Dear Reader,
Life.
What defines it?
There's the basic definition that follows two people who fall in love. They meet and become friends, and then they get married. They have a child. It's the monotonous pattern of putting one foot in front of the other from birth until death so the life cycle continues on.
He likes to think there's more to it than that.
The law of conservation states that energy cannot be created or destroyed, so where do we really come from? People spew out facts about dark matter floating around in space, about how the universe compressed and expanded outwards in a powerful explosion, creating everything we know, but before that? Where did the energy come from? Maybe something existed before us, and if that's the case, when we die, it's not just a blank page. It unravels our current concept of life.
People go somewhere.
Perhaps they go here. It's hard to know where here is, but wherever it is, it's beautiful. There's a rocky cliff overlooking rough waters, gray skies as far as can be seen. The grass on the cliff blows in the wind and stretches on for miles, well beyond what he can see. It's quiet aside from the rustling of waves that remind him of the everlasting flow of time. The environment feels staticy like there's something not quite right about where he is, like this isn't a normal place to be, like there's energy piling up in a way that should be impossible. It should be unsettling, but it's not. It feels like home, like this is somewhere he's been before. If energy is not created or destroyed, then he probably has been here.
He's never been particularly interested in physics before, but standing overlooking what could very well be everything that's ever existed prompts him to give it a try.
Particles are in constant motion. Over time, these particles move around, dispersing, and so it is true that what was once a living person could form up the entity of one that comes after them. Still, where did those particles come from?
Standing before the rushing waves, feeling the water flood through his veins, he stands tall on this deserted cliffside. There's a stormy look in his eyes as the wind rustles his hair, and he keeps his chin high, knowing of every individual wave that is to hit the side of the cliff, every single chip of rock as it's eroded away by the harsh currents, of every blade of grass and tug of wind.
Things feel the same, and then…they don't. He doesn't need to look to his side to know who's standing next to him.
He does anyway.
Creation, he thinks, staring at the beautiful gray eyed girl who stares back. The wind blows her golden curls, and he thinks there's nothing quite as magnificent as her. He knows her in every way, shares her pain, her knowledge, her wisdom, her life. The universe was created at the tips of his fingers, coming together from the crashing waves, from the ichor circulating his body.
He was not alone.
It's unfair for the fate of the universe to lay in the hands of one. That's why she's there too, strong by his side, golden laurel entangled in her hair while her chin remains up, challenging and magnificent. There's a spark in her eyes like the lightning that strikes the horizon, and it's a spark that he loves with every fiber of his being. It's in that moment that he knows he's loved that spark a million times over.
Creating a world is difficult. One would think that even celestial beings would know the innateness of pain, but some things must be learned when you are the first to live. They do learn over time, and they discover what humanity needs to be successful. They learn how integral pain is to survival, how emotions can be a wonderful mess. They know nothing at all, and then suddenly everything at once.
They are the beginning.
Is it not true that they would have to experience every life to ever exist to know what it truly means to live?
•
1985
"You're never going to get a girl if you sit at the bar alone."
Percy lifts his eyes from the wooden countertop to observe his friend, disinterested. Grover gives him a chastising look, and he spots a bit of sympathy in it too. He's not particularly a fan of the sympathy part, but if it'll get Grover to buy him another of the more expensive beers that Percy could never afford on his own, then he's not really complaining.
"And who says I'm trying to get a girl?"
"Your mother asked politely."
"Of course she did," Percy mutters, lips around the rim of the glass. The glass had felt cold initially, but it's grown warm with the press of his skin to it. The heat emanating from the club doesn't do much to help, nearly choking him. He can practically visualize the sweaty press of stranger's bodies on the crowded floor, and when his eyes lock on a nerdy looking guy who sneezes, he swears he can spot the five people in his immediate vicinity who are going to be calling out of work sick with the flu in a few days.
This is not his scene.
He takes another pitiful sip of his beer.
"You could at least try to have fun," Grover says, smoothing down his bow tie.
"I am having fun," he lies, waving his hand around generally. "A blast. What's not to love about the smell of horny teenagers gyrating on the dance floor after sneaking in. It's my dream."
"You're not wrong about the teenager part, but that's a horrible way of putting it."
Percy snorts.
"Come over for a bit. I found a couple of girls planning on doing karaoke."
Percy tips his drink in Grover's direction. "I will have the time of my life watching you sing a pitiful rendition of Under the Sea and trying to snag a kiss."
"Juniper says they won't be singing Disney songs. I asked."
Percy doesn't ask who Juniper is. He's sure he'll find out soon enough when Grover prances on stage. The poor guy can hardly keep his feelings to himself—his emotions practically melt out of his eyes like a cartoon character in love.
"Are you sure you're not interested in joining?"
Percy smiles, this time honest. He's happy to accompany his friend to things like this, even if it's not something he's used to. He really doesn't mind. "I'll be alright here for a bit longer. Buy me a drink first, though."
Grover does buy Percy another drink, and as Percy settles with his back against the counter to watch Grover stand near a group of girls, he thinks he's his best friend in the whole wide world. The alcohol has had just enough of an effect for Percy to not be put off by the loud blasting of music or the neon lights. There are a lot of those neon lights lining each wall, but now, he's captivated by the glow of people's shoes and teeth and his headache is dulled. He even moves his head a bit to the recognizable song playing in the nightclub.
There's a small group of people currently at the microphone, but they seem about ready to head off stage as Grover and his new friends get ready to take over.
When they do, Percy immediately recognizes who must be Juniper. Grover hangs around her the most, and it's adorable how eager his friend is. She appears just his type too, dressed casually with her hair pinned up and scrunching up her button nose in a smile. She's cute enough, but she's not the one Percy's eyes stay on for very long.
No.
That honor falls to the girl who must be Juniper's friend.
She's dressed more to fit the vibe of the club, though not by much. She's in an all-black outfit, a tight leather jacket adorning her shoulders. The brightest part of her outfit is her bright blonde hair, curled in a way that seems natural and tied together with a scrunchie. He doesn't let the outfit fool him because she's having the most fun with their rendition of Madonna's Material Girl, though she's not really singing, too busy giggling with her friends after what was probably one too many drinks. Most of the people in the room are in some variation of neon, so it would be odd that he's stuck on her if it weren't for the fact that he swears he's seen her before.
He must be staring too intensely because when her eyes pass over him, they seem to pause for a moment. She looks away, but he notices the way she seeks him out in the crowd a few times after that.
He continues trying to figure out where he's seen her before. Maybe it was in one of his high school classes, but he thinks he would recall a pair of bright gray eyes digging into his. It could've been with his job at the dvd store around the corner from his home, but something tells him that's not quite right either. From the way she keeps glancing back at him, she finds him familiar too.
About halfway through the song, Percy gives up. He returns back to his drink, watching people dance to the drunken voices at the microphone before turning back towards the bar to count seconds until he can leave. He's never had as much fun while inebriated as the crowd of neon people, but hey, who is he to judge? He almost entirely forgets about the girl once she's off the stage with her friends and Grover, disappearing for at least thirty minutes, until a voice speaks from behind him.
"It's considered rude not to clap after a performance."
Percy turns his head to the new voice to find a not-so-new set of eyes. "I'm sorry?"
"You didn't clap," she says, focused on the drink in his hand. "Most people would clap after a performance as well as mine. It's common etiquette."
Percy blinks as she pulls the barstool out next to him and takes a seat. "I wasn't aware there were rules to a club."
"I wouldn't expect you to. You don't seem like you'd come here often."
"What makes you say that?"
"You're sitting at a bar by yourself," she says tauntingly. "Have been since you got here."
It makes him wonder if her first good look at him had been while she was up on stage. It doesn't sound like it.
"Meaning you've been watching since I got here," he tells her, tipping his drink in her direction. "Strange."
She shrugs. "Thought I'd recognized you."
"Any luck?"
"Sadly, no. Only thing I recognized is your inability to socialize."
Percy chokes on his drink.
"Am I wrong?"
"Yes," he says, throat still a bit tight. "Bars just aren't my thing, but I know how to make friends. I have tons of them."
"Well, the beginning of this friendship is going shit."
"I wasn't trying to be your friend," he reminds her. "You approached me."
"After you kept staring at me on stage," she laughs. "Find me cute?"
Percy rolls his eyes at the girl's attitude, desperately wishing there was more liquid in his cup to make this more bearable.
She's not not cute. Her hair is a bit messier than he realized up close, and the scrunchie must have only been put in to keep her hair out of her face. She has a small nose, and her gray eyes are only a little endearing like a frail deer he doesn't want to scare away. Her cheeks are flushed too, and she's smiling at him and breathing heavily like she's already out of breath this early into the night. She knows he'd rather be alone from the looks of it. She just doesn't care.
"Thought I recognized you," he explains dryly. "Turns out the only place I know you from is right here with you pestering me."
She smiles. "I must've been in your dreams."
"Must've been," he murmurs.
She nudges his shoulder. "Buy me a drink."
Percy sighs, raising an eyebrow at her. She looks young—can't be any older than twenty-three—but she's bold. "You're true to your song."
She giggles, face scrunching in confusion. "What?"
"Material girl."
"Well, a girl does love her diamonds." She leans in now, and he can smell her perfume. He can see her imperfections from this close up, though that's a harsh way to put it. He can see where her makeup has smeared from when it has undoubtedly been perfect before she left the house. He spots the tiny strand of hair she missed pinning back, and the slight smudge of her lip gloss. He's brought back to the present when she winks at him. "Though I suppose an exception can be made if I like you enough. I'm Annabeth."
He hums in appreciation. "Bold."
And her chin lifts in confidence, a haughty smirk on her face that screams trouble. "And your name is?"
"Percy," he offers, and it feels like he's been here before.
"Percy," she repeats, tracing the syllables with her tongue, weighing how it feels on her lips. "I must say I'm not very impressed."
"I must say I never asked you to be," he says, but he can't stop his lips from twitching into a smile. He finds that he adores the dimples on her cheeks and the frizz of her hair in the humidity of the club. "I was minding my business before you came up to me."
She shrugs. "Like I said. Thought I knew you."
"But you didn't. I guess that means you're free to carry on."
"Now, what's the fun in that?"
Percy feels like the world drowns out around them, like there's no one else in this club, like the lights turn off and he's standing in a deserted spot on a rough water cliffside that he knows from somewhere, even if he's never seen it in this life. Like she's standing right there next to him.
Her eyes match the swirling water and storm clouds flashing through his mind, the most calming of sensations.
She wants to take the reins, guiding them through this conversation. It'll be the same way she guides him up and out of this bar, down the street to where she lives. She'll be the one to guide them later when they're twisted in bedsheets if they even make it back to her place in the first place, if they don't get caught up in the bathroom here instead, which judging from the fiery look she gives him is a very real possibility.
He recalls her earlier demand for a drink and holds up two fingers to the bartender before his attention is back entirely on her.
"So did you come here to discuss social ineptitude, or is something else on your mind?"
She bumps his shoulder and takes the drink placed in front of her with gratitude. "What can I say? Friendship in the air."
And he smirks. "Friendship?"
He tends to sit on the sidelines, but he's not so innocent either. When Annabeth gives him the look that she does—lingering on his arms and tracing his jawline like it's killing her to not be able to reach out and touch him—who is he to deny it?
He trusts her.
God knows he shouldn't trust someone he's just met, but she has this thing about her. He can't help the feeling that he should knowher, like she's someone important, so he allows her to do as she wishes.
"Yes, friendship. Do you have other ideas?"
"None at all," he says with a smile and clinks their drinks. "To friendship."
Nothing about this screams friendship.
Certainly not the way her hands wander over his thigh. Definitely not the way he lingers on the curve of her chest and her lips, imagining how soft they must be, or if her lipgloss is flavored. Nothing friendly about their advanced flirtatious exchanges, which are more pokes at his personality that he takes with open arms, always grateful for a challenge.
Challenge. Something she certainly is.
It's also a challenge not to fold when Annabeth leans in close enough for him to see the strand of hair stuck in her gloss to say, "This club is getting kind of boring, don't you think?"
"I'm having plenty of fun," he says innocently.
"This is hardly anything. The real fun starts once we walk out that door." She jerks her head in the direction of the exit, and Percy swallows hard.
"You want me to go home with you, and yet all I know about you is that you like diamonds and your name is Annabeth."
She laughs, and he's heard it before, he must have—
"Get your mind out of the gutter," she says, downing the rest of her drink before setting it onto the counter and giving him her all, but she gives him a mischievous smile for him to know he wasn't entirely off base about her intentions. "It was a simple suggestion that we go for a walk."
"And what happens after the walk?"
God, she's chewing her lower lip, breathing shallowly, and she's perfect, and comforting, and it's killing him knowing he's been here before.
"I'll leave that up to you," she says.
Horrible idea. It's the worst idea because they both know how it's going to end, and it won't be with them singing stupid Disney karaoke, or with them doing any talking at all, and no no no, bad idea—
"I'd love to," he breathes, all too desperate to pay for their drinks, painfully aware of Annabeth's stifled giggles watching him fumble for his wallet.
Between the neon lights, he catches a glimpse of what's to come. It looks a lot like a lifetime like this, and then some more.
•
2074
"Are you sure this is safe?"
Percy looks towards his girlfriend with mischievous eyes. She looks breathtaking, even though he can hardly see her in the dark. Her face is half lit up from the lamppost lining the street filtering in through the nearby window, but he's more captivated by the shadows. He enjoys knowing that he can imagine her face where he can't physically see it, and it makes her more enticing, like someone he shouldn't have but is going to take anyway.
He doesn't need to see her to feel the warm flush of her cheeks. She's pressed to his chest, and he feels the shallow breathing she gives as she tries to get enough oxygen without risking giving away their position to anyone passing by. He intimately knows the scarlet of her lips, of the chills that run down her back when he pulls her in for another bone-melting kiss.
They stay that way for longer than they should, precariously posed against the door to the stairwell, entirely consumed by the dark. He forgets his initial goal of trying to get them to the roof where they're undoubtedly safe from wandering eyes, though he's hardly to be blamed when his girlfriend is running her fingers through his hair and nibbling his lip.
She's the first one to pull away, and she turns her face away from him. He's never been one to be deterred, so he trails kisses down her jaw and wherever else he can reach.
"Percy…" she breathes, gulping for hair when he nips her throat.
"Annabeth," he teases in a burst of air against her skin.
"This feels unsafe," but she's already with her eyes closed and head thrown back against the frame of the door. She's breathing hard, and it's as though she has to physically bring herself back to reality when she speaks her next words. "Where are we?"
He doesn't answer her question, but he does promise, "I come here all the time. It's safe."
"It's pretty dark up here," she muses, turning her head again so his lips are just out of reach. "Who knows? Maybe someone will pop out of the shadows and scare us."
Percy laughs at that quietly. He pulls away properly now, neck heating when she whines and tries to grab him. He puts a few feet of space between them so she's the only one in the yellow streetlight, and god, her chest is moving up and down rapidly, and she's biting her lip and waiting for him to give in.
"What are we even doing?"
"Trying to get us to the roof," he says, pointedly shoving her shoulder. "You made sure that didn't happen."
"I didn't do anything," she says innocently. "It's all about you and your self control, which is about as thin as an invisible string."
Coming from anyone else, Percy might've had a problem with her words.
It's easy to not pay the insult any attention when she's who she is, pretty and enchanting and his. He still decides, though, that he should at least attempt to prove her wrong, so he gives her a last kiss before he guides her the rest of the way through the dark up the stairs to the rooftop. Annabeth doesn't ease the process calling out teases and running her fingers down his spine, but they make it.
He spares a glance to the view—the nighttime skyline that is anything but dark, the bustling crowds on the sidewalks—for all of two seconds. Then, he's back to Annabeth.
They might be a little too old to be making out like high schoolers apart for a weekend, but it's not like there's anyone around to watch. He has no inhibitions at this moment, so he feels every part of her. He feels the individual strands of her blonde hair as he buries his fingers in it and leans them against the side of a metal air conditioning unit, focusing on the realness of the tangles, of how she's not perfect, of how that makes her perfect.
He never imagined meeting accidentally hitting a stranger with a car would lead to that same stranger being wrapped in his arms, yet here he is.
It makes him laugh a bit, and that's what brings Annabeth to pull away.
"Something funny?"
"I—" Percy giggles. "I can't believe I hit you with a car and you still agreed to go out with me."
Annabeth shrugs, but she's smiling when she leans her head back against the sheet of metal. "Consider it a thank you for paying off my hospital bills."
"Is it wrong to say I'm glad I hit you with my car? It feels wrong to say that."
"I mean, I get it, but I wouldn't go around telling people that you ran someone over and don't regret it."
She's running her hands up and down his back soothingly, and the way she's smiling like she's saying she's glad he ran her over too is just so cute he can't help but kiss her nose.
"Stop it," she says, but she doesn't move away when he does it again.
"Hmm. Should my proposal include hitting you with a car again?"
Annabeth snorts. "Please don't."
"No wait, it would be a great idea. I could hit you with the car, and when they take you for an x-ray, they see that there's something wedged inside your broken bone. They take it out and it says 'marry me.' It's genius."
"And how would you get a note inside my femur you plan to snap in half?"
"Don't worry about that part. I'll handle it."
"Regardless, marriage so soon?"
"It's not that soon," he says. "We've been together a year. Twenty-two isn't so young."
Annabeth hums.
"You don't agree."
"I think I wouldn't mind," she says, "so long as you find a way to do it that doesn't involve vehicular manslaughter. I've barely recovered from the first one."
"I'll propose tomorrow morning."
Annabeth laughs and brings him in for a kiss. "Alright."
And he knows that neither of them are actually ready to get married so soon, but he likes the idea.
They're going to build a future together.
Maybe they'll move in together before they get married. They be by each other's sides as they graduate and take a step out into the real world. Whenever they decide to get married, maybe they'll have a kid. Maybe they'll have two.
It intrigues him to think about what their kids will look like. They could look like him, or they could be a combination of them both. Green eyes and blonde hair. Gray eyes and black hair. They could look like her. He would like that.
Sons and daughters.
"I love you," he says, because as many times as he says it, it never feels like enough. "And I'm sorry I hit you with my car."
Annabeth sighs and pats his cheek. "You're lucky you're pretty."
"Is that the only reason I got away with it?"
"I would've sued you if you weren't stupid hot," she says bluntly.
Percy smiles adoringly. "You're so stupid hot," he mocks, "I wouldn't have minded if you did sue me."
"It's not too late," she warns.
"You won't."
"You're right," she says. "I won't because you need the money for our wedding. And our kids."
"Woah," he laughs, playfully shoving her away. "Kids? It's way too soon."
"Oh shut up." She tugs him back towards her. "Like you weren't thinking about it."
"Let's have a kid," he says. "Right now."
"Like…this instant?"
His hands jokingly go to his belt buckle, and she laughs and extends her hands to keep it on him. Just to mess with her, he keeps fumbling with the metal clasp, swatting her hands away each time she reaches out to him. When he undoes it, he pulls her back into his arms, and everything is a million times more intense.
"No babies?" he asks against her, smiling because he already knows her answer.
"Let's revisit that conversation in a few years," she says. "As for the proposal…get to it."
"Yes ma'am."
Annabeth wrinkles her nose in disgust at the title, but any signal of complaint is swallowed by the next kiss. They give up any conversation then, much more preoccupied with keeping their bodies pressed together before someone comes looking for them from the meeting with friends they ditched. Realistically, someone could easily walk up the stairs, but it's not at all a concern because Annabeth's sliding her fingers under his shirt and biting down on his lower lip.
The shirt is hard to pull over his head because Annabeth doesn't want to let go, but he almost got it, if he could just—
His head snaps to the right at the sound of footsteps.
Percy's breathing hard staring into the dark. The lights on the roof are dim and only near the entrance, so he can't really see further to the edge of the building, or if anyone's there.
"What was that?" Annabeth asks quietly, facing the same spot so she must've heard it too.
His heart is threatening to beat out of his chest. When his eyes linger on the dark for a few more moments only to see nothing else, he chalks it up to his imagination and turns to pull her in for another distracted kiss.
Things are good, and then they're not.
A shot rings out in the air.
Percy jumps just in time to see a blur run through the door and down the stairs. It's difficult to process what has just happened, or who had been standing in the dark, running down the stairs like they had something to run from. It's difficult to process what that sound that been.
When he looks back at Annabeth, it's not so difficult to process at all.
She's staring back at him, shocked, but he's more focused on the red slowly appearing through her shirt, seeping through the fingers she presses against herself.
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
"Fuck," he says. "Fuck. Oh my god, Annabeth."
He wants to do something else, say anything else, but he doesn't know who that person was or why they shot her, and he'd never imagined a situation like this, so he doesn't know what he's supposed to do.
What are the seven stages of grief?
Does it start with denial?
When Annabeth falls to the floor, he does his best to catch her.
"You're okay," he tries, throat tight, his vision blurring in tears because what is he supposed to do? "You're fine."
Annabeth laughs softly, deliriously, and says, "That hurt."
"No it didn't," he pleads, and he thinks he's crying. "You're fine. Just being dramatic, right?"
"Always," she breathes, slowly like it hurts her. It probably does.
He notices the hints of blood in the corner of her mouth, and he's shaking, he's going to pass out, oh my god what is he supposed to do?
"Guess—" Another cough. "It wasn't so safe after all."
He doesn't hear her words.
He's preoccupied watching the pool of blood grow bigger, feeling utterly useless, wishing he had brought his phone with them, wishing he hadn't brought them there in the first place because he promised to keep her fucking safe, and now she's bleeding out—
"I can't breathe," she chokes out.
An awful thought passes through his mind of watching her stop moving, seeing the dullness in her eyes. That's what gets him moving.
He presses his hands against the hole in her stomach because he thinks that's what people do in situations like these, but he's not entirely sure because they're only twenty-two and shouldn't be here.
"Stop it," she pleads, weakly pushing away his hands, but he doesn't budge.
"No," he says, and he's really crying now. He can't see her eyes through the blur in his own, but maybe that's a good thing because he knows he's hurting her, and if he was forced to watch her as he does it, he might not be strong enough to finish.
"You're hurting me."
"I don't care," he says, eyes clenching shut to feel the tears forced from his eyes, to distract from the blood forcing the way through his fingers like the pressure he's applying isn't enough.
He should've known better.
He should've known that nothing good comes from a city like this one. It's the reason he'd been so distracted driving that day, miserable with his own life to the point that he hit someone trying to cross a crosswalk. He'd thought that New York was definitely after him that day, but then he got to really know her, and he thought that things had turned around.
The city still takes more than it gives after all.
"Percy."
Percy shakes his head. "Stop."
"I'm scared."
I am too.
"Don't be," he breathes, but his voice isn't in it. "You're going to be okay."
He knows she's in pain. He knows she can't breathe. She's crying, and he wants to die because this can't be how their story ends. Things don't just end like this because life isn't a tragedy. They aren't heroes with tragic endings or people deserving of the worst.
Annabeth has a life. She has a future, and she's supposed to be his wife, but with each heartbeat is a memory of the two of them fading away, lost to the crimson puddle reflecting city lights.
He knows how this ends.
He's always had a habit of prolonging the inevitable, and he guesses that applies here too.
"I'm okay?"
And he sobs.
"You're okay," he promises, though it's emptier than the feeling in the pit of his stomach. He reaches to brush her hair out of her eyes, tries not to focus on the streak of blood he leaves against her skin. "I've hit you with my car so this…" He wipes his own face. "It's nothing."
She nods, but she knows it's not true.
"Maybe we should've gotten married earlier after all," she manages through a shaky breath.
"Then let's do it," he says, pleading, throat tight, shaking, miserable. "Let's get married tomorrow."
Annabeth coughs, and her eyes are shut tight too, tears dripping down the side of her face. "You call that a proposal?"
He can't let this happen. He doesn't have a phone, and a lot of the nearby stores are closed, but he can probably find someone if he's fast enough, and then maybe they can call an ambulance, or maybe they'll know what to do. He just has to go now and then she'll be fine, and—
"Don't go," she begs, pulling him back down.
"I can't leave you here to die."
And there's the word.
Die.
She's dying.
It's funny how quickly life ends. Someone can walk into his life and flip it right side up, and then moments later, they can leave him barely able to walk or breathe. There's some saying about it being better to have loved and lost than never loved at all, but that's bullshit.
This is not better.
"Tell me about our kids," Annabeth whispers, forcing a smile, hand caressing his cheek when he should be the one comforting her.
He can't do this.
When Annabeth's thumb brushes his skin, he knows he doesn't have a choice.
"We're going to have two kids," he tells her, hovering over her sobbing. "A boy and a girl. Sons and daughters."
"What would we name them?"
Percy doesn't know. He always thought he'd have more time.
"Anything you want," he says.
"Your daughter," Annabeth starts, and he's painfully aware that she doesn't say our daughter.
Her eyes are glass, burning and red. Percy presses his forehead to hers, and he's not ready, he should've gotten help, and now it's too late, and he brought her here, and this is his fault because he couldn't keep her safe.
He kisses her forehead to offer her comfort he knows he can't provide. He tries to shake his head as though to say no, you're not allowed, but when it comes down to it…
It was never really his choice, was it?
Annabeth takes one last breath.
"Name her after me, will you?"
•
Water.
Water and wind.
She turns her head.
A pair of sea green eyes.
•
2148
"It's beautiful, isn't it?"
Everything about this is beautiful. Annabeth can hardly bear to tear her eyes away from the sight, even as her best friend steps into place beside her.
It's otherworldly from where she stands on a glass balcony, overlooking all of Inner Harbor. The sunlight reflects off the glass of surrounding buildings and glimmers in the calm waters of the harbor. It's bright and breathtaking, and she's missed this view during her time spent in Greece.
"Happy to be home?"
Annabeth turns her head now, and she finds Piper leaning against the railing staring lovingly at her. It reminds her of her childhood puppy who used to spend hours staring up at her, blinking slowly in a sign of affection. She's always felt that sort of comfort with the other girl who, even though she is only three years older than Annabeth, has practically raised the girl in a world absent of her own mother and father.
"I can't even begin to describe it," Annabeth admits, choosing to focus on her friend instead of the view she's been itching to see for months.
Annabeth's spent so much time in Greece for her schooling the first thought she has is that Piper looks like a goddess. She's wearing a white dress that screams spring, and it matches so well against her dark skin with the gold glimmer of her earrings. She used to be jealous of the way Piper was effortlessly beautiful and warm.
"Enjoy it," Piper says, tilting her head in a soft smile. "For the next ten minutes, at least. We need to get going soon."
Annabeth groans and looks back out towards the bustling city. "Do I have to go?"
"I'd say yes, considering they were only willing to buy your plane ticket back in exchange for your attendance at the wedding."
"Like they couldn't afford it."
"I'm sure they'd put up a decent fight for their money back," Piper chastises playfully, bumping her shoulder. "How do you think the rich stay rich? I love your dress, by the way."
"Thanks. I got it from your closet."
Piper laughs, and Annabeth's unsure if she realizes she wasn't joking. Annabeth certainly could've afforded her own white flowy dress, but she hadn't had the time with how close her flight cut to the wedding. It worked out well, Piper having the biggest closest and widest assortment of clothing out of everyone she knows. The material feels expensive, silky and pooling around her shoulders and chest, so she feels delicate, especially with her matching gold jewelry and gentle curls blowing in the wind.
"Don't spill any wine on it. It was thirty grand."
Annabeth is painfully aware that Piper is telling the truth.
The elite tend to spend money like this, and on other things, like this penthouse in the middle of the harbor that allows her to see the point where the planet begins to curve. She grew up here surrounded by their questionable choices, but to her, it had always been normal to walk barefoot on spotless marble floors and be surrounded by glass creations which were deemed 'classy.' It's the same reason she's wearing white to a wedding—they think it makes them different to have a white clothing wedding, like it looks pristine and clean, almost bragging about how they're perfectly willing to risk ruining thousands in clothing simply because they can afford it.
"Finish getting ready, will you? Percy's on his way up."
That brings Annabeth to a screeching halt.
"I'm sorry. What?"
"He's your date for tonight," Piper explains, doing a horrible job at stifling her grin. "What? You thought your family would allow you to show up without a date?"
"I'm not that naive," Annabeth rolls her eyes, "but they could've been a bit nicer than assigning me Percy."
"He practically volunteered. It was kind of sweet."
Annabeth's stomach tightens. "He's definitely not innocent in volunteering. He's going to murder me, Pipes."
Piper looks at her unimpressed. "Make sure it's not in my white dress."
It's like the flick of a light switch in which Annabeth feels a headache coming on. She massages her temple with her eyes closed, trying to calm her breathing before she does something like jump from the ledge.
It's almost terrifying to find out Percy volunteered to be her date. Their families have run the same circles before either of them were even born, so they both grew up as a part of the elites. They went to expensive private schools filled with the children of celebrities, or the people who had enough money to make themselves disappear, which meant there weren't all that many people in school with them at all. They knew each other well, and they became far too acquainted with how to push each other further and further until one of them snapped.
They weren't friends, it's safe to say.
"Why would he want to murder you, anyway?"
"Have you met him? He'd do it for fun."
Piper's words of encouragement are lost to Annabeth. She stalks off while Annabeth remains standing at the balcony, nude heels resting beside her, trying to remind herself that she'll be back in Greece in no time. Surely this night can't be that awful. They're both twenty-three, and hopefully much more mature than they were in high school, or the last time they saw each other at a high class event, which was only a year ago. She thinks she can do this, but then there's a low laugh from behind her that she recognizes immediately.
She turns around and braces her back against the railing to find a pair taunting green eyes.
Percy's leaning against the sliding glass door, appearing effortless in his stance. He's giving her a devilish smile that tells her he plans to have fun that night, which means absolutely no good at all for her. It's unfair how good he looks, and it's nauseating feeling this way again, her mind telling her that he's nothing but trouble while her body tells her the opposite, just as it had when they were younger too.
"You look thrilled to see me, Chase."
"Contemplating jumping from this balcony."
"Oh no. Don't do that." His voice is dry and emotionless as though he wouldn't actually care if she did. He pushes himself off the glass door to take a few steps toward her, arms open in a teasing manner. "What, no hug? No kiss?"
"I'd kiss the sidewalk down there before I kiss you," she tells him honestly, pointedly looking away from his chest which looks so good in his white button down, and his arms from where his sleeves were rolled to his elbows, so effortlessly attractive, and so effortlessly an asshole. "I'd even do it after I watched a man with foot fungus step on it. Tongue and all. And I'd enjoy it."
"Yeah, we'll see about that."
Fuck, there's his smile she wants to smack off his face. It's her own fault for letting him ever get close to her, for letting him corner her in supply closets back in high school after tormenting her for days so he can tease his fingers below her plaid skirt before keeping his mouth pressed to her neck, her stomach, and lower. It's her own fault for letting him do it again every single time she sees him.
Not this time, though. He makes her miserable, and she will not end up in that position again.
"Can't believe you haven't called while you're in Greece," he says. "It's rude, babe."
Annabeth ignores the pet name. "As if I have a reason to call you."
"We could've been planning our next date," he says, and she doesn't miss his long gaze at her legs and then higher, "so that I didn't have to show up to you threatening to have a hot make out session with the sidewalk instead of me."
"You're hilarious."
She's never gone on a proper date with him, and she has no intention to. He's always been the resident playboy with vibrant green eyes and a troublemaker smile, and he never has problems pulling the people he wants. He's also never had trouble dropping them just as quickly as though he takes joy in the tears he undoubtedly causes girls who are unfortunate enough to capture his attention. He's been caught in endless compromising positions and acts as the definition of a rich kid, and people should know better by now, but they don't. He's attractive and he knows it, and it makes him cocky.
As far as she knows, he's still the exact same.
"I guess this wedding will settle as our date."
Annabeth snarls.
"That's not very cute of you."
"As if I care."
Percy laughs, and it bothers her that she can't seem to bother him. "Come on. We can at least pretend to be civil for tonight. We wouldn't want to ruin my stepmother's wedding."
"Civil? Again, hilarious."
Percy cocks his head. "Is this about your little boyfriend?"
Annabeth furrows her brows, confused. "My boyfriend? I don't have a b—"
"What's that kid's name? Grace?"
"Jason," she emphasizes, "is not my boyfriend. He's married to Piper. And this is about you being the bane of my existence, even if what you did to Jason was crossing the line."
Judging by the look on his face, he truly does not care. "Snitches get stitches. He's lucky he only got his card information leaked. Malcolm's next, by the way."
"That's, like, a felony."
"I nearly got charged with a felony because of him."
"Maybe don't get high on shrooms next time."
Percy bites his lower lip in a laugh, and no, she can't be thinking like this, wishing he was biting down on her lip instead. It would be so much easier if she hadn't fallen into his traps before because then she wouldn't know what she was missing. She won't give in, even if Percy looks like he has intentions to make her do the exact opposite.
She decides she's been under his scrutinizing gaze long enough, so she walks past him to head back inside, only pausing to grab her heels. They need to be leaving soon anyway, and at least if she's around Piper, it'll be more difficult for him to pester her.
Behind her, he calls out, "It was coke, by the way!"
She already knows she's screwed.
Percy doesn't make it easy for her during the car ride to the wedding. They're squeezed in the back of the car, Annabeth stuck in the middle, and she desperately tries to stop her skin from touching his leg. It's useless with how close they're forced to sit, but she gives it her best go.
Percy watches her squirm uncomfortably in her seat for a good few minutes before he says, sounding physically pained, "What are you doing?"
"Stop touching me," she grits out, pointedly kicking him in the shin. He hisses and like a true toddler, kicks her back. "You asshole. You're giving me a rash."
When he doesn't move, she kicks him again, digging the heel into his foot.
"What, do you want me to jump out of the fucking car? No wonder Luke left you. You're annoying."
One last kick for good measure, she decides.
"I broke up with him," she says, distracted when she realizes Percy's elbow has been resting on her side. "Stop touching me!"
"Oh, grow up," Percy groans, pushing her arm back to her side. "You've never had a problem with me touching you before. You were over the moon about it, actually."
"Inflated ego you got there," she taunts.
Piper clears her throat, and both of their heads snap in her direction, having forgotten she was sitting there in the first place. She looks amused like watching her two children bicker and only stepping in because it's what she's supposed to do even if she's quite enjoying it. "Save the flirting for after the wedding. You're making me nauseous."
"I'm going to vomit, Piper."
Percy, unbeknownst to Annabeth, winks behind her head. "What can I say, Piper? Love is in the air."
Annabeth whips her head around. Percy sputters over the hair that winds up between his lips. "There's not a single ounce of love in the air right now."
"I'm talking about the wedding, babe."
"It's doubtful whether they love each other either. Fifty bucks says Amphitrite is only marrying him to collect the inheritance when she smothers him with a pillow tonight."
"That is such a hot take," Piper chimes in. "Fifty bucks says it's via waterboarding."
Percy blinks. "My dad is…not getting murdered tonight."
Annabeth snorts. "What, you think they're marrying for love?"
"I've heard he's hung like a horse."
"Piper, you are going to make me projectile vomit," Percy pleads.
"If that's the case, Annabeth, I'd rethink the no touching rule with Percy. It's a wedding. People get drunk and sloppy and make questionable decisions. Live a little. Be with the horse."
"You want her to fuck my dad?"
"If that's what it takes to get you to leave me alone, I will literally do it," Annabeth says.
"Couldn't get enough of me so you're going to my dad? How sweet." A pause. "Please don't fuck my dad."
Not that Annabeth would ever want to have sexual relations with his dad, but it makes her happy to see the pissed off glint in his eye. It might even be enough leverage to get him to treat her like a human being for the night, which is really all she asks for the week long stay in Inner Harbor.
The hope is quickly extinguished during the rest of the car ride. They fight just like they always have, from when they were both five year olds in booster seats sending fists flying across the car. At least Piper is entertained, though once they arrive at the venue, she seems more stressed with making sure Percy and Annabeth don't rip each other's heads off.
The first thing Annabeth notices about the venue is that it is gorgeous. It's in a glass pavilion overlooking the harbor, and the water is blinding. It's the middle of January, but they were lucky enough to be graced with clear skies that could've fooled her into thinking it was summer. It really does bring back good memories from when she was younger sitting in her father's living room surrounded by glass walls just so she could feel the warmth of the sun against her skin, curling on the ground like a cuddly kitten.
The day moves on quickly from then, and Annabeth finds that Percy is nowhere to be seen. She assumes he's probably whisked off to be with his father, forced to stand still for the expensive photographers they'd hired. She's not complaining if it gives her the chance to wander around by herself and say hello to old friends. It's a good time, and for a moment, she's glad she returned for the week. She doesn't see Percy again until a little past one p.m. when the ceremony is set to begin in fifteen minutes.
He slides into a chair next to her, which prompts her to give him a glare out of the corner of her eye. There were plenty of other available seats, but he seems intent on sticking to her like glue today.
He bumps her shoulder softly when she doesn't acknowledge him for a few minutes. "Wish it was you up there?"
Annabeth rolls her eyes. "What?"
"Weren't you just dating someone a few months ago? He was a creepy blond guy, a bit short. Had a problem with his attitude."
"He's taller than you."
"You're so sweet, thank you."
"You have a problem with remembering names, you know that?"
"I know his name. I just don't want to break into hives speaking it, or get possessed by him if I accidentally say it three times while looking into the mirror."
Annabeth can't help the smile on her face.
"Seriously, what happened to that?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Can I take a guess?"
"No."
Percy gives her a sly grin. "Did you walk in on him in the throes? Find a good sext session on his phone with one of your best friends?"
"Something like that."
"Guess it's a good thing it isn't you at the altar," he laughs. "Cheating is messy, but infidelity during marriage is worse. The divorce, and oh, the poor kids."
She can tell he's poking fun at her, but his words still sting. It happened months ago, but the wound is still fresh. She remembers clearly how he'd asked her to meet him at a small restaurant in Greece, how he confessed that he'd been with other people, how he should've never done it, how much he regrets it, would take it back, hopes she would forgive him. She thought she knew him, and so she thought he genuinely felt sorry, and maybe he did, but her hubris always loves to bump its ugly head, and so she was the one to end it all. It was awful, seeing him every day anyway because she'd been idiotic enough to ask him to accompany her on her experience abroad.
At one point, she'd asked him why the need to confess. Deep inside, she knows it was best to be aware, but a separate part of her—the smallest of slivers invisible to the naked eye—wished he never would have told her. What she doesn't know can't hurt her. He told her that someone found out. That someone gave him no choice but to tell her.
This wedding isn't the best reminder of that moment in time.
Percy must be able to read it in her expression. "Relax."
"You're an asshole," she murmurs.
"I'd never do that to you. Just imagine our fantastic love story."
Percy's full of shit, but she's imagined that too. Years back, for small moments at a time, moments where they couldn't possibly be closer when they were pressed up against the wall, she allowed herself to imagine if she stuck around with him. If she let Percy take her out on dates. Those moments in time made her happy, even if they were fleeting.
Now, he's reopened the scar, taking the knife and twisting.
"You deserved better, Annabeth."
The words reverberate in her head.
Even as the ceremony begins, all she's thinking of is him. As the bride walks down the aisle, she finds herself slipping into her old fantasies with him, the boy no one can ever really find and keep, the boy who knows exactly how to get on her nerves and get off her clothes.
It doesn't help, the way he presses his hand to the small of her back during the reception while they talk to family members she can't remember the names of. Everyone is in their own world, and she is no exception. Maybe it's the drinks she has over the course of a few hours, or maybe it's the press of his hand to her heated skin that has them back to their roots, inside a dark supply closet.
Percy tastes of strawberry champagne.
She can't get enough of him pressed to her body, or the desperate kisses he places on her lips. It's honestly embarrassing how quickly she wound up here, but it was probably going to happen the moment she stepped on the plane back to this city, so she tries not to dwell on it too much.
They're desperate and filthy, kisses making up for lost time. She's breathing hard when he starts to trail kisses around her jaw and down her neck, and she burns—
"Did you really have to wait a year to come back?" he groans, tongue laving against the part of her neck he knows makes her squirm. "Don't wait that long again."
Annabeth decides to remind him that she had been in a relationship when she left. If Luke hadn't cheated first and Annabeth flew home, it very easily could've been her destroying the relationship. She's pliable beneath Percy's fingertips, especially when he dips his fingers below the hem of her dress, pushing her underwear aside and delving inside her.
It's hard to remember that they're at someone else's wedding, that she should probably be quiet when his fingers begin to move. She moves with him, crying out when he bites down on her neck before he moves to silence her with a kiss. She shouldn't do this, but she always ends up here, being brought to impossible heights, forced to listen to the increasing sound of slickness between her thighs, to feel his hot breath against her neck, her lips, and to feel his confidence, his knowledge of how she works from their other supply closet trysts. Her conscience would read its head, but she's so close, and he's so good, this is so good, why did she wait a fucking year—
Her eyes flutter closed as her orgasm washes over her, but she's barely able to process it when he drops to his knees and kisses exactly where she needs him.
You deserve better, Annabeth.
He's not better, and he's not the right option, but right now, so long as he keeps his mouth pressed heavy against her, tongue against her, inside her, pressing the right spot, she'll allow herself to pretend that he is, to pretend she won't wind up heartbroken when she hears about his next hookup a week from now, proving that this means nothing.
It doesn't take long for the wave to crest again, and then he's back to kissing her until she can't breathe, rutting his hips against hers.
"It's a good thing that phase you had with Luke is over," he breathed out, hands sliding up her back. "He never could've given you the life you want."
Annabeth's mind is hazy, too focused on where his hands are, but the words are familiar.
She swears she's heard them before, and it scratches at her brain, who said that?
Luke.
Those were the words he told her when they broke up. I never could've given you the life you want.
It clicks.
Percy seems startled when she shoves him away. He tries to regain his position entangled with her, but she moves him away again, hard enough for him to sense that something is off.
"Annabeth?"
Annabeth's breathing is shallow. "I've heard that before. Luke said that to me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Earlier…how did you know what happened between us?"
"Annabeth—"
"He heard it from you, didn't he?"
"I don't understand."
"Luke said someone found out, and that was the reason he told me. Was it you?"
Percy looks genuinely confused, and he holds his hands up gently like he's afraid she'll run off. From the look in his eyes, though, he knew.
"You knew? You didn't tell me?"
"Of course I would've told you if he hadn't said anything first."
"How long between you finding out and him leaving me did you know?"
Percy looks petrified. "Two weeks."
Annabeth bites back a sob.
He's the reason they broke up. He said something to Luke, threatened him, and she knows she couldn't have lived her fantasy with Luke forever, but it caused her so much pain, and it was Percy's doing.
Now he's here in front of her getting exactly what he always wants, and she doubts Percy's involvement was driven by anything except his own benefit.
"I get you not liking me," she says slowly, "but after everything, you could've told me instead of letting me stay in a relationship like that."
"I would have told you. When I saw him here with someone else, I made him tell you first."
"It wasn't your business. Regardless, I would have never withheld that sort of information from you. I don't care who you are."
"I would have told you," Percy snaps.
"You should have told me!" she cries. "You're supposed to be my friend! You should've been the first to tell me!"
"You said yourself it wasn't my place!"
"No, it wasn't your place to talk to him! I should've been the person you went to!"
Percy looks angry. "What do you want me to say?"
"I wanted you to come to me, instead of forcing him into an ultimatum just so you could get one more lay out of me," she sneers.
"An ultimatum?" Percy's mouth gapes. "Why are you defending him?! I did you a favor!"
He did do her a favor, but he knew and let her believe a lie for two weeks. He spoke to Luke when he should've been speaking to her, and god knows what else he said or did.
"I meant it when I said you deserved better, Annabeth. It doesn't matter where he heard that he could've never given you the life you wanted because, above everything, it's true. He wasn't the one for you, and whether I forced him to tell you the truth or told you directly doesn't change the fact that he fucking cheated on you!"
"You don't get to play the strings!" she shouts. "It's my life! I am not your toy to play with whenever you get bored."
"I'm not saying you are—"
Annabeth is trembling when she silences him by holding up her hand. "Stop."
"Annabeth, please."
"Get out."
"I'm so sorry. I wasn't trying to hurt you."
She feels sick. She feels betrayed, hurt, like he was the one to stab her in the back instead of Like, and she wishes he had come to her.
"Get out," she repeats, irrational, crying, and sure. "Don't ever come back."
•
2576
"He's staring at you."
Annabeth doesn't need to look up to know the pair of eyes glued to her back. The day always goes like this—she's never able to make it through without some sort of confrontation, though it's a bit earlier than she'd expected today—and she's preoccupied working on a boring calculation, but she also has an appearance to maintain, and so she looks up anyway.
The words slide off her tongue before she makes eye contact. "Is there a problem, Jackson?"
Percy takes a moment to look her up and down, not at all subtle, and she knows he's not trying to hide it from others. He's stifling a smile, dimples prominent against a rough exterior she realizes isn't real, and she's too distracted by the hands in the pockets of his jacket where she usually stuffs her own hands that she's startled when he bluntly says, "You're in my seat."
Annabeth rolls her eyes. "Is your name on it?"
"Do we really have to do this?" he asks, but she knows him well enough to know he's playful. She's not so sure the others know that, but Annabeth has never really cared what they think. "We do this every day. If you ever gave me my seat back, I'd have written my name on it already."
"You shouldn't show up to class late then," Piper chastises, visibly displeased by his appearance. "Would it kill you to wake up half an hour earlier?"
"What would I possibly get out of that?"
"Better outfits, for starters."
"Control your friend," Percy jerks his head toward Piper, but Annabeth's still preoccupied by his jacket. The last time she'd seen it, he wasn't the one wearing it.
Piper scoffs. "Am I wrong?"
"Annabeth seems to think I look good," Percy says sarcastically, nudging Annabeth with his foot. "Chase?"
"Look what you've done," Piper seethes. "You broke her."
"I'm not broken." Annabeth shoves Percy's foot away. "Your presence is making me nauseous."
"Yeah," Piper brags. "This is a no-boyfriend-zone."
The first time Piper said that months ago, it had been at a shout. It was enough to have her blushing furiously as their nosy classmates looked at them in intrigue and shock. No one would've expected her and Percy. They weren't together—at least not then—but took a bit of snarky exchanges in the hallway to convince everyone else of that.
She's not so sure people are convinced at all, because somehow, those snarky exchanges spread beyond the hallways, and she's mortified to say she knows what the inside of his bedroom looks like. For perfectly innocent-maybe-not-so-innocent reasons.
"He's not my boyfriend," Annabeth says, ignoring Percy's pointed raise of his eyebrow.
"Thank god," Piper breathes, but she knows she's being a tease. Piper loves to call Percy her lover and insult him in the same breath, but Annabeth is highly suspicious that Piper will be the first to scream in joy when she finds out that they're been together for longer than she cares to admit. "I mean, look at him."
"I'm right here, Piper."
"I told you to leave."
Annabeth shrugs at the offended look he gives her. "She did."
"Nice to see you have my back, Chase."
Months ago, she would've felt bad. She's known him since middle school as the boy in the back of the classroom, quiet and loner by nature, but from the few times she had spoken to him, he was always so nice. She never understood the bad boy rep he had when she couldn't think of a single mean thing he's ever done. It's gotten better since then, though he was still mostly on his own. The difference is that now she knows that he's on his own by choice, except for the little moments he carves a spot out by his side for her to stand in when no one else was looking.
She tried not to bother him too often, but she definitely has gotten used to his presence. Percy was the splitting image of 'punk,' which she thought was kind of stupid because he doesn't walk around instilling fear or being 'brooding' in the slightest. She's come to learn that he smiles a lot and he shows his affection through physical touch, like a hand to her back to guide her out of the way of a pole she doesn't see because she's too busy staring up at the fighter jets screaming overhead. He wears a lot of black and prefers to hover in the sidelines, but he's not bad. She's the only one to know that about him.
"Give me your seat," Percy says suddenly, this time to Piper.
"You can pick me up and throw me out that window," which he really can't because there are metal bars covering the window after far too many incidents.
Percy shoots Annabeth a look, a mix of humor and knowingness because this happens every day. He's the first to give in.
"Fine," he says, moving a few feet back to slide into the seat behind them. "I would throw you out, but I don't feel particularly inclined to be expelled today."
"Maybe tomorrow?" Annabeth suggests.
"Maybe," he agrees.
"Why are you encouraging him?"
"I like him more than you."
"Ew."
"God, Piper, you're an expert at making me feel good about myself, you know that?"
"You stole my friend."
"She walked right over to me," he says, reaching over to shove her head. "It's not stealing if she likes it."
"Ladies, let's calm down," Annabeth says.
Percy rolls his eyes. Piper's having the time of her life giggling at him before someone else grabs her attention and she forgets about everything. He leans back into his seat, but not before stopping to whisper in Annabeth's ear, "Cute uniform."
And, yeah, that sends tingles shooting down her back.
They're playing some sort of game, together all the time but never to be seen. It had bothered her at first because she felt guilty about worrying if someone would see her with him, but Percy reassured her that he got it. He never cared, at least that she was aware of, and her mindset began to change. It's something about keeping what they have to themselves, letting other people call it what they want. She's not even sure what they have besides a friendship with flirty remarks and occasional fleeting touches, but she looks forward to those moments outside of class when she gets to hang around for a while.
"Never thought I'd hear you say that," she muses, refusing to turn around to look at him. His breath remains against her neck, and she realizes he's probably copying her answer down.
His chuckle is low in her ear when his pencil drops to the desk. "Everyone appreciates a cheerleading uniform. Even me." When no one's looking, he presses a soft kiss to her neck.
"Mhm."
"Will I see you later?"
Those words are quiet, almost imperceptible. She knows why he said it like that.
"Yeah," she says, licking her lips. "I should be able to get out unnoticed."
His response is a hum of acknowledgement before he falls back into his seat. It's only the first class of the day and she's already anticipating meeting him during sixth block when she's supposed to be in English lit. As far as she's aware, he doesn't have a class at all during that time, and that's the reason she's so heavily influenced to spend her time with him in a corner of the school others have yet to find.
The day passes relatively quickly, and before she knows it, she's on the familiar trek to the back of the school. The sky looks the same as always, a dull gray with clouds of black that burn her lungs. She's gotten more used to it, having been on medications for longer than she can recollect, but this particular day seems to be heavier on the smog, so she's nearly coughing up a lung by the time she sees him standing under the bleachers.
He watches with a blank expression leaning against the metal railing as she presses her hands to her knees to take a few deep breaths. She only looks up when she feels a little further from the brink of passing out, and he's with a cigarette to his lips, unreadable.
He only removes it from his lips to exhale when she stands straight again. "Are you okay?"
"How much longer do you think we have?"
Percy checks his watch. "At least an hour."
"I mean to live," she says sarcastically.
"With you coughing like that? Not sure."
"So helpful," she murmurs, going up to him. "Give it."
She makes a reach for it, but he pulls it further away. "I feel like it's unethical to give you a smoke when your asthma is acting up."
"It's not asthma. It's soot covering my lungs, just like it's covering yours and every other person who can't afford weekly procedures." She swipes for it again, and he gives in. "You shouldn't be smoking either."
He shrugs. "Speeding up the process. We'll all die anyway, don't you think?"
Annabeth smiles. "Probably."
"There will probably be another world war soon enough," he says. "Politicians are great at that. This will be, what, number five?"
Annabeth takes a deep breath, and the burn in her lungs doesn't bother her in the way it should. "Maybe when we all die, we'll be able to see the sky again."
"Haven't you heard? The sky is a myth."
It's tragic to think. She's never seen the actual sky, the world far too polluted with factories to shine a brilliant blue. She's only ever seen pictures, but she imagines it's the prettiest sight. Far prettier than the eerie sky where the exhale she gives blends into.
"The footage from that mission came back a few weeks ago," she says. "It's not so bad from space."
"That's because in space, you can turn your back on the planet."
"Would you have gone up there?"
"If I could," he says. "Unfortunately, I don't think I'm smart enough for that. I'll stay here and let the geniuses look for more civilization to destroy."
"Do you think I could?"
"Oh, yeah," Percy smiles, winking at her. "You're smart enough for anything. Those calculations you were doing earlier? You're set to be on the next mission out."
Annabeth smiles wide. She has no idea if he's being honest with her, but she's wanted to go to space for longer than she can remember. She is well aware that it will never happen, that she's stuck here bound to find out she has cancer a few decades down the line if not sooner, but in another life, she imagines that she's the one turning her back on the planet to a vast expanse where something better has to exist.
"The funny thing is even if they did find anything, we wouldn't be around to find out."
"Do you think that'll actually happen?" she asks quietly, pliant when he takes the cigarette back from her to give it a whirl. "Another war?"
"Probably. Who knows, though? Maybe we'll survive it a fifth time. People centuries ago thought we'd be dead by now, and we've had another two world wars."
"That's crazy."
"Yeah." Silence. "Maybe it would've been better if we had all died."
"You mean you don't love this life?"
"A life of breathing carcinogens from the moment you're born?" Percy hums. "What could be better?"
"At least we have our stereotypical football games," Annabeth says. "Those have been around for centuries."
"And have the occasional explosions during halftime always been around? Has it been normal to watch a football player drop dead after coughing up black?"
That's enough for her to take another deep inhale. It distracts from the burning of each breath she takes walking outside. It speeds up the process of death. One of those.
"I take it you don't like football games?"
"Not my scene."
"And yet you're always there," she teases. "It's okay to want a little bit of happiness in a world like this. The games are nostalgic. I get it."
"You can't feel nostalgia for something you never had," he points out. "Maybe if we were born a hundred years ago, I'd have football games to be nostalgic for."
"Then why do you go?"
The cigarette ends up back between his fingers, and he ignores her as he takes a deep breath. She wishes she could feel what he does, to know if his lungs burn like hers do, to know what he really thinks of their situation.
"Because you're there," he says simply. The only sign that he's in pain is the tiny cough he tries to stifle.
"You go for me?"
"And your uniform," he says, unabashedly tugging her closer by the waist. That's one thing that certainly never changed. Her uniform is simple, a white and purple skirt to match school colors and a tight matching top. And it's short. She's sure he loves that part. "And your pretty eyes."
"I thought you hated them."
Percy's jaw drops. "When did I say that?"
"You complain about the sky. My eyes are the same color."
"No," he disagrees. "Maybe it's the same color, but that's not what I associate it with. You remind me of stormy days, back when they used to exist. Rain that wouldn't burn your skin. You remind me of the sky, but not this one."
And she thinks she knows what he means.
His eyes are the green of an ocean that she's never seen. She doesn't need to see it when he's in front of her, and maybe he feels the same way, like her eyes bring him to the past long before either of them were born, when people could dance in the street at midnight as the rain came pouring down.
It was a reminder of a better world, of a place that wasn't here.
"So you do love football games," she accuses, deciding not to remove herself from his embrace. He decides to run his fingers through her hair, digging his face into the top of her head. She wonders if her shampoo has managed to wash away the smell of the industry, of smoke and a world in flames.
"I love you," he says. "They're different things."
"Do you really love me?"
"You bother me plenty, but I do."
Annabeth rolls her eyes fondly.
"You steal a lot of my things," he points out, eyeing the cigarette between his fingers. "Isn't that the whole point of loving someone, though? They bother you, and you love them despite it?"
"You're so romantic, has anyone ever told you that?"
"I'd be more romantic, but you're easily scared, like a deer."
He's referring to the fact that she can never seem to make up her mind. She stays hidden with him, refusing to let anyone else from her school know about the things she does with him. She's not sure why—it could be that she's afraid of what they'll say. It could be that she doesn't remember a time when there wasn't news of a war projected onto buildings and she's afraid that anything she starts up will just disappear when their school is caught in the crossfire. It happened to Goode High a few months ago.
It's mostly because she doesn't want to share this one thing with anyone else. It's easier to maintain that when she keeps him out of sight.
"That's what I mean," she emphasizes. "Does that not bother you?"
He lets go of her now, leaning back against the railing again. "It doesn't."
She gives him a doubtful look. "Really?"
"Do you take me to be someone that wants attention?" Percy waits for her answer, but her silence is enough. "Exactly. I'm happy with you here. I don't need much more."
"Ever?"
Percy laughs gently, looking at her like she's the cutest thing he's laid eyes on. "Well, not ever. I like to think we'd get married one day."
"Do you think so?"
"I do," he says. "If you don't want to drag me around like a trophy right now, I get it. I don't want that either. But I do want you, and we've got time."
"Not so much time," she says. "Our biological clocks are ticking as we speak."
"I'll wait," he says. "Do you believe in reincarnation?"
Annabeth blinks at the sudden change in topic. "I'm not sure. Why?"
"It sounds stupid, and probably is, but also, we've made so many mistakes and made it this far in life. There's gotta be one really lucky person reincarnating and just…continuously fucking shit up."
Annabeth snorts. "Sounds about right."
"My point is, I don't think anything bad will happen right now. We've got time, and I'll wait for you, but if something does happen, I like to think I'd find you again."
"Oh, you sap."
"What can I say? Twenty-billion people, and you're the only one I want."
"Even if we're standing under bleachers?"
"Especially under bleachers."
They fall into silence after that, and she knows this is what she wants. The world is awful, but she somehow found him. She never told him, but she felt like she had known him before they ever spoke. It had been something in her bones, impossible to shake, and she'd spent weeks trying to remember if she'd seen him before. She came up with nothing and settled in the idea that sometimes, people just belong together.
She wants a lot of things. She wants to leave the planet, to be one of the people lucky enough to get out, to turn her back on the smoke and dust, to embrace the emptiness of space with a sliver of hope that there is something better. She won't ever get those things.
What she can get is this boy, her complete opposite, promising to find her again if all else fails.
She wants to kiss him, so she does.
He tastes of the ocean, the same way the green of his irises remind her of the seas she'd see in pictures and in her mind. The world once had color and then it ceased to exist, but he remained, vibrant, hopeful, someone she knew from somewhere else.
She loves him.
They have time.