"What the fuck happened to you?" Piper asks.
It had taken an hour for Annabeth to stop shaking, to stop crying.
Then all she could think to do was call Piper.
For moral support, mostly, probably. She did ask her to bring the makeup they'd used for Instagram Immortals. (She doesn't wear makeup, and the bruise is already starting to show in the mirror. He didn't mean to hit her that hard, but Jesus, Luke's strong.)
"…I got into an argument with Luke…" There's a lot more to it than that, but she needs more time before she can relive it.
"What the fuck kind of argument gives you a bruise on your face?"
Annabeth shakes her head. "It's not like that. I'll—I'll explain later. Did you bring the makeup?"
The fight in Piper's eyes is obvious; the anger, how ready she is to fight. She almost starts crying again when she swallows hard and nods. "Yeah. I did."
"Thank you," She says quietly, and it's not just for the concealer.
.
Piper keeps hitting her face with a sponge, and it aggravates the angry, red spot on her cheek enough to make her eyes water.
"Do you want me to stop?"
Annabeth shakes her head stubbornly, wills the tears not to fall. She doesn't want to be so weak that a sponge makes her cry. (She doesn't want anything to make her cry, but let's start with the small things.)
"Annabeth?" She stops anyways.
Another glimpse of herself in the mirror, and there's some strange green paint half-blended into her cheek. "Yes?"
"Can you please tell me what happened?"
Annabeth wants to. She really, really wants to. She's wanted to tell her—tell her everything—since the morning she woke up with her bedroom window cracked. And she has to explain everything, there's no way around it, there's no way to explain the bruise and the tears without going months back, and without saying a lot of things out loud for the first time. It's a school night, she thinks dimly, but that's the only excuse she can think of.
"I kissed Percy."
"I don't think you can count the video kisses as—"
"Made out with him. Before the video even started. Before we even turned in the stupid story."
She looks to Piper's face for a reaction, but there isn't much there. It takes another second, and then something creeps in—disbelief?
"Are you joking?"
"I wish I was." God, she really, really did.
"You—Idiot Jackson—you fucking…you made out with him? What?"
Some odd switch comes in the dynamic. The biggest part of the secret, the thing that's held her breath for months is out, and now there's nothing to do but speak.
"The night we wrote the story for out project. We ended up working really late, and he had to stay the night, and then we ended up talking, and I realized that I like—liked him. A lot. And apparently, he liked me too, so he kissed me, and I kissed him back."
"How is this the first I'm hearing about this?"
"That morning, I called you, and you told me Luke was back."
"Oh," Piper says quietly. "Well, shit."
"I…I didn't think it was cheating. He never talked to me anymore, it had been years, I just," Annabeth takes a breath. "I didn't think I would be fucking everything up when I did it."
"Annabeth, that's not your fault. You know that, right? I know Luke ignored you."
"It's not that simple."
"So, what? Did he find out that you guys made out?"
She half expects herself to flinch as Piper says this, but she doesn't. She has no idea what's suddenly making this okay. (Not okay. That's not the word.)
"Jesus, no. He'd probably kill me if he found that out."
Annabeth meant it as a joke. The thought doesn't cross her mind until just now, until she says the words. A chill passes between the both of them.
"He wouldn't kill you."
And suddenly the situation becomes so absurd, so alien, that Annabeth laughs. Not a real laugh. A little, stiff thing. "He slapped me. He watched the video even though he only ever calls it stupid and then the part happened where we—where Percy and I kiss—and he got mad."
"He got mad over the kiss in the video? He slapped you over it? It was like two awkward fucking middle schoolers pushing their faces together. That was nothing." Piper's starting to get worked up, which is bad, because that'll get Annabeth worked up, and she can't cry again. She won't.
"I mean, maybe he jumped to some conclusions, but…he was right. It's still my fault. I…I deserved it, honestly."
"Annabeth Chase, you take that back right fucking now," Piper's tone gets deathly serious. Maybe more serious than she's ever heard her. "There is no reason in the goddamned world that you deserve that shit. Fuck that."
"But he wouldn't do that unless I—"
"You can't blame yourself for his bullshit—"
"But he wouldn't have done it if I hadn't—"
"He shouldn't have done it at all—"
"I love him—he, he loves me, he just—"
"He fucking hit you, Annabeth!"
"We've been together since middle school and he's never done anything like this!" Annabeth finally gets out a full sentence, and her breathing is a bit uneven.
"Wrong, Annabeth! You've been together since you were in middle school. Luke was a fucking tenth grader. That's never been okay."
"You always thought it was the coolest thing when we started dating," She objects stubbornly.
"I was twelve. And you were twelve too! And he was, let me remind you, sixteen! Has that honestly never struck you as the tiniest bit messed up?"
No, Annabeth thinks. No, it hasn't.
"I love him, Piper."
She can't come up with anything else to say. Piper gives up, she can see it happen, and it makes her shoulders sag a bit.
Shaking her head, Piper picks up the sponge, starting to paint some skin-colored liquid on top of the green, like they've already had this conversation a thousand times.
How long has she felt that way?
Despite her best efforts, she winces when the sponge hits her skin. (Is it just her, or is Piper hitting lighter than before?)
.
Piper ends up leaving around eleven.
When Annabeth wakes up, her makeup is still on. Not really even smudged.
The only hint of her tears, of the shaking, of all the yelling—it's only her skin, raised and just a bit sensitive.
She doesn't want anything to be different. Honestly, truly, she wants to get out of bed and have it all be a dream. She doesn't want to be scared to wash her face.
Annabeth pulls on a gray sweater, makes one of her daily decisions to give up on her hair. Goes through all the motions like another normal day. Lets it blur behind her.
Of course Piper has to go and throw a wrench in her plans. When she gets to Greek Mythology, she can feel all of the worried glances she's given.
(Weirdly enough, she never locks eyes with Percy. Not that it's a bad thing—honestly, Annabeth isn't sure it's not a great thing—just unusual.)
All she can think to do is stare at the board the entire time. Maybe she isn't paying attention, and maybe she still feels Piper's insistent eyes on the back of her head, but the time passes quickly enough. When the bell rings, she's jarred out of her daze by Mrs. Aella's mousy voice.
"Um, Annabeth, Percy—I—stay here for a minute, please."
Her stutter isn't as bad as it used it be. They stand by her desk as everybody files out, and so much is different but everything's the same. Percy doesn't look at Annabeth. Annabeth doesn't look at Percy. They're on the exact same page for once, but it doesn't feel right; like maybe they're reading different books entirely.
"I don't…I don't want to hold you two during lunch…" She wrings her wrists, something else familiar, but the anxiety's died down. Annabeth is almost happy for her. Her cheek gives a little burst of soreness as she smiles. "Can—can you two stay after school? I want to, um, talk to you two. I have—there's a faculty meeting after school, but this one should be short. Twenty, thirty minutes at the most. Ca—can you both? Would you mind, um, please?"
Maybe it's the same book after all, because they choose this moment to turn to each other. There's an uncertainty in Percy's eyes that she isn't used to seeing, but Annabeth's sure her eyes read the same way. She ignores how...whole she feels, staring at him like that, him staring back. (It turns out that she's very good at ignoring things.)
"I'm okay with it," She says, and Percy agrees in suit.
Have they always been making decisions for each other like this?
.
At lunch, Jason's expression is worried, too. Not that either of them says anything. When Percy sits down with them at the table, inedible lunch in tow, their eyes—surprisingly—leave her. Annabeth takes a moment to look at him, and something is…off. He's smiling, but not like he normally does. Not like he should.
"Hey man," Jason says, nodding. "How you doing?"
Percy looks up at him, surprised. "I'm good. What's up?"
"We, uh," Piper smiles awkwardly, her eyes flicking back to her for a split second. "We heard about you and Rachel."
His smile dims even more, and it looks wrong, oh-so wrong. "Oh. Yeah. She ended things last night."
This is enough to jar Annabeth from her daze. "Wait, seriously?"
He looks almost surprised by her reaction—uncomfortable with it. "Yeah."
"Why?" She can't help but ask. "You guys were…nice together."
(Pineapple on pizza. Milk before cereal.)
"She said something about vibes." Percy shrugs. (Is he not looking her in the eye on purpose? That's her thing.)
"Oh." Annabeth doesn't know why the next beat of her heart feels a bit giddy—stupid—but she doesn't like it.
"Tough break, bro," Jason says. Piper and Annabeth lock eyes and can't hold in the beat of laughter that comes next. A bit of milk trickles out of Piper's nose, but Jason either ignores it or doesn't notice in the first place. "Rachel's a great girl, but she's not the only great girl. There'll be somebody else."
"Here's hoping, I guess, bro," Percy says, his smirk perking up a bit. The two boys clink their milk cartons together and take a swig, like they choreographed it this morning.
The two girls laugh again, and it's like everything is back to the normal it had just settled in.
Smiling makes Annabeth's bruise sting.
.
He's sick of all of this tension.
Annabeth is great. Being around her is great. When things are good, when there aren't any beats in their wavelengths, being in the same room as her is better than the best conversation he's ever had with anybody else.
Percy really, really wishes they had more time together where things are good. Things keep going wrong and yeah, some of them are his fault, but there are a lot of things that he just can't control. Every time he's around her, it's all or nothing. He can do no wrong, or he can do no right.
There's just never any middle ground. He's almost desperate; he wonders what it would feel like to just be in neutral around her. (He can't even imagine it.)
"What do you think she wants to talk to us about this time?" He needs to break the silence, even though that never fails to make him feel stupid, either.
Annabeth shrugs. "Probably something about the video. She's probably seen it by now—it's almost at a hundred thousand views."
"A hundred thousand?" Percy's lived in big, bustling New York City his whole life, but he can't imagine so many people in one place. He definitely can't imagine that many seeing something based on a creative writing assignment he had to do for a homework grade.
"Have you not been checking it?" There's a bit of disdain in Annabeth's voice, but when she turns to look at him—finally—she remembers. Her face flushes, expect for one patch on her cheek that stays oddly pale. "Forget I said that. There's…you're situation, and you just…you and Rachel just…"
Her face glows brighter, pure red by now, but that spot on her cheek is unchanged. "You probably have other things to worry about besides the video."
Of all of the signs, every little flag thing, everything that made exclamation marks pop up in his head, this is the one he can't ignore. This is the one that's too familiar.
Before Annabeth can react with her judo reflexes or her doubtful expressions, Percy lifts his hand to her face and taps the white spot with his thumb. She flinches as his hand moves up and winces when it settles.
"Did somebody hit you?" He really should phrase this more sensitively. He really shouldn't spring that question on her like that. Annabeth is visibly uncomfortable, her eyes widening, her forehead and nose and chin and one of her cheeks growing redder.
"Wh—what makes you think…?"
"You don't usually wear makeup. I remember that, cause Piper and Rachel had to help you with everything on filming day. And you only have it on one cheek right now, and it's not blushing with the rest of you, and you're flinching and wincing and—"
"Okay, Sherlock, yes." She rolls her eyes. "Luke…we got into an argument, and he overreacted. It's not a big deal. It doesn't even hurt that much."
Percy feels like hitting something.
Maybe Luke. That would work. See how he fares against somebody who'll fight back. (Because he knows Annabeth can fight. He knows she's strong. But what he's seeing right now is somebody who didn't fight back.)
Why didn't she fight back?
"It's really not a big deal," Annabeth insists again, stubbornness and strength and awkwardness all in her tone; Percy remembers that his hand his still on her cheek, his thumb tracing over the slightly-raised skin. The makeup feels a bit tacky, and he knows that means it's thickly applied. (What color is the bruise, he wonders? Purple? Green?)
A flush stains her face like it always does, but that one patch refuses to darken.
"Who—who did this to you?" He can't help but ask.
"It doesn't matter—"
"Yes, it does—"
"And it's really none of your business—"
"You're my—my friend, Annabeth," Percy says with the slightest hesitation. Annabeth bites her lip. "I'm allowed to be worried."
"It's nothing." Her face falls blank again, her tone defensively empty.
Percy lets his hand drop from the too-pale paint on her cheek. Takes a dep breath. Runs a hand through his hair. He can't bring himself to speak again until she crosses her arms turns away. (He's not sure he could look anybody in the eyes while he says this.)
"My mom used to be married. To a guy named Gabe."
Even saying it makes his chest feel tight. Annabeth doesn't acknowledge him, but Percy knows she's listening. She's always listening.
"He was nice at first, for like, two seconds. Then he started making these shitty, mean jokes. And insulting us. And yelling at us."
He knows for sure that she's listening now; he can practically see her ears perk up, and she sits taller in her seat.
"I didn't," He swallows hard, and it kind of hurts. "I didn't know, the first time he hit her. Or the second time. Or…"
Percy doesn't know how many times Gabe hit Sally before he found out. He remembers the off-color patches on her skin, the tackiness, but he can't remember how many there were. He can't help but clench his fists.
"I didn't know about it until it had gone on for a while. She still smiled, you know? And hugged me, and made dinner every night. It felt like everything was fine."
Her eyes might be watering. Percy can't tell. He doesn't want to look, doesn't want to see her cry. Doesn't want to be the reason she's crying in the desk next to his.
"There were a thousand fucking signs, and I missed all of them, and it still kills me, right? So, yeah, it's not my business," His voice might've cracked somewhere in there. "But I can't just ignore it."
Annabeth looks at him, and her cheeks are wet, and Percy wants to bash his head into the wall and say sorry a thousand times and then go far, far away from this girl he's made cry. Her face is still blank, relaxed. (She looks a bit pissed off, but that's just the way her expression settles, he thinks.)
"I don't…I don't really know what to do," She mumbles.
"I'm sorry," He says back just as quietly.
"I love him," She says, her voice rising a bit, gathering strength. Percy just got out of a relationship and hearing this shouldn't hurt like it does. "I've loved him for as long as I can remember, Percy. We started dating when I was twelve, you know."
(Twelve?)
"Isn't he, like…I dunno," He rubs the back of his neck, nowhere near good enough with words to phrase this right. "Older?"
"Almost five years older." Annabeth says, and there's a begrudging little smirk on her face. Percy's glad to see her smile, but it just seems like it doesn't belong on her face, doesn't belong with the makeup and the tear stains and what they're talking about. "And that's also how long we've been together now, I guess."
"Wow." Not information he expected when he woke up this morning. "That's…a lot."
"It really is, isn't it?"
This is the longest chapter I've written to date, guys. I have a few opinions about the way things are going. What do you think?