A/N: I'd like to thank my betas: AlEmily360, SapphireTrafficker, tigerlilycorinne, AshenMoon42, Lesbian101, Shiuanc2, and LadyHW.
At the end of the break, Annabeth found an empty dorm room and a pile of forgotten work waiting for her. So many impossible things had happened while she was gone, but it was the return that felt unreal. It was like the mental equivalent of running a marathon, and now all she wanted to do was catch her breath.
It had only been two weeks since Thalia left the hospital and gone back home, much to her disdain. It wasn't that she wanted to stay in the hospital, it was just that she didn't want to stay with her dad—something she voiced often and aggressively. But she had to stay with someone; there was integration into daily life and muscle atrophy and all of that other stuff that Annabeth understood on a somewhat surface level. She just wished Thalia was nearby and not staying in New York.
Other than that, it was back to normal—or as normal as it could be. With Thalia waking up and Luke's inevitable re-entry into her life, Annabeth wasn't sure how she would reconcile her present and her past.
She could start by going to her classes. This class—History of Architecture with a focus on Roman Antiquity—was one she had been looking forward to ever since she registered, but today she couldn't concentrate. As the TA passed out the syllabus, and the professor went over his late policy, Annabeth doodled abstract shapes in her notebook and thought about time. Namely, how little she had left.
It had been a few weeks since she had seen Percy, so her timer had gone back to what it was before, meaning it showed that she had less than six months to get her life in order. She was already talking to her mother about funeral arrangements—what flowers Annabeth would like (blue hydrangeas and baby's breath), open or closed casket (it really depended; Annabeth didn't know how she'd die), guest list (this was probably the hardest part). Annabeth had been mostly prepared for this, she even had a whole plan mapped out in a folder somewhere, but with all of the sudden changes recently—her dad, Thalia, Luke, Percy, she didn't know what to do.
Percy bought her time, but he also bought her guilt. Could she lie to everyone in her life, to him, and live with herself? Could she use him and live with herself? Does it count if she had really fallen in love?
Was she even in love? Maybe she had just tricked herself into it. She tricked her brain into producing oxytocin and dopamine and all of those other intoxicating little neurotransmitters whenever Percy was around. Maybe the uncontrollable quickening of her heartbeat and the butterflies in her stomach were just one of her body's automatic self-preservation techniques.
Maybe, Annabeth thought, my brain could shut up for a minute!
Annabeth groaned and shook her head at herself.
"Ms. Chase," the professor said, looking down at the seating chart that had just been passed around. "Is there a problem?"
Annabeth quickly shook her head no.
"Then could you tell me what it is we will focus on in April— without looking at our schedule."
Annabeth wracked her brain, knowing that she hadn't been listening for the last five minutes. She felt her face turn red as she slowly tried to piece together an answer. "In April? Um, we will be getting ready for our final and studying, uh, Roman Antiquity?"
She heard a chuckle from behind her and the redness on her face spread to her neck and ears.
"Well, I would hope so, Ms. Chase, seeing as this class is Architecture of the Roman Antiquity."
Annabeth buried her face in her hair and tried to focus on the professor talking about April's subject of the Roman expansion into Northern Africa.
:::
Funnily enough, when she saw Percy, the guilt and uncertainty seemed to leave her. Suddenly, when he smiled at her, she had names for what she felt. Names that came without chemical profiles.
Percy's apartment was unreasonably small, but had enough windows for it to feel uncramped. Like what Annabeth expected with most college apartments, it was decorated with mismatched furniture: a floral couch picked up off of Facebook marketplace, an old bookshelf from Craigslist, and the coffee table from a nearby street corner.
"And I got that ugly-ass dining table from a dumpster behind Fifth Street," Percy said, pointing towards his kitchen. The tiny dining table sat right in the middle of it, giving little space to move between it and the oven.
"Are you sure it's a good idea to eat off of something you found in a dumpster?" Annabeth asked. She followed Percy to the kitchen and leaned against the counter as he reached for something on a high shelf. His shirt lifted and she could see a sliver of smooth, brown skin above his jeans. She got the irrational urge to press her fingers to it.
Then she realized she could.
"Hey!" Percy said, batting her hand away. She giggled. "Your fingers are fucking cold!"
She pressed her hands against his hips again, over his shirt this time. He sighed contentedly and mirrored her, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her towards him. When their lips met, his hands left her waist to wrap around her back and then cup her jaw. He tilted her head up and she pressed into him. The kiss warmed her, from her lips right to her cold fingers.
She pressed her fingers under his shirt again, on his hot skin. Before he pulled away, she could feel the smile on his lips.
"Warm those up first," he said. "Then we can talk."
Annabeth blushed. "So what are you trying to get?"
Percy was reaching to the top shelf again, standing on his tiptoes and reaching for something near the back. "I thought I had one more…" he muttered before, "Aha!"
He came down, a packet of microwave buttered popcorn in his hand. He set to work unwrapping it and putting it into the microwave. "We can't have a proper Popcorn Day without popcorn."
"Popcorn Day?" Annabeth asked, listening to the pops coming from the microwave.
Percy hummed. "Yeah, January nineteenth. Popcorn Day."
Annabeth moved out of the kitchen and into the living room. "Another one of your traditions?" she asked. She leaned over the couch to examine one of the many abstract paintings hanging from the walls. It was Jackson Pollock-style splatter painting, with streaks of gold glitter running through it.
From the kitchen, Percy's voice called back. "It could be. If you want."
She didn't respond to that. "Hey, who made these?" she asked.
"Hmm?" Percy's head popped out from behind the wall dividing the kitchen from the living room. "Oh, my friend Rachel. She does a lot of art."
Annabeth nodded, vaguely remembering Percy's redheaded coworker and the stab of jealousy she had felt at the time. She was glad it was gone now. It was such a Luke-like emotion.
The microwave beeped and Annabeth heard Percy pull the popcorn out and pour it into a bowl. He joined her in the living room, sitting on the floral couch and patting the spot next to him. Annabeth sat down, leaning into his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her, bringing her closer, while he handed her the popcorn bowl.
"I like your place," Annabeth whispered, because it was true. It was unorganized and eclectic, but it was full of bits of Percy. Looking around and knowing that he had seen this ugly, antique couch and the uneven dumpster table, and he had chosen them, he had brought them back with him, and he had created a home—it made Annabeth feel safe. Like maybe he had chosen her just as much as she had chosen him.
Percy looked around his house as well, with different eyes than Annabeth's. "I know it's not much."
"I like it."
"It's small. And my table is from a dumpster."
"It's cozy," Annabeth insisted.
"—Which is code for small."
"It's code for comfortable. Homey," she told him. She felt him exhale and he pressed his face into her hair. His arm tightened around her.
"I don't know what I did to deserve you." His voice was low, shaded with affection. Her heart clenched at his words. She reached for his hand, to feel his skin against hers. She played with his fingers, pressing her palm against his.
"I could say the same thing," she said. Percy would never know just how much that meant. "What movie are we watching? The popcorn's getting cold."
"Your pick tonight. I'm happy with anything."
"Anything?"
Percy thought for a second. "Nothing sad. I don't want to feel sad when I'm around you."
She brought his hand to her mouth and pressed her lips to his knuckles. She grabbed the remote. "Okay, nothing sad. Got it."
:::
Annabeth met with Thalia on a Thursday at 12:30. Or at least she was supposed to. She checked her watch. 12:52. She tapped her foot impatiently and wondered if she was willing to skip her 1:45 class for this. Before she could decide, she felt a tap on her shoulder.
"Hey, Annie," Thalia said, pulling out the chair across from Annabeth.
Annabeth wrinkled her nose. "Eww, no one's called me that in years."
"That's too bad. I think it's cute." Thalia flashed her a smile before leaning back in her chair. Annabeth just rolled her eyes but took the chance to marvel at what a few weeks could do for a person. Thalia was still too skinny, and the shadows under her eyes could rival a raccoon's, but she looked closer to the Thalia that Annabeth knew than she had in years. She had dyed her hair back to black and had put all of her piercings back in. Although her eyes were duller, and more tired, they still had that electric spark in them that Annabeth knew guaranteed trouble—and a good time.
"I'm glad you could visit. It's good to see you," she said, "you look good."
Thalia scoffed, "Sure, I look like week-old roadkill. I feel better though. A little less comatose, if you know what I mean."
Annabeth smiled. "Hmm, yeah, that's probably what it is."
Thalia laughed. "How about we get some food? I'm starving. I feel like I could eat a whole horse, that's how fucking hungry I am."
"I'm not sure they have entire horses, but you could probably get a sandwich," Annabeth replied.
Once they had sat back down, food in tow, Annabeth set to ask what she had really wanted to ask Thalia.
"So, you're living with your father again…" she began.
"Mhmm," Thalia mumbled through her Philly cheesesteak.
"Is that—how's that going?"
Thalia set the sandwich down. "Y'know, it's actually going pretty well."
"Really?" Annabeth blurted without being able to curb her surprise.
Thalia rolled her eyes. "Of course not, it's my fuckin dad. He's a bastard, I'm a bitch, we fight constantly. I swear, I gotta get out of there."
"Yeah, I was kind of worried about that. I know you two don't really get along—"
"It's kinda like you with your dad, y'know, except I've actually gotta see him sometimes," Thalia continued.
"Well, actually—"
"But it's fine, I'll put up with it for a few more days 'til I move in with Luke."
Annabeth closed her mouth and opened it again, all thoughts of correcting Thalia's assumption about her relationship with her father vanished. "Wait, you're moving in with Luke?"
Thalia must've registered Annabeth's feelings about this new information, because her expression immediately closed off and she took the defensive. "Yeah, I am. That's actually most of why I came over here. Y'know, to see the place. What, do you think it's a bad idea?" She said, crossing her arms in front of her. Her shoulders squared in an imitation of her old standoffish look.
"I—well—no, not necessarily, it's just—"
"Just?"
"Just, well, so soon? Are you sure you can't—"
"Stay with my dad?" Thalia asked in disbelief. "I'd rather stick hot pokers in my eyes. Look—I know what this is about. Luke told me you'd had some sort of disagreement—"
"Disagreement…" Annabeth repeated in bewilderment. So that's what he told her.
"Yeah, he thought you might be averse to this arrangement, but listen, your problems are between you and him. You two can fight it out or whatever, but I'll tell you what I told him. I'm gonna be friends with him and I'm gonna be friends with you. You can't change my mind, and you can't stop me. Okay?" Thalia raised her eyebrows and repeated herself. "Okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, okay, but—" But that's not all of it.
"No, no buts. It is what it is. Plus, I'll be closer to you. I'll be closer to Jason. It's a win-win-win. So just...leave it, alright?" Thalia sighed and stretched her arms above her head. "I'm gonna change the subject now. Let's talk about something easier—politics and religion?"
Annabeth sighed and accepted defeat. Thalia did what Thalia did—Annabeth had learned that a long time ago. Even so, while they talked, she couldn't keep her anxieties about this new living arrangement out of her head. One more worry to add to the pile, she thought.
:::
"Hey Hazel, can I talk to you for a sec?" Annabeth said, taking a seat at the counter of the coffee shop.
"Sure, Annabeth, what's up?" Hazel said, fixing up a chai latte without Annabeth even having to ask and handing it to her. The shop was slow at this time of the day, so Hazel lazily wiped the counter near Annabeth as she offered a listening ear and fixed her golden-brown eyes on her.
"It's just...—" Annabeth struggled to find a way to explain her situation without having to go in-depth. It wasn't that she didn't want Hazel to know about everything, it was just that she was tired of going over all the complicated details, both out loud and in her head.
"Timer stuff?" Hazel lowered her voice and smiled understandingly.
"No, it's—well, yeah, actually, but that's not really what I need to talk about right now," Annabeth said. God, I have too many problems.
"Okay, well, shoot." Hazel tucked a curly hair behind her ear and leaned her elbows on the counter, wiping abandoned.
"Okay, say you have a friend, and said friend just came back from...a long trip. And said friend has not really been in the loop recently." Annabeth couldn't remember if she had ever told Hazel about Thalia.
"Okay…." Hazel made a gesture to continue.
"This friend is going to go live with one of your old... friends, but the other friend is...not so great." Annabeth winced. She was not explaining this well. "The not-so-great friend is actually kind of awful. But your friend who's been away doesn't know this and won't listen to what you have to say about the bad friend."
Hazel nodded slowly, face frustratingly blank.
"Do you get what I'm saying?" Annabeth asked.
Hazel nodded again. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure. Um—" Hazel paused for a second, picking the rag back up and twisting it in her hands. "Okay, and your friend won't listen to you?"
Annabeth shook her head. "She won't even let me say anything. Luke told her we had had a little 'disagreement'." She did air quotes.
Hazel sighed. "Ahh, Luke. So I'm guessing he's the bad friend?"
Annabeth nodded.
"I'm not sure if I'm the right person to be asking. You might get a better answer from someone closer to the situation, or someone who knows more."
"But if you were to offer advice…?"
"But if I was to offer advice…" Hazel leaned back against one of the coffee machines and ran her thumb over her lip. "I would say… it doesn't seem like there's a lot you can do now. You could keep trying to warn your friend, maybe just tell her how you feel, but she sounds pretty stubborn and those stubborn types tend to go on the defense if you don't let them do their thing. You'd probably know something about that." She gave Annabeth a playfully pointed look.
"Maybe just, make sure you're there for her if—or when—things go south. Be supportive, and not smug. Just, watch out for her."
Annabeth sighed. "I know. I'm just... so worried. Being in a relationship with Luke—I didn't even realize how controlling and manipulative he was until it was almost too late. I didn't realize how bad he made me feel about myself and my life, and how distant I became. Thalia—my friend—is in such a vulnerable place right now—she is so strong-willed and so independent, but I'm still worried that the same thing will happen to her."
"Well, then you'll be there to help her out of it. And you can still help by reminding her of who she is and continue being an important person in her life. I can tell that you care about her—a lot. That's enough to make me feel like she'll be alright," Hazel reassured.
Annabeth smiled and folded her hands around her warm cup of coffee. "Thanks, Hazel. You are exactly the person I needed."
"No problem. But, um, I also wanted to ask..." Suddenly, Hazel was looking bashful. She turned away from Annabeth to wipe down the already glistening metal of the espresso machine. "You haven't told Percy about your timer."
Annabeth stilled, halfway to bringing her chai to her mouth. "That's not a question," she said carefully.
"It's not," Hazel agreed. "When are you going to tell him?"
Annabeth took a slow sip. "Maybe I won't."
"Would you really do that?" Hazel asked with soft skepticism.
"No," Annabeth conceded. "I don't know."
"So…?"
"I don't want to hurt him," Annabeth said into her cup.
"He'll be hurt either way. I know Percy and the way he feels about you…" Hazel let the sentence hang in the air, but Annabeth was desperate to know how it would end. "He'll be hurt either way."
"I'll tell him, just…" Just...I want more time. How ironic.
"Okay," Hazel said. She threw her rag under the counter. Then, with no transition, "I signed up for horse riding lessons."
Annabeth looked up from the counter again, finding Hazel's eyes clear of judgment and her smile full of excitement. "Horse riding lessons?"
"Yeah, I figured...why not. I've always loved horses."
Annabeth could remember Hazel telling her that. "That sounds really fun," she said. "It's good that you're…" she waved her arm in the air noncommittally.
Hazel's smile widened. "Yeah, I think so too."
:::
"I can't believe I didn't realize that Jason's Thalia was your Thalia," Piper was saying again.
Annabeth shook her head. "It's fine."
"No, but seriously. How common is the name Thalia?"
Annabeth shrugged. "I was just surprised to see him there. It was kind of like 'worlds collide.'"
"Yeah, I bet." Piper put her feet on the coffee table, flipping through the Netflix categories, having decided to abandon the DVD collection today. "How do you feel about French?"
"As a movie or just in general?"
"Movie." Piper flipped into the details of a french period romance, reading the summary to herself in a low whisper.
"Sounds good," Annabeth said. "Just keep the subtitles on."
"Obviously," Piper said, hitting play. "Your break sounds exhausting every time I hear something new about it. I don't know how you cope."
"I don't," Annabeth said, only half-joking. She felt pulled taut, stretched between the stress of schoolwork, the weight of her complex emotions surrounding Thalia, and the constant seesaw of guilt and affection for Percy. If she stretched any further, she might snap. She told Piper as such.
"You should do some self-care. Do a face mask, paint your nails, take a nice long shower," Piper suggested. "And you could finally decorate your new room. Having your pictures and stuff up would probably make you feel better."
An image flashed through Annabeth's mind. Silena smiling, telling her what nail polish colour suited her skin tone best, while they both wore bubbly sheet masks. Annabeth closed her eyes against the feeling, pressing them shut hard enough to feel a pounding in her temples.
"Maybe," she said, noncommittally. She had been given a new room, a single with more space than before. A pity room, from the university to the dying girl with dying friends. She hadn't put any of her posters or decorations up and had barely unpacked. She couldn't stand the idea of it looking like it had when she had shared it with Silena. It would be too painful.
"I could help you, if you want," Piper offered. "I have some extra movie posters. We could do it in a totally new way. We could have a mutual self-care-decorating day."
Annabeth reached out and gripped her hand gratefully. "Yeah, I'd like that."
They quieted down as the movie dialogue started moving at a faster pace, the two women on the screen exchanging words in rapid-fire French.
When the speaking slowed down, she turned to Piper again. "What about you? Any particular reason you might need some extra self-care?"
"Not really," Piper said. She shifted, taking her feet off of the coffee table and crossing her legs. "My workload is actually pretty light this semester and I've got a ton of extra time. I'm thinking of joining a club though."
"Oh yeah?"
"Mmm, Indigenous Student Association. My cousin is in the one in her school and she told me about it during the break." She shrugged. "Sounded cool."
"It does." Annabeth agreed.
"And there's this girl in one of my classes that's in it." Piper glanced at Annabeth out of the corner of her eye and then focused back on the movie.
"I think that'll be really awesome," Annabeth told her. "I wish I'd thought to join clubs. It seems kind of late now though."
"You still could." Piper kept her eyes trained on the screen. Beside her, Annabeth shrugged.
"I'm not sure it would be worth it, now."
The movie dialogue picked up again and they both fell quiet. It was beautiful and captivating, pulling Annabeth's attention easily. It also dealt in deadlines—a week, and then another. And a lifetime. Coming together, and then falling apart again. It was an acute sorrow, a bittersweetness that Annabeth knew well.
When the credits rolled and the music faded to silence, Piper rolled over, throwing her legs over the arm of the couch and her head in Annabeth's lap. Annabeth's hands found their way into her hair, braiding and unbraiding the strands.
"That was sadder than I thought it was going to be," she said. Annabeth just hummed in agreement. "I know you don't want me to say this," Piper continued. "But I'm going to miss you."
Annabeth's hands stilled. She could feel Piper's chest moving as she took shaky, slow breaths. She went back to combing through her friend's hair and hummed in acknowledgment.
:::
In the morning, Piper made scrambled eggs. She swayed her hips to gentle music, humming along with the words. Annabeth watched from the couch, flipping through old texts on her phone. She felt like she had forgotten something. There was a nagging presence in the back of her head that she couldn't let go of.
Her finger hovered over Leo's name and the last text she had sent him. It had been over a month ago that she had left him with a dismissive text after she had gotten back to the apartment after seeing Thalia in the hospital. She winced when she read the interaction over again.
"Hey Piper?" she called.
Piper turned around holding a spatula. "Do you want mushrooms with your eggs? I've got to use them before they go bad."
"Yeah, sure," Annabeth said. Piper reached into her fridge and brought out a cutting board. "How's Leo?"
Piper looked up from her cutting. "Leo? He's—" She frowned. "Well, it's hard to say with him. How come?"
"Just curious," Annabeth said.
"Mmm, well, I saw him a week ago. Or maybe that was two weeks? I don't really remember," Piper said, taking the mushrooms and putting them in the pan. "He seemed, well...he seemed 'Leo Fine.'"
"Leo Fine?"
"Yeah, like, well, I know you don't know him super well, but you know how he kind of doesn't seem...mmm real? Like he always seems like he's putting up a front."
"I thought that was just because he didn't know me well," Annabeth said. She remembered when they had gone mini-golfing back in December. She remembered his smile, and his nose crinkle, and the way all of his smiles after that had been less. Subdued and practiced.
"Maybe a little bit. But he's also just...like that. And the anniversary of Calypso's, y'know, is coming up...next month, I think."
Annabeth had nearly forgotten about Calypso. She felt bad for forgetting. Leo was her….friend. He was her friend.
"I should probably check in with him," Piper said, turning the eggs and sauteed mushrooms onto plates. "Breakfast?"
