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Annabeth had always imagined the future with blueprints—clean lines, exact angles, everything fitting into place.
She just never imagined a future without Percy.
The hospital room was too quiet. Machines hummed softly. Outside the window, the sky was painfully blue, the kind of color Percy used to joke was “his aesthetic.” Annabeth sat beside him, fingers tangled with his. His hand was thinner now, bones too sharp, skin too cold. But his grip was still Percy—warm, stubborn, there.
“Hey,” his voice was scratchy, and it hurt her more than any monster ever had. “You keep staring at me like I’m turning into a cyclops.”
She tried to smile. It came out broken.
“You’d be a very handsome cyclops.”
Percy rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
Silence settled again. Heavy. Real.
She hated it.
Then Percy said, softly, “Annabeth? Can we… talk? About after?”
Annabeth’s throat tightened. “Don’t.”
“Wise Girl.” His voice wasn’t stern—it was gentle, tired, and too mature for someone who used to sword-fight fountain statues for fun. “We always talk about stuff. We talk about everything. I don’t want that to change just because… I’m running out of time.”
Her eyes burned. She looked away, but Percy squeezed her hand.
“What do you want to know?” she whispered.
Percy stared at the ceiling for a long moment. His breathing was shallow, like every inhale was a mountain.
“I always thought we’d get a little apartment in New York,” he said. “Close to the ocean. You’d design buildings. I’d… I dunno. Teach sword fighting to little kids.” He coughed lightly. “Or work at an aquarium. Fish like me.”
Annabeth let out a choked laugh. “You’d be a great teacher. The kids would adore you.”
“I wanted a dog,” Percy continued. “A big, fluffy one. Named something ridiculous, like Seaweed.”
Annabeth leaned her forehead against his. “You always made everything sound so possible.”
“It was.” Percy’s eyes drifted shut, but his thumb traced circles on her hand. “I’m sorry, Wise Girl. I wanted to give you all of it. A future. A real, normal, mortal future.”
She swallowed hard. “You did.”
Percy opened his eyes again, green and tired but still bright with the same stubborn hope he’d always had. “Will you promise me something?”
Annabeth felt her heart crack. “Anything.”
“Promise you won’t stop living. Even after I’m gone. Go to college. Build the things you dream about. Be happy.” His voice broke. “Please.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. She didn’t wipe them away. “I don’t know how to do any of that without you.”
Percy’s eyes glistened, but he smiled—soft, sad, unbearably full of love.
“You do everything without me. You’re Annabeth Chase. You’ll move mountains. Design cities. Save people. You always have.”
She pressed her forehead harder against his, like if she leaned close enough she could stop time.
“I love you,” she whispered, voice trembling.
“I love you too.” Percy’s breathing slowed. “And I’ll wait for you. Just… not too soon, okay?”
Annabeth held his hand like she could hold him here forever.
The machines hummed. The sky stayed painfully blue.
And Annabeth whispered back:
“Okay. But you better save me a seat.
When Annabeth came back later that day Percy was gone.
Not a person in sight as his moniker still beeped and his clock still ticked. Percys’ IVF still next to his bed and his sheets smoothed over.
It’s safe to say Annabeth knew where he was- Percy was gone.
Percy had stayed goodbye and left the world without a trace.
Percys scars would always be something Annabeth would keep until she saw him again.