Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I love you.”

Those were the words she’d uttered out weeks before, the last words she’d said to him since then. Annabeth has been avoiding Percy all this time. Since he’d been above her with his face tucked against the crook of her neck and her hands pressing into his back. Their movements had felt intimate and she’d breathed out the words, lips pressed against the shell of his ear.

It felt so intimate.

She was so stupid.

She was so stupid, sitting on her bathroom floor with a positive pregnancy test in her hand and her knees pressed to her chest like a child having a tantrum.

Annabeth hadn’t trusted easily, but after everything she’d been so foolish. The past couple of weeks had clouded her judgment so profusely. Everything had just felt so good. His touch and how their eyes would meet in a crowd; how he’d been able to make her laugh so easily and feel safe when it was just the two of them.

It all felt so good. And really, she should’ve known better, because it had never felt like this. All the boys who’d claimed to love her in the past had only hurt her over and over. And, really, her and Percy had never been dating to start with. She’d only been a distraction from his breakup with Calypso. She’d known that it was all an illusion from some part of her brain that was still logical. But something in her chest was on fire, kept warm by his eyes and his kindness and his fingers intertwined with hers when it was only the two of them behind closed doors.

And she’d loved him for it. She still loved him. So much. Annabeth loves Percy Jackson so much it hurts.

Red hot anger blinds her for a moment, heating her cheeks and stinging her eyes. Because this wasn’t fair. He should’ve been more careful. He should’ve loved her properly. But at the end of it all, Annabeth finds she’s only angry with herself; she finds that she cannot stop loving him. Perhaps she should’ve been more careful. Perhaps she shouldn’t have loved him so intensely for so long. Annabeth raises her fist and collides it with the bathroom wall of her and Piper’s apartment. She doesn’t break through it, but her fist aches. Pain flairs through her hand and she curses under her breath as she waits for it to subside.

It throbs after a while as she cradles it against her chest, breathing in and out. She would make a terrible mother.

She remains in her place on the floor, her thighs pressed against cold tile as she tries to catch her breath, shaking. Fuck. That’s how she stays till Piper gets home from work that night. Annabeth doesn’t know how long she’d been sitting there, mulling over her situation. Annabeth sat up on her knees, staring down at the test in her palm till they ached with her weight. He’d never usually come inside her, but the last time they’d been together had been frantic. And when she told him she’d loved him, they’d finished before he’d left quickly, hardly uttering a word. She’d cried herself to sleep that night at her mistake.

Piper knocks on the door as Annabeth tucks the pregnancy test into the trash can, carefully placing other trash above it. She would have to move it later on but now anxiety had her shaking. She winced at the movement of her right hand, and tried to keep it still. This is what she’d resorted to. Digging in her bathroom trash bin to make sure the person she was closest with didn’t know she was pregnant.

Pregnant. With a baby. With cells that would eventually turn into a little human being if she didn’t make a selfless decision quickly. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t do this to a child or Percy for that matter. But something deep inside made her hesitate.

She could make this go away now. It wasn’t too late. Annabeth could tell no one and take care of this herself. She’s done everything for herself up until this point anyways. She’d be relieved. She could move on.

So why was there a voice in the back of her mind whispering that wasn’t what she really wanted?

It was a selfish voice, but still clear and overbearing. She thought about Percy then. Maybe he’d resent her forever for this. Maybe he’d accuse her of wanting to trap him in this life and the thought made her panic.

Maybe she’d leave the city. She could move back to San Francisco and stay with her father for a while. It would be torture but her father would let her, and she could start a new life for her and this child. Annabeth could have this baby and leave her friends behind. She’d have no one but it’d be a new start. The idea was so crazy but a million thoughts were running through her mind all at once and she was on the verge of a panic attack. Her breathing was heavy and her heart pounded against her chest rapidly. Her throat was tight and hot flashes set her skin ablaze. She had to calm down right now but the realness of the moment had her somewhere far away.

Piper chose that moment to knock on the door, pounding her fist against the wood dramatically. “Annabeth! Come on, I have to pee so bad!” Annabeth jumps, holding her wrist quickly at the pain the movement jolts from her wrist to the rest of her body. She hears Piper but can’t respond, dazed. So instead she stays silent hoping she’ll go away, hoping that everything and everyone will just fucking go away.

But Piper doesn’t go away. She pushes the door open instead. The lock had been broken for months and their landlord hadn’t cared enough to do anything about it. Annabeth turns to look up at her from where she still knelt. Piper seems surprised, her eyes widening. Annabeth had always been cool and collected unless something horrible had happened, and now, she was heaving out breaths on the bathroom floor.

“I think I broke my hand,” is all she can utter.
-
Annabeth doesn’t see Percy again till almost a week later.

She sits at a bar stool miserably, sipping water. Percy and Calypso had shown up together and Annabeth didn't know they were even talking again until they were already there. Just seeing his face made heat rise up in Annabeth’s cheeks and bile rise in her throat. She’d been sick the past couple days and Annabeth was still so unsure of what to do. She made herself sick with worry on top of her symptoms, trying to force herself into a decision on her own. But she’d felt so alone this past week, a heavy dread crushing her like a weight.

She often had to remind herself to even eat.

And then, Annabeth had made up her mind. If she wasn’t positive she wanted this baby by the end of the week, she’d have an abortion. She wouldn’t think about any of this after, and she certainly wouldn’t think about him. Annabeth wasn’t going to make the same mistake. She was going to start over and act how she should’ve when she first came to this city.

Annabeth wouldn’t have a baby if there was even the slightest chance this child would feel unwanted. She would never fucking do that. And when Percy tries to meet her gaze that night, she keeps her own staring down at her broken hand, wrapped in a cast. How dare he try and look at her after leaving her in bed all those weeks ago and showing up with another girl. She bit her lip, trying to keep her stinging eyes at bay. Fuck this, she hadn’t even wanted to come tonight. But Piper had been so worried about her lately.

When she’d found her on the bathroom floor with glassy eyes and purple knuckles, she’d thought Luke might have shown up again. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d gotten bored with whatever had been going on in his own life and came looking for her once more; for her validation and care. To treat her like an escape. Just another thing to think about if she was going to have this baby. In the end, all the guilt had overcame her and she’d given into Piper’s wishes. She’d already put Piper through enough, and perhaps she could hang out with her friends and distract herself for the night, if only that. But now everyone else was drunk and she’d taken up the job of scanning the crowd once in a while, making sure her friends were all being safe. Especially Piper who’d been mixing her alcohol. Annabeth was alone with her thoughts and they were creeping back up on her with a vengeance.

Annabeth sighs, resting her head against her folded arms on the counter. A tear leaks down her cheek to her surprise. The feeling is so sudden and Annabeth is just so tired. She’d held it together all week, and she just had to hold it out a little longer. But her eyes are heavy and she’d worked all day. Her hand ached even now and she could feel her eyes shutting beneath the lights and despite the music and people thrumming in her ears.

She feels a hand press against her head and jumps, jolted by the exchange. She knows his gentle touch from the second his palm is on her and Annabeth hates herself for it. She had nearly forgotten. Not everyone else would be drinking tonight, because Percy never did.

“How drunk are you?” He asks in greeting, examining her face as if he really cared.

She narrows her eyes at him, but her cheeks heat up anyway. She hopes he can’t notice under the tinted lights of the club. “Not drunk enough for us to be talking right now,” she spits out, leaning her head back down against her arms. She can feel his presence besides her. He’s hurt. Good, she thinks. He’s worried. And she tells herself it doesn’t matter but it does.

“Hey,” he starts again, close enough to keep his voice low and still be heard over the music.

“Hi,” she says back, defeated, because she missed him. Annabeth missed him more than she wanted to admit.

“I’ve missed you,” he tells her, as if he’d read her mind and her heart clenches at his words. But then she remembers he came here tonight with his girlfriend. And she’s angry again. She laughs bitterly.

“Go find your girlfriend, Percy,” she says dismissively, like she’s over it as she sits up straight. And really, she is. Annabeth has bigger things to think about than Percy’s friendship. She couldn’t have a baby with him and it was so evident now.

“What happened to your hand?” Percy asks, completely ignoring her. Annabeth almost feels annoyed. Maybe she wanted to fight with him and get it all out. That would surely feel better than this. But a wave of nausea rolls over her suddenly and Annabeth doesn’t have it in her.

“I broke it trying to punch a hole in my wall,” she tells him honestly, like it’s the most obvious explanation in the world. Percy and Piper were the closest people Annabeth had had to a family since she’d moved to the city. And when Luke had shown up at her doorstep, memories of her childhood had given her panic attacks nearly every night. The fear made her fall apart and they’d helped put her back together again. Guilt curled in the pit of her stomach whenever they were worried about her. Perhaps she was only a burden.

Sometimes Annabeth found herself in bed at night attempting to list off the things that made her worth the struggle. She could hardly come up with anything.

And here, in front of Percy, she’d realized whatever they had once had was ruined. It was ruined the second she let him pull her close and slip a hand between her legs. It was ruined the second she’d given in to the way he made her feel. But now the silence between them is too long and there’s nothing for Annabeth to say.

She could tell him she was pregnant. She could say it here and now. But as the silence continued to stretch on, the truth became more of a reality. She wasn’t going to do that.

So instead, Annabeth moves to stand.

“Annabeth, I-“ Percy starts. He seems panicked, as if she’s slipping out of his grasp and he’s trying to decide on words quickly before it’s too late.

“Don’t,” she tells him, forcing a smile. It would never be the same between them again. Because she loved him and he didn’t feel the same. Because they could possibly be having a child, a real baby together, and he didn’t know. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.” As soon as she says the words, Annabeth knows she doesn’t believe them. Not really. Sometimes when the hurt took over she tried to remind herself what she knew all along. Percy and Calypso had been dating on and off ever since highschool, since before she’d met either of them. He’d had her on a pedestal for so fucking long and it wasn’t going to change anytime soon. Annabeth couldn’t compete with that. And she’d been a fool to go and try so hard.

“No, please. Let me-” Annabeth’s face twists in discomfort, her skin turning pale and she can’t focus on his words. The feeling is awful and familiar. “You okay?”

She isn’t. She’s going to throw up right here all over his fucking shoes. Annabeth pushes past him and through the crowd until she reaches the bathroom, pushing open a stall and not bothering to close it. She drops to her knees against the dirty, cold tile, not concerned with anything other than dumping out the contents of her stomach.
Her head is pounding and she’s trying to breathe between heaves.

Percy comes to kneel beside her, leaning against his heels. He presses his hand against her back to rub soothing circles in her skin, exposed
by her flowy open back dress. He can feel the way her breath staggers and knows she’s panicking. He was always so good at seeing through her. Annabeth wonders if she’ll be able to hide this from him much longer. The thought makes her panic more. Their bond, whatever it was, made her vulnerable. The feeling made her resentful.

“Stop, just stop,” she panics, annoyance evident in her voice while she pulls away from him. Annabeth sits trying to catch her breath. She can’t let him see her like this. Annabeth had trusted him. She’d let him see her naked and opened up her heart to him. Whatever the fuck that meant. She’d embraced his hurt. Then he’d made her feel like a fucking idiot. She wouldn’t feel that way again. Ever again. “Don’t touch me.” Her anger is evident in her tone.

Percy looks surprised. They’d argued plenty but she’d never dared to be this cold towards him. But he recovers quickly. Percy fights a battle among his face, features shifting from guilt to annoyance to worry in a mere instant. They sit there together, face to face in the bathroom stall while Annabeth catches her breath with her face between her knees. He doesn’t know what to say to her.

“Annabeth. What’s going on?” He asks, wording his question more like he’s talking to himself. His eyes drift back to her hand. “Did Luke call you?” He asks and Annabeth sees red.

“What? Are you and Piper talking about me behind my back now?” Annabeth asks, eyes stinging. She couldn’t get a handle on her emotions lately and everything hurt.

“We’re just worried about you, Annabeth,” he starts, reaching out to put his hand on her knee soothingly. But had he not fucking heard her before? “I was worried about you.” She pushes his hand away.

“No,” she starts, shaking her head. “No, you don’t get to say that to me. You don’t get to talk about how fucking worried you are about me.”

“Annabeth, you’re my friend,” he said, defensively. “Of course I’m worried about you.”

“Friend,” she laughs out, too bitter in her own ears. They had been close for a while now but every conversation they had always ended in bickering or fucking. “You didn’t treat me like a friend when you were lonely,” she says and his face drops. “You treated me like a stupid whore.” He takes the accusation like a punch to the face, almost flinching at the tone of her words. At first, she thought they’d been using each other all that time. They were both looking for some company, some way to spend their time to keep from being alone with their thoughts. But it’d been too late when she realized she’d loved him. And she still loves him now, infuriated and wiping vomit from the corner of her mouth.

Friends, god. Want to have a baby? Annabeth thinks about asking him then and there. Lets have a fucking baby.

Annabeth stands slowly, pressing her palm to the walls to steady herself. She closes her eyes for a moment and rinses her mouth, cupping water in her hand. “Annabeth,” is all he can utter before she’s speaking again.

“And you don’t have to worry about me anymore,” she promises. “J- just stay away from me,” she tells him, voice breaking.

He catches up to her, trying to wrap his fingers around her wrist before she can leave him there, alone in the women’s bathroom. “Wait!”

“Stay the fuck away from me,” she repeats, more assertive, pulling away harshly. Percy doesn’t try to stop her after that.

Annabeth leaves with tears stinging in her eyes and the taste of throw up still in her mouth.
-
It’s Piper’s birthday and Annabeth is sitting, hands pressed to the rug, with her weight shifted against her palms and her friend's head in her lap.

And Annabeth was about to make a huge mistake.

All the girls were sleeping over, and she had made sure everything was perfect. She wanted Piper to have the best birthday. She deserved it. Piper and Jason had just broken up and she’d said no boys. Which was perfectly fine with Annabeth. She was sick of boys. So here they all were, at a slumber party like they were fifteen years old. Annabeth didn’t mind. She’d never gotten to go to a slumber party before.

“Are you okay?” Piper had asked Annabeth before anyone else had gotten there and she’d rolled her eyes good naturedly.

“Of course I’m okay,” she’d said. “Are you okay?” Annabeth laughed. If she made Piper feel badly on her birthday, she’d never forgive herself.
Piper watched her carefully as Annabeth slipped on her skirt.

“I will be once I accept I shouldn’t drink tonight,” she’d whined and Annabeth had been grateful the subject was dropped.

But now, sitting across from Calypso, she wasn’t so sure she would be okay. Her hair was shiny, falling over her shoulders in perfect, straight tendrils. Her lashes were dark and her eyes pretty brown. She was so smart. Calypso could be snarky sometimes but she was quick and caring and overall a good person. Annabeth dug her nails into her palm. She was pregnant with her boyfriend’s baby and the thought made her sick. Calypso was going to hate her. Then again, they’d never been close. Annabeth had always felt a bit jealous and Calypso had always been annoyed with how close Annabeth had seemed to get with her boyfriend.

God, would she hate to know the secret that’s been weighing Annabeth down these past couple weeks. Something sick and twisted inside of her thinks she may feel satisfied with the realization.

Hazel tries to get Annabeth’s attention, passing her a piece of pizza and smiling at her sweetly. She just grins back and accepts the offer. “Thank you,” she tells the younger girl. Fuck this, she had to shake herself from her stupor before it affected the night.

But Annabeth realizes it’s too late when Rachel comes back from the bathroom with her pregnancy test. Fuck. She loves Rachel but why the fuck did she have to be so goddamn nosy. Piper moves to sit up quickly. Annabeth’s cheeks heat a bit and her heart races. What the fuck was she going to say?

This was it. She should’ve moved the test. She should’ve taken out the trash. But she’d forgotten. How fucking stupid. And she hadn’t even been able to keep this secret for two weeks. Everyone would be angry with her. She’d ruined Piper’s birthday. Calypso would tell Percy and everyone would hate her. She’d be back where she started before she took up Piper’s ad for a roommate.

Annabeth would be alone.

“It’s mine,” Piper says casually and Annabeth looks up, eyes wide. She tries to meet her friend's gaze but Piper refuses, looking around the room at their other friends. Annabeth remains quiet, like a coward. How could she let Piper do this for her? She was the worst friend ever. “I’m pregnant,” Piper confesses. And only Annabeth knows it’s not true.

“Oh my god, Piper,” Rachel says, surprise lacing her voice. Hazel moves closer to Piper to place a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “That's why you aren’t drinking,” she guesses and Piper nods. The only reason she wasn’t drunk was because her father was flying in to have lunch with her, and she didn’t want a hangover. Annabeth has to refrain from letting out a hysterical giggle.

“Is it Jason’s?” Calypso asks, moving to cup Piper’s hand.

“I- yes,” Piper says. It comes off as simply nervousness but Annabeth knows Piper’s stuttering comes from being put on the spot. Afterwards, Piper goes on to tell an entire dramatic saga, but Annabeth has already checked out, staring into space. Piper had just fucking saved her and she’d done it smoothly. Annabeth owed her more than just a fun birthday party now. Maybe she’d want her first born.

It isn’t till later that Piper catches Annabeth alone. She excused herself to go to the bathroom and Piper found her in her bedroom with her head in her hands.

She looks up to see her best friend standing in the doorway, wearing an expression that is so unfamiliar and seeming very far.

“I’m sorry,” she tells her, voice hushed and tears filling her eyes. Annabeth blinks them back because this wasn’t about her. What she’d just let Piper do out there was horrible and she couldn’t forgive herself. “Thank you so much.”

Piper just watches, silently, as if she can’t think of anything to say. Her eyes seem confused and frustrated and perhaps a little bit sad too. She feels betrayed, Annabeth realizes.

“I knew,” is all she utters out, speaking as if she was talking to herself. “I knew it. You were sick and acting so strange.”

“You knew?” Annabeth asks, stupidly.

“Of course,” Piper says, suddenly sounding angry. “Of course I fucking knew, Annabeth. You’re my best friend and we live together.” Annabeth looks at her hands, biting down on her lip till she tasted blood. “I was waiting for you to say something.” Piper sounds so hurt suddenly that Annabeth hates herself. She can see Piper’s eyes become watery. “You could have just told me,” she breathes out.

“I wanted to- Piper, I- I wanted to tell you so badly. But it’s complicated,” she tries to reason and Piper raises her eyebrows at her.

“So complicated that you couldn’t explain it to me? I’m not stupid, Annabeth! I would have understood. I would have-” she starts to get too loud so Annabeth blurts her words out frantically and hushed.

“It’s Percy’s,” she tells Piper who suddenly is silent once more. “It’s his,” she repeats, eyes starting to tear up again. This time it’s harder to keep them at bay. “And I’m in love with him,” she adds for good measure, finally letting the tears fall.

“What?” Piper asks, incredulously. “Did- did you two cheat?” She looks as if she’s trying to put the timeline together in her head, and also as if she’s going to be sick if her suspicions are correct. “Is that why they broke up?”

“No,” Annabeth says quickly. “No, of course not. Of course I didn’t do that.” Annabeth knows she sounds defensive but the accusation hurts. It’s not like she could be annoyed with Piper now, after hiding so much from her. Like the child she was thinking about bringing into the world was a dirty secret to keep to herself shamefully. “They broke up because they do it every fucking month,” she says, like an afterthought. But Piper catches the anxiety in her voice.

“You kind of owe me an explanation,” she says. And she’s right. Annabeth owes her an explanation because they’re friends. They live together and take care of each other.

“We slept together the night they broke up and then we just. . . kept sleeping together. By accident,” Annabeth confesses. She doesn’t tell Piper that it hadn’t exactly been the most recent breakup of there’s this all began. Although, technically, they never had actually cheated.

“That’s not much better.” A bitter laugh. Silence. Piper and Calypso were close. Perhaps Annabeth had done something terribly wrong. She’d been a horrible friend to Calypso. But the thing was, they weren't friends. They never really were.

“It doesn’t matter,” Annabeth says. Because it’s over and it’s happened. “He doesn’t love me.” Her words start out stable before cracking. Fuck. It was pathetic how badly she wanted to be loved.

Piper came to sit beside her friend on the bed. “Oh, Annabeth. Is this why the two of you have been fighting?” Annabeth is taken back by Piper’s words. She’d thought about how this would affect their friends. She thought about it so many fucking times. But she hadn’t suspected Piper would already notice the consequences of Annabeth’s actions.

She shakes her head. “He doesn’t know.” Annabeth lets out a shaky breath, trying to stop herself from crying more. But when she turns to look over at Piper, daring to meet her gaze for the first time that night, Annabeth sees tears in her own eyes. “I don’t know if I should even tell him,” she admits out loud for the first time.

Her voice softens so much suddenly. “What are you going to do?”

“Go back out there and celebrate your birthday,” she tells Piper, attempting a smile. “Then I’ll figure it out after.” She waits a moment before anxiety twists in her stomach. “If you want me here,” Annabeth adds quickly, eyes wide.

“I’ll help you,” Piper tells her, cupping her friend's hands in her own the same way Calypso had done in the living room. She sounds eager, desperate to get the words out. She moves to place her palms against Annabeth's cheeks. “You don’t have to do this alone.” She rests her forehead against her friend’s.

Annabeth can breathe again.
-
Piper is getting carried away and Annabeth doesn’t know how to tell her.

“Look! I got it at target,” she tells the other girl, cheerfully. Annabeth is not amused. But, really, how does she tell someone pretending to be pregnant with their ex for her, that she’s ungrateful. She can’t.

“You know I can’t have this baby, right?” Annabeth asks instead, watching Piper hold up a onesie with a fucking dinasour on it. Annabeth looks down at where she’s folding their laundry. “And stop buying clothes, would you?”

“What?” Piper asks, looking as if her heart is about to break.

“I’ve folded, like, twenty shirts that I can’t even remember you wearing,” she says, voice casual.

“Annabeth, you can have this baby if you want! I mean, of course you don’t have too. But you do have that decision!” Sometimes Annabeth thinks Piper didn’t understand what it meant to be responsible for an actual, living baby. For eighteen years. For her entire life. Once you were a mother you couldn’t just choose not to be. Unless you were her own.

They’d hardly had a hard conversation since that night, a week ago. And Annabeth knew that was her own fault. She needed to decide.

“Piper, this is a real person I could fuck up,” she says, mind racing. Annabeth keeps her composure but her hands shake.

“You need to tell Percy,” Piper says, dropping his name so suddenly that Annabeth almost flinches. She felt angry at the suggestion, taking a deep breath in an attempt to bury the emotion. It wasn’t fair to take it out on Piper for saying the truth. She’d been so lovely this past week. Annabeth would never be able to make it up to her. She’ll add it to the list of things she owes. But Piper wouldn’t be able to understand.

“No,” Annabeth scoffs, laughing a bit like she’s talking to herself. “I’m never telling him about this.”

“Annabeth,” Piper says her name as if she’s talking to a disobedient child. Annabeth can’t blame her. Her friend sounds astounded. “He’s so worried about you,” she offers. “He asks about you all the time, and he’d be such a good dad, Annabeth, and-”

“Stop,” Annabeth cuts her off, dropping the shirt she’d been folding and pressing her hand against her forehead. “We're not going to be a family, Piper. Ever. Even if I keep this baby.”

“Why not?” Piper seems genuinely confused. Her parents raised her together, even after their divorce. They’d both wanted her. She couldn’t understand what it was like to be Annabeth. She couldn’t understand what it was like to be unwanted. Annabeth doesn’t think any adult couple in her life had ever been happy together. Because love didn’t last and it was all conditional, for her at least.

“Because he’d play house for a few years,” Annabeth starts, reciting the scenario she’d play in her head to stop her from telling Percy whenever she’d get the urge to keep this baby. It terrified her. It sickened her. “We’d make it work for a while. Then we’d get older and life would go on. He’d have his own kids with his wife and resent us. But the court would say my child had to go spend time at his house with his kids.” Piper looks at Annabeth with wide eyes, as if she was the crazy one. Annabeth wasn’t crazy. She was realistic, because she didn’t have room for error. She couldn’t afford to let down her guard. Because it ended in scenarios like this. “And Calypso, who’ll make such a great step mom.” Annabeth laughs bitterly at that. “If I do this, I can do it alone.”

Piper doesn’t take a moment to respond, speaking without hesitation. “What? Like your mother?” She asks, and Annabeth feels a heaviness settle within her. How could Piper throw that in her face? Her mother, who’d had her after a one night stand with her father after they met working together in college. Her family had been religious and wouldn’t let her get an abortion. She’d kept it from her father till Annabeth was five fucking years old. Minerva had had enough. She was sick of being a mother. It was her father’s turn. And he’d taken her in, resentfully. Because it was the right thing to do. What a dapper guy! Annabeth thought with despair making her chest uncomfortable

She’d spent so much time feeling guilty over the support Piper had given; feeling grateful that her friend had never used this against her.

She was so stupid.

“I’m not my mother!” Annabeth is hurt. It hurts for Piper to bring her up like this. Annabeth would never abandon her baby. She’d just never do that. For an alarming moment, she thinks she might break something. Or worse. Cry.

“And Percy’s not your father,” Piper argues. She loves Percy too much and has so much faith in him. This is why Annabeth had been so hesitant to tell her. Piper and Percy have been friends for so long. They were like siblings for Christ sake. It’s wrong of Annabeth to expect her not to defend him. And it hurts even more because she knows Piper’s right. But she’s just so fucking afraid. “Annabeth, I’m only saying this because I’m your friend and I can tell you want this.”

The conversation had escalated too fast. Piper and Annabeth had hardly ever argued, and never about something so serious and personal. “I can’t do this,” Annabeth says, because her skin feels hot and her breath shallow. Even now, with her baby hardly a baby and more of a condition, she doesn’t think this stress is good for them. “I’m sorry, I- I just-” but she’s already out the door and down the stairs before she can form a coherent thought.

All she knows is that she has to leave. She has to be alone for a while. The night is chilly and she crosses her arms while she walks down the street. Annabeth was grateful Piper hadn’t tried to stop her from going. She’d return home in a bit and apologize, but now, her mind is foggy and she has to think. She has to think for herself. Telling Piper had been comforting but had also made the situation real. And she has to stop a full blown panic attack from coming on.

Although, it hadn’t seemed she’d get the peace she’d been looking for when, in her panic, she ran straight into Percy. Annabeth’s cheeks immediately ting pink and a quiet sob falls from her mouth. Tears sting in her eyes and wet her cheeks, cold and pale. She’s cried more these past few weeks than she has in so fucking long. But Annabeth was exhausted. She was so tired. And she couldn’t rest till she made a decision.

She tries to walk past, but Percy is quick to wrap a hand around her wrist. They were so close, it felt wrong. It had never felt so wrong being with him. And in a way, now, a part of him was always with her. And right now, she doesn’t have it in her to fight.

“You okay?” He asks, and she shakes her head no. Lying would be pointless now and lying to him had never been in Annabeth’s nature. Although maybe withholding the truth was, because it had been all too easy to hide the fact that she was pregnant. Or maybe it had just been easier to lie to herself when they were together.

They end up sitting at the bottom of some apartment building’s dated steps, pushed against one another to not block the way. She doesn’t mind the closeness. And she let him tuck his jacket around her shoulders. Why shouldn’t she allow Percy to take care of her after all? That was only how she’d gotten herself into this mess in the first place. He offered her a puff of his cigarette and she shook her head.

“Want to talk about it?” Percy asks. Annabeth wants to laugh, but instead, she refuses to look him in the eye.

“No,” she breathes out, speaking for the first time since they’d ran into one another. She notices how close they are to her apartment and narrows her eyes. “Were you coming to my home,” she asks skeptically, making a face at him.

He cracks a smile at her. “You weren’t answering my calls,” he defends.

“Because I’m avoiding you,” she says bluntly. He just laughs.

He laughs and he looks so beautiful too, with his head tilted back a bit and his eyes bright. What she’d said wasn’t intended to be a joke but, even now, he looks at her with adoration. She’s only ever seen that look when they were alone together. Just for her. Reserved for her. And that was the real joke, so she laughs with him now.

He plays house with you for a little while, Annabeth starts.

Percy’s face is so fucking pretty illuminated by the city lights.

Days and months and years pass in a single breath and he remembers he doesn’t want this.

His cheeks are pink from the cold and her presence. It brings Annabeth a bit of satisfaction. He looks so alive.

He starts his own family and you subject your child to days and nights spent at his house where they are so clearly unwanted.

She watches the way his lip quirks in a smile that always made him seem like a trouble maker. She wonders if their child would inherit the same expression. Annabeth thinks it’d be cute.

You’re hurt again, because you were stupid. But now your naïveté doesn’t just hurt you. Because you aren’t alone anymore.

“Do you hate me?” Percy asks her, so sudden and serious that she almost flinches. The smile is wiped from both their faces as they sit there staring at one another in the city light. Of course not. Of course she couldn’t hate him. She’d always love him, always. He wants nothing more than her honesty and she can see it in his face.

“Of course not, you fool,” Annabeth tries, colliding her balled up fist against his shoulder in an attempt to keep the conversation light. Tears from before we’re drying against her face and making her skin feel stiff. She didn’t want to cry anymore. But she can’t stop herself from asking. “Was there ever a time you thought you might’ve loved me?” She has to know. Annabeth has to know how stupid she’d been this entire time. And the need made her pathetic. It seemed like the appropriate time to ask while they were both throwing stupid truths back and forth.

“I thought I could- I mean- I did love you, Annabeth. I do love you, but…” Percy allows his words to trale off and Annabeth waits for him to tell her he only loved her as a friend. That he cherished their friendship. But the words never come. “But I can't lose her.” Annabeth doesn’t have to ask to know he’s talking about Calypso. “I’ve never felt the way I had with you with- with anyone before. But I’m afraid to lose Calypso.” Annabeth knew he’d always had an unhealthy attachment to her. Percy was so cool and level headed. He was so caring and shined so brightly. Sometimes it was hard to realize he was just as afraid as everyone else.

And now, sitting before her; he was afraid to break away from Calypso. And she didn’t want to force him to do that, no matter how much of a coward he was. He would only resent her later if she did now. She wasn’t his therapist. She didn’t want to fight with him anymore.

“You aren’t the first person to choose someone over me,” she says instead. “You aren’t different.” Her words aren’t malicious, just so tired. She’s fed up with everyone. She wants him to know he can’t hurt her because she’s so numb to it. But the truth was she’d never been so hurt. No one in her life had ever put her first and still she’d never been so hurt.

“I wanted so badly to be,” Percy says, and his sadness sounds so genuine. He speaks as if he’s talking to himself and Annabeth finds that she doesn’t mind.

“Me too,” she tells him anyway. Me too.
-
“Are you pregnant?”

Annabeth hears a voice from behind her where she’s pouring water into a bowl for the cat. She jumps at the slam of the kitchen door behind him. She thought she’d be more panicked when she played this moment over and over in her mind, but now she feels rather relieved.

Percy’s voice is soft and his eyes are wide and expectant when she turns around to look at him.
The relief makes her light but fresh fear thrums through her veins and makes Annabeth feel a bit hysterical. She thinks about making a dash for the door behind her or even lying, but her emotions are spread out across her face so nakedly. It’s too late to reign them in. It’s too hard not to release a shaky breath. Fuck.

“Yes,” she confirms, voice hushed and breathy. She tries to give him a smile but fails almost comically. ‘Cause fuck it. He knows and whatever they are after this will have to be embraced. A far away thought comes unwelcomed. Perhaps Piper had told him behind her back. Maybe Piper had done this. She brushes it away because it makes an unpleasant and vague emotion prick her skin.

“Is it mine?” Annabeth practically sees red at that. She knows it’s not fair. She’d hidden this from him and might have for much longer. But still, she can’t brush off the way he’d made her feel used. He’d made her feel so stupid. Like she was so cheap compared to the girl he loved.

“Who knows? Maybe one of the other million men I’ve slept with.” Annabeth’s tone is biting and cold, nothing like the gaze they’d shared a moment before which had been vulnerable and tender. Annabeth had her walls up now and she wouldn’t be letting them down anytime soon. She kneels to give the cat a pat on the head before rising and lifting her backpack straps over her shoulders.

“Annabeth, I-” She thinks he might apologize, but his eyes are a bit unfocused and he’s trying to piece it all together in his mind. She knows that might be too much to ask for at the moment. “When were you going to tell me this?”

She puts a bit of distance between them before answering. “Maybe I wouldn’t have,” she says, still collecting her things and tilting her chin upwards. He gives her an incredulous look. They’d all been at Jason’s place studying, and she didn’t want to fight right now. She’d been feeling a bit dizzy and nauseous all day. Just the thought of getting into an argument, voices hushed to keep it from their friends, from Percy’s girlfriend, made Annabeth think she was going to vomit. But still, she can’t seem to help herself. Fighting with him had always seemed to be just as easy as loving him.

“That is not fair, Annabeth,” he argues, annoyance evident in his expression for the first time since they’d begun this conversation.

She laughs bitterly to herself. “Yeah, tell me about it.” She’ll leave through the back and explain herself to the rest of her friends later, if they even ask. Piper would ask. And maybe she’ll tell her the truth. Annabeth turns to leave and Percy scoffs.

“Yeah, sure,” he starts. Annabeth almost flinches at his tone, stopping with her palm against the cool steel of the door handle. “Run away from this like how you run away from everything else.”
In his words, Annabeth feels like everything around her is crashing. She wants to cry but won’t. Not in front of him. Not when he’s right.

“Fuck you,” she tells him. “Fuck you. You never run away, right?” Annabeth turns around, as if wanting him to actually answer. “Because you have such high morals? Because you're such a great guy?”

“I never-“ Percy starts but Annabeth won’t let him interrupt her.

“You're a coward,” she says, voice full of anger yet still hushed. “You’re a fucking coward. You're so scared. It’s pathetic. You follow her around like a lost puppy then you come fuck me when she leaves. Every fucking time.” Annabeth thinks it’s about time she runs away from him.

“Then I guess we’re both cowards,” he says, voice low and hurt. She can tell she’s gotten him good but it doesn’t make her feel satisfied. And he lets her leave after that without another word.

And that night, she sits on Piper’s bed and cries because of it. Piper, her friend who holds her in spite of her accusatory expression. Who tells her she was so sorry.

“Jason was freaking out,” she’d said. “He thought I was actually pregnant. So I had to tell him. He told Percy by accident.” Annabeth narrows her eyes at that. Stupid Jason, who never really trusted her or liked her that much. She didn’t think he’d meddle purposefully in something like this, but it felt good directing her annoyance at someone else rather than herself.

God, anyone but herself.

Annabeth, who’d always looked out for herself, couldn’t afford to be angry with that one fucking person. She couldn’t afford to turn on herself. Because then, there would be no one to stick up for her unconditionally.

No one.
-
She sits on a bench. Wind blows her blonde hair from her face. Each strand falls back into place in loose ringlets down her back, flat from lack of care. She really should wash it tonight.

Annabeth is so tired from work, and yet she still isn’t ready to go home. It was like that some nights, when her anxiety was really bad. Resting her head on her pillow made it worse. At least she could breathe out here. Under different circumstances she’d just take a fucking Xanax.

She holds her forehead in her hands and tries to relax, closing her eyes. It was a short walk home and she’d prefer it to be longer if Annabeth was being completely honest.

There’s a shuffling before her and she looks up for a moment to see a child. A little girl with her hair pulled back and falling in a long ponytail down her back. Her mom is beside her. The little girl falls and her mother doesn’t catch her. She doesn’t notice because she’s focused on the walkway before them. Annabeth tries to mind her own business, bracing herself to hear crying. And she does. The child cries and her mother helps her up, lifting her from under her armpits and steadying her back on her feet.

She inspects the scrape as the child’s sobs become lower and lower. Her mother brushes her off before lifting the little girl’s cut up elbow to her lips. At this point the child is silent. Her mother kisses her palm before blowing a raspberry against her skin. The little girl laughs.

Annabeth buries her face in her hands once more. Because her skin feels warm and it’s almost like she’s seen something she really shouldn’t have had the right to.

Annabeth could do that.

Maybe she didn’t need to prevent her baby from falling but rather be there, as something sturdy, and stable that she herself had never experienced. She just needed to be there, and she could fucking do that. Annabeth wants this, and she finally accepts that. It feels so fucking good to allow herself to want it.

She stands and walks home.
-
Annabeth holds a sonogram in her hand. It’s tiny and she can hardly make out the picture and it’s so fucking real.

And she’s so fucking scared because she wants this baby.

Annabeth is sick of it. It’s time to fucking grow up, she tells herself, eyes hard when she looks in the mirror. If there’s any chance she can have this baby, she has to stop her pity party. And, maybe, just maybe Annabeth is allowed to wallow. Because she’d been put at such a disadvantage in life because of her lack of a support system and the rest felt like a string of hurt and pain and navigating a fucking maze. Annabeth is fucking allowed to have the time she took to cry, but now she’s done.

She actually is tired of running. She’s been tired of it for a while.

She wants to rest.

Annabeth knocks on Percy’s door only to see Calypso’s face. Hot flashes pass over her in waves and she feels nauseous, but Annabeth doesn’t allow herself to be disheartened. It was like she was testing herself on her ability to be responsible enough to have another person depend on her. A small, fragile person who’d have feelings and needs and opinions of their own. And if she couldn’t do this then she would have an abortion. She’d leave now and do it.

“Is Percy here,” she asks, meeting the other girl’s eyes like a challenge. Annabeth doesn’t mean for it to be this way, but she’d never been good at really expressing herself. She should have said ‘hi’ first. Still, she isn’t backing down. She won’t leave till she speaks to him. She won’t go back home. Annabeth had wasted enough time as it is.

“He is,” she says and Annabeth waits for her to keep talking, but she doesn’t. She wonders if Calypso knows suddenly then and she seizes with anxiety.

“Please, I need to talk to him,” she says, giving Calypso a hard and glassy look.

Calypso’s expression changes suddenly then, like she’s worried. “Are you okay?” Guilt churns in Annabeth’s stomach, and she pushes it down. Everything about this encounter is weird and awkward.

“Kind of- yes-,” she tells her. “I mean I’m very okay.” Annabeth was more than okay. She was finally making a decision and it felt so fucking good to do so.

“Listen, Annabeth,” Calypso says and she doesn’t want to listen to the rest. It feels patronizing. “I know it’s not your intention,” she starts. “You can’t keep dragging him into your shit. It’s hurting him. You need to work out your own past.” Annabeth is nearly shaking from rage at the insinuation. She loved Percy and she was grateful for his support. They were friends. That was the definition of friendship. So fuck this. But a part of her felt maybe Calypso was right about Annabeth working through her past. There were things she’d have to sort herself before this baby came.

And a part of her felt like Calypso was right about it all. Maybe Annabeth did owe Percy peace. She felt guilty for letting him care.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Annabeth warns despite her insecurities in the statement. Calypso has no idea what she’d gone through and the times she’d been fucked over. But still, she was right about one thing. She was hurting Percy. But they’d both made this bed and they’d both lie in it. It wasn’t the baby she meant but rather their indulgence and their relationship. Or friendship; or perhaps they were something else entirely.

“Annabeth.” She looks up to see Percy who’d appeared at the opening of the hallway. His eyes are wide and there’s something telling in his gaze. She finds her expression becoming soft.

“Can we talk?” she asks, just as she planned; professional and voice void of emotion besides a bit of surprise that slips through.

“Yes,” he says like he can’t believe she’s really her; like if he turns her away now he’ll never see her again. Maybe that was true but Annabeth would never say it out loud. Then he meets Calypso’s frustrated expression, and Annabeth can hardly blame her. She’d remembered when her and Percy hardly were anything more than friends; Percy placing his hat on her head and wrapping his own scarf around her neck, the soft material warm against where it caressed her skin. And they’d laugh at the same things, but also argue over them all the while. And how their eyes would meet in a crowded room. The exchange wouldn’t be awkward, not even when her cheeks would heat up and his would look a bit pink as well.

Annabeth knew deep down it was wrong to sleep with him even though they were broken up. Because perhaps her and Calypso were supposed to be friends, even if they never really were. They could have been friends in some alternate reality. And Percy and her had a history.

She tried not to beat herself up too severely over it. Annabeth had something more important to worry about and if that seemed selfish than so be it.

“I’ll see you later.” Something like hurt flashes across Calypso’s face quickly. Then it’s gone and it’s like only Annabeth has noticed. Or perhaps the two of them had shared that look many times over; again and again, hurting one another till it was so familiar that it went unaddressed.

Percy and Annabeth walk down the sidewalk and it’s almost easy. Because there’s only a slight distance between the two of them and he says something to make her laugh, even if the sound is a bit nervous. Because the wind blows past them, pushing her hair from her face and it’s felt like so long since they’ve been together like this; no fucking scecrets and no will to argue. Annabeth couldn’t afford to waste energy on fighting, although she would if she had to.

They sit in a little cafe at a back corner table. It’s familiar because she’d sat there months before high out of her fucking mind. Percy had sat beside her to rub her head while she dozed off against the table top, cheek rested against her forearm. Annabeth wonders if what they did counted as some sort of infidelity, emotional in the least. She wonders how she let herself be dragged between Percy’s fucked up relationship. Maybe it was heaven compared to what she had shared with boys in the past.

“Listen,” she starts, voice clear and unwavering. She had to do this. She could do this. “I don’t expect you to be a part of any decisions I make if you don’t want to be, but I need you to tell me what you do want.” Annabeth watches him, expression hard and serious. “Because whatever I do I can’t fucking mess this up.” She won’t and that’s why she carefully reads his expression. Or tries her best to in the least.

“I-” his voice wavers, not in indecision but rather as if he’s taking a moment to carefully choose his words. “I’m ready to be a part of any decision you make.” He seems so serious and honest. She hates the answer.

“No, I don’t want that,” she tells him, because if there was a time to be honest, it would be now; the two of them here alone in this corner. “I want a real answer.” He seems alarmed.

“I mean it, Annabeth. I really fucking mean it.” She searches his expression for anything other than what he’s saying. She needs him to really understand.

Annabeth watches him carefully. “No you don’t. How can you be so sure when you don’t even know what I’ll do?” Percy’s irritation grows at her words. “I want to know what you actually think. I don’t care if it’s harsh.”

“I think you want to push me away,” he presses and she scoffs. That has nothing to do with what she’s asking him. It has everything to do with it.

“That’s not true,” Annabeth tells him, shaking her head. She tries not to panic.

“Yes, it is. You want me to walk away now, because you're afraid. But I’m not going to leave, Annabeth.” He seems so determined that it frightens her. “Even if that answer would be easier for you to accept.” He doesn’t let up and she feels angry for a fast moment. It doesn’t flash by fast enough for Annabeth to not react. In the end she’s more glad for it though. Because he deserved to know her honest feelings and she deserved to share them.

“Of course I think that,” she finally shoots back. Yes, this was an outing of honesty. “I don’t trust you. I- I can’t.” Annabeth sits up a bit straighter in her seat in an attempt to get back in control of the situation at hand. He looks hurt so she rephrases the words. “I have to protect myself.” She doesn’t want him to be angry. She just wants him to understand. “If you want to do this with me; you’ll have to put this first. Before anyone or anything else.” Percy’s expression softens for a moment.

“You want this,” he says, like he’s realizing it for the first time right now. It’s alarming how he’d picked up on something that she was trying so fucking hard to hide even from herself till a couple of days ago. “Let’s do it. Let's have this baby.” The breath is knocked out of her.

“What? I- no, no,” she stops him, hands shaking under the table. This was all happening too fast. “I don’t want you to say that if you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” he says, like he’s irritated once more.

“I believe that you think that,” she challenges, narrowing her eyes at him. Some nerve he’d have to be upset. “But you don't want a child, Percy. You have a girlfriend and a good job and a whole life ahead of you. You can have anything you want.”

“And I want this,” he tells her without hesitation. “I know it won’t be easy, Annabeth. God, I know it’s not a normal situation and there is so much shit we have to figure out, but if we start now we can.” She still seems uncertain, sitting there and moving her hands to fold on the table, watching her fingers twist together. He places his hand above her own to stop her nervous movements. She shudders from the warmth. “I’ve thought about this, and I promise I’m ready for whatever you decide.” He maneuvers his hands to hold the both of hers and Annabeth watches him warily. This feels so fucking good and maybe that’s why she doesn’t trust it.

“Okay,” she tells him, feeling numb from surprise. Annabeth isn’t surprised that Percy would want her; would want to take care of her. Because it would be terrible for her to think otherwise after what she put him through. Annabeth believed in love, just not unconditional love.

“Okay?” She nods. Annabeth tries to push down something giddy in her chest. It’s too soon to feel relief.

“What will you tell Calypso,” she asks suddenly then to quell the feeling and make her feel sick once more.

“Just the truth.” It sounds so much easier to say than it actually would ever fucking be.

“And then, what if she doesn’t want you anymore?”

“Then it’ll be okay.” He’s just as terrified as she is and it’s evident now. So she grabs his hands back, tightly with her good one. Percy needs her just as much as she needs him. Perhaps she’d not been truly thinking him human all this time, but rather her fears and wants manifested into the person before her. She was sorry for that; at the moment at least. Annabeth felt so fucking sorry.

Then she panics. “I didn’t do this on purpose,” she promises, eyes wide and desperate for him to understand. Annabeth didn’t mean for any of this to happen. He looks back at her alarmed. “I just want you to be happy. Always.” Her gaze is like a plea. He has to understand.

“I know that,” he holds onto her hands tighter when she tries to pull them back. “Of course I know that, Annabeth. I wouldn’t ever think anything else.” She lets out a noticeably shaky breath. “I just want the same thing for you.”

“And that’s all I want for this baby.” Well, happiness, unconditional love, safety and fun and power, stability and freedom and a family. She wanted this child to have everything she never did and more. “I have something for you.” She forces a hand from his grasp to pull something out of her pocket. It’s the sonogram and she thinks she should have asked for more. But she’d gotten to hear the baby’s little heart beat so she considers it fair. Annabeth pushes it across the table toward him and watches his facial features shift as he examines it. As he realizes how real this truly was. “Do you still want this?”

Percy’s face is a bit flushed when he looks back up at her. He nods. “I do.”

Afterwards, they sit there for a moment in silence, hands still holding each other’s. And he walks her all the way home despite the fact that it was pretty far from where he’d come. It feels right. She thinks he must know this walk so well by now. When they stand at the base of her building, Annabeth turns to get a good look at him, the glare from the sun illuminating his cheeks and making his eyes seem lighter than they actually were. She hopes the baby has his dark eyes because they were prettier than any color she’d ever seen. Annabeth wraps her arms around his neck so she can hold him close, standing on the tips of her toes. “Be safe,” she whispers against his skin and when he nods she can feel the action against her shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”

“You too,” he says, giving her that smile he always seemed to do so naturally. It was such a cheeky expression and Annabeth was glad to see it, because it gave her the courage to smile back at him. Still, there’s something watery in their gaze and it’s so fucking intimate that it makes her face feel warm.

Annabeth waits till she gets up to her apartment to cry in relief.

She feels light.

Chapter Text

Annabeth watches as the orthopedist removes her cast, flinching a bit at each small movement.

The woman uses a small electrical saw with precise and steady hands. Annabeth tries to remain still, but just the thought and attempt makes her jolt even more. She’d still have to wear a cast for the next couple of weeks, and yet there was a small reassurance in knowing it was healing.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket once, and she briefly wonders if it’s Percy. For some reason, the thought makes her nervous. It doesn’t really matter if they’ve come to some sort of a tender decision together. She was finding it hard to get a feel of their new relationship, whatever it was, after everything. It was like being young, meeting a boy for the first time and wanting to be near him. It was like meeting a boy for the first time and wanting to stay far away.

Still, Annabeth agreed tonight she’d go with him to tell his mother about the baby. It doesn’t matter that the prospect makes her feel physically ill. She’ll do it for him and she’ll do it for their child.

A short while after, with a new cast and a shaky breath, Annabeth sits on the step outside the building, pulling out her cellphone. She’s so sure it’s Percy that when it isn’t, she’s taken by surprise.

Annabeth’s filled with a familiar dread as she holds it out before her, seeing Luke’s name flash across the screen. She briefly wonders why she hasn't blocked his number by now. Perhaps because he would just show up anyway, or maybe for other reasons that she feels too stupid to humor. Annabeth realizes if Piper knew she was contemplating calling back, she would never recover from the dirty shame of it. Her cheeks burn just at the thought.

She quickly shuts off her phone and slips it into her pocket before the yearning or loneliness can outweigh her fear. The truth is: Annabeth is alone. She’s too scared to face her friends and she’s too shy, or maybe hurt, to have a genuine conversation with Percy. Still, it doesn’t mean she should revert back to previous times for a sense of comfort and familiarity.

Annabeth recalls being thankful for the distance put between her and Luke when she first moved.

It had been this relief she didn’t know could exist.

That hadn’t exactly been her intention, but looking back on it, perhaps she was subconsciously looking out for herself in a way. On her worst nights, there wasn’t exactly anyone from home to turn to. She just had herself and the feelings she was forced to let surface. In a way, just that had been so good for her; feeling. She wasn’t really brave enough to confront them, and yet, she was forced to because they weren’t going away. There weren’t old habits to fall on. Annabeth wasn’t a child in highguard at a household that didn’t want her.

She was a grown woman with a job and an apartment who could afford to feel. It was new and it hurt but it also felt like moving forward; like healing. She didn’t need to be high to feel good anymore, and she had actual friends who cared about her.

Still, Annabeth could imagine what Luke might say everytime she made a decision, or, more accurately, after she made a wrong decision. She knew it wasn’t him, just a version she’d made up. And yet, it almost made her hate him. The feeling was valid. Annabeth always believed she knew Luke much better than anyone else anyway. It caused a fear within her, so sharp it felt like a sudden stab in the stomach whenever she remembered; Luke probably knew her better than anyone too.

Annabeth decides not to dwell on what he might say about her right now.

She silences her phone for the rest of the day.
-
Annabeth meets Percy outside the apartment building he grew up in.

The last time she was here it had been Christmas Eve. The apartment was decorated with pretty lights and a real tree that smelt of pine. Annabeth remembers less of the night and more of the childlike excitement in her chest that was warm and unburdened. His mom was so kind and his little sister fell asleep with her head in Percy’s lap way past her bedtime. Annabeth’s family had never had a real tree when she was growing up.

She digs her nails into her palm and doesn’t notice when Percy comes up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Annabeth jumps.

“You’re here,” Percy says in the place of a proper greeting. His voice is soft, and his words phrased almost as a question. He really did believe she ran away from everything. The thought makes her unbelievably sad, like she was sinking in her own dread. It passes quickly, and yet afterwards, the heaviness weighs her down for a while longer.

“Of course I am.” Annabeth tries to wipe the emotion off her face. “I said I would be.” He nods at that, still inspecting her features and the way she keeps her eyebrows scrunched together in his presence. It makes her angry and then guilty for the feeling.

“You changed your cast,” he points and she nods.

Annabeth is quiet in the elevator. Their silence is truly awkward for the first time, and her hands are heavy where they’re clasped before her. Annabeth thinks maybe it’s better like this. Maybe this was how they were always meant to be. She’d still have him in a way, but not close enough to be caught off guard.

“Are you okay?” Percy asks. Annabeth narrows her eyes at the floor.

“Are you okay?” She replies, annoyed because he should be the one that’s nervous. At least more so than herself. Then she feels sorry for the way she’s spoken, attempting to soften her expression.
He doesn’t bother her again the rest of the way.

“Annabeth,” Sally exclaims once they’re in the apartment. Annabeth almost basks in the way her name falls fondly from the older woman’s lips. “You look so beautiful. How are you?” She asks, hands sturdy and gentle on Annabeth’s shoulders. Her face flushes at the compliment and just the genuine truth in Sally’s voice. Annabeth was only wearing a short sleeve dress because of the heat, her jacket tied around her waist and her curtain bangs falling from her ponytail to frame her face. She hopes her cheeks aren’t too pink. She was too old to be acting like this over slight praise.

“I’m good,” Annabeth tells her a bit hesitant as she pulls herself together, mustering a smile. “I’m sorry it’s so late.”

“It’s fine,” Sally promises. “You guys can stop by anytime you’d like.” The assurance makes Annabeth even more anxious. Kindness made her nervous because people’s patience seemed to dwindle quickly when it came to her. The longer it lasted the worse it would be. “In fact, you need to stop by more often,” she scolds her son fondly as she leads them into the kitchen. Annabeth wonders why he doesn’t. She feels annoyed for a second before remembering exactly what they were here to do. Her stomach turns. “But Estelle is asleep so keep your voices down.”

There’s a table in the corner and Annabeth sits on a pretty wooden chair. It’s small and she wonders briefly what it would’ve been like to grow up here. She wonders what it would feel like to sit across from her mother while she asks how her day was, actually caring to know. Annabeth remembers being young and imagining how she would answer that question occasionally when she couldn’t sleep at night.

“Ah, I would’ve liked to see her,” Percy responds, expression soft and seeming a bit disheartened. Sally smiles at him. Annabeth thinks about her own younger siblings.

“Then come earlier,” she tells him with raised eyebrows. “She asks for you all the time.” Percy just nods, watching his mother fill glasses of water for them by the counter. “And I’ll even make your favorite cookies too,” she promises, and he looks at Annabeth then with pink cheeks, as if he’s a bit embarrassed. She pinches him under the table for it and he widens his eyes at her in annoyance. “How’s your dad?” Sally asks and it takes Annabeth a moment to realize the question is directed at her. She freezes momentarily.

“My father?” Annabeth is taken a bit off guard. Of course, she was asking to be polite; to include her in the conversation. “He’s fine.” Annabeth's voice sounds polite too as she analyzes it for uncertainty. “I think,” she adds like an afterthought. “I haven’t talked to him in a couple of months.” Annabeth doesn’t mean for it to sound so bad. She was trying to fill space out of nervousness. It was just a fact and she was answering a question, and yet, Percy sends her a concerned look, like a silent question. Annabeth shrugs her shoulders at him with raised brows.

Sally watches the exchange, and Annabeth tries to smile at her when she notices. She needs Percy’s mother to like her. Because she was going to be her baby’s grandmother. She might be this baby’s only grandparent.

Sally comes to sit across from them.

“What's wrong?” Sally asks after a while of conversation. Annabeth feels nauseous, taking a small sip of water which she nearly chokes on.

“What?” She asks, taken off guard.

“Well, I didn’t think you were here this late for small talk.” Annabeth feels her face flush once more. “Are you two fighting?” There’s silence for a moment as Annabeth realizes Percy’s waiting for her to answer. He doesn’t know what to say and maybe that means they should have a discussion. Annabeth ignores the thought. She thinks their dynamic must be so different from Christmas Eve for Sally to notice.

“No,” she defends, knowing immediately that Percy doesn’t buy it in the way he drums his fingers against the wooden surface of the table. Goddammit. She looks at him expectantly. Annabeth is scared to step on his toes, and she doesn’t know how to do this anyway.

Percy freezes for a moment. Perhaps he’s trying to think of the perfect words; words that don’t exist. Annabeth realizes then that he is nervous afterall, sitting beside her with slightly stiff shoulders. She’d like to press her hand against his skin and feel them untense.

“I’m pregnant,” Annabeth blurts out. The suspense was killing her and she thinks this one time she won’t run away. Annabeth isn’t sure if he’s mad or not. She wants him to feel relief. Annabeth flashes Percy an apologetic smile at his shocked expression.

Sally’s face morphs into surprise, and Annabeth braces herself for a bad reaction. She’d thought she was ready and in control of the situation but her knee bounces underneath the table. She realizes then, coming here tonight was never about doing something for Percy. This was about her craving for control. Annabeth feels a bit disappointed in herself, and Percy places a hand on her knee momentarily to stop her nervous antics.

Such a constant hunger was unbearable. The thing about control was, even once the upper hand was obtained, there was a fear of losing it. It hurt. It reminded her too much of who she didn’t want to be; It reminded her of Luke.

“You guys?” She asks, gesturing between them. Percy nods, pulling out his wallet to show her the sonogram. Annabeth feels her face warm at the idea of him carrying it around. She’s glad she’d given the photo up. Sally starts to tear up and Annabeth panics, turning to Percy but he’s grinning, seeming much more relieved. It’s so unconventional that Annabeth wasn’t sure what type of reaction they would get. She was so used to judgment and cruelness that she’d come to expect it. In the least, Annabeth was expecting a few questions, but Sally just leans over to fold her hand over Annabeth’s. She releases a stuttering breath. “Congratulations.”

It’s the first time Annabeth has heard the words directed at her over this. She smiles in thanks, scared to speak in case her voice comes out shaking. Annabeth zones in and out a bit the rest of night, speaking too much at times and too little at others. It feels like a fever dream.

Before they leave, Sally pulls Percy in for a hug while Annabeth sits on the couch to tie her sneakers. She holds her son’s face for a moment after and says something Annabeth can’t quite hear. She feels so thankful then, that Percy had been loved. He must’ve been such a sweet child, getting into trouble and eating sweets his mother brought home for him.

She’s standing when Sally approaches her to say goodbye in the doorway.

“Annabeth, sweetheart, you’re always welcome,” she says with glassy eyes, and Annabeth holds her breath. She sounds so serious too. “And you’ll always have a home here when you need it.”

Sally reaches out to hug Annabeth as well. She stiffens for a moment against the older woman before relaxing in her grasp.

Annabeth truly hadn’t expected to be embraced so soon and so fucking openly. Percy is pulling his jacket over his shoulders when she drifts her gaze from the floor upwards. He gives her a grin and she returns it over Sally’s shoulder, brows still slightly scrunched in surprise and eyes misty as she blinks the feeling away. She doesn’t care to humor his cheeky expression with narrowed eyes or to hold back from connecting with him right now. She could do that later; she could do that tomorrow.

There’s still tension between them both that Annabeth isn’t sure will ever alleviate. She feels resentment for her hurt, and yet, she takes this moment. Annabeth takes this one moment to feel giddy and light and supported in a way that invalidates any and all fears in her fucked up mind.

Thank you. It’s what she wants to say but she can’t get words out.

Annabeth forgets about her worry for what her father will think or what her stepmother will say. And for an instant, she imagines her own mother hugging her like this; accepting her like this; wanting her present like this.

Sally Jackson has given her something she can’t possibly understand the significance of. No words are enough.

Thank you.
-
“See, nothing to be nervous about,” Percy tells her, grinning as they exit the building.

Annabeth is annoyed at him for knowing her and knowing how she felt, even now when they’d hardly spoken alone together. She’s annoyed he won’t admit his own secret fears aloud to her. She pinches him in the side. “Visit your mom more, you jerk,” she says, walking a bit ahead of him afterward. Percy catches up quickly.

When he continues in the direction of her place, Annabeth doesn’t question it. It’s easier to let him walk her home. In fact, it’s all too easy.

“You okay?” He asks her after a couple minutes stuck in silence. She actually really wishes he’d stop asking her that so much.

“I want the baby to have your last name,” Annabeth blurts out, face flushing. She just keeps staring ahead as she walks. Annabeth had thought about it from time to time, and for once, a decision for her child became clear; perhaps her first decision of many; their first decision. She turns to meet his gaze then, so he can’t accuse her of running any longer.

Percy watches her for a moment, inspecting her features and all Annabeth can do is stand there under his potential scrutiny. All she can do is wait for a response, looking at him with determination and vulnerability burning her skin. It would be too late for her to withhold the words now.

“Okay,” he nods, eyes a tiny bit glassy and yet she can see acceptance in them; lack of judgment. It’s comforting. “I’d like that.”

In the least, Annabeth feels at peace the entire walk home.
-
Piper is visiting her father and Annabeth is lonely.

She sits at a cafe right before closing, forcing herself to eat something. Annabeth’s sure if she went home right after work, she’d forget. It was one of those days. She hardly even notices someone’s pulling out the other chair till they’re sitting across from her. Annabeth isn’t exactly sure who she should expect, but it certainly isn’t Calypso.

“I’m glad I ran into you,” she starts. “I was at your place, and-”

“Why?” Annabeth hadn’t meant to sound like an asshole. Her cheeks are warm. Calypso shoots her an annoyed glare and she feels nauseous.

“Because I was watering Piper’s plant,” she states, about to move on with her next thought. It’s almost as though she’s rushing to get out of the situation. Annabeth’s feelings are a bit hurt by her words.

“I could have watered her plant.” Her voice sounds sad, like she’s thinking aloud. Calypso rolls her eyes.

“She said you’d forget.” Fair enough, Annabeth thinks. “So, I was at your place and I ran into Luke on my way out.” The dread comes almost immediately, and she registers the words in her mind for a moment.

“He was here? In the city?” Annabeth isn’t scared of Luke. In fact, a part of her may even still love him; not exactly in love, although perhaps there was a time she had been. In an odd yet familiar way that made her feel pathetic and dirty. Still, that care existed and she tried her best to hide it around others who’d seen the way he treated her. They didn’t understand the full nature of their relationship. Foolish, stupid Annabeth who would give Luke Castellan her time over and over again. Poor Annabeth, who can’t seem to let the past go. She can’t move on and she’ll always be a victim of her own thoughts, hopelessly stuck in time.

These thoughts were most likely just echoes of her own paranoia; maybe they were partly that and the truth.

But, still she isn’t afraid. It’s the dread that always settles in when she’s with him. The anxiety came later on; once Annabeth was on her lonesome with only the entertainment of her thoughts to accompany her. She wishes Piper was here, but she won’t bother her with this now that she’s away.

“Yeah. I thought you could use a heads up.” Annabeth nods in thanks. She watches Calypso leave, not even worrying whether or not she knew about the baby. Instead, she sits and thinks. She thinks about Luke and the way they’d left things.

An hour after the cafe closes, Annabeth leans her back up against the brick with her knees pressed to her chest. She needs to just muster the courage to go back to her apartment, even if it means he could show up tonight. She had to suck it up. Annabeth isn’t even really sure of what she’s running from at this point.

“You’re still here?” Annabeth looks up to see Calypso once more. She must have been coming back from wherever she was on her way to when they’d bumped into one another. Annabeth looks up, ashamed. She feels like such a loser. Her cheeks burn from her humiliation. “Oh, for god sakes. Want to come sleep at my place?” She asks like she’s fed up. Annabeth comes to her own conclusion then, there’s absolutely no way Percy has told Calypso. That makes her angry for reasons she doesn’t have the energy to unpack. She feels bad to accept, but Calypso was standing before her, putting herself out there out of kindness.

She nods.
-
Annabeth realizes she’s never been to Calypso’s apartment before.

There’s already people passed out on the couch and on the rug around the coffee table. Calypso rolls her eyes at them. Annabeth doesn’t know who they are, and she doesn’t ask. The other girl ushers her into her bedroom. She has so many plants everywhere, and Annabeth thinks about dipping her fingers in the pots and eating the soil. There was something seriously wrong with her. She shakes herself from her stupor to take in the space.

It really is so neat and pristine. Her bedroom is beautiful. Everything about Calypso is beautiful.

They don’t speak much then, as Calypso throws blankets and pillows onto the floor for her, trying to arrange them into something comfortable. It’s dark and quiet once she shuts off the light, climbing into her bed. Annabeth screws her eyes shut and tries to sleep. Her mind is racing and she can’t help but dig her nails into her palm as a nervous habit she’d picked up a long while ago.

“I’m sorry,” Annabeth finds herself blurting out. Her eyes aren’t really fully adjusted to the dark yet. Annabeth isn’t even sure Calypso is awake. She’s sorry for so many things that she doesn’t regret. “For this. Thank you.”

“It’s okay,” she replies a bit stoically. “I hate being alone anyways.” It takes Annabeth a moment to answer.

“Me too.”

There isn’t much else to say, but Calypso speaks up despite it.

“Me and Percy broke up.” It’s not really a surprise or anything new. What shocks Annabeth instead is the fact that Calypso has started this conversation with her at all. She doesn’t owe her this, and she doesn’t owe her anything else either.

“You guys always work it out.” There’s no bitterness in any of Annabeth’s words. She finds she wants to comfort Calypso, even now when she shouldn’t. Even now, when she probably doesn’t have the right.

“No, this was final. I know because there was no arguing.” She doesn’t sound upset. Finding permanence in silence is devastatingly familiar to Annabeth. And yet, she doesn’t know what to say. The entire encounter is new and odd.

“I’m sorry.” And she is. Annabeth is sorry that Calypso is hurting.

“I should be sorry. I told you, you were hurting him, but I think I was more. The two of us were hurting each other.” It’s so quiet then, Annabeth can hear her own breathing. Calypso breaks the silence once more. “There was this one night,” she starts and Annabeth listens with a heavy feeling in her chest. “And it’s stupid, but I think about it all the time. We were at some diner and you were sitting next to Percy. I can’t even remember if we were together or not.” Annabeth tries to think back but there’s been so many times all their friends would go out and he’d sit beside her. It’s all a haze of jokes and subtle touches and arguing over stupid games of tic-tac-toe they’d scribbled on a napkin. “It’s so stupid and small, but you leant over, to get something in your bag- I guess, and Percy moved his hand to cover the corner of the table. Just in case you came up too fast and hit your head.”

Annabeth is glad it’s dark because her face feels so hot taking in the story. Calypso offered her vulnerability and Annabeth thinks it’s only right to do the same. It’s bizarre. She would never repeat Calypso’s words here and now but that reassurance didn’t really mean much. So instead, she’ll give her this as leverage or perhaps to seal a promise.

“I told him I loved him. He didn’t say it back.” Calypso thinks for a moment as Annabeth waits with a racing heart. She hates to think about that night, and to relive it with Calypso feels absolutely horrifying.

“Percy seems like he would be good at communicating, but he is not.” She was right. Percy was so smart and yet he could be so clueless all the while. “If it means anything, there’s ways to tell someone you love them without saying it.”

Maybe there were more ways to say ‘I love you’ besides a verbal confession; perhaps he'd given every single one of them to her already.

“I-” Annabeth wants to tell her she’s pregnant. It feels wrong not to, but she’s also sure Percy should be the one to do it. She’s sure because it’s what seems obvious. The truth was, maybe he didn’t deserve that. “I’m-”

“I know you're pregnant, Annabeth.” Calypso lays on her back, staring up at the ceiling intently as she says the words. Annabeth’s eyesight has adjusted and she turns on her side to look up at her. She always looks so pretty and kept together, even now, Annabeth thinks.

“He told you?” She tries not to show it in her voice, but a part of her hopes he did. Because then she’ll be sure just how much he wants this. Annabeth tries to imagine what Percy might think now, her and Calypso alone together for probably the first time. Maybe he’d laugh. He’d probably be horrified.

“No. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. I know you’ve been on your own for a while. I respect that. I’ve been alone for most of my life too.” Annabeth briefly wonders what her story is. She didn’t really know much. “That’s why I don’t want to lose my friends. They’re my family and I’ll fight for them, even if it means putting up with you.” They aren’t arguing; they’re just speaking simple truths. It’s easy to say them out loud in the dark. “I’m actually envious of you.”

“Why?” Annabeth asks her, turning once more to stare up at the ceiling. She doesn’t really understand what Calypso has to be jealous of, besides maybe Percy.

“Because you got away. You left your entire life in San Francisco and came here. You let go, because you wanted more. That’s brave.” It’s quiet for a long while after that. It’s hard to let go of things, even those that hurt. She still wasn’t sure when it was right to give something up, always teetering on the thin rope of things that hurt her and what just made her uncomfortable. Annabeth knows this all too well. “I’m mad Percy didn’t tell me,” she confesses, voice hard. Annabeth isn’t sure if it’s right for Calypso to be mad or not. She thinks it’s really not her own business to decide or judge. If Calypso was angry, that’s just how she felt. It was a fact, not an argument.

“I think I am too,” Annabeth agrees.

“Goodnight, Annabeth.” It’s like a peace offering. Calypso doesn’t speak again after that.
-
Annabeth shows up at Percy’s door, knocking with urgency. When he doesn’t open it immediately, she wraps her knuckles against the door harder.

Grover answers, seeming annoyed as she pushes past him into the apartment.

“Where is Percy?” Annabeth doesn’t really care if Grover is here for this conversation. All their friends already knew now, which was a relief in itself.

“No ‘hey, Grover!’ or ‘How are you, my good friend?’ Really?”

“Hey, Grover,” Percy says from the kitchen doorway. “How are you, my good friend?” Annabeth hardly finds their antics funny at the moment.

“Quick! I need to know every autoimmune disease that runs in your family.” She pauses but before he can get a word in, Annabeth is continuing with another thought. “Honestly, a history of every illness anyone in your family has ever had would be preferable.”

“I don’t know,” he says incredulously. It’s silent for a moment while she waits for a real answer. “My grandparents died in a plane crash? Does that help?”

“You, idiot,” she groans into her palms, moving to sit on their couch. “I’m trying to figure out what we could potentially pass to the baby.”

“Annabeth,” he says, coming to kneel before her. “You can’t worry about things you can’t control, okay? You’ll make yourself sick.”

“I can’t help it,” she admits with trembling lips.

“Okay, okay,” he panics. “Next time I see my mom I’ll ask her, okay? I’ll make you a list and everything. I know you love lists.” She nods. “Now stay and eat our ice cream cake with us.”

“Why do you have an ice cream cake?” Annabeth wonders aloud, blinking back tears as she feels herself start to calm. She wipes her eyes with the heel of her palm.

“Because I found out I could doordash one.” She pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers. Percy scrunches his brows at that. “You don’t want to eat the ice cream cake?” He almost sounds sad, which she finds ridiculous.

“No, no, I’m going to.” Percy grins and she tries not to blush at his pretty smile. The attempt makes it worse, and makes her angry too. Because that’s when she remembers she’s still mad at him. Or, she's supposed to be. The line was blurry. Annabeth was the one who wasn’t careful enough with her feelings. Maybe she isn’t mad at him. Annabeth’s just more careful and perhaps resentful now. She doesn’t want to continue to be so openly hot and cold with Percy, but still, she’ll sit beside them now.

Annabeth finds she's losing herself a bit in the juvenile, innocent fun of it; sitting and laughing with her friends over stupid things and not talking much of the future or thinking of the past. Grover lists off types of ferns as baby names and Annabeth actually entertains them a moment for him.

She is present and comfortable enough to rest her eyes for a second with her cheek pressed to the coffee table.
-
Annabeth wakes and it's dark outside.

She rubs sleep from her eyes and sits up feeling groggy. When the fog in her head clears, she realizes Grover’s gone and Percy is beside her, still sleeping with his cheek propped against his crossed arms. She moves to push hair from his face with steady, gentle fingers. Annabeth remembers once when Percy had told her she looked younger when she slept. He said she’d looked less worried. Annabeth thinks perhaps the same is true for him as she studies his unburdened face now in the dim light of the room.

She plans to leave before he wakes, moving to stand silently. Annabeth is scared to be alone with him, she realizes suddenly, but Percy’s fingers lightly wrap around her wrist before she can. Annabeth lets out a soft gasp.

“Hey,” he says. She watches him with a watery gaze, trying to decide something she isn’t exactly sure of yet.

“Hi.” She's scared if he were to ask her to stay now, she would.

“We should talk before you go.” He’s felt the shift in their dynamic; of course he has.

“Well, do you want to fight?” Annabeth demands, not actually expecting a real answer. She just wants him to stop trying to get her to open up. She doesn’t want him trying to heal the hurt between them. It feels good to not have to put herself out there and wonder if there’s a chance he’ll be there or he won’t in the future. Knowing is so much safer, even if it leaves her feeling numb and alone.

“Yes,” he tells her, sitting up straighter. Stubborn, fool, Annabeth thinks.

“I’m mad at you,” she starts, waiting for a reaction. “I’m still mad at you.”

“You should be,” he responds, waiting for her to continue.

Once she opens her mouth to speak, Annabeth can’t stop. “You have Calypso on such a pedestal. It’s disgusting. Are you going to put her before our baby too?”

“I broke up with her for our baby.” Those were the exact words she’d been horrified to hear.

“I don’t want you to do that. I don’t want you to give up anything and then resent us later.” Her eyes sting at his confession.

“No, that isn’t it,” he tries to explain better, panicking at how she’d taken the words. “I’m trying to get it together, because I want this so much. I didn’t break up with her because I thought I had to, I did it, because I want to move on so I can be the best version of myself before I’m a parent.” Annabeth holds her breath. “I did it for me. I want this.” Suddenly, she feels guilty. Annabeth would rather keep it all bottled up under the surface than confront these fears. She thinks perhaps that already probably makes her a bad mom.

“Then why weren’t you the one to tell her?” Annabeth asks. She doesn’t want to believe that they’re on the same page; that they feel the same. She wants to believe that more than anything. “Were you ashamed?” Annabeth is so selfish, finding reason after reason to push him away.

“What? No, of course not. I never thought that. Not once.” Knowing is so much safer. He sounds disgusted at the words and Annabeth regrets saying them instantly. She was just fucking frustrated. “Why haven’t you told your father?” He shoots back, and she recoils.

“You don’t think at all, you fool,” she just says, sitting down and leaning her elbows against her legs. She’s lost her will to continue this conversation. Annabeth hides her face in her palms. She’s tired of fighting. She probably deserved that last comment.

The truth was, Annabeth didn’t want her baby to face a similar scrutiny that she had endured growing up. It didn’t matter if it was gossip behind her back, a snide remark or even a disapproving facial expression. She didn’t want to find out if her stepmother thought she was capable enough. Annabeth wouldn’t be able to bear reliving her entire childhood in a single moment.

And maybe, what Annabeth is really afraid of, is that they won’t care at all. She fears they’ll brush this off and move on like nothing’s changed. Her dad won’t care to meet her baby just as he didn’t care much for where she was as a little kid. It didn’t matter if she was getting into trouble or getting straight A’s. Percy seems hesitant then, coming to sit beside her.

“You think it’s better to be alone; it isn’t.” Annabeth liked it better when he was angry with her.

“It is for me,” she snaps. He watches her for a mere instance, memorizing her facial features like he hasn’t a million times before. Percy reaches out to pull her against him and she startles. “What the fuck?” Annabeth gasps. She moves to push him away, but he just strokes a hand through her hair and holds her till she stills. Annabeth rests her cheek on his shoulder. She’s tired. How many times would she have to confront this fact before she figured out how to quell the exhaustion? How long will she have to take one day at a time? They sit in amicable silence for a long while. It feels a lot like giving in; the same way it had when they’d slept together for the first time.

Fear spikes within her chest once more.

“I’m going home, Percy.” Her words are quiet, muffled against his shoulder. He looks sad as he runs a hand through her hair one last time before moving it to cradle her cheek. She’d perfected maintaining friendships while keeping people at arm's length and then he’d ruined that. Annabeth hates to share his warmth and use it to keep herself going. It’s always so much colder when he pulls away.

To not know when he might is torture.

Knowing is so much safer.
-
“Are you and Percy fighting?” Piper asks while they’re cooking dinner together in the kitchen one night.

Annabeth feels her heart start to beat a little faster in her chest. “No,” she tries, taking a gamble of how confident she’d sound. She isn’t really sure.

“You’re trying to push him away,” she just says, like it’s a fact, and Annabeth scoffs. Piper leans against the counter and raises her eyebrows expectantly.

“No fair. You’re playing both sides.” When Piper doesn’t laugh she heaves out a breath and speaks up once more. “I just don’t want him to do something he’ll regret later. I- I want him to be happy.”

“You make yourself sick with worry, Annabeth. Over things you don’t have to even worry about in the first place.” She doesn’t know how to respond, because she can’t exactly change that thought process in one night.

“Piper?” Annabeth asks after a while. “Do you still want me to live here after the baby is born?” Piper didn’t sign up for any of this when she’d moved in. It wasn’t fair not to ask how she felt. Still, her voice is almost shy and she braces herself for any answer. Annabeth was scared

“What? Of course, Annabeth. This is your home too.” Annabeth thinks she could cry from relief then. Truly, this had been the first place she really felt herself. It’d been the first place she thought she belonged. “I would hate it if you left.”

“Baby’s cry. a lot. All night.”

“I-” Piper catches herself for a moment, looking suddenly all too serious. Annabeth stops her movements too so she can give her friend her attention. “It’s gonna sound so terrible.”

“Go for it,” Annabeth pushes, because she’s scared to hear, but even more not to. Piper’s opinions and feelings mattered to Annabeth, probably more than anyone else in the world. Annabeth’s sure Piper has listened to her confess a million horrible things without judgment.

“When you told me Percy was the father, I was glad. And I know that’s terrible because you guys are awful, and I mean absolutely the worst, at communicating,” Annabeth scoffs at that. “You were hurting and Calypso is my friend, but when you told me you were going to keep this baby and raise it here, it was the first time I felt like I wouldn’t have to worry about losing you.” Losing her to what, Annabeth contemplates: herself, her bad habits, Luke Castellan. “So of course I want you to live here.”

Annabeth doesn’t like this. It’s not that she doesn’t want to share her feelings, it’s more as though she can’t. Annabeth spent so much time holding her emotions in so nobody could use them against her. Piper was one of the first people she truly confided in. Annabeth wants to tell Piper she wouldn’t have left her, but she can’t be sure. She wants to tell Piper she was going to work hard and get better and never run away from anything ever again. Piper’s words do sound selfish, but she likes them because they're honest.

“Are you kidding me? You can’t get rid of me even if you wanted to.” Annabeth keeps her voice lighthearted, but she means the words. She would try her best to always be there for Piper, who deserved stability. What Annabeth doesn’t say is that she remembers wanting to be dead before she built a life for herself here. Annabeth remembers being so lonely with no clue where she really belonged. Then she saw Piper’s ad and made a decision. For the first time, it felt less like running away and more like moving forward.

Piper crosses the kitchen to pull her into a hug. Annabeth wonders how long it will take herself to be completely comfortable with this form of intimacy. “You’re choking me,” she has to joke before Piper lets go.

“Percy’s like that too, Annabeth. He won’t leave people he loves, not because he has too, but because he wants to stay.” Piper sounds so sure when she speaks her mind or feelings. Annabeth is jealous of that. “He’s scared to lose you just as much as you’re scared to lose him.”

In a moment of vulnerability, she shares a thought out loud. “How am I supposed to know that for sure?”

“You just have to trust him.”

Annabeth thinks on that for a second. “You don’t think I can take care of a plant?” Piper just wraps her arms around her friend once more so she won’t have to answer.

She rolls her eyes, but the action is more fond than annoyed. She’s missed Piper too much after all.
-
Annabeth is exhausted as she peels her shirt over her head. She watches herself in the mirror for a moment then, staring at her face long and hard in a bit of a haze.

She was in class most of the morning, and she wanted to shower then lay down before work that night. Annabeth knew she was stressing herself out with overthinking. She would tense up throughout the day and feel the consequences that night. She looks more pale than usual. She moves her fingers to rub sleep from her eyes, noticing harsh bags. Annabeth’s gaze lands on her clenched jaw as she attempts to relax her face, then her shoulders afterwards.

Sometimes when Annabeth watches herself intently like this she discovers things she wishes she hadn’t. Sometimes she wonders how stupid she’d looked that night she told Percy she loved him. It makes her recoil just thinking about it. Annabeth was never good at telling people those words for as long as she can remember. She can’t call to mind the last time she’s said it before then in all actuality. Her conversation with Piper days before reminded her of that difficulty. It made her even angrier at Percy. Anger was good, because then she’d have the strength to keep him away. Annabeth thinks about what Piper told her. Trusting was so hard. She needed time.

And finally she thinks about Percy’s words and how he’d told her he was taking care of himself in order to be there for their child. He was confronting the things that made him unsure.

She tears herself from her reflection to slide her skirt and underwear down her legs all at once. Only then does Annabeth notice the blood. It’s just a slight amount, but she sucks in a sharp gasp anyways, choking on her panic. Almost immediately, Annabeth recalls her and Percy’s fight. She’d thought about the assumptions she made and thrown his way to validate her own insecurities. She thinks about the way she’d made him leave. Annabeth can remember how terrible and relieving it felt to be alone. It seems selfish to call him and worse not to.

So she does.

In the office, Annabeth’s hands are shaking slightly and she hopes it isn’t obvious.

“It’s completely normal to have spotting during the first trimester,” the doctor tells her, and she feels so fucking stupid. Annabeth feels stupid for bothering Percy over something little. But she hadn’t wanted to go alone. She was just scared, and Annabeth tries to remind herself that he chose this. It doesn’t help to quell her thoughts or alleviate her anxiety. “Everything looks perfect.”

Annabeth tries to breath in and out heavily without him noticing. She can feel her face becoming feverishly warm.

Her stress wasn’t good for the fetus. It could cause so many problems that she’d read about to scare herself over the past couple of days. Annabeth had read a lot of fucking things that scared her. She still wanted this baby, but the more things she discovered, the more Annabeth felt she didn’t deserve this; being part of a family. She wasn’t capable of taking care of another person. Maybe it wasn’t her fault, but it was a fact.

She was so selfish.

Annabeth promised herself she wouldn’t inflict the pain of her past trauma or mental illness on her child. She already was in a way. She would just have to work harder.

Before they leave, Annabeth moving to stand, she opens her mouth. “And also one more thing I wanted to ask. I-” Annabeth cuts herself off to stare at Percy, a bit shy. She turns back to the doctor. “I want to eat dirt. I want to eat it so bad that sometimes I feel like I can’t help myself.”

Once they’re in the car, Percy turns towards her with raised eyebrows.

“Dirt?” He asks and Annabeth puts her head in her hands, cheeks warm.

“Screw you,” she spits out a bit more annoyed than she intended. It probably wasn’t fair. “He said it was normal.”

“Hey,” he tries. She can feel the heat from his palm against her back and the way his voice goes from a joking tone to something so soft.

“Yes, dirt!” She cries. “I want to eat dirt and it’s your fault.” Annabeth is on the verge of a panic attack and realizing this just gives her more anxiety. Her voice is muffled against her hands. Her confidence from the time they’d decided to have this baby was slowly crumbling.

“Annabeth, what’s going on?” She’s scared to answer and make it real, but she needs to.

“I’m so selfish.” She looks up to face him as she says the words. Annabeth never minded crying in front of Percy before that night he’d left her. She finds herself slipping back into that comfort with ease in this time of desperation. That was trust; something she found to be more important than love. Her eyes sting and she lets them. “I’m going to hurt our baby because I’m fucked up.” Her words come out clipped. Maybe a part of her feels good to get the fear off her chest. She hadn’t mentioned this to anybody, instead keeping it confined in her own mind as she used it to slowly torture herself.

“You’re scared,” Percy confirms, meeting her eyes. It sounds so much simpler when he says it.

“Yes, god, of course I’m scared,” she admits, staring down at her lap when it becomes too much. She remembers when Calypso told her that she needed to work through her own past, releasing a heavy breath in the process. Her chest feels tight and every time she breathes in, Annabeth feels as though there isn’t enough air.

“I'm scared too, Annabeth.” She looks up with big eyes. “It would be crazy not to be.”

“No; you’ll be good at this.” Annabeth sounds so certain. He doesn’t understand. He can’t possibly understand what it’s like to not have a single fucking person who wanted you. “I raised myself practically, and look at the job I did,” she cries, pulling her knees to her chest where she sat in the passenger seat. “I don’t know how to do this. I’m sorry.” Annabeth doesn’t know who she’s apologizing to; a child who wasn’t going to have a good mother; Percy who always seems to have to deal with her and who probably always will.

And it was true, she didn’t know how to do any of this. She didn’t know how to share her emotions. Annabeth didn’t know how to be a good parent, and she couldn’t even begin to fathom the personal details that came with being completely responsible for someone else.

“It isn’t easy for me either.” He speaks like she doesn’t understand her own words. “My dad left and for so many years I lived with a man who made me think I deserved to be hurt and afraid. I have no idea how to be a father.” Annabeth knew all this and yet she still felt stupid, sitting beside him and considering his childhood. She hopes he didn’t think her words sounded dismissive. Annabeth realizes how grossly she’d been romanticizing his childhood. Projecting was a dangerous hobby of hers, and she knew sometimes she could get lost inside her own head.

She wants to reach out and grab his hand or provide some sort of comfort, but she really doesn’t know how. And it isn’t fair to him because Percy always seemed to know the right thing to say to her when she was spiraling. She could hardly even fucking look him in the eye. Annabeth hopes her presence and gaze are enough to get her message across. She is almost alarmed at how casually such heavy words pass through his lips. She was so stupid.

“I- I’m sorry,” she stutters, but he just reaches out to take one of her hands into his own. Her’s is much smaller and he cups it gently, warming it between his fingers. Her hand is so much colder as well.

“You’re allowed to be scared. It doesn’t make you selfish, it just makes you human.” Annabeth tries to internalize his words. Percy was so tender and caring; with each touch and word he inflicted upon her. Even when they fought there was something gentle beneath the surface of their exchange.

“Maybe I should see a therapist,” Annabeth admits, looking down at her good hand in between his still. She’d been thinking about it for a long time, but she never said it out loud before. She’s nervous waiting for his response.

Percy nods. “We probably both should.” She still won’t meet his eyes. “Hey,” he says so she’ll look up. “There is nothing wrong with you, Annabeth. You’re the smartest, most loving person I’ve ever met.” He sounds so passionate. He believed in this. He believed in them. He believes in her. “We’re going to figure out how to be parents together.”

Annabeth chooses to believe in him as well.

“Okay,” she nods, teary eyed.

“Now, can we please get something to eat? I can take you to, like, Home Depot or something.” Annabeth leans across the seat to punch him hard on the shoulder.
-
Percy shows up at her door the next day.

“I have something for you,” he tells her, before she can even say hello or invite him in. “And I wanted to tell you that I want to know when you're hurting, always. So you won’t have to feel alone.” He sounds so determined. Annabeth watches him with wide eyes and scrunched brows. She wasn’t expecting this sudden outburst of his. Her cheeks feel so warm as she tries to figure out how to respond. Percy saves her when he asks to come in.

She nods, moving over so he can come in. Annabeth shuts the door behind him with shaky hands.

“Want to sit?” Annabeth asks him. She takes a seat beside him on the couch, leaning on her heels and digging her nails into the palm of her good hand.

He pulls something from his pocket and Annabeth doesn’t realize what it is till he takes her wrist between his fingers gently and waits patiently for her to uncurl her own fingers. “Here,” he says, placing a key in her palm. “So you won’t have to bang on my door next time. The old lady across the hall was pissed.” Annabeth laughs a bit nervously.

“Thank you,” she tells him, inspecting it for a moment: new and shiny in her palm. She doesn’t really know what else to say. He pushes her fingers to relax over it.

“And I have to tell you something.” He seems hesitant, like he’s trying to put his thoughts into words. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

“Congratulations,” she tells him cheekily. “Be careful.”

“I’m trying to tell you something important. Can you please stop making this hard?” Annabeth shrugs her shoulders at him with a grin, but nods anyway.

“Go ahead.” He takes a deep breath and she holds her own, waiting for him to speak.

“I’m trying to say, I wasn’t putting Calypso before you that night; I’ve been putting myself first. I’m the one who’s terrified.” The smile falls from her face at his seriousness. Annabeth knows he means the night he left. Percy never put up walls when he and Annabeth were together, but he also has never been so open regarding the subject. He looks so pretty, sitting here before her so fucking vulnerable. Annabeth could cry. “I’m the one who’s been selfish, and I won’t do that to you ever again.”

Annabeth leans in then, wrapping her arms around his neck and splaying her fingers against his back. Her face flushes from his honesty, and she’d rather him not see it. How could she not embrace him now along with the promise he was making. Annabeth thinks there’s nothing scarier in the world than an oath; words wrapped in a pretty ribbon without proof and receival. And yet, she realizes what he’d told her hadn’t been a promise at all. Promising was asking the other person to believe. Percy Jackson was simply telling her and the determination in his eyes was enough to take on that role. He isn’t asking her for much and yet she’s sitting here beside him, willing to give him it all. She isn’t sure what’s come over her.

For the first time, Annabeth finds the will to believe someone completely, no safety net or clear path to escape. No matter how uncomfortable at first. It was like throwing herself into cold water before even dipping her toes in.

“Okay,” she says, so quietly.

“Forgive me?” Percy murmurs with his hand pressed to her spine. Annabeth lets out a shaky breath against his skin.

She knows he’s been withholding the question because he thought it was selfish. She can see that in his eyes because she knows him. And yet, this was so necessary. They couldn’t avoid it any longer. And perhaps the action of asking for forgiveness had selfish tendencies but there was also something that made it brave.

Annabeth thinks about the times he’d comforted her and cared for her. Annabeth thinks about how he still wants to have a baby with her after it all. She rubs tiny circles against his back as she tries to correlate a response.

She won’t say there’s nothing to forgive. He’d hurt her in a way that made her chest ache for weeks. Still, she found she trusted him. After everything she trusted him. Annabeth would stick by him and be there as a friend in the same way he had been there for her at her worst; not because she felt as though she had to, but because she wanted to.

It was a balance they would have to find, because she doesn’t want to go back to how it was before she’d come to the city. Annabeth didn’t want to return to a moment that she didn’t know of the little family they were going to be. She was already too in love with the idea. And he was right about something.

She didn’t want to be alone forever.

Annabeth wanted to be loved for longer than she could remember. She wanted a room full of people who cared for her so much that they would openly yearn for her presence in her absence. She wanted that and yet, now, she wasn’t sure she could properly reciprocate it. But she’d have to learn and this seemed like a pretty good start.

“I know words aren’t enough for you, and I shouldn’t take it personally,” he tells her. “And that’s okay. I’ll prove it all so you won’t have to worry anymore.” She’s so tired from it all, and he can tell. “I know it’ll take time and I’m not gonna go anywhere.” Annabeth isn’t aware of her single tear till it’s fallen against the skin of her cheek.

Annabeth understands. She nods against his shoulder.
-
Annabeth calls her father that night.

She sits on the fire escape so she’s sure Piper won’t hear. It makes her too nervous to think of anyone else witnessing this.

Before Annabeth can build up the courage to get the words out, they’re already saying their goodbyes. He was always so busy after all.

“Do you have my mother’s phone number?” Annabeth asks him. Saying this in itself should be enough to be proud of, she thinks. Annabeth always waited for her mother to call her. She never initiated their talks, and she purposefully never remembered the number or saved it in her contacts.

Minerva hasn’t called Annabeth in a long time.

“Yeah, let me find it.” She pulls a pen from deep in her pocket, holding her phone against her shoulder so she can write it on her thigh. He reads her off the numbers and it’s silent for a moment as she writes. A part of Annabeth thinks he’s trying to fill the silence when he speaks up once more. “I’m actually surprised you haven’t gone to see her yet.”

“What?” Annabeth asks, finishing writing the numbers. She isn’t exactly sure why he would think she would ever visit her mother without an invitation. She was working in Los Angeles, successful and beautiful and so untouchable. If Annabeth had wanted to see her, she would have tried while she still lived with her father.

“Well, she’s been located in New York for a while now, after all.” Annabeth almost drops her phone off the fire escape, reaching to steady it with her hand. I saw it on her website a few years back. Honestly, a part of me thought that’s why you moved there.”

She briefly thinks about her father checking her mother’s website. The thought alone makes a hysterical giggle bubble in her throat. She pushes it down. Annabeth is almost sure there’s a part of her father that still loves her mother. She would chalk it up to wishful thinking if she didn’t find the prospect so pathetic. Sometimes she wonders if Frederick Chase hates how much she looks like the woman he used to love. Now he only loved an ideal version of her that would never exist.

“You should go see her.” Annabeth thinks they both must know that would be a horrible idea.

“Yeah, maybe,” Annabeth replies hollowly before they hang up.

Her mother has been in the city. This entire time. She could have bumped into her on the street.

Even after she’d left, Annabeth still kept in touch with her at times. She still got a check in the mail from her every month like a letter of apology, even now that she’s a grown adult. Annabeth knows that means she’s aware of her new address.

Annabeth thinks she can’t really blame her mother. She was a woman without a choice and in return Annabeth was a parentless child. Minerva was a woman with guilt she didn’t deserve to bear, and in return, Annabeth felt like a burden. Maybe she was allowed to hate her mother, and yet, she can’t. That hurts worse than anything.

Annabeth also knows her mother is successful. She knows that she was happier without a child in her life. She knows all this is hardly about her not being enough, and yet, she takes it personally.

Because when Annabeth remembers her mother’s pretty face, she thinks about her leaving. Annabeth thinks about the life she lived with her father. She thinks about the night she’d overheard him tell her stepmother that he loved Annabeth. He loved her, and yet, he found he couldn’t connect with her the way a parent was meant to; the way he had with her brothers.

There’s so much she could dwell on and pick apart, but Annabeth hates to remember that night the most. It makes her feel sick and foolish all at once. She’d been fourteen years old, falling through the doorway of their house and hitting her head on the table. She’d broken a vase. Annabeth had so much to drink that night, she can hardly remember any of it. She briefly recalls her stepmother yelling at her for waking one of her brother’s up.

She’d heard their conversation half asleep on the couch.

Annabeth digs her nails into her palm so hard then, to distract herself from the memory and her racing thoughts.

She thinks about calling Percy. He would sit with her. He would let her talk and let her rest her head on his shoulder. He would make her confront things she didn’t care to. Percy would have her feeling emotions she was still scared of.

It feels like a betrayal when she doesn’t. Probably because he’d asked to know when she was hurting and she’d agreed. Why couldn’t she ever give into the things she wanted, or anything good for that matter?

Percy wouldn’t understand her anger anyways, because he wasn’t there to see what she was like before. This is what she tells herself. Annabeth is scared she’s accidently manipulated him into thinking she was a good person or a victim in the stories of the people who did her wrong. Percy doesn’t deserve this.

Annabeth sits there for a moment before she feels her phone buzzing against her clenched fingers. She almost expects it to be her father once more, jumping a bit at the noise. Annabeth turns it in her hand and sees it’s Luke.

Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to speak with him for a short while. Not now when she’s sitting here alone with no one to see.

Annabeth answers.

Chapter Text

Love isn’t sacrifice. At least that isn’t what Annabeth believes now. Not in the fucking slightest.

She thinks about this heavily, sitting in the hot water of the bath, waiting for it to wash away the ink on her leg. She watches drops of water glide and form together on the surface of the plastic bag she’s wrapped around her cast.

Each choice and decision made to benefit the other should be out of want; a happy compromise would be a better term. Because they want said person to be happy as much as they want themselves to be happy. That’s love. Annabeth never wants to ask Percy to give up anything for her. She doesn’t think being a parent should be about sacrifice either, because those words just weren’t synonyms. She’s sure of this. And Annabeth does think about it, long and hard and looking beyond her emotions. Because parents who believe this, become parents who believe their child owes them. Annabeth is also sure she’ll never think that.

If a person starts believing love is only sacrifice, that’s solely what it becomes. There’s no balance.

If she brings a person into this world, they will never owe her anything, and she’ll owe them everything. Annabeth is okay with that. In fact, she feels passionately so. Annabeth will never be a parent who expects something from the kid she created. When a handful of people become a family, they should also become a unit as well, working together in a way that their individual gains bring each other joy.

Percy and Annabeth aren’t together.

They aren’t together. They aren’t dating. They aren’t married, but these facts hardly matter. She wants them to be a family in this way, even if they end up being nothing more to one another.

That’s why Annabeth doesn’t tell Percy about her phone call with Luke nor the fact that he’d been in the city. It makes her hate herself, because they’d just been on a decent path towards something she wanted so fucking badly, and now she was putting that in jeopardy. Annabeth briefly mourns how it felt before there was this secret between them; that she spoke with Luke.

She was a child again, doing something she knew she shouldn’t; the feeling enhanced by the fact that she was aware of how it was hurting her. That knowledge just threw Annabeth straight and fast into a cycle of wanting to defend her own actions. The conversation with Luke hadn’t felt like the goodbye she was hoping it would. She tries to convince herself it was anyway, over and over; reason after reason.

When she lived in San Francisco, in the middle of her chaos, it was hard to see the problem in their relationship. Love just came with the hurt and she tried her best to romanticize it the way books and movies did. Love makes people do crazy things. If there is no darkness, if there was no screaming and yelling and hurting, there was no passion. Stay beside them always or you’re a bad partner, even if it doesn’t feel good anymore. Sacrifice is romantic. Don’t be selfish. At some point, love didn’t include forgiveness, it just became it. Forgive, forgive, forgive until the declaration had no meaning. She couldn’t always keep the mindset; not at her lowest moments. And there were so many lows between them. Highs and lows and nothing in between. The highs made it all too easy to justify going back.

It felt good to Annabeth: to be coddled and praised and held with gentle hands. To be wanted. That’s why she was so confused and hurt by his fast paced betrayals; why it took her so long to warm up to Percy as a friend, then something different. It took her so long to warm up to any of her friends here, if she was being honest with herself. Piper first, then the rest, and even now she wasn’t completely comfortable with all of them.

It was like a game where Luke was the one to deal the cards. He got to make the rules. He got to change them once she’d finally learned. It was like a game she never asked to play. Still, she’d bet and lost it all, and here they were, still playing. They were still playing this game because he said so and she’d let him talk her down from her hurt.

Annabeth scrubs her mother’s phone number from her skin, sitting in the tub with her knees pulled to her chest. It’s dark in the bathroom with the light flickered off. She should have had a mom to care and protect her from all that unnecessary pain. She scrubs so rough that it starts to hurt. Annabeth continues the motion even after the pen vanishes from her leg. She shouldn’t take it out on herself, but there were times when she’d have sudden outbursts such as this, alone, with only herself to be angry at. Annabeth stops once she realizes. She just wants to be clean of it all and start over again.

That’s not realistic. If Annabeth started over, she’d lose the good with the bad anyways, and that would mean negating all responsibility for the bliss and pain she’s caused. That wasn’t an option anymore. Maybe it never was, and Annabeth hardly thinks that’s fair. There was really no way to win, so instead, she has to sit here in a pain that can’t be quelled by anything but time, restless and eager to leave her own skin. She can’t do this to herself again. Not now when she’s having a baby. The guilt makes everything worse.

The warmth of the water around her is comforting and so is the darkness. She rests her cheek on her knee and waits with closed eyes. All she can focus on is her breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Please let this awful, terrible feeling subside.

She waits and waits till the water becomes cold and she’s still sitting within it foolishly.

Annabeth only gets out when she feels the familiar nausea starting to rise from her chest to her throat. She almost slips in her haste to wrap a towel around her shoulders and kneel before the toilet.

“Annabeth,” Piper calls, opening the door once more, like she’d done when Annabeth had broken her own hand. “Let me help you,” she tells her, securing the towel better around her shoulders. Annabeth had felt sick most of the time recently. She’d wanted to eat dirt and she wasn’t showing much, but she noticed every slight change in her own body. Still, Annabeth doesn’t mind any of this compared to her inability to take a Xanax. It would be so nice to drift into a deep slumber, feeling her limbs and mind relax.

Piper brushes through Annabeth’s hair that night. She makes her friend something to eat. Annabeth crawls into Piper’s bed to sleep beside her. She doesn’t tell her about her mother. She certainly doesn’t tell Piper about Luke. Annabeth lets her assume the call with her father had gone horribly.

In some ways, that was the truth.

Annabeth is sure she just needs a moment to get over herself. If nobody knows, she can figure all these thoughts and feelings out on her own eventually. Then she’d cause no harm to anyone else. Annabeth watches Piper’s even breaths as she sleeps, trying to be lulled by their comforting repetitiveness. Still, her body is too stiff.

She stares at the ceiling and waits for the exhaustion to take over.
-
“You look pale,” Percy chides, cupping her face in his palms when they see each other next. He searches her expression in a way that does nothing but annoy her.

Annabeth probably was pale. She’d slept lightly and woke up at any slight sound. It made her feel dumb. Her cheeks redden.

He’d been like this, even before, when they were friends and not something so undefinable; constantly worried about her. Annabeth thinks Percy has probably been horrified for her since she’d called him in the middle of the night all those years ago, voice slurred with each quivering word. He must be scared to lose her. When Annabeth thinks about the distress she’s put him through, she feels nothing but unadulterated guilt; almost painful and sitting in her chest with a vengeance. It hasn’t subsided with time. It just comes and goes in a singular choking moment to ruin her night.

Annabeth is sure loving her must hurt. It must be difficult and frustrating.

It must hurt a whole lot with little compensation.

Sometimes when she can’t sleep, Annabeth thinks about calling him. It would be a nice distraction from her racing thoughts. His voice would soothe her, and before that night, she probably would have. The last night she’d seen Luke. But Annabeth knows if her name were to flash on Percy’s phone once more so late, she’d practically give him a heart attack. She’d always liked sleeping beside him better anyways. It’s a good thing he gave her a key.

“Would you stop?” She pushes his wrists away. “I’m fine. Ask me if I’m okay and I’ll push you off this bed.”

“It’s my bed,” he tells her. He gives her a sad look and she rolls her eyes, knowing of his persistence. Annabeth was always able to look past that specific expression when they argued, hardly ever giving into it. Now, with the guilt from her past memory combined with his pout, she softens.

“I’m okay,” she promises. Annabeth was going to be okay. She doesn’t need help, just a moment to get back on track.

Percy nods and Annabeth feels relieved.

Somehow she’d ended up in his bed on the opposite side.

She turns to face the wall so he won’t discover anything in her face that she’d rather keep to herself. Annabeth was sick and tired of being too anxious to sleep at night, waiting for a knock on the door or a phone call. She turned her cell off before she came. Annabeth realizes this is abnormal behavior. She realizes this and she doesn’t care. She’s been so tired lately.

She’s been so tired that she hadn’t contemplated the fact that Percy knew her so well. He knew there was no way she’d come and lie beside him in bed after he didn’t openingly reciprocate her confession all those weeks ago. Percy knows something’s wrong. Annabeth just wants to rest her head without worrying whether she’ll see Luke again and what memories and feelings he’ll drudge up. It’s easier to sleep when she’s next to someone else.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, pressing his palm between her shoulder blades. She knows she can’t tell him, so instead, Annabeth apologizes. She doesn’t want to burden him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, because she’s lying to him and using him for his comfort at the same time. She’s sorry for calling him all that time ago to come pick her up. She’s sorry because Annabeth is sure she would’ve done the same now.

“What?” Percy asks, voice so soft that it’s hard to continue. She doesn’t want to turn around and look at him.

“I’m sorry for calling you that night. I know it scared you, and we never talked about it.” She screws her eyes shut for a moment and her cheeks burn. Annabeth is glad he can’t see it. It’s been almost two years since then but she knew the memory hung over them still.

He got into a fight with her regarding Luke, and at the time she didn’t really think it was his place. So long ago, Percy couldn't really understand. He was only frustrated. She knew he thought she deserved better and for some reason that really pissed her off. But, still, the argument was more serious than any of the others before. She felt lost; like she was acting on a stage and everything was crashing around her. The worst part was, Percy had been right. She’d defended Luke anyway because a part of her felt as though she was defending herself and her pride.

Annabeth had called Percy in the middle of the night.

He’d been horrified to hear her slurred words and the way she had spoken fearfully between cries that sounded like squeaks as she attempted to keep them reigned in. If Annabeth had been in her right mind, she’s sure she would have never reached out to him in the first place. It wouldn’t have just been her stubbornness either. She didn’t want to call Percy then, because she knew he would always give in. Annabeth didn’t want that kind of power over anybody. Back then, she couldn’t decipher the difference between reaching out for help and using someone else till there was no more kindness left for them to offer.

So Percy came for her, just as he always seemed to do to her confusion. He’d come for her at some dingy hotel room Luke was staying and they argued for a moment. She watched them both emptily, as if she were a hollowed shell, filled only with her own fear. Annabeth couldn’t really comprehend what they were saying, only that she was so, so afraid and this feeling was never going to fucking pass. Only that she was frozen in time and dying all at once; only that she wanted to leave with Percy. And she did.

Annabeth was scared she’d forget to breathe and suffocate herself. He assured her that wasn’t possible, sitting in his empty tub with her, both fully clothed under the spray of the shower. He’d had to cover the mirror after she freaked out at her own reflection. He had to hold her wrists tightly to stop her from scratching her leg till the skin was red and raw. Annabeth spoke nonsense of spiders and sobbed till she became a bit more centered from the calmness and regulation the warm water provided.

“Hey, you with me?” He’d asked after what felt like hours and days and months. She’d rested her head against her knees, and he seemed so nervous. He let go of her hands. “I’ll get you a towel.”

She’d reached out then, grabbing his wrists so tightly. “Don’t. Don’t leave.” So they sat there longer. Annabeth felt calm enough to be lulled by the touch of someone she trusted at that point. She allowed him to press his knees against her own and rub gentle circles on her back. He wiped tears and snot and beads of water from her face with a soothing touch.

Annabeth had scared him so badly that night, she’s sure he’s never looked at her the same since. She felt like such a fool for it all, even now. Annabeth doesn’t think Percy looks down on her for it. Instead, she is sure he hates Luke, blaming her bad trip and her shaky hands, her silent tears and trust issues all on him.

Percy moves his hand along her back till he has a gentle grasp on her shoulder. God, all of his touches were always so tender. Annabeth often recalls how Percy would take down her hair every time they slept together. He’d pull down the hairband holding her ponytail in place or unwrap her braid with gentle fingers on the rare occasion she felt patient enough to let Piper do her hair beforehand. It didn’t matter if the curls were flat or tangled. She found she didn’t really care much either. Not when she liked the feel of his fingers in her hair so much.

Annabeth realizes she’s going to have to face him at some point. She rolls onto her back to stare at the ceiling and considers it a good start.

“Annabeth.” She likes how he always says her name. Like it’s really her own and she’s somebody to be respected instead of dismissed. He said it like he really knew her. She really wasn't afraid to tell him what she wanted and what she didn’t. He respected her always and the effort of caring didn’t feel like a burden because it was mutual. It wasn’t something to really think about. It was just there because they cared for one another. God, Annabeth fucking hopes he truly knows her. She would like to be the person he imagines her as. “Where’d that come from?”

“I’m trying to move on,” she says, practically quoting how he had described his break up. She won’t admit it, but Annabeth, for all the facts she knows, learns more important things from Percy all the time.

“I was scared,” Percy starts, pushing himself up a bit to lean against his elbow. “I was so scared. I felt like there was nothing I could do to help you.” She nods her head, ashamed. “I’m glad you called me. The only thing worse than the fear that night would have been finding out something worse had happened to you. Okay?” There’s something like determination or eagerness to get it all out laced through his voice where he’s watching her. She still won’t look at him; not even now. Especially not right now. He’s desperate for her to accept these words. Annabeth can do that for him. “So, please don’t apologize unless you regret calling for other reasons besides my feelings.”

“Of course I called you,” she admits with burning cheeks. “I don’t regret that.” The confirmation seems enough for him because a comfortable silence falls between the two.

“Please don't give up on me.” For once, she’s out right asking him to stay and she’s terrified. It feels selfish but she says the words anyway, especially because she still refuses to look at him. The words might be pathetic if she hadn’t delivered them so stoically; if it wasn’t such a reasonable worry for her to nurse all these years.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he tells her, moving to lay down once more with his back against the mattress so they can both inspect his ceiling in the dark.

Annabeth stays where she is, keeping her eyes on the ceiling. She isn’t exactly relieved nor at ease. Annabeth feels uncomfortable, but in a way that makes it bearable to be beside him and breathe all the while. She reaches in the space between them tentatively to wrap her fingers around his own. He turns his head to look at her for a moment, eyes full of surprise as he lets out a stuttered breath. Annabeth keeps her gaze on the ceiling still.

For the time being, she feels like she's done something decent. She feels as though they're less stagnant and a little bit at peace. Or perhaps on their way to something such as that. It doesn’t matter because they’re moving forward.

It makes Annabeth hate herself for not confiding in him completely.
-
When Luke finally shows up, the sky is crying and angry raindrops pound against the windows.

Still, it feels anticlimactic.

And truly, Annabeth should have known. The worst part about the rain wasn’t the persistence or the gloom nor the cold. It was the way it brought things to the surface; like the pain in her ankle from the time she’d rolled it when she was a teenager. Or how the dirty carpet in the basement would smell worse during a storm before her father quickly ripped it up and replaced it.

She once had a cavity that she let sit in her mouth, angry and painful and festering. Annabeth hadn’t wanted to burden her father with the information; not because she didn’t want to irritate him, but because she hadn’t wanted to owe him anything more. She didn’t want to share any vulnerability or reach out for help in fear of being reminded of it later on. Annabeth felt such pain radiate from it during groggy days like today. Eventually her cheek had swollen. Her father took her to get it fixed once her step-mother noticed.

She wonders if her hand would ache in all those uncomfortable ways eventually as well.

“Hey, Annabeth,” he greets. She frowns. “I thought you’d be happier to see me.” He sounds mocking. The dismissiveness shouldn’t make her so upset, but it does. This was more than a joke or a hello from an old friend. He didn’t care if she was happy to see him or not. He didn’t care for how she felt. Luke always knew what was best for her in his mind, and he didn’t need her validation on the subject. He didn’t take her seriously.

Her first thought is of her relief over the fact that Piper isn’t home. Her cheeks burn in shame.

“What do you want?” She asks, crossing her arms and trying to sound stoic.

“I came because I wanted to see you.” The words are simple and so it makes her feel stupid for thinking, knowing, the situation wasn’t. It makes her feel small in the presence of her inner turmoil. “I was in the city so I figured now was a good time.”

“Well, it’s not,” she assures him. “You can’t just come here.” Annabeth can’t help herself but inspect his features. She hasn’t seen him in almost two years after all. Sometimes she did find herself worrying about him. “I’m not going to get high with you.” The statement holds another silent promise. She wasn’t going to sleep with him either. Annabeth feels stupidly brave for saying the words.

Luke has always been so confident; like he knew what Annabeth needed more than she did herself. He was always so confident in his decisions before they fell through, and even after because he rarely burdened the consequences. She did.

One time he’d admitted he liked the power he held over her. Annabeth had ignored it, as if it were a joke or a clump of words that held no actual meaning. He had such little control over his childhood; always submissive to what his parents wanted, what they needed. He was pushed around and hurt for the sake of making his father proud. Until he’d had enough, of course. Annabeth had been hurt in a similar fashion, and yet, she just wanted mutual and stable company. She wonders how good it felt when he’d finally had a little naive girl enter his life and watch him as though he could do no wrong, eyes wide and gray. She wonders if it felt really fucking good to know she was more scared to lose him then to forgive him every time.

“I’m not here for that,” he almost laughs and they stand there for a moment before Annabeth realizes he wants to be invited in. She contemplates him then, in a stance that may come off as stubborn. But, truly, she's just thinking. She doesn’t feel as though he looks much different. Perhaps healthier with fuller cheeks and trimmed hair. His complexion isn’t too pale and she can tell, in the moment, he’s sober. But his height is condescending as always and the same scar marrs his face. “I wanted to give you something.”

The realization wears her down and she steps aside to let him in.

She sits beside Luke, but at the opposite end, knees pressed to her chest and back resting against the arm of the furniture. Annabeth taps her fingers against her leg vigorously in an attempt to quell her anxiety. “Hurry,” she tells him with wide eyes. “You can’t be here when Piper gets home.” He narrows his eyes at that.

“I’m getting married.” The words are so sudden and spewed from his lips calmly. Annabeth almost chokes on her own saliva. The breath is knocked out of her and she isn’t sure why exactly.

“What?” Luke laughs at that. He’d once told Annabeth she was so mature at seventeen. She wonders if he still believed that; if he ever did or if it mattered. He leans forward to hand her something from his pocket. It's an invitation with pretty flowers printed along the edges and fancy cursive lettering. “Who?”

“A girl I met at work.”

After the initial shock passes, Annabeth isn’t sure what she’ll feel or why she’ll feel it. When it washes over her it’s something like relief. Maybe he was going to change this time. Annabeth knew she couldn’t raise a baby with Luke in her life. They were horrible, the way they’d enable one another. Annabeth had to leave that part of her behind. Still, it seemed the best possible outcome for him to be happy. Yes, let him be happy and they could both be free of San Francisco and of each other.

“I’m happy for you,” Annabeth says. Her voice is so genuine in her ears and her eyes sting a bit. She is, even after everything. He probably doesn’t deserve that, she realizes. Annabeth imagines what her friends would say if they could see her now. Shame lights a flame in the pit of her stomach that licks at her insides till she can feel the nausea in her chest. Shame and guilt were relatives and Annabeth thinks they must be the worst and most lonely fucking feelings in the world.

“I miss you,” he tells her, seriously. “I miss seeing you everyday.”

Annabeth looks down, a bit shyly then, not exactly sure what to say to that. That she misses him as well? Sometimes she did, but all of that felt like another lifetime ago. She wasn’t expecting such a simple confession. The idea of someone missing her is almost warming. “It was horrible whenever we got together.”

“It was fun sometimes.”

“Yeah,” she agrees with a slight laugh falling from her lips. Because, for what it was worth, that relationship was one of the only things she had for herself in that old life. It didn’t matter if she was in control or not, she felt as though she was. For a while at least. It was his but it didn’t matter because it wasn’t something her family could take or give.

“Are you happy?” Luke asks suddenly, like he really wants to know. “Are you happy here?” Annabeth wasn’t planning on telling him anything about her life or her baby. Something about this encounter brings the words to her lips with ease; something about the fact that he cared enough to ask. And for a moment, when he speaks the question, voice soft, she feels as though she truly is sitting beside someone she loves. Someone, who after everything, cares for her.

“I-” Annabeth stutters out the words almost fondly. “I’m pregnant.”

He laughs. “You’re joking.” Her face falls momentarily, and when he sees her expression, he gets serious as well. It’s almost judgemental and Annabeth would be angry if she wasn’t just so fucking exposed by his sentiment. “You,” he emphasizes, “are gonna have a baby?”

“Yes,” she challenges. “I am.”

“Annabeth, you’re going to be a mother?” The disbelief in his words hollows her chest.

“Why not?” Annabeth asks with scrunched brows, sitting up a bit straighter. She’d had enough of her own self-deprecating thoughts regarding being a bad parent. She didn’t need him validating them. Still, a part of her listens in fear that he’s right.

“Who knocked you up?” Luke asks instead and Annabeth narrows her eyes, frustrated. It’s hard to explain that type of pain that comes with constantly having to explain every decision and reasoning for your own choices

“It doesn’t matter.” If it wasn’t clear to him that whatever they had shared was over when she left, Annabeth is sure they both know now. There wasn’t room for friendship or anything else between the two. Luke may always think he has some sort of ownership over Annabeth even if he did move on. He’s jealous, she realizes. Jealous over something he doesn’t even want. Luke hadn’t asked her if she was happy out of genuity. He couldn’t stand not to know.

He’d grown much too accustomed to leaning on her emotionally and Annabeth had allowed it to happen. Even when they hadn’t seen each other or spoke for a long period of time, he fed on the idea of her; the stability that came with knowing she’d always be within reach.

A silence settles over them both for a long moment. She’s surprised when he doesn’t press for an answer but also glad, heaving out a relieved sigh. “You don’t think I’d be a good mom?” She asks. And really, it’s stupid. Her eyes are wide and her voice is sad. There’s a part of her that cares what he thinks, still, even now.

Probably because he has seen a part of her that she didn’t bring to New York.

“I just can’t see it, that's all.” Maybe Annabeth did fall in with the wrong crowd growing up and perhaps she’s grown up some more since then. Her face feels hot anyways. “You’re too selfish for that.” Her heart drops at the words and she watches him warily for a moment.

“Get out,” Annabeth grits out. She can feel the tips of nails breaking skin.

“Oh, come on,” he grins. “Don’t be like that.” Luke places his hand on her knee, trailing a bit up her leg. She pushes him away, shooting him a glare.

“Are you kidding?” Annabeth asks. “Get out,” she repeats, lowering her voice a bit as her gaze shifts downward. “I don’t deserve this.” She sounds more defeated to herself than anything else. Like she’s trying to convince herself. He never took her seriously and now wasn't going to be any different.

Luke tucks a loose curl behind her ear and she can’t meet his eye. He pulls her in to kiss her forehead. She just sits there, still all the while, eyes focused on her hands as he leaves. Annabeth feels more numb than she has in a while.

Annabeth knows when he’s gone only when the door shuts loudly, the sound ringing in her ears besides her cluttered thoughts.
-
“Why don’t you visit your mom?”

Annabeth thinks it’s probably an abrupt question. If she hadn’t blurted it out, she probably would have never mustered up the courage. Each of her breaths become a bit more challenging with every second that passes in silence.

The evening is almost cool for once in so long, and it feels nice against her cheek when they trek up the subway steps beside one another. The sky is full of pretty pinks and purples, slowly becoming muted by night. Annabeth almost wishes she could take back the words, but she can’t and she’s glad, because, in the end, her curiosity usually gets the better of her. She stiffens, thinking of the way Luke and her would share certain aspects of a similar situation that was their past. Annabeth recalls how he’d become angry if she overstepped a boundary he never really discussed. That was something difficult between them always; boundaries. Nothing was made clear and it was intense and difficult. It hurt.

Annabeth hopes she hasn’t ruined the day they’ve spent. She can feel the smooth surface of the ultrasound photo between her palm and thumb. Their baby was supposedly the size of a pea pod, she’d read. Annabeth was nervous about how little she’d been showing. The doctor had assured her it was okay and she was relieved, leisurely walking beside him with a warm feeling in her chest. Annabeth couldn’t really make out the photo that much. It was just a little blob, and yet, it felt nice to have something real before her that she could touch and look at and prove to herself this was all real.

“I do,” he assures her, casually. Annabeth gives him a look, but Percy doesn’t turn to see. He just stares forwards as they walk, wrapping his fingers around her bicep to stop her from bumping into a stranger. “Pay attention.” She ignores him with a bit of a scowl.

“No, I mean, she’s so close by. She wants you to come. Why don’t you visit more often?” Annabeth is curious, and perhaps she’s also projecting a bit. She’s self-aware enough to admit this much to herself.

“I don’t know.” He shrugs his shoulders, but still won’t look at her. Annabeth takes the opportunity to watch him solely and study the curve of his nose and highlights of his cheeks. She rarely has moments too, especially in the past couple of weeks. His lashes are dark and his eyes heavy. There’s a cigarette tucked behind his ear, and Annabeth is sure he’ll light it as soon as they part ways.

“Yes you do,” Annabeth pushes. And maybe she wouldn’t if he hadn’t tried to get her to admit so many truths aloud in the past. But he’d looked her in the eyes with determination and told her he wished to hear about her hurt. It was only fair now that she could do the same to quell his own loneliness. Even Percy, who showed so much kindness to everyone he met; who attracted all the right people and could turn enemies into friends so easily, must get lonely at times.

“I love my mom,” Percy tells her, giving in and she feels like a fraud. Annabeth can see how much he means it on his face. “But she has my little sister now with her new husband and. . . it sounds so stupid, really.” Annabeth shakes her head, but he waits for her validation in the form of words.

“No it doesn’t,” she just promises, waiting for him to continue. And Annabeth means it.

“And sometimes I feel like a reminder of the worst part of her life.” Percy laughs a bit, almost bitterly like he feels stupid for feeling that way in the first place. His lost expression makes Annabeth’s chest ache. She wants to tell him he doesn’t need to explain his hurt for it to exist. Instead, she just listens and wonders if it’s lonely to be the child of a family that shares a last name without you. Growing up was lonely enough without such a painful, literal reminder. She’s so glad their baby will have his last name.

“Have you ever talked to your mom about it?” She asks. The two of them were so close after all. There was so much love in that family.

Percy shakes his head. “They never did anything to make me feel that way, I just don’t belong.”
And Annabeth gets it. She understands what he means. Percy doesn’t need confirmation that his mother loves him. He doesn’t want her to tell him he will always be embraced there with open arms; that he can always call wherever they live his home. He knows that. Percy doesn’t perfectly fit in and that’s okay. Still, she doesn’t think it’s fair. “Everything changed so much till there wasn’t much- uh, familiarity I guess. It changed for the better but it was still uncomfortable.”

For the first time, Annabeth thinks she can understand his attachment to the relationship he shared with Calypso. She’s sure it’ll take time for him to completely move forward from that. Percy was so good at listening. Annabeth wonders who listened to him whenever he was feeling upset or anxious or lonely. She wants to be that person, even if she decides they’re nothing more than friends. Especially because they’re friends.

She likes hearing what he has to say, and she hangs on to each word vehemently. There isn’t advice to offer nor a solution. There was only listening when he needed it. There was only moving forward and healing with time.

They would build something stable together. And she could quell both their fears in the same instance. She’s sure of it because she’s determined to do so.

“Change is hard,” she agrees.

“And it’s frustrating,” he begins. It seems Percy can’t help but continue on once he’s started. “Because I’m so glad my mom is happy, and I love Estelle and even Paul. But- it’s like they moved on without me. Because I can’t forget or forgive what that asshole put us through.” Annabeth has heard clipped stories regarding his step father. Thinking about anyone hurting him makes her seethe with anger. “I don’t want to bring up any past memories for her.” He shrugs it off then.

Annabeth thinks on that for a moment. “I don’t believe you have to forgive him. You don’t have to forget him or your anger either. Just- just don’t keep it all bottled up, okay?”

“You’re giving me that advice?” he asks, suddenly sounding a bit cheeky. She scrunches her brows at him.

“I’m serious,” she answers, irritated. “I want to know when you’re hurting too. Be patient with yourself. It doesn’t matter how long it takes to get there,” she tells him, from all her years of trying and failing to move forward. “As long as you don’t stand completely still, you’ll be okay,” she assures him, not sounding as confident as she would’ve liked. Still, Annabeth is sure Percy will be okay. Not because his pain has made him stronger, but because he has to be. She knew full well suffering didn’t do anything but cause hurt and stagnation.

And maybe Annabeth has held on in the past. Perhaps she still does at times. But she is older now. She’d rather lose everything than become irrevocably stagnant. Annabeth appreciates his honesty and the way it makes her feel a bit less alone.

“Thank you,” he tells her. She isn’t exactly sure for what, but she likes hearing how the words fall from his lips. He’s finally looking at her and Annabeth has to turn away because there’s something so fond in his gaze that makes it hard to meet his eyes.

He’s already walked her home by then and she forces herself to do it, climbing onto the first step before turning to meet him fully. Annabeth thinks about inviting him up. She decides against it, pressing her lips together while she tries to think of something to say.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he tells her before the silence can drudge on too long. She’s thankful. Annabeth nods and it’s enough.
-
Luke calls Annabeth and he’s clearly drunk.

He doesn’t ask her to come to him; not in the way Annabeth asked Percy in the moment that felt so far away.

Still, she asks where he is. There’s a part of her that feels a responsibility for his safety. She doesn’t want to see him suffering because, truly, it’s all such a tragedy. He’d been fucked over and now he’ll use that to justify a million jabs of hurt he has caused. It’s his nature and perhaps he’ll never change. He won’t break from the cycle and Annabeth wanted to believe that at least one person thought him capable of change; even if it was her and she gave more than she received. It seemed fair that way. Fair to him. She can’t advocate for Luke and herself at the same time. It wouldn’t be possible and it’s clearer now than ever.

Annabeth walks to the address he sent her. It’s some bar where the music rings in her ears even when she stands outside. Annabeth lets out a shaky sigh. Annabeth wonders how Percy felt on his way to pick her up that night at some random hotel as she steps inside.

Luke’s pulling her into his arms before she even has the chance to notice his presence. Annabeth stills her own arms at her side and lets him. The ache in her chest is boring and familiar.

“I can’t stand to think of another man being inside of you,” he says with his mouth close to her ear. Annabeth tenses at the words, pushing him away.

“You’re disgusting,” she tells him, brows scrunched and cheeks burning. “Now, come on or I’ll leave without you.” And she should. Annabeth should leave him here and never look back. But, instead, she waits, blinking back tears with ease. She’s so used to it by now with him.

“You're actually going to have a baby with Percy Jackson?” The music fades behind them as they walk out. Now she wishes it was louder. Annabeth is sure he’s assumed that and he’s assumed right.

“Yes.” She keeps it simple. Annabeth is sick and tired of explaining herself. She finds it’s easier to be let down by Luke than it ever would be by Percy. Maybe because she had faith in him, even now. Most definitely now. And that faith was real and sturdy in a way that she could grasp onto and feel.

“Are you even dating?” She wishes he wouldn’t care. He shouldn’t. Not now with the time they’ve spent apart and where they both were in life. Not now that he was getting married and they lived so many miles away.

“No. But I love him and we’re going to figure it out. It doesn’t matter if we’re dating or not.” Annabeth had so much to dwell on that their label was probably at the lowest of her concerns. It didn’t matter to her what anyone else called it as long as it was unshakable. As long as she wouldn’t have to hold on to whatever they had with desperate hands.

“That seems like a stable environment to raise a child.” Annabeth stops suddenly.

“You don’t understand the situation at all.” Why was she entertaining this? It seems so fucking stupid; her eagerness to dismiss what he was saying aloud; to convince him of her words. He laughs at her, placing his hand on her back for a moment to keep her moving.

“You think you love every guy you put out for,” It’s like a slap in the face, but she’s used to these insults from him. She’s so used to them that she hardly even answers. Annabeth remembers Luke’s increased interest in her when he met Percy. She wonders how long she’d only been an object to own in Luke’s mind. Maybe it had always been that way from the very beginning and she hadn’t been able to notice. “How are you going to stay here without somebody to look after you?” His tone of voice is almost playful, but there’s something accusatory under it all. She can hear it clearly. She can feel it in the way his fingers brush against her wrist as they walk.

“I’m not a child,” she argues. She’ll answer him seriously for once. Annabeth wasn’t a little kid who needed to be taught right from wrong. She felt so small when the two of them were together. Annabeth hates that she feels the need to explain herself to him, or even entertain such a ridiculous fucking statement. “I can take care of myself just fine. Don’t worry about me.” She sounds bitter because she is. “All I’ve ever done was look out for myself.”

“You sure do.” The way he twists what she’s trying to explain to him makes her sick.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Annabeth thought after everything she’d been through with men, she’d think before she acted. She was always smart and prideful. Her pride helped her leave her family and old life after all. Or he was right and she was nothing but an easy lay. Maybe people weren’t capable of giving her more energy when she couldn’t give them anything stable and conventional back. It wasn’t their fault; It wasn’t her fault.

Annabeth just genuinely didn’t know how.

But Percy loved her and he wanted her. She can’t comprehend that and when she finally had, she’d let Luke back in.

He always made Annabeth second guess herself in the worst ways possible in the worst possible moments.

“You know, Annabeth,” he starts and she braces herself with a clenched fist. “You don’t know how to love properly. You never really did. Although, you are good at leaving.” Her lower lip trembles and she lets out a staggering breath. So this is what he really thought of her. She finds Luke’s words wouldn’t hurt if she wasn’t so fucking afraid they were true. He always knew how to push her off her high horse. Annabeth tries to ignore him. He’s drunk and stupid. They’ve had worse fights than this where they’d said much worse things to one another.

And yet, she had loved him so much. It still wasn’t enough.

When Annabeth first slept with Luke she wanted to. She was ready. At least she’d convinced herself of that much. Maybe because it was nice to feel close to someone; to feel wanted by someone. Annabeth found herself in the consistent habit of coming up with more reasons such as those. She knows now her judgment was clouded, because many of her decisions with him often had one problematic reasoning. The rest of the list were just illusions she’d invented to convince herself it was okay.

No matter how wrong it felt.

And she hates herself, thinking about how she’d done things with him she hadn’t really felt comfortable with. Still, she kept her mouth shut and did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted to so he wouldn’t leave her. Annabeth cried when he expected her to. She cried so he would look her in the eyes. It became quite clear, all the ways he wanted her. A girlfriend, a wife, a mother, a little sister; a little girl who hardly knew the difference between what she needed and what she wanted.

Annabeth feels so stupid now, thinking about the lengths she would go to keep the people around her happy; the way she would gladly pull herself apart and give each of them a piece if only they would stay a little longer. She was losing herself each passing moment with each expectation; mostly the ones she set for herself as she tried to stay useful. The best thing Annabeth ever did was leave them all behind, even though her and Luke had fought about it. One moment she was telling him how she was thinking of messaging Piper, and then she was dropping the subject.

She left without telling him and it felt blissful and horrifying all at once. Annabeth left without really telling anyone besides her father at the last moment. It was so fucking crazy and she felt high when she first got to New York.

“I had to leave,” she defends. “I was hurting there.” Annabeth tries to find the words to explain. It didn’t seem fair at all. Where was her sympathy and forgiveness? It doesn’t seem right for Luke not to offer the same understanding she forced herself to feel for her mother. If she deserved that much then surely Annabeth did as well. From Luke and everyone else in her life.

“Do you have any idea how much I was hurting when you left?” Annabeth finds that hard to believe considering the fact that it took him so long to get in contact with her afterwards. She found that hard to believe, because he was the one always making her cry. Annabeth has a feeling even if she leaves now and never sees Luke again, he’ll haunt her for a long while after. It was strange to consider being haunted by the living. Strange and so familiar.

Caring was always a competition that it should never be, she sees now. And he’d taught her that. Her father had taught her that.

Annabeth feels sorry for Luke. She feels so fucking sorry for how he’d become a caretaker at such a young age; of how his father didn’t step up to fulfill his role as a parent, but rather did just enough to invalidate Luke’s hurt. Annabeth feels sorry for that child; not this man standing before her. Annabeth told him about her baby in a moment of vulnerability. It’s painfully obvious then that this was the reason why Annabeth couldn’t trust anybody without pulling teeth and an uneasiness thrumming in her eardrums all the while. It’s such a shame little boys eventually become men.

“Oh, I’m sure one of your other girlfriends was able to comfort you plenty.”

He ignores her jab with ease. “None of the girls I’ve been with in the past have ever understood me the way you always did.” She knows he believes this. She hates to hear it. Annabeth tries to decipher the code.

“What about your fiancé?” She questions. And maybe Annabeth should let it go, but she’s curious. Even now. Just for a moment. It’s toxic but then again, it’s always been like this.

“She’s great. I love her and I’m gonna marry her.” She follows him along the sidewalk, not exactly sure where he’s staying. It’s so late that her shadow has long disappeared from the concrete. She wasn’t nervous to be alone with Luke. Not the way she should be. There’s no but and Annabeth comes to the conclusion that perhaps he respected that woman, in her presence, a bit too much to ever lean on her the way he’s done to Annabeth; to confide in her and depend on her in such a toxic manner. It’s the bare minimum but it’s more than he has ever offered her.

“I didn’t have a life there,” she admits. Because, truly, Annabeth hadn’t. She’d been a shell of her own expectation; of what she believed the people around her wanted her to be. She was smart and she knew that. There was potential within her that screamed when she suppressed it. She wanted to be an architect. She wanted friends and family who could offer the same amount of effort she did. Annabeth wanted people to choose to be around her because they wanted to. She wanted to read and learn and see new places. Annabeth wanted something permanent, even if she had to build it herself.

And she knows what she wanted to be when she left.

“You had me.”

She wanted to be someone else.

Soon after the realization, she’d fled to New York to start again. There was a school she liked and more opportunities. She had a bank account full of money her mother had given her that she never touched. There was a craigslist ad for an apartment with a girl a year younger than herself. Annabeth could be someone else. It made her feel powerful to have such agency.

And that’s what she’d become for a while. Or perhaps she may have become a bit more of herself, however she wanted to look at it in the moment.

That was before Luke showed up not too long after, and everything changed. Annabeth didn’t fucking think for a second that her friends would still want her. But they did and it had lit a hearth in her chest that she didn’t know took residence within her before. It also made her sick with worry that she was simply manipulating them into staying beside her.

Percy still wanted her and for some reason that mattered the most. Maybe because he was so good natured in a way she idealized. She slept in his bed when she needed to be calmed into slumber beside the comfort of another. And a year later, when she’d been intimate with him, Annabeth had actually felt good and comfortable. Even when she knew she should be guilt ridden as a result of keeping secrets, she hadn’t been. Even when she tried to tell herself that he wouldn’t ever love her for her own sake.

“It’s not like that,” she tries to explain. “I needed something for myself.” He doesn’t answer and she doesn’t elaborate. When Luke asks her to come upstairs for a bit she goes. Perhaps because she needs some sort of closure that he would probably never give her. She sits cross legged at the edge of the bed and thinks about how she’d parted ways with Percy the night before. Annabeth liked that. She likes how they can say no to one another, and it won’t drastically affect their feelings.

“I should go now,” she says, standing, tensing her shoulders and twisting her fingers behind her back.

“Is this it?” Luke asks. She can tell he’s picked up on the finality of it all. Annabeth doesn’t answer. She just stares down at her shoes. “Because of him.”

“No, it’s not that.” She thinks it must be easy to chalk it up to something so simple instead of actually thinking and looking back on all the hurt.

“How many times are you going to be stupid enough to trust people who don’t care?” Luke sounds so angry and frustrated, like he’s been putting up with her all this time; looking after her. She feels stupid for letting him take advantage of her. Annabeth stares at the ground for a moment as he speaks, gaze hard. He always thought he knew her so much better than she knew herself. Perhaps that’s why he couldn’t handle it when she surprised him. “And, sure, why not bring a kid into your fucked up life so it can turn out like us?” The question is rhetorical and it makes her ache.

Annabeth thinks she hates Luke for a quick instance. She told him before that she didn’t fucking deserve this. Annabeth doesn’t deserve this.

“You’re the one who doesn’t care about me,” she blurts out, voice harsh and unapologetic. It seemed appropriate to take the energy she put into defending him to defend herself here and now. Why should Annabeth refrain from healing and stunt her growth for him? “I don’t want things to go back to the way they were. Nobody was looking out for me there. I’m not fucked up like you because I don’t go around hurting everybody I claim to care up.” He raises his hand to collide with her cheek in a quick instance. Annabeth doesn’t even have time to realize what has happened till she feels the sting against her skin. She stills, watching him for a moment with wide eyes. He seems just as surprised.

But then the expression is wiped from his face and her own hardened into something like feigned determination.

She leaves that night without uttering another word. Surely, it's goodbye. Annabeth can feel that simple truth in her bones. It aches to end it all in this way and perhaps it’s necessary. What a ass, she thinks as her thoughts race and her emotions run rampant. She can’t cry; she is just so angry, shaking from the feeling.

She has to stop herself from kicking her foot into the hard concrete at the base of the building. Annabeth digs her nails into her skin instead. She hates men. She hates them all so much. She hates her father and she hates Luke. She even hates her little brothers, perhaps unfairly, because of the way she’d been treated compared to them and because of them. Annabeth hates every guy she’s ever dated and she tries to rip apart healing wounds within her so she can remember the hurt Percy has caused in the past. She wants to hate him too, so badly.

She conjures a hundred responses she could’ve thrown at Luke in her mind as she walks home. And, yet, she’s relieved she hadn’t. Perhaps it hurt her pride but she knows if she’d gotten the better of him, this wouldn’t be over. He wouldn’t let her get the last word or hit. Annabeth shouldn’t have to be the ‘bigger person’ but she does, because she’s chosen to be a mother.

Annabeth sits on the steps leading to her apartment.

She’s too nervous to see if there’s a bruise forming on her cheek. She doesn’t want to face Piper. Her phone buzzes and she jumps from her faze. Percy. Oh god.

She thinks about not answering, but perhaps then he’ll come over. She gives herself a fucking second to contemplate which would be worse before sliding her thumb across the screen. Annabeth tries to reign in her composure, and she does to some extent. Her voice is a bit shaky as well as her hands. She is glad he can’t see her in the least.

“Hi,” she greets, voice almost an uncharacteristic squeak. Annabeth curses herself for it. She won’t cry because all of this was so stupid. It was stupid and it was over and she’d feel ridiculous to make a big deal of it; to drag anyone into it.

“Hey. Are you coming over tonight?” Annabeth was definitely sleeping at his place too much if he became worried without hearing from her in a single night.

“Uh- no.” Think, she forces herself. She remembers how his breathing had stuttered at her confession. Annabeth remembers finding out she was pregnant alone and, in that moment, feeling as though she would have to shoulder it all. “We aren’t married. You don’t need to call me when I don’t come over,” she tells him, attempting to sound more normal and even demanding. It feels so hot and cold; she’s sick with guilt over the cruelness of her tone and words.

“Geeze, okay. You’re such a Cancer.” Him and his stupid zodiac signs. “What’s wrong?” He doesn’t ask her if there’s something wrong. Percy just knows. Fool.

“I’m sorry,” she spits out, voice shaking once more. Perhaps she’s apologizing for her tone of voice or the truth she’s kept from him.

“Want me to come over?” He asks. She does. Annabeth would rather not be alone with her thoughts right now. She also would rather not have to explain her bruised skin and shaky fingers.

“Yes,” she tells him before she can stop herself. Annabeth stands so she can finally head inside. She takes the stairs all the way and Piper is asleep in her room already. Annabeth leaves the door unlocked for Percy and trusts he’ll lock it behind him. She walks as lightly as possible with each step. Annabeth pulls down her hair and peels her tights from her legs before curling on her side in the rest of her clothes.

Percy steps through the doorway of her bedroom, and she thinks about pretending to be asleep. Then she wouldn’t have to face him or sleep alone for that matter. For some reason, that makes her feel worse. She sits up quickly turning and getting the conversation over with. Her cheek was only red for now but it’ll bruise in the next couple of days. If she doesn’t tell him now then he’ll put his energy and patience into getting her to admit it later. He’d probably get her to eventually, and the thought of keeping it to herself doesn’t seem smart and unburdening any longer. It feels childish and selfish.

“I have to tell you something,” she blurts out and he doesn’t notice the difference in her complexion till he’s sitting across from her on the mattress, cradling her jaw in his hands and inspecting her skin. “I- I’ve been- I was with Luke tonight,” she finally settles on.

“What?” The tone of his voice has her flinching a bit. It’s only the slightest of movement, yet, he notices.

“But it’s okay, because-”

“Luke hit you?” Percy seethes with an expression so unlike she’s ever seen him wear before. He doesn’t look surprised, just so angry.

“It’s okay really,” she says dismissively, something in her voice warning him to let it go. “He was drunk and it was stupid. I’m not going to talk to him again so you don’t have to worry.” And she wasn’t. Annabeth blocked his number, finally. She deleted it from her contacts and threw away his stupid wedding invitation. In the spur of the moment it felt good. “I’m actually relieved it’s over.” Now she just felt numb.

“It’s not okay, Annabeth,” he tries to explain incredulously. Percy sounds so frustrated. “It’s not okay.”

“Please, don’t be mad at me.” Annabeth is so tired. She doesn’t want to do this right now. She doesn’t want to have this conversation ever. Her skin feels hot and she realizes she’s embarrassed. She’s embarrassed to admit, no matter how fast she could pick up a skill or memorize a fact, she still had to watch the same wound bleed over and over again; relearning the same lesson and hardly changing a thing.

“Annabeth,” he breathes out her name in a way that eases the reassurance from her lips.

“Look, I’m fine,” she tells him in an attempt to quell his agitation. “I’m okay.” Percy tilts her face up, fingers along her jaw and thumbs lightly grazing her cheek. He forces her to meet his eyes and her lip quivers without her realizing. She sucks it between her teeth. Annabeth reaches up to grab his wrists with gentle, shaking fingers. In a moment she’ll be over it.

“You think I’m mad at you?” He asks. She just stares at him a bit blankly, blinking as he scrunches his brows. “I’m mad at him.” She doesn’t like how he says these words, as though she has no agency in the matter. “Such a fucking piece of shit,” he mutters, like he’s speaking to himself.

It’s hard to admit she's been hurting herself, allowing him back in again and again just so she would have a safety net; so she would never ever have to be alone again. So she had somewhere to run back to when she wanted acceptance while she gave into her darker indulgences; mentally and physically, no matter what things she had to do for that security. Annabeth feels so torn and it’s hard to pinpoint exactly why his reaction sits horribly with her. She pushes his hands from her face and he looks alarmed by the suddenness of the action.

“Don’t talk like you have a right to say anything about any other guy I’ve been with or- or my decisions. You don’t.” He tries to speak and she interrupts him quickly. “You hurt me more than any of them.” Annabeth turns to face the wall, curled on her side. She pulls the blanket over her shoulder despite how warm she felt. Annabeth feels the bed shift slightly when he moves to lay with his back against the mattress. He doesn’t speak after that and the quietness is overbearing. She’s thankful for the exhaustion that’s been plaguing her recently. It helps her to fall asleep.

Annabeth finds still, she’s glad he’s stayed. She’s glad she doesn’t have to be alone, even now with this tension heavy between the two of them. She so fucking happy she didn’t have to beg him to.
-
When Annabeth wakes up that morning he isn’t in bed. She’s all alone, fully clothed in the outfit she’d worn yesterday with sweat sticking a couple of strands of hair against her flushed cheek. She feels so stupid, sitting up only to drop her head in her hands. She’d finally driven Percy away, and yet, Annabeth is only mad at him. Because she forgave him and he’s left her in this bed again.

“Annabeth?” She looks up to see Percy in the doorway, hair tousled from sleep. He’d been in the bathroom. Was she so stupid and untrusting?

“I thought you left.” The words come out quiet and shaky; the way somebody might utter an apology. He watches her for a moment, expression soft and almost sad. Annabeth leans her back against the headboard, pulling her knees to her chest under his gaze. He comes to sit beside her and Annabeth turns away, cheeks burning over her admission.

“Hey,” he tries, placing a gentle, cool hand against her cheek so she’ll look at him. Annabeth doesn’t realize how close they are till she looks him in the eyes, a bit out of breath. Percy looks so pretty, she thinks.

“Hi.”

Annabeth isn’t exactly sure who’d leaned in first when they’re kissing, his hand tangled in her hair and her own finding purchase and steadiness against his knees.

So, Annabeth isn’t exactly sure who’s initiated this, but she does know one thing. She’s the first to pull away.

“I-” Annabeth isn’t exactly sure what to say to this. Maybe because she doesn’t know exactly what she wants them to be yet. She definitely doesn’t want them to fight any longer. She doesn’t want them to revert back to before they’d done all this emotional labor. He looks back at her with a bit of surprise in his eyes as well.

“Annabeth,” he just starts, resting his hands over her own. She pulls away, pushing herself back to regain some space; to regain some composure and control. She takes a deep breath. How much she wanted to feel close to him scared her. “I’m sorry.” She almost flinches at the words.

She feels exposed in a way that scares her. It was a similar feeling to when they’d had sex for the second time. At first they’d agreed not to do it again. It was erratic and needy in the way that came with waiting so long to be together in that way. They’d agreed it was a mistake afterwards. The second time was different. It was slow and sweet with gentle caresses and soft kisses against her eyelid and her cheek and her jaw. And that night he’d felt her tears against his shoulder. Percy had stilled instantly, to look at her and wait for her gray eyes to flutter open and meet his own. She’d promised she was okay, pulling him closer with her hands pressed against his back.

It was the first time he’d seen her cry in a way that wasn’t out of fear or sadness or loneliness. Annabeth thinks it may have been the first time she’d ever done that and she didn’t really understand it.

“Don’t be. That’s so much worse.” Annabeth is scared he’s going to want to talk about this. She blurts out her next words a bit in desperation. “I’m not going to tell my parents.” She didn’t want him to try and change her mind so Annabeth hadn’t said anything. Now, she was relieved somebody else knew, even while waiting for his response. “I’m not going to tell them about the baby at all.”

There was a certain leincency she had given her parents that came with wanting somebody who didn't want you back. She doesn’t think she owes either of them this if she’d rather not. Especially if it wouldn’t be hard for either of them not to notice an entire child in her life. Annabeth thinks her mother would understand; at least the version she has created from the little conversations and the years spent with her Annabeth hardly remembers. Her father wouldn’t understand.

Annabeth is too tired to run after people who didn’t care much for forming emotional relationships with her.

She waits for Percy’s response, hardly caring if he’ll tell her he thinks it’s right or not.

He just nods. “You shouldn’t have to.” She can tell in his face that he doesn’t completely understand, but he’s trying to. Annabeth is happy with that.

“And I’m sorry,” she rushes. “About what I said to you last night.” Annabeth’s tone remains level and stoic as she attempts to share how she feels.

“Annabeth, I- I don’t- I’m not trying to tell you what you deserve or what you should do. But, I care about you. And how he treated you wasn’t right.” He’s choosing his words carefully so Annabeth does the same. Percy seems scared that she’ll deflect once more. “I definitely know you deserve better than that.” Even if that meant being lonely, Annabeth finishes in her own mind.

“That wasn’t love.” A fact that she’d been trying to ignore since she’d been around people who actually cared about her unselfishly and as an individual. Percy nods and maybe he’s scared to speak. Probably because he’s sure of her words.

“I know,” he confirms. But his voice is not accusatory. It’s just gentle and sad; he’s sad for her.

“I’m afraid that means nobody ever really cared for me like they should have before I came here.” Percy places a hand against her head so she’ll lean her cheek on his shoulder. “If he didn’t. And I’m scared that nobody really cared about me when I was a child at all.” She speaks the words quickly, cheeks burning in embarrassment. It’s so hard to get them out, and, yet when she does it’s relieving to share her burden with him. There isn’t much to say to that because it’s true. It’s enough for him to sit beside her now and know that her baby would never have to feel like that. It was better to accept this and move on then to hold on to any person who had consistently hurt her.

“It isn’t your fault,” he tells her, stroking her hair. “Nothing was wrong with you.” She felt so ridiculous and pathetic when she confronted her own want to hear those words out loud, that she never asked for them. She knew the answer to it at the surface. But hearing someone validate that idea is comforting in itself. Annabeth’s eyes sting because she hadn’t thought she deserved his kindness when they first met, and here he was, sitting beside her much later, and telling her she did.

She did. And she finally believes it despite how the feeling makes her heart beat quickly in her chest. It’s uncomfortable but she doesn’t mind it.

“Do you think it’s okay to leave people you care about behind?” Annabeth asks. She finds she only wants to hear Percy’s answer because he was so devoted to people he loved. Annabeth watches his expression while he contemplates her question. She can tell by the rhythmical and repetitive way he strokes her hair that he’s scared she’ll revert back into herself and push him away once more.

“I don’t think you have to leave somebody completely behind to let go.” She tries to decipher what he means by that, feeling frustrated by that answer. “But, yeah, I think it’s okay to leave people behind.”

“What’s the difference between letting go and running away?” She settles on with raised eyebrows. Annabeth finds his words absurd and annoying. She wants a real, definite answer. Percy was the one who had criticized her for hiding and leaving and running. Was he telling her to do the same thing now that she's worked so hard to take responsibility? There was the defensiveness creeping in like a chronic illness that comes and goes. She takes a breath and listens.

Percy hesitates for a moment, perhaps remembering those words he’d hurled at her that day in Jason’s kitchen. He looks guilty but he doesn’t say he’s sorry. Annabeth knows Percy isn’t too prideful to apologize. When he doesn’t take back his previous words, she knows he doesn’t regret saying them. “You’ll know.” Another moment passes and Annabeth turns to look at him with scrunched brows and concerned eyes. “Because, in these instances, I’ve found it's usually harder to let go than to hold on.” She thinks perhaps she hadn’t left Luke or her father at all. They’d abandoned her long before or they’d never really been there at all. At least not in the ways she’d been for them.

“That’s so unfair.” Annabeth just pouts, moving to rest her chin against her palm.

“Yeah,” Percy agrees, giving her a smile that she rolls her eyes at before turning away. “Hey.” He nudges her shoulder in a cheeky attempt to lift her spirits, and Annabeth falls for it a bit with fond eyes. It’s his presence that always gets her. She just liked being beside him, and she’s pretty sure that is the purest form of love between people; whether it’s familial or romantic or platonic. “It’s gonna be okay,” he tells her. He’s so sure of it that she doesn’t feel the need to waste her energy worrying about it. She finds it is less burdening to believe him. Annabeth nods, a bit teary eyed. She’s felt so alone; been so alone for a long time.

“Yeah, it is,” Annabeth agrees. And she lets her tears spill over. Annabeth is happy with her decisions. She doesn’t need anyone’s forgiveness for her past; for leaving it all behind. She doesn’t need that acknowledgement when she has the power to do so herself.

Annabeth forgives once more and this time it feels right.
-
On the day Annabeth gets her cast removed, Piper picks her up with a grin.

She flexes her wrist for Piper who clasps her hands together fixing a stern expression on her features. “You better never try to punch a hole in the wall again. Or I’ll find another roommate.”

“You better take that back. You’ll never find someone else to live with who’ll put up with your annoying friend the way I do,” she answers, looking at the text messages from Percy flashing across her locked screen. “Why can’t he send the entire text in one message?”

“For all our sake, you should put up with him a little less.” Annabeth laughs at that.

Her phone buzzes a moment later and Annabeth answers it on the second ring, releasing a dramatic sigh beforehand.

“Where are you guys?”

“On our way, you jerk.” It’s an insult and yet her words are so affectionate, Piper turns her head. “Eyes on the road, Piper.”

“Get your license and say that again, Annabeth.”

“Maybe I will.” She probably won’t.

“Annabeth,” Percy interrupts, voice annoyed. “I’m here alone. With Frank and Leo.” Then she gets the urgency. “I can’t take this.” She can hear parts of their argument muffled in the background of the call.

“Well you’ll have to wait.” The petty drama of their friend group came consistently, but at the same time they cared for one another deeply. Annabeth couldn’t say she was exactly close with most of them, but she liked being a part of that love.

When Piper and her get to the diner they were eating at, Percy’s sitting on the step with a cigarette pinched between his fingers.

“You left them alone together in there?” Piper demands.

“Oh, they love each other.” Percy dismissives the concern as she swings open the door.

“I’ll order for you, Annabeth,” she calls behind her before leaving them alone together. She almost wishes Piper hadn’t, because the last time they’d been alone together, they’d kissed.

“You better quit,” she tells him, coming to sit beside Percy despite her anxiety as he puts it out.

“I’m working on it,” he tells her, brushing the hair from her cheek with his thumb. She watches the way the sun sets around him and the color of the sky reflects against his cheeks and reveals how green his eyes actually are. She wishes she could take a picture of him like this, in this lighting so she can capture the moment forever. Percy seems to be inspecting her in the same way.

“What is it?” She asks, because holding eye contact is making her skin crawl, but she’s too stubborn to look away first.

“I was just thinking.”

“Stop doing that,” she tells him sternly. He laughs, looking down a bit where Annabeth holds her sweaty palms against her knees. Annabeth dramatically shows off her hand to him when he notices the lack of her cast. She gives him a cocky smile.

Percy grasps it gently with his own fingers before she can rest her arms at her sides. He holds her hand between his own and suddenly everything feels a bit heavy. Her smile falters as she watches the way he keeps his eyes on her fingers a moment before glancing back up at her. Annabeth gives him an incredulous look, almost freaked out by the seriousness on his face and how quickly his features had shifted.

“I love you.”

Annabeth is not surprised by the sentiment nor the truth behind them. But still, the tone has changed so quickly and her head spins a bit. He soothes his thumb against her knuckles. She just watches him for a moment.

He wanted her and she wanted him just as much; but need and want were so very different. Percy didn’t deny his feelings for Annabeth back on those steps with the wind pushing her hair from her forehead and his jacket keeping her warm.

Instead it seemed as though he’d only confirmed them with stuttering words and a desperate need for her understanding. But that felt like so fucking long ago. Annabeth wouldn’t have thought much of it before, but they both had power over one another. She didn’t want something so intense so soon. It would be awful for the two of them; for the three of them.

“I love you too.” It’s so easy for one measly second. They’re going to have a baby together. They both love each other and in return they should be together.

“So, what the hell are we doing?” It would be easy now too: to just give in.

“I don’t think either of us have any fucking business getting in a relationship right now,” Annabeth says, like she’s just now realizing it. Revolutionary, truly, she thinks sarcastically. Annabeth laughs. She finds the noise isn’t even bitter in her ears. She’s just laughing and it’s nice not to think about why. It’s nice to turn and see him laughing a bit with her.

“That’s a great point.”

She tucks her face into the crook of her elbow till she can compose herself.

“We’ll be friends for now.” He loves her and she loves him and they can figure out what those words even mean together.

He nods at her with something soft in his eyes. She doesn’t try to analyze the expression. “For now?” Percy jokes. She can’t figure out if he wants a real answer or if he’s simply mocking the way she’d worded her sentence. What a jerk, Annabeth thinks.

“Shut up.” She rolls her eyes, but her cheeks feel hot and she turns away, visibly annoyed.

“We’re family now,” he tells her, so sure and sudden that she has to hold her breath for a moment before responding. Percy has quelled so many insecurities and fears in a single sentence. She replays the words in her mind so many times over. Annabeth likes the words more than she’d ever care to admit aloud. She’s sure he can tell.

She could stand on her own now. She knows this because she’s done it many times before. And yet, she doesn’t want to; she doesn't want to be alone any longer. It’s too hard to abandon everyone to not be abandoned in return, and maybe, that doesn’t make her heart weak. It just makes her human.

“Yeah,” Annabeth agrees.