Part V. Family Tree

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December 22, 2022

Annabeth's never been adventurous.

It can be fun from time to time, but she usually prefers to stay in her own bed, warm under the covers with a movie playing in the background. That's why she is where she is now, curled into a ball with her laptop on the bed next to her, watching short episodes of a show she doesn't recognize.

She is vaguely aware that her stepmother's hosting a Christmas party that night, but she wants nothing to do with it so she tries to go unnoticed. It works for an hour, but then her stepmother is at her bedroom store, giving her a judgmental stare and asking her to clean up before joining them downstairs.

She's only slightly offended changing out of her Rudolph themed pajamas, but she's also used to the looks from someone that never really considered Annabeth her own daughter. She's not, however, used to the superficial decorations that line the banister of the stairs, even with as many times as she's seen them. She'll never be used to the monotone Christmas tree and crystal champagne glasses carried around by people that only show up to maintain the perfect family image.

Annabeth recognizes some of the people from when she was younger. They all look the same, having been relatively old before she left. They were the same people to pinch her cheeks and lewdly praise her for her intelligence as though she wouldn't see the knowing looks shared with her parents. She's not dense. She knows her stepmother must have been saying something about her to warrant the shared glances among the upper middle class men.

The house is pretty with warm yellow lights wrapped on every corner, a tall tree in the center of the living room with boxes wrapped in gold. There's a glass village set up on the table by the front door, and she recalls when she was seven years old and peeking over the edge to get a closer look at the townspeople. She accidentally knocked over one of the pieces, and it was followed by a scolding from her father's wife. She doesn't know if she ever wants kids of her own, but she does know that if she did, she would never want to be like her stepmother. Even now that she's older, she steers away from the decoration, and so even with how beautiful her house is, it will never truly feel warm.

Downstairs is crowded with her stepmother's friends, so she worms through the crowd looking for someone bearable. They all look too stuffy for her liking, and she thinks she catches someone that's known her since she was a toddler staring a little too close at her in her black jeans and white sweater, so she continues on, purposely ducking out of her parents' sights to avoid being held by their side for the remainder of the night.

It works for the most part, and then someone's grabbing the back of her arm by the cocktail table, and she nearly has a heart attack.

"Isn't this your party?" Percy asks, letting go of her. He sips his drink. "You could've showed up earlier than two hours in."

"Don't do that," she hisses, rubbing her arm. As far as she's aware, he doesn't usually show up to parties, much less Christmas parties thrown by his ex-girlfriend's parents, so she hadn't been expecting to see him. She wants to feel awkward, to turn around and add him to her hiding list, but all she can bring herself to feel is relief at the friendly face. "Why are you here?"

Percy sighs and glances disinterestedly at the second Christmas tree they happen to be standing by, decorated in silver and gold tinsel. "Did you know our parents were friends? Because I definitely hadn't."

No, she hadn't known that. His mom was always the sweetest, treating her like the daughter she never had, and her parents were the opposite. She never would've thought their parents would mesh well, especially after Annabeth left everyone without looking back.

"Anyway, my mom has been dragging me here for years," he says, giving her an accusatory look. "I didn't mind so much this year thinking you'd show up, but two hours?"

"It would've been the whole night," she says, because what else can she say? Is she supposed to acknowledge that he'd been looking for her?

It's certainly a thought. Him looking for her in her own parents party, like her own personal savior because she's really not sure who else she could spend the time with without ending the night in tears. She's sure Piper is around somewhere considering who her father is, but it's also possible that she pulled a few strings to dip, which is significantly harder for Annabeth to do as the daughter of the hosts. Maybe she doesn't mind too much, though, because Percy looks comforting as ever, warm in an old sweater she used to take the best naps in. He's holding a cup filled with…she's not sure, but he's also giving her an amused grin, even tilting his head a bit.

"Annabeth?" he prompts.

"Hm?"

He laughs. "Are you alright, or does your family already have you on the brink of insanity?"

"Definitely the second."

"We don't have to stay," he proposes. "I can drive us somewhere."

Annabeth groans. "I'd never hear the end of it."

"Why don't we sit outside, then?"

She gives him a scolding look.

"Six years, Annabeth. I'm sure they'll understand." And then, "I'll take the blame if they say something."

Annabeth doesn't think her stepmother would fall for that. She's twenty-four now, but still feels like a petrified child standing face to face with her, but hey, what's one more scolding?

The backyard is filled, the few children dragged along by their parents playing in the snow, so they wind up sitting on the front porch. He sits on the wooden swing while she stands along the railing for a bit, peering out at the other homes. The other homes house kids, she knows, and she can see hints of the Christmas trees propped up behind windows. They're colorful and lively, unlike the one in her parents' living room, and she can imagine that the kids there grow up with happy holidays, forming memories that can be passed down generations as the family tree grows. Even the outside of the homes are welcoming, the yard across from theirs with a few lopsided snowmen landing wherever the snowball becomes too heavy for toddlers to continue pushing.

"Are you going to stand there the whole time?"

Annabeth looks at him over her shoulder. "Did you need something?"

He shrugs, leaning back into the swing. It sways softly from the force he exerts using his foot against the ground. The creaking is barely audible over the faint chattering behind the front door mixed with the wind.

They used to sit there often after school when he walked her home but she didn't want to go in yet. That was one spot she could spend hours at, rocking back and forth with him by her side. If she sits, he'll still be by her side, but it won't ever be the same. He'll keep his hands pointedly in his lap, leaning an elbow against the paint-chipped armrest instead of wrapping his arm around her.

She never really fell out of love with him. Breakups in general hurt, but she's jealous of the people that breakup because they can't stand to be with each other anymore. It would be easier to pretend she hated him, to pretend that she could move on and fall in love with someone else. She tried, but it ended quickly with her tearing down the tower of something that could've been beautiful because as beautiful as it was, it would never be better than what she had with Percy.

She'll let herself pretend. At least for this weekend.

She settles next to him, a foot of space between them, and her back rests against the wooden railing. It digs uncomfortably into her spine, but she ignores it, kicking a leg up to rest it flat against the seat and resting her chin on her knee.

"Do you remember the last time we were here?"

Annabeth laughs, pressing her cheek to her knee. "How could I? We used to sit here all the time."

"It was April. The same year you left."

And it all comes rushing back.

When you know how something is going to end, there are good days and bad days. After she told him she was leaving, there were a lot of good days. Then, later on, the bad days came more often. There were days where he couldn't look at her before she left, even though they were still technically dating. They would go days without touching, and every day felt like putting one foot in front of the other.

There was one day in between all the bad ones. That's the one he's thinking of right now.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into that," she giggles, closing her eyes to relive the memories.

"I didn't think you'd go along with it."

It doesn't take much for her to agree with what he says. So long as he was holding her hand and giving her that sweet smile, she would have agreed to anything he said back then. Maybe she was inclined that specific day because it was the first day he'd looked at her like nothing was wrong since the day after Christmas, and maybe it was because she thought it may have been the last.

"God, skipping prom just to piss off your mom," Percy says, smiling brightly. She can see the image in his eyes, the memories playing on repeat. "It was the best idea I've ever had."

"I was really looking forward to prom," she tells him. "And then you came to me suggesting we ditch, and then I got in so much trouble."

"I took the blame!"

"Well, they don't have anything against you."

Her recollection is blurry, but the feelings associated with it are not. Pulling it off hadn't been easy, but when the texts flooded in from their friends missing them at the venue, they ignored them. It was a million times better spending what she knew would be their last good day laying on top of Percy's dented prius staring up at the night sky. She counted stars until her eyes couldn't focus anymore, and she fell asleep like that, head on Percy's chest, dressed to impress.

When she woke up to him gently brushing hair out of her face, lips tracing her ear to whisper that it was time to go, she knew that would be their last good day.

They broke up soon after, and she left.

"Do you regret it?"

Annabeth breathes softly and leans back against the seat. "No, I don't think so."

"You don't think so?" Percy teases. "You sound sure."

"There are a lot of things I would change about the past," she admits. "I'm not sure that's one of them."

"What would you change then?"

"I'd get another cat."

"Two cats? That's very daring of you."

"I'm serious! Imagine Maisie with a friend."

"I don't need to imagine it. I've been with her for years and I can tell you right now she does not take kindly to other animals."

Annabeth snickers and threads her fingers through her hair. "Yeah, I can imagine that. Maybe that's what I'd change."

"Taking Maisie in?"

"Taking her with me to California," she replies. She tilts her head, eyes focused on the snow resting on the neighbor's house. "She was made for the LA life."

Percy hums. She can hear him shifting in his seat, but she doesn't tear her eyes away from the sparkling snow until he lifts a leg onto his lap and lets himself face her.

"Tell me about California."

"What do you want to know?"

"What's it like?"

"It's…"

California is a difficult place to describe. There's the usual beautiful and sunny, but her experiences there run deeper than that. East Aurora and LA are opposites, and she's grown used to both. It's hard to remember what the other is like while she's not there.

Memories flood back to her. It seems like eternity ago that she was sitting with Connor on the floor of her apartment side by side. He was looking at her, but she was looking at the lone ring that laid on the coffee table, cursed and lovely. It taints the rest of the memories.

"You would have loved it," she settles on. "LA is a bit overwhelming at times, but it's funny to pass celebrities on the streets. Outside of LA is my favorite. If you go further into the desert, there's less light pollution so you can see the Milky Way."

"Like during prom?"

"Honestly better."

Percy feigns an insulted gasp.

"The Grand Canyon is insane. It took me a few years to visit once I started living there, but for my birthday, my friend took me on a road trip to see it."

"Connor, right?"

Annabeth freezes, and Percy laughs.

"I may not have been a big part of your life, but I was still around. He seems like a great guy."

So much is great.

Connor agrees to her spontaneous road trips like a great boyfriend. Percy planned them. Connor asked for her favorite foods and brought them to her when she was sick. Percy never had to ask. He already knew.

"Is he why you came back?"

"No," she breathes. "No, I came back because I ran there to escape, and it worked, but then I felt like I was suffocating, and I didn't know where else to go except home."

"Home?"

"It's funny, isn't it? Never thought I'd end up wanting to come back here, and then life fell apart and here I am."

He doesn't ask why her life fell apart. If he's been lurking in the background for years, watching her life in pictures through a tiny screen, then he's already connected the dots.

She's thankful he doesn't ask. She's not ready to face it yet.

"You can have two homes, y'know? I know you're going to have to go back, but it doesn't mean you have to stay there forever. You don't need to avoid it here."

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," she admits. "When you're young, you know everything. You have your future set and know how everything will unfold, and—and then adults laugh like it's cute you think you'll ever do anything worthy with your life. I may not have predicted this, but I knew what I wanted for myself more than the adults in my life. I knew I needed to get out, and so I did, and now I'm lost."

"Oh, you're not lost."

"I definitely am."

"You're here right now."

"I barely remember my way around."

"You remembered your way to my bookstore just fine."

Annabeth rolls her eyes.

"When you go back to California, just promise to think of me every once in a while, okay?"

His words hold something that runs deep between the two of them. They could never work—not when he's in New York and she's thousands of miles away—but he's not asking for her to make it work. He's asking for her to remember that he's there. It's such a simple request, and she realizes how much she must have hurt him. He doesn't have it in him to fight. All he wants is for her to remember him.

She wants more.

She's always wanted more. It lingers in the back of her thoughts, suppressed by people she surrounds herself with in California, but it's there. He doesn't want more.

Annabeth swears she's going to say something then. She's going to open her mouth to say okay, to promise that she won't disappear again, to have the occasional phone call to shit talk Drew and get updates about their cat, but then her attention is pulled away from where her stepmother pushes open the front door.

She doesn't miss the judgmental stare.

"When I asked you downstairs, did you really think I meant for you to disappear outside the rest of the night?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Chase. I asked her to sit with me."

The change in demeanor is instantaneous. Her stepmom is smiling at Percy, and she hates that she's always the one to fall victim to her stepmom's punishment.

"Oh, Percy, dear, it's not your fault. Don't worry about it. Annabeth should've known better."

"Of course I should've," Annabeth says. "Silly me."

"Drop the attitude. You're too old for this."

"I'm sitting on the porch," she laughs, exasperated. "I'm allowed to sit with a friend."

"You and I both know your intention was to avoid everyone else. It wasn't to catch up with Percy."

If there's one thing her stepmother's good at, it's keeping a calm facade while making sure her words leave scars. The words aren't too harsh, but Annabeth still feels like a child being scolded at night, minuscule in a giant world, and that's what cuts her deep.

"You came here to see family, and now that I've arranged something for you to catch up with them, you're going to avoid them?"

Annabeth laughs. "Do you think I wanted to come home? You practically dragged me here!"

Percy grabs her leg gently, a quiet signal for her to back down. He's seen how this ends before, and she knows he's trying to prevent her from reaching the point of tears.

"If you don't want to be here, then you are welcome to find somewhere else."

The waves come crashing down.

Her stepmom disappears back inside the house without sparing a glance. Annabeth stares back at the neighbors house, wondering if it's filled with genuine love. Percy is somewhere beside her still, but he hasn't spoken. If she had to guess, he's staring at her carefully, like she's a dam about to break, unmoving to stop any individual piece from dislodging and letting the tears start falling.

"Shit, Annabeth, I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," she says, blinking slowly. "It's always mine, right?"

"No, it's not. You didn't deserve that."

"Mhm."

Her throat burns. She always finds herself estranged wherever she goes, and the only common factor is herself.

She got herself into this mess. She left Percy, left this town, left her friends, left Connor, and is going to leave Percy again. It's her.

"I'm going to go," she says quietly. She stands from the swing, listening for the familiar croak of rusted metal. Her eyes are still trained on the house she wishes was hers.

"Where?"

Annabeth wipes a tear she hasn't been aware was falling with the sleeve of her sweater. "I don't know."

"I'll drive you."

"I don't need you to drive me."

"Just let me drive you."

Silence.

"Get in the car, Annabeth."

She left. She left. She left.

Annabeth swings around now. "Why are you here?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I left," she says, her eyes burning. "I left." The words are beginning to lose meaning. "I made a decision to take the stupid road to LA. I broke everything, and I keep doing it, so why are you here?"

"Give yourself a break. You did what you had to."

Annabeth giggles, a bit delirious. "Is that really what you think?"

"It hurt watching you walk away, but there is not a single day that I would have wanted you here with me if it meant putting you through something you weren't prepared to handle."

Annabeth cries.

"Six fucking years spent running from this place," she sobs. "The only good thing I've ever had is gone because I couldn't stand to be here. My own dad ran me away, and now I lost you, and there's nothing I can do."

"I am right here."

She should've expected it. He's always there.

"Stay the night," he says. "You can take my bed. I'll stay in the living room."

Annabeth wipes her tears. She's just now noticing how cold she feels. "I'm not taking your bed, Percy. I'll be fine. I can drive to a hotel."

"I don't want you driving like this."

That's what love feels like. It's the warmth in a blizzard. It's being there after years of silence because loving someone doesn't simply end at the snap of fingers.

That's what she lost.

It's hard not collapsing in his arms, even when he wraps her in them like he knows how she's about to crumble. It's hard not to listen for the beat of his heart, to shove her nose into the warmth of his body. Everything about this is hard.

When he pulls away, she knows she's going home with him. She still doesn't get it. She'll never understand how he's able to stand in front of her like this. She tells him as much.

His gaze is daring, and for the first time, she spots frustration.

"I am here because, believe it or not, people can still love you even when you hurt them."

merry christmas gorgeous people. hope u had a great day xx do let me know what u think!