THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR REVIEWS, FAVORITES, AND FOLLOWS!

I DO NOT OWN. (No, seriously, how old do you guys think I am? I wanna know what level of awesomeness I am at.)

Okay, this contains Percabeth, so if you don't like it, I'm sorry; I ship Percabeth like no one else can. Just sayin'.

This takes place after The Titan's Curse.

Fall Into Love

He managed to last years before he truly fell again.

Sure, there were slipups and stumbles, but he never truly started that mad descent into a hole of depression or sadness or whatever to where he couldn't catch the edge of the chasm. He stayed up, up from falling. He caught himself every time.

Too bad it didn't last forever.

Percy was fourteen, had recently returned home after saving Artemis and Annabeth, found out Nico was a son of Hades, and was still scarred from the deaths. He was also still sore from holding up the weight of the sky, even after two weeks.

It happened while he was lying in bed at two o'clock in the morning. With a start, he realized that he was in love with Annabeth. Maybe it was not a serious love, but a love to where he was allowing her to get close to him.

That could not happen. Bad things happened to people who got close to him; they got hurt.

Without thinking, Percy packed up a small bag (with apples, of course), wrote a note to his mother, placed a blue rose next to the note, and left by slipping out his window. He didn't want to deal with the new manager; she would ask where he was going and then send him back to his room.

Percy walked down the sidewalks and across the streets of New York, taking the familiar turns to the wood he always went to, but now he didn't have to do it blind.

It still was a wonder to him.

Percy cut through the wood, taking the careful steps to his campout that he had first created when he was seven. When he arrived, he promptly sat down in front of the nonexistent fire and thought.

Annabeth.

She was… amazing, to put in simple terms. Beautiful. Independent. Ingenious. And a whole list of other things. She also somewhat reminded him of her, in a strange and twisted way.

It set him on edge, how close he was to her. People who got close to him got hurt. It was a simple, not spoken fact.

And yet he let her get close to him.

Percy felt his walls crumbling by his little stack of wood. He wanted to run and scream and cry all at once, because he was so stupid. If he knew—and he did, oh he knew—that people who got close to him got hurt, why would he still get close to a person?

Annabeth knew him, could read him. She was with him when he was nervous and when he didn't know what to do. (Percy Jackson, himself, not know what to do? Nervous? The very idea is simply preposterous!) And she kept getting closer and closer to his heart, ripping down his well-built walls—without even knowing it. She didn't know about his thick-layered, stacked high walls—nobody really knew how much of himself he kept hidden—but she was slowly inching her way to him, the real him.

It was frightening to Percy. Like he was facing his biggest fear in the world.

It was driving him insane. Why couldn't he just go out there and be himself? Why did he have to stay protected? Why did it matter if he loved Annabeth Chase, Daughter of Athena?

Percy threw a lit match into his pile of sticks and wood chunks in his fury. It exploded upward, flames flying out to where the nearly touched his skin.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…

He went to sleep, using his pack as a pillow and the fire as his blanket.

When he woke up, he went back to asking himself questions over and over again.

He did this for a week, slowly slinking away from the real world.

Then he returned home.

Stepping though the front door, Percy noticed his mother rocking in her favorite rocking chair, Paul asking her what was wrong. Guilt rose in his heart, but he quickly pushed it away. He gave a small, shy wave. "Hey Mom," he said, beginning to walk toward her.

She shot out from her seat and crushed him in a Tyson hug. "Oh, Percy, Percy, Percy, what happened?" she asked, tears welling in her eyes.

He shrugged, looking over her shoulder at Paul, whom he had only seen face to face once before.

He gave his mother a real tight squeeze and kissed her on the cheek. "I just needed to think some things over," he answered, giving a tight smile and heading to his room.

Right before he managed to twist the doorknob, Paul stopped him. "Percy," he began, a curious tone to his voice, "where did you go?"

Percy became rigid all over. His runaways were usually kept secret, and not many people knew about them in the first place. When they did know… well, they stopped asking with a certain glare that was always sent their way. But this was Paul Blofis, and he made his mom happy.

"Percy…?" Paul sounded worried.

He turned, an ultra-fake smile plastered on his face. "It's nothing. Really."

Paul came over and placed a hand on his shoulder; he flinched slightly, before wiping away all discomfort. Keep with it, Percy, he told himself. No need to lose it now.

"Percy, seriously, what happened? Your mother was worried sick for you, and…" Paul trailed off.

She insisted not to call the police, that you would come back. The words were unspoken, but Percy knew.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Play with his mind, he knew was his only immediate resolve. "Really, Paul? Didn't you see that I left a note? I was just visiting a place." It wasn't a lie—not at all—but it wasn't the total truth, too. He gave his usual lop-sided grin, which was the ultimate winner in convincing people that everything was fine. Although, he did smile like that normally, too, but it worked for acting.

Paul still looked wary, like he was not all that happy with his answer, but gave a stiff nod anyways, backing up. "Okay, Percy," he said. "But… if there's anything bothering you, just come and see me." He gave a weak smile.

Percy watched him until he was around the corner, and then slipped into his room. There, his façade crumbled; his shoulders sagged, his limbs became weak with despair, and his mind went into a wild cyclone of anything and everything. He slumped onto his bed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Don't lose it, he ordered himself. Don't lose it.

He released a deep breath of air, and he flipped over on his bed, spotting a picture of Annabeth.

He went back to his questioning he had done while he was gone and came to the same conclusion: It doesn't matter.

He loved Annabeth, and he didn't care.

Besides, not all falls were bad, like, for example, a fall into love.

Yay! Done! Like? Dislike? Tell me in reviews or PMs. Please?

OF IMPORTANCE—YOU MIGHT WANT TO KNOW THIS:

The next chapter is the last chapter. Sorry guys, but I cannot make Percy totally miserable. The next chapter—which is also the last chapter—is just going to be a wrap-up, for your information.

Peace and all that other stuff.

~XxxXGreek GeekXxxX