Hello again :3 I was very pleased with the responses from the last chapter, even though I feel as though I did not deserve them. That chapter was very rushed because I wanted to get it out that day, so most of it was written that afternoon. It was not fantastic.
In one of the reviews (that made me extremely happy) I noted that I might not have been very clear when I said that your OCs would still be learned about before and after they died. Let me put it this way: Even if they die, they will still be connected in the story in some way. I won't drop them in the trash and go, "That was fun :)" Your characters will be involved in different ways if they die, but they'll still be involved. Of course, you guys don't really have to worry about this for several more chapters.
I'm sorry if I don't give your character a heroic death they probably deserve. But not everyone gets the things they deserve. In this story as well, there will be bad people who should have it worse, and good people who should have it better. I honestly hope some of the characters piss you off and make you wonder why they aren't dead yet. You should be frustrated over how some people will get less than others. It's okay to be mad when the hero dies as a nobody, or when the villain gets a dramatic death where everyone attends.
Onto the Greeks! I'm going to try to slow things down a bit because I felt like the last chapter was really rushed. Hopefully the chapters will get longer as I continue. But some of your characters won't get a lot of down time here, since there were a shit ton of Greeks. The Roman counterparts will get more screen time per character because of how few they are-just to let you guys know.
Here you go! Sorry it took so long to get out!
Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson or any recognizable characters.
And I'd give up forever to touch you, 'cause I know that you'd feel me somehow
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be, and I don't want to go home right now
-Iris, Goo Goo Dolls
There was something almost strangely calming about the foggy weather that darkened the streets of San Francisco. Dark clouds gathered above, shadowing the restless city in a soft darkness. The weather seemed to have an effect on the residents of the city as well. People bustled about, but perhaps not as quickly as normal, and not with as much harshness-not the same sense of urgency. Cars drove dully down the streets, the sounds they made muffled as they glided along the road. The dark skies gave off little light, the sun hidden behind the thick, gray clouds. It was in this weather that Jane Wu walked home to her apartment on the fourth floor.
It was boring sometimes, walking past the brown buildings that looked nearly identical but sometimes varied in color. Jane often took note of them as she walked home, needing something to pass the time. That one was cream-colored. That one was a pastel pink. That one was a really light brown. All of them were muted colors, which had the same amount of space between them. As little space as that was. One person could probably stretch from their window and touch the window pane of their neighbor's. Jane couldn't remember if they had ever had a backyard. She made a mental note to herself to check on the way back next time she went to the trade shop that went down the Main Street, where the possible backyards would run along.
Her feet carried her, walking and walking, noting with an attentiveness that the houses slowly became nicer as she walked along, coming closer to her own house. Her worn-in converse tapped steadily on the street, making little sound. Jane's house was nothing extravagant-Jane's family wasn't into frivolously spending money-but she did acknowledge that it was better than what others were entitled to. It had a large front room, with the kitchen on the side, and down the hallway there were four bedrooms-the master room the biggest-and two bathrooms, with a balcony that was opposite the door and in the front room. Jane also acknowledged that her family could do better. They could afford to spend a little extra money from the bank and invest in a bigger apartment in the other part of the city, or perhaps even a house that they wouldn't have to share. Her family was well off enough, and Jane honestly doubted that it would put any kid of remarkable dent in her family's bank account if they did chose to make such an investment.
These were just observations, of course, because Jane liked where her family lived. It was a really a nice area, with lots of people that minded their own business and were ordinary, but in the nice way. The nice way that meant they did what families did, not carried on like lifeless robots or puppets. The only thing Jane might consider complaining about were her neighbors.
It had been a little over four years since Jane's neighbors had moved into the apartment next door, and still Jane didn't know what to think of them as a whole. The mother, Miss Emerson (but she insisted they call her Melissa (Jane politely refused)) was a kind woman who had an accent that made her sound like she was from some part of Israel. Jane knew that representation was important, but it never came up in conversation why Miss Emerson wore a hijab. At least Jane had assumed that it was a hijab. Jane had also assumed that Miss Emerson was a Muslim, but the woman didn't exactly act like one. At least, she was a lot different from the Muslims Jane had learned about in school, which lead to the assumption that maybe Miss Emerson wore the hijab-like scarf over her hair as some sort of cultural affair. Maybe her mother was a Muslim and Miss Emerson wore the article of clothing out of respect? Jane really didn't know, but figured it wasn't really her place to ask.
On a side note, Miss Emerson was probably one of the most beautiful people Jane had ever seen, with long, dark black hair that Jane had opportunity of seeing twice, rich, dark skin, manicured nails, and a beautiful face that lit up when she smiled. But Miss Emerson was also blind. As such, she wore sunglasses most of the time.
Miss Emerson's kids were twin boys. Phelan and Chetan. They were five years older than Jane herself, making them eighteen years old, and never failed to interest her. Both of them had amber eyes and their mother's charming smile. But the similarities ended there.
Phelan's hair was long enough to reach his shoulders and had a slight wave in it, and stood out surprisingly against the pallor of his skin. It was a pale blonde and shone almost blindingly in the sun. His face was longer than Chetan's, his nose smaller, forehead and eyes larger, he had ears that stuck out a bit, a softer face, and almost awkwardly lanky limbs. On the other hand, Chetan's features were practically chiseled from stone and he had cheekbones that could cut glass. His hair was cropped short and he had inherited his mother's rich skin tone and hair color. Chetan's lips seemed to always be pressed in some sort of displeased expression while Phelan's were relaxed or pulled into a slight smile. Jane had little doubt that Chetan could bench press her and maybe her couch, judging by his large muscles and intimidating stature, while she was worried that Phelan might hurt himself if he tried to lift more than a chair.
Jane honestly couldn't believe they were twins when she had first met them. Phelan gave off such a strangely vulnerable aura that he might as well had FRAGILE stamped on his forehead. Chetan, on the other hand, made Jane want to run away from him whenever he so much as looked in her direction. Neither were particularly great company, but she preferred Phelan's over Chetan's. Chetan was-to be frank-a jackass. He was incredibly proud of himself and while Phelan could have a crude sense of humor, he was softer than his brother and more aware of how people were feeling than Chetan was.
Miss Emerson was married to a man who looked nothing like Chetan or Phelan. With light brown hair, glasses, and a soft jawline. He was large in both height and weight, and Jane believed him to be around six feet and eight inches tall, weighing above three hundred pounds. He had a rough city accent where he sometimes exchanged the th sounds with d's, so the word "the" for him would turn into "da." She had once overheard Phelan and Chetan complaining about him, but Jane personally didn't see why. Their dad was funny and very social, and it was because of him that their families often had dinner together, although most of the time Mister Emerson insisted that he should cook, since he hated to impose. Jane wondered if they were going to be having dinner with the Emerson's again.
The dark-haired girl entered the lobby of her apartment complex, deftly taking note of the people that milled about inside the spacious area. Very few were there. An old lady sitting on one of the cream-colored couches, a teenage couple feeling each other up in the corner (Jane scrunched her nose up in disgust at the over-enthusiastic PDA going on), and an angry man in a suit nearly shouting into his cellphone. Taking the key to open her room out of her pocket, she twirled it around her index finger with ease as she walked straight towards the elevator, where someone else was waiting. It looked like the person had already pressed the button to have the elevator come down.
A slight girl (at least Jane assumed. It could always be a boy with longer hair. You never knew-ah, wait. Black and white striped stockings, white shoes, a yellow dress-so a girl, then) had her back turned to her. Her hair looked to be about somewhere in between chin and shoulder length and was extremely blonde. Jane immediately likened the color to Draco Malfoy's from Harry Potter.
Jane stood silently behind her, noticing that the girl was a few inches shorter, but not quite sure how to engage in conversation. Standing behind a stranger while they both waited for the elevator to chime was extremely uncomfortable. She felt like a stalker, but she really wasn't good at approaching people she didn't know in conversation.
Should I do something to get her to notice me? Jane wondered, feeling a low-key level of awkward. Do I even want her to notice me? It's not like we'd have anything to talk about. But it would be better than just standing behind her like the bad guy from a bad slasher movie, wouldn't it? Damn, I hate socializing.
Lucky for Jane, the elevator dinged and the doors opened just as she finished the thought, sliding open to reveal two disgruntled-looking teenagers that practically ran from the elevator as soon as the doors were fully open.
The girl in front of her stepped inside and turned around, taking notice of Jane for the first time and-
WHO TRAPPED THE SKY IN THIS GIRL'S IRISES?
Jane marveled at the color, completely blown for a moment before regaining her composure.
Being a member of the family she was a part of, she had seen many things that had enraptured her attention before, but it never held it for long. Jane's own ambiguously-colored eyes were nothing to dismiss and were actually quite fun to take notice of in the mirror and watch the color change while she stared on. But this girl's eyes. The bright color was the clearest shade she had ever witnessed in someone's eyes. It was literally as though someone had taken the clearest piece of the blue sky they could find and used it to color her irises. It was comparable to the color she had seen for the guy's on the cover of Cast Away on Netflix, but brighter, if that was possible.
"Hello," the small (definitely a) girl piped up, a shy, inviting smile on her face. A pink blush colored the girl's whole face starting from the collar of the girl's yellow dress, hiding the freckles that dotted her nose and cheeks, and Jane took more of a notice of her and the girl's wide blue eyes gazed up at Jane with such innocence that she had to do double-take.
"...Hi," Jane said, magically keeping her composure. It was then that Jane remembered she had yet to step into the elevator, and did so awkwardly. It was almost impossible not to make eye contact with this small, bird-like girl as she spoke. Jane had to force herself to look like she cared very little as she walked to the corner of the elevator and pressed her back to the corner before placing her hands on either side of her, gripping the stainless steel railing, wondering why this encounter was shaking her up so much.
"What floor are you on?" the girl asked politely, blinking her long, near-white eyelashes as she stared up at her.
"Four," Jane answered automatically, the word slipping through her mouth as though she had said it a thousand times before.
The stranger-girl's smile widened, and Jane automatically tried to place its familiarity, but forgot as her eyes noticed the elevator doors sliding closed behind the girl. Her stomach lurched as the elevator started its slow climb upwards.
"Same!" the girl responded to Jane's comment with such excitement that it was nearly impossible to not return the grin full force, but Jane really didn't want to seem weird, so she simply let her lips be tugged into a small curve.
"I'm visiting my family. I haven't seen them in awhile and everyone should be home by now," the girl happily chittered on, her blush lightening. Jane assumed that she had anxiety with meeting new people.
"I'm just... Going home," Jane offered lamely, feeling like she had to add something to the conversation, since the girl had spewed out why she was here. Yet the girl still smiled at her and listened with rapt attention, like every word that came out of Jane's mouth was important. It made the dark-haired girl feel uncomfortable and oddly self-conscious. She had never had someone pay such attention to her that she felt like every word she spoke was being mentally recorded. It was weird, although Jane wasn't sure if it was a bad or good weird.
"Do you have siblings?" the girl asked, voice polite.
"Yeah."
If the blondie was off-put by the short answer, she didn't show it. Instead she seemed to nearly glow with happiness. "Me too!"
Jane chose that inopportune moment to notice the kid's weird ass eyebrows. They were nicely trimmed and high-arched (A nice shape, Jane noted to herself) and a light brown on the ends that were near the bridge of her nose and faded to nearly a blinding white that was lighter than her hair on the ends that were closer to her hairline. Weird.
The elevator stopped and chimed again before the doors opened, and Jane glanced over at the glowing numbers to notice that they were now on the fourth floor. She hadn't even noticed the weird kid press the button to go up. Jane figured it must have happened when she had been standing outside the elevator like an idiot.
As Jane walked forward, to her slight horror, she noticed the kid following after. The hallway broke off to the left as soon as they had gotten out, but it looked like whoever this kid's family was lived in the same direction as Jane's. She didn't know how to feel about that. Then again there were ten families in this large hallway, so it wasn't like she would ever see her again. Jane did recall the girl saying that she was just visiting her family.
Which is kind of fucked up, now that I think about it, Jane noted. Where is this little kid living? Maybe her parents are divorced? The Corey family a couple doors down is. Maybe she's related to them somehow?
"Oh, there you are!"
Jane's father stood in the hall, looking strangely frazzled, and a horrible blue apron with Mr. Good Lookin' Is Cookin' printed in white letters tied around his waist. Embarrassing appearance aside, Jane didn't know her father could cook.
His chocolate-colored eyes were lit up in relief, and his short hair had what looked like flour thickly decorating it. Jane looked a lot like her father, she had been told.
"We've been waiting for you two," he said, running a hand through his hair. His lips tugged into a dramatic frown and he gave a deep sigh when he noticed the flour now coating his hand.
Wait, what?
"You must be Mister Wu!" the blonde girl squeaked, giving a small bow to Jane's dad shortly after speaking. Jane was starting to doubt this girl's ability to show any emotion other than happiness.
"That's right," Jane's dad said, looking amused at the girl's manners. His lips were tugged into an amused grin. "Your mom mentioned you, but she didn't say how old you were."
"I'm thirteen, sir," she answered with a promptness that was almost comical.
No way. She's at least four inches shorter than me and looks like she could blow away with a gust of wind! Jane scanned her eyes critically up and down the girl's figure, looking for a sign that this girl was actually her age and not ten years old. She found none. She looks like a real-life animation of something Tim Burton would draw. There's no way it can be healthy to be that skinny.
Jane's father also looked vaguely surprised, but he didn't comment on the girl's fragile appearance. "It's nice to meet you as well. I've heard some stories about you."
The girl flushed brightly once again, and Jane was mildly surprised at how fast the red overtook her whole face.
"Come on in, you two." Jane's father's eyes flickered to her and he narrowed them slightly, speaking in a light tone, but Jane heard the warning in his voice, "This is an important guest. I trust you'll be kind to her?"
As if Jane wouldn't. The dark-haired girl was slightly miffed at her father's unspoken mistrust that she wouldn't hold her tongue and resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but refrained. She wasn't that immature.
"I'm sure we'll get along great." Jane couldn't quite keep the sarcasm from her voice, but, mercifully, her father let it slide.
Jane and the girl walked behind Jane's father, who walked down the hall to the very end before turning to the door on his left.
"We're very glad you could join us," Jane's father said to the girl, pulling the key to the apartment from Jane's hand. "I was assigned by the women of the kitchen to stop causing a mess and wait in the hallway until you two arrived."
Jane gave a smirk at that. Her mother was a menace in the kitchen, and often cooked like she was fighting a battle or participating in a cooking show where the winner would get the prize of a thousand dollars. It was a general rule of the family that no one bothered Jane's mother while she cooked, but her father must have tried to help and gotten flower either dumped or thrown on him as a result. That, or he somehow got it in his hair himself. Neither option was unbelievable.
The door opened with a click and Jane was greeted with a familiar sight.
Her older sister sat at the island chair, watching her mom cook with some amusement and attention. Jane knew that her sister respected their mother and wanted to be a mother like her when she got older. Miss Emerson was chatting with Jane's mother as she sat next to Jane's older sister, a smile on her face and sunglasses over her eyes. Jane's mother chatted easily enough with Miss Emerson, but her brow was furrowed in concentration and she chopped the peppers on her cutting board sharply with the long kitchen knife. Mister Emerson sat on the couch in the front room, watching a basketball game that was playing on their flat screen, a Coke in hand that he occasionally sipped on. Chetan sat next to his father, also completely engaged with watching the television. His eyes were narrowed as he watched the people on the screen and he was just as vocal as his father about the team he was cheering for, actively shouting his displeasure when the other team stole the ball. On the other couch sat Phelan, completely ignoring the outside world as he held a thick novel in his hands, eyes scanning the pages with rapt attention, immersed in his own world.
"I still can't believe you made me wait outside," Jane's father said as the three of them walked into the room. No one looked up from what they were doing but Jane's older sister, who eyed the small girl that was off to the side of Jane with confusion. "Do you know how rude that was?"
"Why aren't you outside, Kai?" Jane's mother asked, briefly looking up from chopping her vegetables before doing double-take. "Oh."
"Yes," Jane's father said, mock-hurt in his voice. "These lovely ladies have come to join us for dinner?"
"Ah, did Jane bring a friend?" Miss Emerson asked in a sweet voice, turning her head in the direction she had heard Jane's father speaking from.
Jane considered the thought. She had one friend, Miriam Li, that sometimes dropped by when she had time. It was an easy friendship, where they could both get irritated over the same things and found that they also enjoyed the same activities. But having another friend was kind of a stretch. Jane had a hard time making friends because they usually batted off the question of if she was Chinese as soon as they fully took in her Asian features. She had been batted with so much micro-aggression her whole life people just naturally seemed to piss her off. And her sharp attitude drove them away.
"I haven't seen her before," Jane's sister spoke up, eyeing the girl critically.
The ref's voice blared from the TV, momentarily filling the air with nothing but his shouts as he yelled at one of the coaches on screen.
"She's not my friend," Jane said, a vaguely irritated look on her face. It wasn't that she was annoyed with the thought of being friends with the small girl. In fact, she wasn't sure she would mind it at all. It was just the way her sister was eyeing the girl like she was dirt scraped off of her shoe made her oddly self-conscious.
It was one of her flaws. Although she tried not to be, more often than not her family's opinions on things largely influenced what she thought of them. She trusted her family more than she trusted herself, but that could be because it was easier to put your faith into someone it wouldn't hurt to blame. Jane tried not to think about it too much.
"This is actually our guest," Jane's father said, putting emphasis into the words. He traded a significant look with Jane's mother. "Mark! Phelan! Chetan! Come and greet our guest! It's rude to ignore them."
"Sorry," Mark laughed, turning around to glance at the newcomer. He froze in surprise.
Phelan looked up from his book, and his eyes widened in shock. Jane must have missed Chetan's reaction while she had been watching Phelan, but the tall, older boy shut off the TV, leaving the room in silence.
"What is it?" Miss Emerson asked, voicing the words Jane had been thinking herself. A small, confused frown gently tugged her lips down.
A moment of silence reigned. While the males from the Emerson family looked like they didn't know what to say, Jane's parents were staying quiet, waiting for someone else to make a move first while Jane and her sister waited in confused silence.
"Hi, mom," the girl finally squeaked out.
The effect was instantaneous.
Miss Emerson's features snapped into disbelief, and she stood up slowly, head turned to where she heard the small girl speak.
"Peyton?"
Camp was hot.
Sweat rolled down his face as Aaron lay in the grass,eyes closed, feeling the sun heating his skin. He felt someone kick his side, enough to irritate, but not enough to seriously hurt.
"Aaron, you smell bad."
The tall seventeen-year old boy felt a twitch developing in his brow. "That's because it's hot out, Emily." He cracked his eyes open to give her a pathetic look, his garnet irises turning a candy red under the light of the sun.
Emily's auburn hair was pulled back into a tight braid, her own eyes sparked with slight annoyance and her lips pressed into a thin line. The sun shone on her face, turning her dark skin gold, and making her hair glow like a halo around her head.
He and Emily looked a lot alike. Of course, that was a given when you had an identical twin. They were alike in almost every way when it came to looks. At least he never had to wonder what he would look like as a girl with her around. Although Aaron did have a more angular jaw, the rest of their facial features were the same. Although, Aaron had noticed a very light smattering of freckles across his twin's cheeks and on the tops of her shoulders. Aaron didn't get freckles, but he did get the occasional mole. It was irritating, and he would rather have freckles any day, but he couldn't help genetics.
"You're just lazing here in the sun. You should be training right now. You'll never be close to beating me in archery if you never practice," Emily scolded, hands on her hips.
Aaron's jaw dropped, an indignant look overtaking his face. "There's no way you're better than me!"
Emily raised a challenging eyebrow, giving her older twin a chastising look. "Of course I am. I can even stand the sun longer than you." She clicked her tongue. "You're not doing a good job of acting like a son of Apollo."
Aaron rolled his eyes playfully, not letting the small barb make his mood even worse.
"I'm so sorry the discomfort of intense heat makes me a bad son."
Emily sighed through her nose, and Aaron gave a slight laugh.
"When will you start taking things seriously?" she muttered, and Aaron couldn't tell if she was amused or annoyed.
"Ah, that would be a day," he groaned, stretching out on the grass. The sunlight shone on his eyelids and turned everything red, giving him a headache, so he flopped his forearm over his face to block out the sun. "But I wasn't aware there was a handbook on how to act like the son of Apollo. Would you kindly direct me to where it is?"
Emily kicked him again.
"Ow!" Aaron whined, the kick not really hurting. He was too tired to be dramatic, but he still voiced his opinion about his sister. "You're so meaaaan! Besides, I don't get why you act like you don't like what I do. Where would your comic relief be?"
"Gone and replaced by a sensible being," Emily shot back immediately, not missing a beat. "We only need your 'comedic relief' because you get us into messes in the first place."
"No, I don't," Aaron said in a light tone, feeling his brain slowing down and thoughts turn sluggish. Insomnia was a bitch and tended to hit at all hours of the day so sleep could strike when you least expected it. He rolled onto his back and tried to relax.
"Oh, so it wasn't you that got into a fight with Eli the other day?"
"I felt bad for almost making Hailey cry," he confessed, now frowning.
"As you should," Emily said in her Lecture Voice. "You two are ridiculous. I don't see why you can't get along."
"We disagree," Aaron said dismissively, the words out of his mouth before he could really register what his sister had said.
"You also disagree with Allison, Charlotte, Asher, Cameron, Hayden, Phill-"
"Okay, but I actually have a reason for not liking them," Aaron interrupted, sitting up quickly to face his sister. His vision momentarily went black and spots danced before his eyes as the blood rushed from his head. He put his hands behind him to brace himself on the grass. When his vision finally cleared, his twin was standing there, posture relaxed and arms crossed.
"I'm curious to hear this," Emily said. "What are your great reasons for almost starting another war every time you talk to them?"
Aaron shifted and crossed his legs, his basketball shorts riding up as he moved around. "First of all, Allison doesn't give anyone the time of day. She's so rude!" His voice took on a high-pitched tone as he attempted to mimic the child of Athena, "Oh, Aaron, you aren't smart enough to say that! Let me shock you with my superior intelligence and wit!" Without waiting for his sister to comment, he continued, "Charlotte used some freaky witchcraft on me during Capture the Flag. I had a duck bill for six days! I'm just supposed to let that go? Ha! Asher is like the male version of Allison-"
"I like Asher, he's-"
"Only Asher has a stick up his ass," Aaron continued as if his sister had never interrupted. "Cameron hit me with a bowl and painted all of my clothes pink. You know that. And really, a bowl? I get that he has a short temper, but why would you throw a bowl at someone? Hayden is the one that superglued all of my stuff and me to the floor-and just because I beat him in archery last week. Stupid son of Hermes. Phil is just an ass."
Emily rolled her eyes. "You are so immature."
Aaron huffed, although he didn't seem truly angry. "I am simply standing up for myself, dear sister."
Emily rolled her eyes. She seemed to do that a lot around her brother, although they both cared about each other deeply, they would both never admit it unless it was on their own terms.
"You sure have an idiotic way of doing it," Emily replied bluntly. "You could sort it out like a civilized human being or get to know their reasons behind why they act the way they do."
Aaron pulled a face, exaggerating his expression. "I would rather not, thank you."
Emily huffed. "You're such a child."
"Says the little sister."
A horn sounded throughout camp, cutting off a possible argument, although there was still an hour left until dinner.
"Strange," Emily said, looking around with sharp eyes. "Why would Chiron be calling us this early?"
Aaron bit his lips and shrugged, deciding not to worry about it too much. He turned pleading puppy dog eyes to his sister. "Help me up?"
Emily looked almost like she wanted to complain about him being too lazy to even stand up on his own, but refrained from saying anything and held out a hand to help him to his feet.
Aaron brushed all of the grass off of himself, Emily helping to get the spots on his back he couldn't reach.
"Alright," she said while Aaron slung an arm around her shoulders, "let's go see what all of this is about."
"I'm starving," Aaron said, scrunching his nose up while rubbing his stomach. "Do you think they'll have snacks?"
Emily stared at him as if she was trying to figure out how they were related and Aaron let out a light laugh, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Sorry, sorry. Necessities, then wants." He moved forward, bringing his sister along at his own pace. "But if they don't have food, I'll have to steal some from Connor."
Emily elbowed him in the stomach.
Winter ran a hand through her short black hair, letting out a stressed noise. She pushed herself away from the computer screen, rubbing her temples to get rid of the headache she had gotten that came from staring at a computer screen for too long.
I still have a couple of hours to do this, she thought to herself, staring at the black and green screen of her computer. And I'm almost done. Maybe I should buy a new book before I finish? Her stomach let out a growl, changing her opinion. On second thought, maybe some food would be better.
The seventeen-year old nodded to herself, deciding it was a good plan. She got up from her desk chair, joints aching from sitting for a long period of time, and grabbed her keys off of the side of her desk before slipping on her black boots, tucking in the laces since she didn't want to put in the effort to tie them up.
Winter's apartment was small, but she was grateful for that. A large space would be a pain to clean and she really didn't want to put in the effort for that when she had so many other things she could be doing. More pressing things then spending extra time wiping up dust from spaces she would most likely never use. She mostly stayed at the computer and occasionally journeyed into the bathroom, kitchen, or bedroom. If not, then she just wasn't home. Her job did take up a lot of her time, but it payed well.
Winter walked down the street, listening to the bottoms of her boots click sharply with the cement as she walked on. She carried herself well, with shoulders back and chin lifted. She excluded confidence in every step she took.
The ravenette was paranoid, even with just walking to the bakery. She blamed it on her line of work, but truthfully, nothing ever felt right in the area she lived in. Even at seventeen, she had never ventured out (not that she could now, anyway), but everything seemed too calm. Everything was so well-placed.
People left to work as they were supposed to. Teenagers had fights at school and complained about homework as they were supposed to. It was way too calm for an area that had such a high mortality rate and was known for the drug ring that went around.
The whole situation left Winter uneasy, and she had pondered it many times.
Are they just well prepared for if anything happens? Do they want to pretend that none of it exists?
A couple passed her by on the street. A brunet boy with shaggy hair, tan skin, and green eyes, and a girl with blonde hair and gray eyes.
Why aren't they tense? It's almost nine at night. Shouldn't they be hiding indoors? Am I the only one who sees anything?
Whitelock Bakery came up on her left, and she entered the large cafe that was mostly empty by now.
The smell of freshly baked goods immediately reached her senses, and Winter allowed herself to relax marginally. She was safe. This was a good place to be. She had been coming here even before her dad disappeared when she was fourteen. They would both sit at a circular metal table, and Winter remembered swinging her legs back and forth in the air as she sat on a stool and ate her sandwich. It was a good memory.
"Oh, Winter!"
Turning her attention from the muffins in front of her, Winter turned around and was crushed in a cold hug. Her vision was momentarily obscured by hair that was a blend of gold, red, and brown. She could never pinpoint what color it was.
Pulling back, her surprised, dark blue eyes met the bright blue ones of the boy in front of her.
A wide smile pulled at Dake's lips, and Winter allowed herself to think that he was really good looking when he smiled before stomping the thought down.
"How are you?" he asked kindly.
Butterflies erupted in her stomach. Oh, god. Why does he always have to look so handsome? He shouldn't look that good in a plain black t-shirt, jeans, and a green apron. It's not fair.
"I'm fine," she said, shrugging lightly.
Drake immediately looked concerned and Winter felt a pang of guilt, so she decided to try and play it off by joking around.
"I'm really okay, Draki," she said, using his nickname. "But it's sweet that you worry about me."
A very satisfied feeling welled up in her when a blush dusted his cheeks. He ran a hand through his hair and shyly directed his eyes at the counters.
"I do worry about you," he confessed, just like he did whenever the subject of Winter's safety was brought up.
It made her sick. Drake was too nice. Sure, she had a pretty decent crush on the guy, but she never let herself feel anything more. It wasn't fair. She wasn't worthy to hold such a position. There were other people out there. Really nice girls that would deserve someone as nice as the boy in front of her. She should just stop dreaming about what she could never have.
With those thoughts in mind, Winter took a step back, pretending not to see the hurt that shown on Drake's face from that action.
"Anyway, I just came in here to grab a sandwich," she said, crossing her arms uncomfortably and tucking her hands underneath. She shifted on her feet.
"Right," Drake said, going straight into worker mode. He rounded the counter and gave her a beamed smile. "Hello, miss, and welcome to Whitelock Bakery. What would you like to order?"
Winter gave a short laugh. "You're such a dork."
He winked. "Just doing my job, miss."
The ravenette hummed. "Is that so?" Her eyes scanned the menu out of habit, although she already knew what she was going to order. "I'll take a ham and cheese sandwich, then. Italian bread, add pepperonis, lettuce, onions, and vinegar."
Drake swiftly made her sandwich, asking, "To stay or go?" when he was almost done.
"Go," Winter said, and, feeling like he deserved an explanation, added: "I have a lot of work I need to get done. Maybe I'll come by in a few days, though."
Drake paused in punching buttons into the cash register and gave her another pretty smile. "I'd like that."
The ravenette didn't make eye contact as she pulled out her money and handed him the bills before taking her sandwich.
Winter hoped she wasn't blushing as she took her sandwich and left the door, forcing herself not to look over her shoulder.
The walk back to Winter's apartment was still mostly silent, the only difference being the noise of her sandwich bag crinkling every once in awhile. But once again, Winter was trying to scold herself for reacting the way she did when Drake was around. It was stupid. She knew they could never be together-which was her fault and hers alone-so she shouldn't react like that. Couldn't. What if he found out?
That one that was enough to effectively kill any of the lingering warm and fuzzies left from being in Drake's presence.
He would kill him, she reminded herself grimly. The expendable bakery boy. The one people would miss for a few weeks before everyone moved on. But I would never forget. It would be Javan all over again. Bile scorched the back of her throat. His frozen body, pulled apart and painted to look like some fucking statue. Sitting on my kitchen table, like it was some kind of gift-
Winter viciously pushed the thoughts from her head and walked into her apartment, completely worn out from emotional exhaustion.
She wallowed in self-hatred and pity as she sat at the computer and finished her work, picking at her sandwich.
What makes me think that I'm good enough to be in a relationship? she thought bitterly. I'm the monster. My half-siblings even think so.
Hours later she curled up on her bed, staring at the nightlight on her wall. As her eyelids got heavy, she could have sworn she saw flashes of white light as she fell in and out of sleep. She wondered if it had something to do with the brain as she drifted off to sleep.
That actually was pretty short. I'll do more layouts of what the characters think of each other as I go along, just for you guys to get a certain feel for their mindsets. Thank you for all the reviews I got last chapter! They were very appreciated! :3
And please remember that just because a certain character feels that way about another, that doesn't mean that is the way they really are.
