From: seabiscuit99

Subject: (none)

maybe i shouldn't be writing this? i dunno. you need space. i get that. i feel like your always upset around me and i dont really like that, so if i shouldn't be around you because it makes you unhappy, i don't even really mind. that's not why im writing this though. just…i don't know. you gotta talk to somebody abotu luke. its not good to let him treat you badly. or tell you what to do. or hit you.

i shouldnt even be writing this probably. sorry. you don't have to listen to me, i probably wouldn't listen to me, but i cant just say nothing. so yeah. bye

Annabeth has had to deal with a lot of unexpected things lately, but this email is in the upper echelon of surprises. Even as she's reading it, she has no idea what her reaction is. Resentment? Anger? Relief?

It's none of his business, one part of her says.

He really…cares, another part responds.

Why does he care?

She's been thinking a lot in the past day or so. There's been a lot for her to tackle, a long way back. A lot of memories to sort through. (Five years is an awfully long time.)

Maybe Annabeth's being selfish. She has every right to be—she decided this around 18 hours ago—but it still makes her skin crawl. Maybe she's being selfish in the wrong way.

If anybody in this has been hurt, beyond the bruises, it's him.

Annabeth wonders how often he thinks about her. Less than she thinks about him? More? It feels like she can't stop thinking about him, even though that's the only goal she's had for months.

From: skylinegoddess12

Subject: Sorry

I don't know why I can't stop thinking about you. I don't want to think about you.

I don't mean that in a rude way. That definitely sounds rude, now that I'm reading it, but I can't bring myself to delete it? Sorry.

I don't want to think about you because of all of the problems. Not that you caused them, it was really rude of me to put that on you, but just…they all involve you. Things were really good for one night, and then they got really, really shitty.

And it's all fucked up, I know. It's not your fault. It's all kind of mine, but I just want to be happy, you know? I was. And then I wasn't. And I've been scrambling to realize what it was that fucked things up ever since. You. Me. Something else.

Maybe I shouldn't be, like…thinking about this, I don't know, but wouldn't it be great if Luke had never come back?

The words shock Annabeth as soon as she finishes typing them. She stares at the screen of her computer for a while, trying to process the weight of the sentence. It's all stream of conscious—she definitely hadn't intended on writing that—but the fact that she did stuns her nonetheless.

Wouldn't it be great if Luke had never come back?

It feels like more of a betrayal than every kiss with Percy combined, but it also feels true. It's odd, actually, that this is the first time this thought has occurred to her.

Frowning, shoving her laptop away from her, Annabeth sits up—as if she'll think better that way.

She tries to remember back to that day. How many months ago was that now? (Too many.)

She didn't even think it was real when she woke up; when she finally realized that it was, she panicked. But then she calmed down, and she was going to tell Piper. (Reality never got any further than that.)

When Annabeth kissed Percy for the first time, she hadn't even been thinking about Luke. Not at all. Not for a second. (He hadn't so much as texted her in at least a year.)

Even still, though, he was Luke. Still the same. Constant, stable, forever; there to make her feel small, contained. (That's the opposite of how Percy makes her feel, she thinks without meaning to. Percy makes her feel like she's standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to jump into the sea.)

For what may be the first time, Annabeth is angry. At him. She acknowledges this, but other than that, she has no idea how to feel.

Instead of figuring it all out, Annabeth grabs her computer, pulls it on to her lap, and hits send.

That's some kind of start.

.

"I'm giving her space," Percy says out of the blue while he's wiping down a table.

Hazel's busy at the register, and he hears a few coins dropping as she looks up. "What?"

"Annabeth."

He hears the register close, and then almost immediately she's in front of him, pulling him into a seat.

"This is the first thing you've mentioned to me about her in at least a month, Percy," she says quietly, her eyes blazing in a way that's somehow still sympathetic. Percy feels himself blush. "I'm gonna need a bit more information than that."

"We, um…she…" he tries to start, but he has no idea where to. "Things were going um…when's the last time I talked to you about her?"

"She wouldn't look at you at Piper's house while you were working on the video," Hazel answers quickly, not willing to waste time when there's clearly a lot she hasn't been told.

"Shit, I haven't talked to you in a while, have I?" He asks, smiling a little in spite of the insistent look on her face.

"No, you haven't. So start now, please."

"Okay, well," taking another moment to collect his thoughts, Percy sighs. "Things got a little better, and then worse, and then a lot better, and then a lot worse."

There's a beat of silence. "Oh, thanks. That clears it up for me."

He shakes his head. "It's the simplest it's gonna get, Hazie." Her glare doesn't lighten up, and Percy remembers how poorly ambiguities go over with his friend.

"We got past the awkwardness for a while, and we were like, actual friends, you know? We sat at the same lunch table, we could look at each other without either of us freaking out, the basic shit like that. And I was okay with that, but it was like nobody else was." Percy runs a hand through his hair, looking down at the table. He can see the swirling pattern of his own wipes in the light. "And then she—she came to school one day with a lot of makeup on her cheek and I know what that looks like and she didn't talk to anybody and I couldn't help but ask even though I could tell what had happened because I couldn't…y'know, understand that that could ever happen to her and—"

"Stop," Hazel commanded, and he did, looking up from the table to meet her eyes. There's surprise and disbelief in hers, and he's glad (again) that he's not the only one. "Did her boyfriend hit her?"

Percy couldn't quite make his voice work, so he nodded instead. "Because of me, apparently."

"Because of you?"

"Yeah, like how Rachel broke up with me because of her."

"Rachel broke up with you because of her?"

He laughs in the way you do when you feel like everything's falling apart at once. "I really should have kept you better informed. A lot of this is old news."

Hazel's mad, but she can't be mad at Percy right now; not with the sad look in his eyes and the approximation of a smile on his face. "That probably would've helped."

"But she said she doesn't want to be around me anymore. Said I'm the thing that's fucking up everything for her."

"She said that?"

"Yeah. And then I made her cry." (And she made him cry, but that's never been important to Percy.) "So I'm giving her space."

Hazel wishes she had advice to give him. Percy does, too.

.

Percy isn't exactly expecting an email the next day, but he goes to the library before school and checks anyways—out of habit, curiosity, or maybe stupid hope.

He's surprised when he sees the new message.

He's surprised when he opens it, sees that it's longer than just an "okay" or a "thanks".

He's very surprised when he reads it. (Especially the first sentence. Especially the last sentence.)

Percy's not surprised, however, when he can't bring himself to stare—or even really glance—at her in fourth period. He can't tell if she looks at him, either.

At lunch, he decides to go to Paul's room instead of the cafeteria. There's no real way to know what's a good idea with Annabeth anymore, even without a curveball like the one she's just thrown him, but Percy said he'd give her space. She said a lot in her email, but she never said anything that made him think he had the wrong idea.

Sitting at their table would probably be unbearable. Sitting in the cafeteria at all might lead to another conversation with Piper, and that isn't exactly what Percy wants today, either. Paul looks a little concerned when Percy knocks on his door, but he doesn't ask too many questions. (Or any at all, really, besides What kind of sandwich is that?)

And he spends a lot of time thinking while he eats—ham on rye—but he knows there isn't much more that he can do. The ball isn't in Percy's court anymore, and all he can do is wait for it to return. If it ever does.

Hey, it's been like three months but I don't have an excuse or anything like that. I'm way happier now than I was last time I updated, if any of you have any interest in my emotional well-being? You don't need to, but if it's any consolation for the fact that you probably had to go back and re-read to remember what happened last chapter, there you go. Percy and Annabeth are definitely a little worse off right now, though. But getting better.