Hello, readers! So, funny thing, I listened to Try by P!nk while writing this. :) I do not own that song.
AND I DO NOT OWN PERCY JACKSON AND THE OLYMPIANS OR THE HEROES OF OLYMPUS IT IS ALL OWNED BY RICK RIORDAN - NOT ME.
There, I said it. Like I always do, like everyone else on FanFiction does.
Quit the SOPA already.
(And please go sign the petition if you haven't done so already! We only need a thousand left! We're so close! We all love FF, and I hope to continue writing for you guys on here so please sign if you haven't!)
Until then, please enjoy this chapter:)
Percy stared at the door, his hands in his pockets. He wore pants with a white shirt and a blue jacket over it. He was at Nico's door, ready to knock, ready to tell him how sorry he was, ready to make sure that everything was going to be okay with him. He had promised Bianca he would do all of this and he felt only needed to be responsible for everything Nico does.
He wondered if this was how Bianca felt as Nico's sister—always wanting to take care of him. Then Percy had to add on the thought of Nico being a seller and that made his heart weigh down even more. He can get in so much trouble, so much hurt in just one night by continuing that business.
That much had already been proven to Percy.
He couldn't help but think that the last time he looked at this door, Luke was by his side.
Percy swallowed through the lump in his throat. It threatened to bring tears in his eyes, but he clenched his jaw. He had to do this; he had to do this.
He slipped his hand out of his pocket and it started to shake. He hardened his fingers into his palm and clenched into a fist, to stop the shaking and so that he could knock. His whole body was shaking like a fragile leaf blowing in a breeze. Yes, that's exactly how he felt—fragile.
Percy drew in a deep breath and it came out shaking. He licked his dry lips and then knocked on the door. The first knock was soft and pitiful, but then he tried again, nodding his head as if to reassure himself, and this time it was louder.
He could hear light footsteps shuffling from inside. Then they stopped and he waited for a couple more minutes.
"Nico—" His voice was small, but then he cleared his throat. "Nico, I know you're in there. Please, we need to talk."
There was a slight pause. "No, we don't."
"Yes—"
"Just forget about it, Percy!" Nico snapped inside. "Just forget about the whole thing. What's done is done, you can't change it."
"I didn't say I wanted to change it."
"Then what do you want?"
"I want to talk to you."
He heard Nico sigh impatiently. Finally, the door opens and Nico looks worse than when Percy first met him. He's got purple hollow places underneath his cheekbones and eyes, and his dark brown eyes were swollen and red. Pink splotches danced across his pale cheeks, and Percy knew he had been crying. His dark hair was tousled and matted on one side.
They both shared a look, a silent conversation, both of them remembering.
Nico shook his head, his chin trembling, and he turned his head away from Percy, not looking him in the eye. "What do you want?" He asked again, his deep voice wavering like he was about to cry.
Percy's lips parted a little and his eyebrows knitted together. He could see the wetness glaze over the dark brown in Nico's eyes.
"She wanted me to help you. That's what I'm doing."
"I don't need your help."
"Yes, you do. You don't have a guardian anymore—"
"Shut up, Percy! Don't even go there!"
"—and I promised Bianca I would help you!" Percy had to yell over Nico's voice so he could hear him.
"You are not my dad! You aren't my mom or my sister, Percy!" Nico yelled, his voice going hoarse and the tears escaping his eyelids. "You're just some guy! You're not even a friend, because you were there—" he choked on a sob. "You let her die—"
Percy felt bad, and he felt sick. Flashes of that night tore through him, the darkness, Luke's blood, the lost hope in Bianca's eyes.
He drew in a deep breath and then wrapped an arm around Nico's neck, pulling him in. "I'm sorry," He said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't—I couldn't do anything, Nico."
Nico cried into Percy's shoulder. He remembered her, and her smile. He remembered how he got in a fight with his dad, and Bianca was there to calm him down; she was there to tell him that everything was okay.
But she wasn't here now.
"It's going to be okay, Nico." Percy said with his voice beginning to crack. "I'm going to make sure it is."
Nico stopped and he pulled back, wiping at the tears with his sleeve. He gave Percy a look. He began to shake his head. "Don't make promises you can't keep."
"It's not about if you can keep them. It's about if you try to." Percy said. "And that's what I'm going to do."
Nico shook his head again. "I'm an adult, Percy; I don't need your help." He stepped back and began to close the door.
But Percy stops it with his hand. "Nico, please," he looked up at him and tilted his head a little. He added on softly, "I just want to talk."
Nico stared at him, his brown eyes glancing around on him, as if he was making a decision. He frowned and gave a defeated sigh. "Fine," was all he said when he opened the door wider.
Nico led him inside, and they were back in the apartment that Percy had seen a couple days ago. It looked exactly the same, except a little messier and books lain next to the walls, opened, and the pages torn and flapping like they had been thrown at the wall. Percy's eyes flashed up to the wall and he even saw a small dent.
He already knew Nico wasn't taking any of this too lightly, but this concerned him even more.
Percy followed Nico and sat next to him on the couch.
"Nico, about that night, I know I said I was going to fix things, and—" He paused and stared down at his hands limply settling in his lap. He drew in another breath; he had just reminded himself that it really was his fault. If he hadn't said that, if he hadn't promised Luke that he would help…
"Luke and Bianca wouldn't be dead." Percy finished his sentence with his voice hoarse.
He felt Nico's body flinch beside him. His eyes glanced over and found Nico's shaking hands curling into fists. Percy's eyes slid up to his face and Nico's jaw was clenched.
"You have every reason to hate me." Percy hurried on. "And I know you think that it's not my place to take care of you, and I know that I didn't know Bianca—at all. All I knew was that she was your sister and that you love her. And I did—I made a promise to her. That promise I made was a promise I am going to keep. That doesn't mean I'm taking her place, or your dad's place, or your mom's place. I'm just…" he sighed, and gestured with his hands, a waving motion, not sure what to say. All he wanted to do was apologize over and over, but he knew Nico wouldn't take that.
"It was my entire fault. I didn't mean for it to be, but I'm going to try and help to clean up the things that I messed up." He pointed to himself, the lump growing in his throat again. "Me. Not you—it was me. I thought I could handle it, but I can't, Nico."
"I can't, either," Nico said in a small voice.
Percy gave him a sad look. "No one can. And it's all right to admit that. Nico," he shakes his head as if he still can't fathom about what to say. "I am so sorry."
"Stop apologizing, Percy. It's not going to help anyone."
"I-I know. That's why I'm trying to fix things."
Nico shook his head and stood up. His long and shaking fingers rose to his hair and he raked them through the messy blackness. "You don't understand, Percy. You can't fix things! Everything is already broken enough!"
Percy kept sitting and he looked up at Nico. He shook his head. "We're the only ones left, Nico." He said in a soft voice. "What else can we do?"
Nico stops and stares at him, his face is full of sad dread and he blinks, that brown darkness going away for a second. "Nothing," he answered. "We do nothing, except forget it ever happened."
"Nico, I couldn't live with myself if I just forgot about it. That would also be nearly impossible—"
"Then you better learn how to!" Nico cut him off with a shout.
Percy finally stood. "Why won't you let me help you, huh?! What is so wrong with having someone care about you?! You're so selfish, Nico!"
Nico gave him a murderous look of shock. "What? You're calling me selfish, when I don't have anything to begin with."
"That is exactly why! Because you won't let yourself have anything."
Nico shrugged, waving out his arms and then letting them down and slap against the sides of his pant legs. "Why are you so…determined to help me? What if I don't want or need your help?!"
Percy steps back, his brows rising to his hairline and he softly lays a hand on his chest, as if he's offended. "Oh, you don't need my help? So, where are you gonna get your job?"
Nico looks at him as if this was a stupid question. "Selling—"
"No, because we just dealt with Apollo. You were a part of getting him into jail, which means when he gets out, he's going to be mad. No one will want to buy from you again, if that means getting murdered."
Suddenly, Nico looked as if he'd suddenly thought of this. Percy was right. There was no way he'd be able to sell even a sticker if word got around about him getting Apollo into jail.
"Yeah, well what are you gonna do about it?"
"Luke used to work with me at the Café." Percy replied without shouting and at a normal tone.
"Oh, no," Nico gave a bitter laugh. "I am not doing that."
"Well, what else are you—" The Percy cuts himself off and he looks offended. "Hey, what's that supposed to mean? There's nothing wrong with working at a café."
Nico gave him a look. "I am not playing dress-up and feeding people tea and pastries."
"It's not dress-up." Percy mumbled.
Nico sighed. "Whatever, I don't care."
"It'll do you good, it's just a small job and no one will find you there." Percy said. "No one can hurt you. Not if I'm there."
The other boy clenched his teeth, his lips pressing into a firm line. "You mean like how it did Luke good?"
Percy looked up at him and saw a shadow pass over Nico's face. Percy shook his head. "No. Because by the looks of it, it seems that Luke is doing better. He actually tried it and didn't complain."
Nico was silent and hurt. He was about to snap back an angry retort, saying how he couldn't believe how rude Percy was being by comparing him to Luke—comparing him to a dead man. But he bit it back because suddenly he knew that he was right. Luke actually did try, and he wasn't. All he was doing was staying cooped up in his small, dirty apartment and being sorry for himself, chucking his biology books at the wall because he just didn't get it. And then he'd curse up a storm when he'd realize that he was late for class.
Life was leaving without him. He couldn't understand it; he felt as if there was no reason he should be alive anymore. He thought that he couldn't do anything right—but that's not true.
He thought back to the day when he was a kid and Bianca was teaching him how to ride a bike. He was small, and everyone in his class picked on him when he'd mentioned he didn't know how to ride a bike. After school, he didn't even do his homework; he just went right to the giant bike that used to belong to his mom…
Nico climbed on, gripping the handlebars and the tips of his shoes barely touched the pedals. He had to stand, but it was hard because he didn't even know how to ride a bike sitting. He took in a deep breath, furrowed his eyebrows and wheeled the bike out of the garage. He stumbled down the driveway, the pedals circling around and around scratching his shins as they went past them.
Nico went down to the road. Once the wheels met the gravel, he sat on the seat again. It was so uncomfortable, though, and he whimpered and shifted, but there was no way it made anything better. He told himself to suck it up, because none of the other kids mentioned that it hurt to sit on it.
He straightened and reached for the pedals again.
The first time his feet went all the way around, he jerked his arms—he didn't know where to go or what to do. A small cry escaped his lips and the bike shifted to the right. His foot shot down to the ground to balance himself upright again. He stared down at the road, at the handlebars and he had a determined face.
"What are you doing, Nico?" A voice cried out behind him.
Nico twisted around, feeling that pain in his rear again, and he saw Bianca standing outside. She wore her skinny jeans with holes all over it and a green shirt—because green was her favorite color. Her dark hair was pinned back and her hand was above her eyes to shield the bright sun's rays so she can see him.
"I'm learning to ride a bike!"
She narrowed her eyes. "What?"
He looked down at the ground.
Bianca sighed and walked out onto the road with her floppy green flip-flops. She approached him with her hands lightly hooking onto her hips. "Did someone make you do this?"
"No!" He snapped back. "What's wrong with me wanting to ride a bike?"
Her face softened and she let her hands hang by her sides. Her almond-shaped dark brown eyes were full of concern. "There's nothing wrong with it. I just don't want you to feel as if you have to do it because someone made you."
"No one made me," Nico half-lied. "I'm just the only kid who can't ride a bike."
Bianca stared at him and he liked the way she looked at him. It was full of kindness, and he knew that she would always be there for her. He loved her, and he knew she deserved more than she got. One day, he was going to build a great, big house for the two of them to live in and they would be so rich that no one could be mean to them.
But this time, he thought she was going to yell at him for not telling her.
So he had sighed and slipped off the bike, taking its handlebars and turning back to the garage.
"What are you doing?" she asked again.
"Taking the bike back," he mumbled without looking at her.
"I thought you wanted to learn how to ride it." She said. He gasped and turned back, his eyes full of hope and wonder. "So then why are you putting it back?"
Nico smiled at her.
Bianca smiled back.
For that rest of the afternoon and evening, she taught him how to ride a bike. It took a while, what with Nico always getting frustrated for it taking so long. Multiple times, he gave up, kicked the bike over and it clattered on the road, and trudged back to the house.
But Bianca had always there to stop him. She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Nico, I think you're forgetting the concept of learning to ride a bike."
His lower lip went out and he pouted, his arms crossed over his chest. He gave everything around them the stink-eye. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Learning to ride a bike is not what makes you ride a bike." She had said.
His shoulders dropped and he looked at her, the stink-eye going away. "What do you mean?"
"The reason why it's so important to learn first is because it means that if you can actually do it, then you're willing to try. Learning is always about trying. So, if you want to ride a bike better than all those other kids, you do it because you know you tried, not because you know you can do it."
That night, Nico learned how to ride a bike because he had tried.
He thought of that moment now as he stared at Percy. She wouldn't want him acting like the way he was now, being bratty and not willing to do anything. Not willing to try. And Nico had to try, in order to heal himself about Bianca's death.
Nico suddenly realized how Percy must feel right about now, except he was probably worse. It had been his fault that they had died, but Nico had to forgive him for that. He had to forgive himself, too. None of them could change what had happened, but that didn't mean Nico had to give up on everything.
No, there was one thing he could do.
He could try and catch up on his life again.
Percy was right, and he had said that he wasn't trying to take Bianca's place, but Percy sure did remind Nico of her now. The way they both wanted to take care of him.
Nico wondered if it wasn't a coincidence that Bianca had told Percy to take care of him—they were both saying the same thing, it was like she knew Percy would be there.
He smiled a little. Bianca had that sense about her—how she knew just about everything about everyone—what they loved, their weaknesses.
Percy saw this smile and wondered what was going on in Nico's head. He had looked at him with white hot fury and pain, and now he was smiling. Suddenly, he felt scared, and thought about the things Nico could probably do to him.
But he saw that different light on Nico. And he knew that, in that split second, something had clicked inside of him.
Nico didn't say anything except sit back down next to Percy. He laced his fingers together, his pale skin filled with paler lines of scars. So many scars filled his arms, but Nico didn't pay attention to that. He stared at the floor, his black hair tumbling down and tickling his eyebrow. He reached up and brushed it back.
Percy stared at him. He took in a deep breath. "Are you willing to try?"
Nico looked back up at Percy and the tears glazed over his eyes, making his vision blurry. A couple fell and traveled down his nose. He blinked, letting a couple more fall, and then he made a sound and reached up to wipe them with his sleeve. This weighed down his heart, what Percy had said, and he suddenly felt like sobbing at the reenact of Bianca's words.
He straightened and looked over at Percy again.
His lips were pressed together, and he nodded.
Nico was getting back on the bike, and from this point forward, he was learning to ride.
Percy smiled, but his lips were also pressed together. It was a kind smile that even made his green eyes turn upward, becoming lighter.
"C'mon, don't you have a class to go to?" Percy wrapped an arm around Nico and pulled him up.
"No. We have a funeral to go to." Nico answered.
Percy looked down at him and his eyes were full of remorse, but still with that glint of kindness. He nodded. "You got it."
Annabeth sat on the roof of their apartment building. It was nice and quiet up there, where the sounds of the city—cars honking, people yelling, the buzzing of electricity from the lights—echoed. It sounded like a soft symphony in the background. This was also where no one could bother her, where no one looked to find her. Where, for once, she could be absolutely invisible.
This was her most favorite place in the world. Especially at dusk, where the sun began to nestle back into the corner of the earth, in between the seas and the sky, reflecting both.
She sat in the corner, wearing one of Luke's t-shirts and a pair of shorts, where the two walls of the building come together and her back rested on one of the walls, her knees drawn to her chest, one arm wrapped around her stomach, the other slung over the edge of the building. She tapped her slender fingers against the cement of the roof.
It felt good here. It was calm and her dark gray eyes analyzed the sky.
Orange washed over the clouds, and the dark blue faded beneath it, touching the other buildings, touching the ground, making everything darker, but the lights even brighter. The sunset was beautiful and blazed.
But nothing should be beautiful. She just lost someone she loved—the world should look dead to her.
But it didn't and she couldn't help but feel guilty for thinking it did. She pressed her lips and with her right arm—the one resting on the side of the building—she cradled the side of her face in her palm. With the other hand, she reached to the cement and drew invisible circles on it.
Annabeth never even got to say goodbye to him. He didn't even send a message to her, it was just Thalia. And while she should think that that's a good thing, it wasn't. It didn't feel like it—just felt angry at him, and wished she could ask him why. She wondered if he ever loved her.
Suddenly, she thought of Percy. How good he was to her, and she blinked harshly, closing her eyes, and scolded herself for comparing the two. Luke was dead, she can't be mad at him for that.
Luke was dead.
Luke was dead.
He's gone.
I'm never going to see him again.
The tears prickled against her eyes and it tickled her nose. She didn't wipe them away like she usually did so that no one would give her the pity look. She let them fall because she knew that no one was there to see it.
Annabeth let her guard down and she raised her hands to her face, covering it, smothering it, and sobbed. She sobbed and yelled until her voice got raw. She screamed why—why would he do this to her? Why would he leave her? Why didn't he say something? Why did he leave her like this? Why did he have to go?
She did this because no one could hear her—no one. Her cries would echo and fade into the daily racket of New York. She was so far up, too, that it'd be impossible if someone would hear her.
Annabeth finally stopped and wept into her fingers and water was everywhere, the she didn't even bother wiping it off. Her tears fell like raindrops—fast, but going nowhere.
Finally, after ten minutes, she tried to regain herself. She wiped at her eyes, rubbing her hands on his t-shirt.
Then she froze and her heart stopped. She looked down at the faded blue shirt and didn't touch it—she was so afraid to get anything on it and now her tears were on it. She felt as if she had ruined it. She didn't let her hands anywhere near it, even though much of her skin was still touching it on the inside.
She sniffed, her nose runny, and then told herself that if she accidentally got her snot on it, she would wash it a dozen times and never forgive herself.
She took a deep breath, but it caught multiple times. Annabeth had cried so hard that she was hiccupping. She told herself to calm down and take deep breaths, and soon, they left her as she didn't think about it.
She looked over the edge and found that the ground was far, far away. She blinked slowly, her face feeling hot and splotchy. Annabeth sighed and then looked up when she heard the clatter of the door to the stairs.
She was surprised. She didn't think anyone would find her here. She looked at the person and saw a small shadow walking towards her.
When the person came out of the shadows, she stared at Thalia, who was wearing a sweatshirt—that Annabeth recognized was also Luke's—and shorts. She looked as if she were also crying, and didn't have any makeup on, so her electric blue eyes were dull.
She approached Annabeth with a frown, and Annabeth didn't show any different expression. Thalia sat next to her, crossing her leg underneath the other knee, and wrapped up her sleeves in her fingers, not letting it show her hands, and rested them in her lap. Thalia stared ahead.
None of them said anything for a while.
Thalia stared off into the distance, at the sunset, taking in the beautiful sight. She was breathing heavily, and had been for the past couple of nights from her dreams and nightmares about Luke.
"I heard you crying." Thalia said in a small and soft voice.
But Annabeth could hear her perfectly, since they were right next to each other, and it was so different than her screams.
Now she was even more surprised.
Annabeth swallowed past the lump that was prepared to choke up her words. "H-how?"
She heard a noise that was nearby. It sounded like a cat.
Suddenly, a black cat did come out of the shadows.
"Mittens led me here. I was standing behind the door, and I heard you."
The black cat with spots of black on its chest and paws sauntered over to Thalia and sniffed her thighs, as if asking for permission to rest on her lap. Thalia lifted her hands and pets the cat with one of them.
Annabeth sniffed as her eyes filled with tears again in instinct. "We don't have a cat."
"It's the old lady's in the next building," she pointed past Annabeth, but didn't look at her as Mittens crawled into her lap, sitting, first, as if testing out her lap, and then it shifted its feet and laid down. Mittens lifted her head toward the sun, sniffing the air, and her eyes smiled as they closed. Annabeth began to hear the cat purr.
"You stole a cat?" Annabeth asked softly, though her voice was a little nasally.
Thalia gave her a look. "I wouldn't steal a cat. It came to me, I swear."
"Won't the lady be looking for it?"
"She's got so many, so probably not." Thalia shrugged.
Annabeth looked over at Thalia and the sunset lit up her eyes, and put a tint in her black hair. It brought out the hollow places under her high cheekbones and at her temples.
Thalia still frowned as she looked down at Mittens, who still had her eyes closed. "I heard you crying about Luke."
Annabeth swallowed and looked down at her shirt and fiddled with an unraveled string. "Isn't everyone?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Annabeth, Luke didn't want to die." Thalia ignored her question and her brow furrowed as she stared at Annabeth. "He didn't mean for this to happen. No one plans their death."
The other girl took a deep breath and pressed her lips together so hard, they made a white line. She released the breath through her nose. "I know."
"You think he didn't think about you, don't you?"
Annabeth hesitated, but then nodded.
"You're wrong. He did—he always does. Never think the opposite, because it's not true. He loved you—he loved all of us."
"So then why did he only tell you that? Why did he only tell you goodbye?"
Thalia shook his head. "Because I'm the oldest. You wouldn't understand."
"Try me,"
"Because you would act exactly like this still. You wouldn't have been any happier, Annabeth, and you know it. You'd hole yourself up and always think about what he said if he said anything to you. You would never get over it if he told you goodbye."
"Why not?" Annabeth snipped.
"Because that's just who you are. You always over-think. He never told you about the mess he was in, Annabeth. He told me, and he knew that if I could handle that, I could bear the weight of his last words, too. But you, on the other hand, wouldn't be able to handle that."
Annabeth felt mad. How could Thalia be telling her this?! This made her so mad that she almost got up and left. She clenched her jaw, and just as she was about to stand, Thalia put her hand on Annabeth's—without the sleeve covering it.
It chilled Annabeth how cold Thalia's hands were. They were like ice and this planted her in her spot. She was concerned for Thalia, and suddenly understood what she meant. If this was how Thalia was, then Annabeth would've been much worse.
Thalia looked up at her with soft eyes. "But you know what I think he would've told you?"
"What?" Annabeth's words came out so soft that she herself could barely hear them.
"He would tell you not to waste your tears on him. Just because he died, it doesn't mean that he's gone. He's still here," Thalia rested her finger over Annabeth's heart. "But for you, he'll always be here," then she rested the pad of her finger in the middle of Annabeth's forehead. "You'll never stop thinking about him—just like now."
A laugh bubbled from Annabeth's throat. That sounded like something Luke would tell her.
Thalia smiled. "See, if you think about him enough, it's almost like he's still here."
Annabeth blinked and then she stopped.
The other girl blinked and took her hand back and rested it on Mitten's smooth and soft black coat. She felt her body slowly move up and down underneath her hands, and the touch of a being made her touch gentle. She could see the gears working in Annabeth's head.
"I've never thought of it that way,"
Now a laugh bubbled from Thalia. "That's a first,"
Annabeth smirked, but Thalia had to make sure she wasn't getting the wrong idea. "Listen," she blinked slowly and shook her head. "This doesn't mean you think about him all the time. This just means that he's not gone, and you don't have to get depressed about his death. You still need to move on at some point. Okay?"
Annabeth nodded, but didn't look at Thalia.
Thalia patted her shoulder and then cradled Mittens in her arms. Mittens' eyes opened and she looked surprised that she was suddenly being picked up. Thalia stood, but paused to look down at Annabeth.
Mittens' tail swayed back and forth as she lay on her back in Thalia's arms. She tilted her head and also looked at Annabeth and then meowed.
"Just…for once, don't let his death make you stupid."
Annabeth snorted.
Thalia smiled. "It's going to be okay,"
Annabeth nodded.
The girl carrying the cat walked away, scratching Mittens' head. She disappeared behind the door.
Annabeth was alone. She stared back out at the sky, where the sun was finally beginning to disappear. The dark blue began to swallow the orange, and night began to rise. The moon twinkled like a far away star, just beginning to approach the earth.
She stared at the blue in the sky. She thought about Luke, about his features. She thought about the good side of him that cared about the ones he loved. He might've been mixed up in some evil stuff, but that wasn't the part that mattered to Annabeth. He loved her, and she loved him—though it was never the way he and Thalia were in his last moments.
Annabeth thought about his smile and that laugh. The one that came from deep inside of him, growing out and making his voice rumble, he was so happy. She thought about that scar that suddenly appeared, but she erased it. In her mind, she completely reformed that good side in Luke—the one that's living happy in the spirit's world, wherever that may be, because Annabeth didn't know.
The Luke where nothing was wrong, where he wasn't running away, where he wasn't frowning, where he wasn't dealing in the wrong parts of town. The Luke she always knew, since high school and college, the one that helped her, the one that would do anything to save them.
The one where his blue eyes twinkled when he felt good. Where his smile made his eyes light up, and even when his mouth wasn't, his eyes were smiling.
Annabeth bit her fingernail and her gray eyes peered into that blue in the sky. She began to smile a little.
And then, in the echo of the city below her, she heard it. It rang throughout the streets and reached her, and ended there, as if it were meant for her. It was his laugh.
She began to smile a little, the laugh still in her ears.
The blue took shape in the sky. It smiled at her, lighting up.
Annabeth's eyes were wet as the shape took form, and made a clear outline in the clouds. She saw it—just for a split second.
She chuckled and grinned and a tear escaped. She wiped it away, blinking her long lashes. She stared back at the sky, where his smiling face still lingered.
"Hey, Luke," Annabeth said softly, her voice cracking.
The clouds smiled down at her.
It'll be okay.
I'm okay.
"I know you are." Annabeth responded.
His face disappeared, and a star took its place.
Annabeth had changed clothes and went to the one person she knew that would help her get over it. She went to the person who knew how to calm her down, and that person was someone she needed to help as well. It was someone she loved a little more than Luke now.
She knocked on his apartment door, but no one answered it. She waited for a couple seconds before knocking again. Still, no one. And then minutes passed. Annabeth began to wonder if he was in there, doing this on purpose, or if he really was gone.
She decided that she would come another time. Annabeth turned and walked away, her heart weighing in her chest.
"Hey, Annabeth," A voice said.
She looked up at the source of the voice.
"What are you doing here?" Percy asked. His hands were in the pockets of his blue jacket.
The corners of her mouth lifted upwards. "I was, um, going to talk to you."
"Oh." Percy said. "How long have you been standing there?"
"A couple minutes."
"Sorry. I was at the funeral with Nico."
Annabeth nodded.
"He stayed a little longer," he looked down at the floor.
"It's okay," she said. "I guess he's not taking it any lightly."
Percy shook his head.
"I can go, if you want—"
"No." Percy cut her off and he took one long stride and wrapped his arms around her body, burying his face into her shoulder. He hugged her tighter and all the pressure released from his system. She unlocked that in him, she made him feel secure. "Please don't go. I need someone,"
Annabeth hugged him back without shock. She immediately wrapped her arms around him, too. She hid her nose under the hood of his jacket and pressed her forehead against his neck, feeling his voice as it made goose bumps cross over her scalp.
"I need you." He added on.
She blinked, her gray eyes barely peeking out from behind his hood. Her voice cracked as she spoke, "I need you, too, Seaweed Brain."
They stayed that way for a little longer and a few tears escaped her eyes and dampened his hoodie, but then she remembered what Thalia/Luke had told her. Not to waste her tears. So she immediately stopped once she reminded herself that there was nothing to cry about—nothing to cry about when she was in Percy's arms.
He pulled back and stared at her. "Let's go inside, c'mon," he pulled her to the door that was a couple steps away and opened it, letting them both inside. He didn't let go of her hand.
They lay in his bed, the covers around them. That's all they did—just lay there, with their clothes on. Their arms and legs were tangled and locked and they wished they could just stay there for the rest of their lives.
The blinds were pulled up from his window and you could see right through it and get the front-row view of the moon. It glowed and cast a wave of silver over them both. They were wrapped in the comforter and blankets, so warm underneath them, but Annabeth was warmest just being next to Percy.
She realized then that she was never cold when she was around him. She never felt out of place, either. It was always as if this was where she had always meant to be.
"It was dark," Percy said in a low voice as he stared out the window. He didn't take his green eyes off of the moon.
Annabeth shifted her head on his chest, looking up at him from under his hard jaw. She was about to ask what, but then he continued.
"The abandoned house was completely empty. Still smelt like paint," he recalled as the memories flashed through his mind.
"Percy, you don't have to talk about it."
"I want to." He said and glanced down at her, but then back at the moon. "I think that, maybe if I tell you, it'll all go away."
This made her silent.
He hesitated before continuing. "I had never held a gun before. All I wanted to do was drop it. I could feel, in my gut, that this was a bad idea." He closed his eyes. "But I still led them in."
Annabeth still didn't say anything.
"We heard them from inside a room. They were talking about how they were going to kill us once they got what they wanted. They said that, if we didn't come or screwed them, they would go after you." He looked down at her. "They were going to hurt you, Annabeth. I couldn't let them do that."
Annabeth could feel and see how broken he was—in his eyes. They were cracking and she knew the tears would spill.
"Hey," she stretched out her fingers on his chest. "I'm okay now. They didn't hurt me—they didn't even go near me. It's okay."
"I know. But I hadn't known that then. They were also going to hurt Thalia. I wouldn't let them do any of that and I was so stupid. If I had thought, if I had planned what I was going to say before I barged in, maybe none of this would've happened. Maybe if I hadn't said that I could help them, then Luke and Bianca would still be alive."
"Don't think like that, don't say that."
"But it's true." Percy's brows creased together. "I didn't even know for sure if I was right. And I let them walk right into something they thought I was sure about, but really, didn't know anything about."
He swallowed and continued, "They were wearing hoods, covering their faces, like the cowards they are." He spat that out. "Bianca was there, and it was all up to me."
Percy was glad he was lying down in his bed, because then at least he was comfortable with confessing his mistakes. He could feel the mattress beneath his back.
"I tried talking to them, making some sort of deal. I met Apollo; I know what he looks like. And if I ever see him again—"
"You tell me, and I'll judo-flip him and kick him in the face so hard he pukes." Annabeth mumbled against his shirt.
Percy chuckled and she could feel his body rumble beneath her.
"Yeah, I will," he said. But then he frowned. "But that won't stop anything. The deal hadn't worked, I had blown my cover. And Luke came in. He saved me. I didn't save him. I still owe him."
"No, you don't, Percy."
"I never did anything in return," he said softly.
"Yes, you did. You carried his message to Thalia. Then you helped Nico. You're equal with it."
Percy sighed. "It doesn't feel like it."
"It never will. But you have to learn to move past it, Percy,"
"I know." He closed his eyes, and suddenly, he felt so tired. "We ran and they shot Bianca. I went back to help her, and they shot her again. She was bleeding too much," images of Bianca's blood all over the floor flashed in his mind. "She told me to help Nico. And then she…" he trailed off. It burned in his memories when he looked at her and the light left her eyes—the look of her knowing that she was going to be gone the next time she closed her eyes—blazed back at him.
Annabeth reached up and stroked his cheek, kissing the other one. "Percy," she said softly.
He drew in a deep breath and continued, "I had to go because Apollo was coming. I ran away. I met up in the room with Luke and Nico, and I couldn't tell him that I—that his sister was gone. Luke was trying to tell me something." Percy squeezed his eyes, trying to remember.
"'Percy, listen', he had said. But I didn't. I couldn't because I was still thinking about Bianca. He was trying to tell me that he had gotten help. I wasn't listening though. And if I had, I could've heard Apollo coming."
Annabeth shook her head. "You couldn't have. You couldn't have done anything different."
"I could have prevented the bullet." Percy said.
Another lump formed in Annabeth's throat. "No. Stop beating yourself up for it."
Percy opened his eyes. "He looked so happy when he died." His breath was heavy. "I had never seen a person die with a smile on their face—not a bitter smile, a graceful one. Like he was truly happy."
Tears threatened to come up again, and she tried to push them down, but they didn't. Annabeth let loose and they filled her eyesight. Percy felt them on his shirt. He pulled her closer and kissed her honey blond hair. "I'm sorry, Annabeth. I'm—"
"Don't. Percy," she twisted onto her stomach and then put both of her hands on his cheeks, holding his face, staring into his deep, sea-green eyes. "You don't have to be sorry for anything," he reached up and swiped his thumb over her tears that fell as she spoke. "You've fixed all that was needed to be fixed."
"Except for you." He said. His eyes swept all over her face, half of it in the moonlight, the other half in the shadows.
Annabeth stared at him and he swallowed. "You, you helped me. Just now, in ways you can't even imagine." He paused for a moment, and then added on, "I love you, and everything about you. Your entire being is a part of me—the way you think, the way you feel, who you like, who you don't like—you're a part of my memories now."
She kept staring, and her eyebrows furrowed. His words surprised her so much she could barely decipher what he was saying.
He shook his head a little and a smile split across his face. Percy's thumb reached up and he smoothed it over her eyebrows, unfurrowing them. "No," he said, "stop thinking, Wise Girl,"
Annabeth opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out.
Percy leaned up and pressed his lips against hers, holding it there, and enveloping her aura. His hand went behind her head to hold her tighter, but he didn't need to do that because Annabeth's fingers curled around his neck. She closed her eyes and kissed him, too.
He stopped and looked back, staring at her. In the moonlight, one of her gray eyes twinkled while the other one was a shadow. He leaned up again, his lips planting a kiss right next to her lips. He planted another one on her jaw. He let his lips glide all over her face.
They were healing each other, wrapped in each other's arms, in each other's warmth. They needed to be with each other, they knew, it's like they were tied together, bound together, like they were each other's air to breathe. Annabeth was glad she had stopped by.
On this night, in this moment, they forgot about death, about sadness, about troubles that were troubling them because that all faded, that was all forgotten and unimportant when the only thing they were focused on was being with the other.
I enjoyed writing this. :) I really did.
So I'm dreading tomorrow because I have to run seven laps. My school thinks that we don't get enough exercise, so they make us dress-out and compare us to a woman who has worked out all her life. I'm like, are you kidding?! I walk around the entire campus just to get to my next class! I get enough exercise every day!
It's stupid, I know. But I'm not a running person. I write and I draw - I don't do outside activities.
That is why I'm posting this up today because all of your reviews make me so very happy! I read each and every one of your reviews, and PMs and I love them all! Please review and sign that petition!
Oh, and this is off-topic, but I saw City of Bones last weekend. SOOO GOOOOD! If you haven't read the books, then that's okay, because the movie is so close to the book. Everything about this movie was great! And Jace is beautiful, so that's automatically a great movie! But seriously, it was good; I recommend you go see it if you haven't already! :)
Enjoy the rest of the week! Please tell me if you liked this chapter! :))