corrects her. It doesn't sound like a joke. She laughs to herself, as though she said something funny. Percy can do nothing but watch as she has another drag, unsure what to say. He understands her fears—of course he does—but telling yourself that everything will be okay is an entirely different battle than trying to tell someone else. What's left to hope for, in a place like this?

The three of them sit there until the blunt burns down to the roach, voices quieter than their rose-tinted thoughts. Percy wonders if, stuck here, they've lost something more than their sobriety.

Percy's class is let out of school early the next day. He waits outside for the others by the bike rack, one hand on the handlebar of his own. Stifling a yawn, he realises how tired he's become from rising early and working late. The thought of getting to crash later is the only motivation he has left to get through the day.

Pulling his burner phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, he checks his texts. He opens one from Lucy that checks he's alright with working some paid overtime on the week to help get some tricky jobs finished, and quickly replies with his assent. There's several from Annabeth, too. He clicks on the message thread.

14:20 - Jason just spilt coffee all over Miss Ellis' desk, what an idiot

14:20 - pray for him lmao

14:22 - Surprise surprise, she didn't even give him detention. why can't I be her favourite student :'(

Percy smiles to himself, responding: how could you expect her to resist those eyes? Then, are you out of class yet? Just as he flips his phone shut, someone yells his name from the school's entrance. "Jackson!"

He looks up to see Piper and Leo walking out of school together, already heading over. He grins, waving at them. "Hey, guys."

Leo grins. "What's up?" He bends to unlock his bike, fiddling with the chain. His short fingernails are painted black, matching the smear of eyeliner on his lids. These things are recent developments that have come around since his birthday party. Percy can tell it's given Leo some newfound confidence, a way to express his personality. It's bled into all the other aspects of him; recently, he's seemed brighter—happier. More whole, in a way.

"I just had a Chemistry test. It did not go well," Piper tells Percy, adjusting the strap of her shoulder bag. "What the fuck is metallic bonding? I should've studied."

"What? That test was easy," Leo protests, wheeling his bike away from the rack. "I literally had it yesterday."

Giving him a dirty look, she shoots back, "Well, I'm sorry for not being naturally smart like you."

Leo preens. "Apology accepted."

Piper swats him as Percy laughs. He asks, "How was music practice? Is your new song coming along okay?"

Piper tilts her hand in a so-so motion. "Yeah, it was alright. We've started recording, but I'm not sure I'm happy with the lyrics yet. Jason and I are gonna work on it later."

He smiles. "Cool. Can we hear it when it's done?"

"Of course—when I'm happy with it."

"You're such a perfectionist," Leo groans. "It'd be nice to actually get to hear a finished song, for once." Piper's notorious for spending ages on songs until she thinks they're perfect. It's sort of endearing.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, shut up."

More students are flooding out of the gates now, and among them Percy spots a familiar head of curly blonde hair. She's deep in conversation with Jason, who's walking beside her. "Annabeth! Over here," Percy calls, drawing her attention to where the three of them are standing.

Annabeth weaves through the crowd up to them, closely followed by Jason. She's smiling, animated and excited. "Percy. Guess what?"

"What?" he asks.

She grins, bouncing up and down. "Okay, okay. You know how I submitted one of my photography series to a magazine competition last month?"

Her excitement is infectious. "Uh huh?"

"I won!" she screeches. "I'm so fucking excited. My work's gonna be in a magazine!"

Percy gapes. "Oh, my God. No way."

"Yes, way," Jason cuts in, beaming. "It's such a cool photo series, too. Miss Ellis nearly had a breakdown when Annabeth told her."

Percy throws his arms around her, grinning. "That's incredible. You're incredible," he says to Annabeth fervently. The others pile into the messy hug, congratulating her.

She pushes them away, laughing. "Thanks, guys. It's a start."

"A start? Stop being modest," Piper accuses her. "You'll be a famous photographer in no time."

"We'll see," Annabeth says, but her cheeks are blush-stained and she's smiling, smiling, smiling.

The five of them end up in a cramped booth at The Winehouse, smoothies on the table in front of them. Annabeth ordered a Belgian chocolate monstrosity, topped with whipped cream—and Percy can't seem to stop himself from glancing at it. He bought a coffee because it was the cheapest thing on the menu, but now he's finished it and aching for carbs. He hasn't eaten since before his morning shift at Lucy's auto shop.

Annabeth notices him eyeing her drink. "You wanna share it?" she asks. "I don't mind."

He shakes his head, biting back the immediate Yes that becomes lodged in his throat. "Nah, I'm okay."

"I think we need to rework the chorus," Piper muses to Jason. She's leaning on his shoulder, looking at the lyrics sheet on his phone. They murmur to each other, working out the kinks of their new song. They're a great team, and Percy can tell they like each other. Still, Piper's admitted to Percy that she doesn't know if they'd ever last together—they're both too headstrong. He supposes at least Piper might get some good music out of whatever's between her and Jason.

Leo raises a hand to a waitress as she passes. "Hey, uh. Could I get some ketchup for these curly fries?"

She smiles, bemused. "Sure."

"Thanks," he calls, shaking salt over them. When Annabeth reaches for one, he shoots her a menacing glare and drags the plate closer to him. "You'd better think twice before stealing my damn fries."

"I would never," she insists, faux-innocent. When Leo isn't looking, she leans forward one and quickly shoves one into her mouth.

"Wow," Percy comments dryly. "You're a woman of your word, huh?" At that, Annabeth winks.

It's late when they stumble out of the diner, elated and laughing. "God, I can't believe you said that to her," Piper groans. "Have you actually got a death wish?"

Leo laughs. His eyeliner's slightly smudged, but the look somehow works. "What? Mrs Jameson is a twat, and she deserves to know." He unlocks his bike and swings a leg over it. "I've gotta go. Jeanne will have my head if I'm late for dinner again." He kicks off the curb, weaving nimbly between cars as he cycles away.

Across the road, Thalia leans out the window of her car. Her hair's been recently buzzed, shaved almost to her scalp. "Am I driving your girlfriend home again?" she yells to Jason. "'Cause if I am, you two better hurry up."

"She's not my girlfriend," Jason mumbles, cheeks red.

Piper just laughs. "Come on," she tells him, threading her arm through his as they step off the sidewalk together.

Percy crouches to unlock his own bike, struggling for a second to turn the combination dials with cold hands. "Do you want a lift home?" he asks Annabeth over his shoulder. She's lost in thought as she stares into the distance, skirt rippling around her knees. The one she's wearing is a burnt-orange colour, and has lacy butterfly details around the hem. Annabeth has always dressed conservatively: a by-product of her religious upbringing. Now, she still rarely shows her knees, but dresses as haphazardly as she can. Percy likes it. Then again, he likes a lot of things about her. "Annabeth?" he prods.

Annabeth turns to him, jolted out of some far-off reality. He wonders what goes on in her head, sometimes. She gives him a halfway-smile. "Yeah, thanks. If that's okay."

As they cycle, the wind tears cruelly across Percy's cheeks. He's freezing in only his jacket, but the warmth of Annabeth's arms around his waist is enough. Eventually, they reach Annabeth's estate. She climbs off his bike. "I'm never gonna get tired of that."

"Neither will I," he answers. They grin at each other.

Annabeth has a strange look on her face. "Percy," she starts, then pauses. "I've been thinking."

"About what?" he asks, apprehensive.

"About…about what you told me. About why you're saving money."

Immediately, anxiety washes into Percy's stomach. "Okay," he says slowly.

She pulls her sleeves down over her knuckles, shutting her eyes for a second. When she speaks, she blows it all out in one breath. "You should come live at my estate."

He stiffens. "What?"

Annabeth reaches out, as though afraid he might run away. "Please. I know you don't get on with your stepdad, that you hate it at the trailer park. Or I could lend you money from my trust fund for an apartment—"

Percy interrupts her, sickened that she doesn't even know all of it. "I told you about that so we'd be even, Annabeth. Not for—not for charity."

"It's not charity! It's just me caring about you. Please," she repeats. "Let me help. I can help. This is the one thing I can do, the one thing I'm good for." Unexplainable anger seizes him. He knows her heart's in the right place, but she's so blinded by everything. What the hell does she understand? He's survived this long, and now it means everything that he walks out of the fucking trailer himself. "Percy…"

"I don't want your help," he says quietly, squashing down the rising, white-hot anger that threatens to burn them both. A little louder, he repeats, "I don't need you."

There are tears in Annabeth's eyes. "But I can help."

"God, I've gotta leave," he says subconsciously, more to himself than her.

"Percy, I can—"

"Shut up!" he shouts, and immediately flinches away from himself. There's fear in her eyes, and suddenly he's become everything he's afraid of becoming. "Sorry. I'm sorry," he mumbles, stepping onto his pedal.

"Wait," she tries desperately. Percy kicks off as hard as he can, hating himself with a newfound vindication. He's terrified of this side of himself, terrified of the foul anger that his stepfather has seared into him like a brand. Most of all, he's terrified that it won't ever go away.

who wants to come lay on the hood of a car with me and talk about life? xD thanks for reading, I'd love to hear what you thought! as usual, the next chapter will be up on wednesday.