A/N: I'd like to thank my betas: AlEmily360, SapphireTrafficker, tigerlilycorinne, AshenMoon42, Lesbian101, Shiuanc2, and LadyHW.

The last stretch between Thanksgiving break and the winter holiday always passed in a blur of coursework and long nights spent in the library, preparing for finals. This year, the chill of winter, along with the stress from all the other non-academic aspects of her life weighed heavily on Annabeth. The days seemed to blend together in rushes of cold wind and words swimming off the pages in front of her eyes.

Just as they were doing now. Annabeth closed her eyes to keep her headache at bay and shook her head lightly. She wasn't sure what time it was, but her dyslexia always seemed to get worse when she was tired. The problem was, she was always tired.

"Hey, Annabeth?" Hazel waved her pencil between the pages of Annabeth's textbook, jarring her out of her (non) reading.

"Yeah?" Annabeth asked, rolling her shoulders and closing the textbook. There was no way she would be able to read anymore, so she might as well return it to the reference desk.

"I was wondering if you could read over my introduction for me? My professor can be such a hard-ass about APA formatting." Hazel turned her laptop around, showing a long paragraph, single-spaced.

Annabeth winced, but tried to cover it up with a nod. "Yeah, sure. First, you need to double space it."

Hazel turned the computer back, presumably to do just that. Annabeth checked the time as she waited. It was barely seven pm—too early to throw in the towel now. Annabeth fought back a groan; she wouldn't be able to sleep if she didn't keep working.

"Here, is that better?" Hazel inquired, turning the laptop back around. Annabeth brought it closer to herself, squinting to focus her eyes.

"Let me read through it and I'll give you some comments." Annabeth focused on the words in front of her, making it about a third of the way through the paper when she realized the sentences she was reading didn't make sense. She pressed her finger to the screen, following the lines and—oh. She'd been pulling words from above and below, and tossing them together in her mind.

She blew out a long breath. "I'm sorry, Hazel, I don't think I can read this."

Hazel's eyes grew wide and concerned. "Is it really that bad?"

"No, no. I just—my brain is—tired," Annabeth said.

Hazel nodded, her face clearing a bit, but some of the concern remained. "Is that all? I mean, you just seem—"

Annabeth sighed. "It seems like you're always worrying about me."

Hazel's eyes widened and she put her hands up defensively. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to—"

"No, no, I didn't mean it like—" Annabeth said, rubbing her eyes. "I just meant that you're kind. You care about people. And you're right, I am really, really…" Annabeth let the sentence putter out.

As always, Hazel was understanding. She closed her laptop. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"That's okay, you've got your—" Annabeth glanced down at Hazel's arm for a second, and then her eyes stuck there, looking at the bandages wrapped around it. Annabeth was near sick to death of talking to people about her timer problem; having to explain again and again that she didn't know why it was malfunctioning, nor what the connection to Percy meant. But even more, she was sick to death of keeping it a secret from her friend.

Hazel brought her arm closer to her body, self consciously. Her expression was imploring.

"Actually," Annabeth said. "There's something I want to talk to you about."

Hazel's shoulders relaxed and she leaned forward expectantly, giving Annabeth her full attention. While Annabeth explained the details of her situation that she had originally left out, her shoulders rose again, up and up, and her eyebrows knit together. Annabeth didn't go into too much detail; she didn't reveal to Hazel her moral concerns or her anxieties about her uncertain future, but Hazel seemed to guess them anyway.

"Wow," Hazel said, whistling lightly. A few people from a nearby table glared. Hazel lowered her voice to speak after sending them an apologetic smile. "I mean, I knew there was more to it, but Percy? I guess that makes sense."

"I wanted to tell you, it's just that—

"I'm Percy's friend?"

"Yeah," Annabeth sighed.

Hazel moved to touch Annabeth's fingers with her own, tapping them reassuringly. "Don't worry. I won't tell him."

"Thank you," Annabeth said.

"But you should." Hazel withdrew her hand, tapping it against the table, her gem green fingernails clicking against the lacquered wood.

"I know. But I just—I can't."

Hazel pursed her lips. "You won't. It's important to know the difference between can't and won't so that when things go wrong, you know you won't have anyone to blame but yourself."

That was a sobering statement. Annabeth felt suddenly hot and scratchy under the collar of her turtleneck. She lifted her hair off of her neck, tying it up with an elastic. "I think you're too smart for your own good," she told Hazel, partially because it was true, and partially to divert the focus off of herself.

Hazel seemed to catch on to what she was attempting, but just smiled, opening her laptop again. "But not smart enough to write a decent paper."

Annabeth smiled gratefully. She knew that someday, she'd have to stop running from these types of conversations, but that day was not today. "I'm sure it's great. Send it to me and I'll look it over tomorrow."

"Uhg, thank you," Hazel said. "And you should go home. Seriously, Annabeth."

Annabeth didn't feel like arguing with a freshman, not after having to be scolded by one, so she just nodded, thanked Hazel, and went to get some greatly needed sleep.

:::

With only two weeks until the end of the semester, Annabeth realized she would have to go back to her mom's place for a month. She didn't have any other plans for the break, after all. In the past, she would either go to New York, where her mom would place a small plastic tree on the dining table and they would eat the take-homes from one of her mom's work parties, or she would go to Luke's, where he would get angry at her for burning the turkey she didn't know how to cook before just making pancakes to 'save the day.' However, this Christmas, one of those options was unfeasible, and the other made Annabeth want to run away to the other side of the country. She would stay in her dorm if the dorms weren't closed over the break.

So, in preparation for her month of solitude and tense encounters with Athena, Annabeth tried to see her friends as often as possible, penciling them in between classes and hours-long study sessions. She saw Hazel on Sunday, Percy on Tuesday (and again on Wednesday), and then Piper on Friday.

It was towards the end of the week when Piper paused their game of Mario Kart and turned to Annabeth. "So what are you doing for Christmas?"

Annabeth shrugged and unpaused the game. "I don't know. Probably just gonna stay with my mom."

Piper wrinkled her nose. "You could come stay with me? We're going to Oklahoma this year."

As much as she appreciated Piper's offer, she knew that she would be intruding on Piper's time with her family. "No, that's okay. I think it'll be fine."

Piper hummed, jerking her remote lightly as she drove around a sharp curve. "I don't get how you're so good at this when you can't even drive in real life."

Annabeth watched as her character, Princess Peach, crossed the finish line. Peach did a small wave as Annabeth came first. Piper groaned as her Yoshi came eighth.

"I guess I'm just a natural," Annabeth said, imbuing her voice with haughty satisfaction.

"It's not even your game," Piper whined.

"Next round?"

Piper sighed, then nodded. "I'm going to beat you this time."

They started the next race. As the jaunty video game music started, Piper nudged Annabeth lightly. "Hey, Annabeth?"

"You're not going to distract me." Annabeth grinned, hitting a powerup.

Piper was suspiciously quiet. Then she asked, "Why don't you visit your dad for Christmas?"

Annabeth promptly drove Peach off a cliff. "What?"

"He offered, didn't he?"

Annabeth now regretted telling Piper about her dad's last email, which she still hadn't responded to. He'd invited her to spend the break with him and his family: something she hadn't done since she was fourteen. She remembered those Christmas celebrations—little straw goats and fairy lights and making pulla, a delicious Finnish cardamom bread. She'd loved Christmas then.

But it had been so long. Besides, despite his emails, despite his efforts, her dad had never apologized for the things he did (or didn't do). Annabeth couldn't say that she was ready to forgive him yet.

"He did," she said. "But I don't think I'm ready to see him again."

"And how long do you think that will take?" Piper sent her a pointed look and then turned back to the TV screen.

Part of Annabeth, the sick, vindictive part, wanted to refuse to see him just so she could go "See! I bet you wish you'd treated me a little better" after she died. She wanted him to feel guilty. But that was a part of her that she didn't like. She wanted to be more like the person Piper thought she could be—forgiving and kind.

"I don't know," Annabeth admitted. "What if it goes badly?"

Piper hummed. "That's a possibility," she said. "But what if it goes well?"

Possibilities, Annabeth thought. There were too many and not enough. "I'll think about it."

Piper seemed to accept her answer. She pushed her shoulder into Annabeth's, knocking her controller. Annabeth swerved off course and knocked back into Piper. "Hey, that's cheating!"

"It's strategic!" Piper laughed.

Annabeth came in first anyway. Piper pouted at her gloating and put down her controller. "I'm getting snacks," she said, getting up and walking to the kitchen.

Annabeth put down her own controller and leaned against the arm of the couch, watching Piper over the kitchen counter. "How have you been, by the way? I feel like we only ever talk about me."

"That's because you're the only one who has anything exciting going on in their life," Piper said, loading her arms with hummus and pita chips.

Annabeth frowned. She didn't think her life was very exciting, it was stressful. "That can't be true. Anything going on with Jason? Or what about that mean girl in your class?"

Piper brought the food over and dumped it onto the kitchen table. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, you mean Drew? Yeah, nothing really happened."

"No, seriously, tell me about it," Annabeth said.

Piper laughed lightly, crawling onto the couch and settling down cross-legged. "She was just being kind of...mmm..bitchy, I guess. But she's not really a problem anymore. Seriously, it's that simple."

"Okay," Annabeth said, reaching for a chip. "If you say so."

:::

Annabeth even hung out with Leo. On Saturday, they met in front of the library. A cold wind blew over the campus, scattering the brown leaves on the ground and making Annabeth bury herself further into her winter coat. It was hat and gloves weather, but she had forgotten hers at home. She cursed herself as her ears and fingertips stung.

"Uhg, finally," Leo said when he spotted her. He wore a large black puffer jacket that went down to his knees along with a dark knit hat pulled down nearly to his eyebrows.

"I'm not that late," Annabeth said, looking at the time. Only five minutes past when they were supposed to meet.

"When it's sub-zero, the time automatically doubles," Leo said, shifting from one foot to the other and rubbing his gloved hands together. "I'm freezing my ass off."

"It is not sub-zero," Annabeth muttered. "Then where do you want to go?"

"I don't know, somewhere warm? You're the one who asked me on a date."

Annabeth stuttered. "I did not ask you on a date. And do you wanna go—" She looked at the bulletin board beside the library door. A soggy orange flyer advertised "Glow in the Dark Mini Golf—Fun for All Ages!" Annabeth hadn't played mini-golf since she was seven, but it beat going to the library. "Mini golfing?"

"Mini golf?" Leo asked, following her eyes to the flyer. "'Fun for all ages'...sure. I mean, we're an age."

"That we are. Let me get the address," she said, snapping a picture of the address on the flyer.

Meanwhile, Leo was bragging about his skills. "I don't want to say I'm a pro, but I'm like the mini version of Tiger Woods. I mean, the mini-golf version."

"Mhmm," Annabeth said, pulling up Google Maps. "It's close. We can probably just walk." She started walking in the direction the map told her to, Leo following at her side.

"I should probably apologize in advance for all the bruises," he was saying.

"Bruises?" Annabeth asked, feeling the set up to a joke, but going along with it anyway.

"On your ego," Leo laughed and Annabeth cracked a smile. It made sense why he and Piper got along so well—they both had a competitive streak a mile wide.

He continued to boast about his skills as they walked, all the way until they were on the indoor course, lining up at the first hole. They waited for their turn in the dark room, looking around at the glow of neon paint under black lights. The first room was space-themed, decorated with aliens and planets in a graffiti style. The family in front of them moved onto the next room quickly, allowing Annabeth and Leo to start on the first hole.

"Ladies first." He gestured for her to go.

Annabeth took position, lining up her club with the neon pink ball, and swung. And missed. "Damn."

Leo cackled. "Let me show you how it's done."

Leo, evidently, did not know how it was done. He swung, and missed. And then swung and missed again. He frowned and narrowed his eyes in focus, aiming his club at the ball. He carefully drew it back before finally hitting the ball gently. He waited with bated breath as the ball rolled across the floor. It passed by the hole, about a foot off, and he groaned.

"Thank you for the demonstration, Tiger," Annabeth said gleefully.

He groaned. "Why am I so bad at this?" Annabeth shrugged. "It must be this stupid course. The blacklight is messing me up."

"Or maybe you just suck," Annabeth teased. Leo just stuck his tongue out at her and walked over to his ball. He swung again, nearly hitting it in, but missing by an inch.

"So what are you doing for the break?" Annabeth asked.

"Yes!" Leo cheered, raising his fist up in the air as he hit the ball in. "I'll probably just stay here."

"In the dorms?" Annabeth asked, surprised. Not many people lived in the twelve-month dorms, but it would make sense if Leo did.

"No, I've got my own place." He gestured to the starting line. "Your turn."

Annabeth set her ball down and lined up her club again. This time, her club connected with the ball on the first swing. It rolled down to the end of the green, hitting the wall, and then coming to a slow stop a few inches from the hole. "By yourself?"

"Nah, I live with a few guys from the engineering department." He leaned against the wall, tracing his finger idly along the outline of an orange spaceship.

"Ahh," Annabeth said. She hit her ball again, knocking it into the hole. "Next one?"

They played from room to room, slowly. Leo was worse than her, but just barely. They stopped recording hits, instead counting it as a win if they were able to get the ball into the hole at all. Sometimes, Leo resorted to cheating.

"You kicked it in, Leo," she said, laughing.

"Don't you want to leave this hell site at some point?" he asked, bending down to pick up his ball from the hole.

"I guess."

He grinned. "Then don't call me out on my cheating."

Annabeth shook her head. "I can't believe I'm surrounded by cheaters," she said. "You and Piper, both."

Ten minutes later, when Annabeth had finally gotten too fed up with the course and had kicked in her own ball, Leo doubled over laughing. When he straightened up, a smile wide on his face and his nose crinkling as his shoulders shook, Annabeth realized that this was the first real smile she had seen from Leo. Sure, his other smiles had been real, but not real like this. This was the sort of smile that you couldn't stop from spreading over your face, the kind of smile you couldn't help sharing with others. It was genuine. Once she had seen the real thing, it was hard to remember how she had believed the other ones, which seemed forced in comparison.

"You have a nice smile," Annabeth blurted, realizing too late that she had said it out loud.

Leo blinked at her, and rather than another one of his usual flirty one-liners, Annabeth was instead met with his face rapidly falling, like he had just realized what he had done. He smiled again, but this time it was less, like the ones he had given to Annabeth before.

"What's wrong?" Annabeth asked him, rapidly growing concerned by his odd reaction.

"Nothing, nothing," he assured her, still smiling. The nose crinkle was markedly absent. "Next room?"

They continued through the rest of the course, but Leo was much more subdued. They still laughed and joked and talked, but something was missing. It was like he was holding himself back, not letting himself enjoy himself the way he had before.

At the end of the course, they turned in their golf balls and clubs. Stepping into the blinding light and biting cold outside of the building, Annabeth turned to Leo.

"Leo, are you sure you're okay?" she asked. She felt a little bit like Hazel.

He pulled on his hat and gloves, shivering exaggeratedly. "Yeah, of course," he said, still smiling, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Annabeth didn't know how to press him more or how to ask him about what had happened back inside, so instead she said, "You had fun?"

"Yes 'Wise Girl,' I had fun." He shook his head at her lightly, as if her question was ridiculous.

It was jarring to hear Percy's nickname for her fall out of Leo's mouth. She let herself be distracted from her worrying. "You don't get to call me that."

"Mm, only pretty boy Percy gets to call you that." He fake pouted, sticking his bottom lip out and putting his hands on his cheeks.

Annabeth put her face in her hands and groaned.

:::

Annabeth finished her last ever fall semester on a Thursday. She had dropped her final paper into Professor Cavan's wire bin at around noon, thus ending the last of her finals. And that was it. In three days, she would be headed to San Francisco, to see her father and the rest of his family for the first time in five years. And then it would be the spring semester, her last semester of college, and then hopefully graduation with an honorary degree. It was all laid out in front of her. The last seven months of her life, a checklist of moments like this.

Except for the one little detail, who happened to be calling her right now.

"Hello?" she said, accepting the call.

"How's this sound," Percy's voice said. "You. Me. Rollerskating."

"Isn't ice skating the more appropriate winter activity?"

Percy paused for a second and then said, "Ice skating. Okay, yes. Are you free now?"

Annabeth laughed. "I—yeah, I guess so." She looked about as ragged as someone who had just dragged herself through finals week would look, but it wasn't really worth going back to her dorm. Percy wouldn't care.

"Perfect. Wait there." And then he hung up.

Annabeth put her phone back into her pocket. Around her, the rest of her Creative Writing class funneled out of the humanities building, but she just stood by the door to her lecture hall and waited.

And there was Percy, coming down the hallway, crooked smile and tousled hair familiar in all the ways that made Annabeth's heart beat faster in her chest. In his fist, he crumpled the side of his own final paper, but he didn't seem to notice or particularly care.

"I will be right out," he told her as he passed. He pushed into the lecture hall, disappearing for a second, and then coming back out, sans paper. He held out his hand "Ready?"

"Ready."

:::

Annabeth was learning that she was bad at a lot of things. Mini golf, for instance. And now, apparently, ice skating. Her legs wobbled as she tried to stand and skate forward. Instead, she tipped forward, nearly falling if not for the tan arm extended to catch her.

"Need help with that?" Percy said with a confident smirk.

Annabeth held onto him tightly. "Like you're one to talk with your penguin." She gestured to the skating aid Percy was hanging on to, seasonally shaped like a penguin in a Santa hat.

He laughed. "I know when to accept help when I need it."

Annabeth pushed off of him and held onto the wall. She pushed herself along it slowly, trying to get a feel for the skates. Her romantic ideals about Percy holding her hand and pulling her along had been dashed as soon as Percy admitted he couldn't skate.

"I don't see why you'd suggest skating if you knew you were bad at it," she grumbled.

"Hey, roller skating is way different than ice skating," Percy pointed out, sliding along with his helper. He had to stoop down to reach it.

The rink was small, settled in the center of the city. A large plastic Christmas tree rose up from the center, decorated with large red and gold baubles with a large gold star at the top. All around, people of all ages and all abilities skated the short loop around the tree. With somewhat excessive irritation, Annabeth watched as tiny children in fancy skates (not the shitty ones they had rented from nearby) skated circles around them and the tree.

The city itself was decorated for the holidays as well. Even though it wasn't yet mid- December, fairy lights crossed over the main streets and wound up tree trunks. Stores had Christmas displays in green and bright red, and wreaths hung in every window of the Macy's across the street. There was a hectic, anticipatory bustle as shoppers and people in suits moved around the rink, sometimes pausing to watch the skaters.

It was hard not to feel the holiday spirit, even as Annabeth fought to find her balance.

Percy left his penguin behind as they completed their first loop around the rink. He held out his hand to her, and, well, it wasn't like Annabeth could refuse. She held tight as he pulled her from the wall and they inched forward together. They leaned against each other, Percy wrapping his arm around Annabeth's waist and her hands finding his shoulder. It was slow and awkward, but they laughed anyway.

"You're a lot better at this than you let on," Annabeth said, realizing that she was doing most of the clinging and Percy was doing most of the skating.

His eyes crinkled. "No, I'm just better than you."

She moved to hit his arm lightly, but lost her balance. Percy's arm tightened around her and he pulled her closer.

"Okay, I can do it," Annabeth said. Percy raised an eyebrow at her, but nodded.

"I'm going to let you go then." He unwrapped his arm from around her and gripped her hand. Ever so slowly, he pulled away from her until they were an arms length away. Annabeth put both of her arms out, steadying herself, but still held tightly to Percy's hand. "You got it?" he asked.

"Don't let go."

They continued around the rink together, Percy pulling Annabeth forward slowly. Finally, she seemed to find a good rhythm. Now that she didn't have to give all of her focus to balancing, she was able to hold a conversation.

"Yeah, she made it," Percy was saying. "She got really into knitting a few years ago."

"Wow, it's really well done." Annabeth wobbled as Percy handed her his hat, but he caught her. His hair stuck up in every direction, looking a bit less 'wind-swept' and a bit more 'hurricane.' Annabeth felt along the stitches—blue yarn, of course. "I can't believe your mom made this."

"She also made my gloves." Percy held out his hands, showing his matching blue gloves.

"Do you know how to knit?"

He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, shrugging. "Yeah, I guess. Badly."

"That's still cool," Annabeth insisted. Percy smiled and Annabeth basked in the warmth of it. It was happening more and more often. It didn't matter what they were talking about—Annabeth wanted to listen. It didn't matter what was happening—when he smiled, Annabeth wanted to stop and rest in that moment. She wished she could stop time just so Percy would keep looking at her like that.

"Hey, look," he said, tilting his head up to the grey sky. Delicate white snowflakes had begun floating through the air, resting in Percy's black hair, like stars in the night sky. Around then, people gasped and laughed as the first snow of the winter came down around them.

Annabeth's face split into a smile. Although she had lived through five snowy winters, it still felt like an exciting and novel thing when she woke up to see the ground covered in a layer of white powder. The snow shimmered through the air, collecting into fat, fluffy clumps on the way down to the ice below them. Annabeth held her hand out, watching a clump fall into her cupped palm and melt into her glove.

Percy was watching her, the sparkle in the air caught in his eyes. He brushed some snow out of her hair, fingers trailing along her forehead. She caught his eye and held it as something charged passed between them.

"This—" Percy cleared his throat, looking away. "This really makes you happy, doesn't it?"

Annabeth blinked. For a second, it felt like all the air left her lungs and now she was trying to catch her breath. "The snow?"

"Yeah."

She smiled, despite herself. "It does. I grew up with green winters, which was beautiful, but it's not really the same."

"I bet," Percy said. "I couldn't imagine that."

She hummed and began to slide her way over to the side of the rink. "Come on, our hour is almost up."

Percy followed her over, skating much easier than he had nearly an hour before. "Are you nervous about going back?"

Annabeth paused, clinging to the wall of the rink. To be honest, she was terrified. She existed on certainties. She lived on things she could plan for. But this—there were so many ways it could go wrong. And so many ways it could go right, Piper's voice said in her head. But even if things went well, there was the inevitable bad ending. Trust Frederick to reconnect with Annabeth during the last year of her life.

"A little bit," Annabeth said.

Percy nodded. "So, terrified."

Annabeth pressed her lips together as her heart skipped a beat. She shook her head lightly, hiding her face behind her hair.

"Am I wrong?"

"No, not wrong," Annabeth said. He took a deep breath, letting her hair fall back. "It just scares me sometimes, when you do that."

"Do what?" Percy asked.

She held his gaze and the electric tension from before flared between them. "Know me."

Percy's mouth dropped into a small "o" as his eyes flicked to her lips. Annabeth held her breath. The space between them seemed smaller, but she wasn't sure who was moving. All she knew was that Percy was all she could see. He was taking up her entire field of vision, her entire world. The moment extended and—

"One hour is up!" A worker in a blue vest yelled from the side of the rink. He tapped his megaphone and then said, louder, "All skaters please exit the rink."

The moment shrank, but it didn't end. Annabeth could still feel that heat, that tension, the way it welled up inside of her. Even as she exhaled, she felt like she was holding her breath, waiting for something.

Percy pushed off of the wall, holding out his hand. She grabbed it, and they skated toward the exit of the rink. Even when they walked off of the ice and onto the mats by the benches, she didn't let go of his hand.

:::

"A gift," Percy said, placing a styrofoam cup in Annabeth's hands. Heat radiated from it, and the smell of chocolate drifted up from under the lid. "From the booth over there." Percy pointed towards a stand with a long line of people. Tinsel garlands wrapped around the front, and the sign said Becker Hot Chocolate and Strudel.

Annabeth raised the steaming cup to her lips. "Thank you." It was sweet and rich over her tongue, warming her up from the inside out. Not that she needed it, with Percy right there.

Percy raised his own cup to his mouth. "This almost reminds me of Christmas in New York."

"Yeah? I could see that," Annabeth said, looking at the throngs of people moving between the skyscrapers. Their city was much smaller than New York, but especially here in the business district, there was a metropolitan feeling.

"My mom and I always used to go watch the ice skaters in Central Park. And then we'd go home and she'd make coconut pudding. Gabe always hated it, which made it so much better."

Percy had told Annabeth about his awful ex-stepfather before, but he didn't bring him up very often. It was obviously still a painful memory, which Annabeth could understand. She was just grateful that Percy and his mother were able to leave him behind.

"Was this coconut pudding blue?" Annabeth asked.

"Sometimes," Percy laughed. "But I have to admit, that's one of the few things that's not better blue."

"What else did you do?" Annabeth asked. She just wanted to hear him talk—about anything, really. Every new thing she learned about him just made her like him more. And his voice—it dripped like honey from his mouth, smooth and low. If Percy read Annabeth her geometry textbooks, she'd probably be more than happy to listen.

Percy talked about his childhood celebrations—decorating the tree with his mother, midnight mass with his maternal grandmother, eating rice porridge, honeyed dates, and vegetables stuffed in grape leaves. Even in his small home, and even through hardship, Percy found love and belonging and was able to look back at even the hardest parts of his life with fondness. It was something that Annabeth both admired and envied.

They finished their hot chocolates on the bus home. The light of day was already fading, even though it was barely early evening. From under the bright lights of the bus, everything outside disappeared. It was like they were in their own little universe. No one was there to question their quick glances and the way Annabeth pressed her thigh against Percy's and didn't move away.

The bus deposited them near campus. They walked back in comfortable silence, knocking shoulders every once in a while. Skeletal trees loomed over them and the campus was empty. Everyone smart was inside and under their blankets, not out here with the snow quickly piling on the ground.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" Percy asked her. They were approaching the staff parking—Percy's car was the only one in the lot.

"No."

"No?" There was something nervous about his voice. Annabeth smiled. She strode up to his car and hopped onto the hood. She slid herself back until her back hit the windshield.

Percy stood in front of her, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. Somehow, it made her feel bolder. She patted the spot next to her. "Come on."

He looked around at the snow on the ground. His breath fogged in front of his face as he spoke. "It's cold."

And maybe he had given her all of his token confidence, because Annabeth said, "Come warm me up then."

A deep flush spread over Percy's cheeks and his eyes darkened. He pulled himself onto the car, brushing off the thin layer of snow before settling next to her. His voice was low and rough, hanging quietly in the air between them when he said, "Better?"

Annabeth swallowed and nodded. The snow was still falling, catching in the soft lights of the street lamps, and in Percy's dark hair and long eyelashes. He looked impossibly soft here, his hard edges washed away in the shadows. And the look he gave her was the softest thing of all. She knew she had never been looked at quite like that.

The metal was cold beneath them. The world around them was silent and still, save for the falling of snow around them. It was like they had taken that feeling from the bus with them, and here they were, haloed by a circle of lamplight, in a universe all their own. Captured in a pocket of stolen time.

Her cold fingers found Percy's, warm and wanting. He had taken his gloves off just for this, she realized. Just so he could link his fingers with hers, and then brush the side of her cheek, her jaw, with the tips. So he could reach over, like he was doing now, and press the pad of his thumb to the corner of her lips.

"I really want to kiss you right now," he murmured, softly, like the rest of him. His eyes were so green and she realized he wasn't looking at her, he was seeing her.

"Please," was all she could say, like a confession, like a prayer.

He pulled away, his hands leaving her face, his eyes turning sad. "I can't." Then, to answer her unspoken question, he added, "Luke."

She had never told him, Annabeth realized. She had been so afraid of this, of next steps and unknowns, that she had convinced herself she didn't want it. She had let herself believe in time away when time was the one thing she couldn't spare. But she had been wrong—she wanted it. She wanted him.

Her hands found his jacket as she pulled herself closer. His eyes widened. "That's over." She told him, and his face changed, relaxing into another softly crooked smile. "It's been over."

And he pressed his smile to her lips.