Work Text:
i thought we were made
of memories
but when i look at you
the whole world
blurs
i’m starting to think we are made
of dreams
and you just happen to
be mine.
-badpoetry
What is a dream?
A 12 year old Percy Jackson asked.
And the little five year old girl he babysat gave him a toothy grin and said, “Mommy told me its where all the people we used to know and all the people we will know meet up,”
He blinked those sea green eyes at her unsure exactly what she meant, what that implied, what those possibilities entailed.
“Why?”
“Well,” Her brow furrowed, “I was having a bad dream and I woke mommy up. I was crying you know,” She nodded, hanging her head shamefully, “I know that means I’m not a big girl but it was really scary,”
“It’s okay to cr—” He started but she was already prattling on.
“So mommy sat with me and she explained that sometimes when we dream bad things it just means our heart is hurted for the people we don’t know.”
Percy was flawed, he didn’t really know how to process this, how she said it with such casualness, as if it was the most sensible thing in the world.
“And what happens if you have good dreams?”
“Well mommy says that means you are happy.” She shrugged, “Can we watch Winx Club now?”
And with one click of the TV the conversation was over. For her anyway. Percy sat there, blinking in and out of reality, his thoughts swirling.
Where all the people you used to know and you will know meet.
He crashed into bed that night, tired and escaping the reek of liquor and tobacco. He circled back to the conversation he had with little Stella a frown etching into his forehead.
Our heart is hurting for the people we don’t know.
And when grey eyes and streaks of blonde visited his dreams once more his frown deepened; who was this person and why why why did they hurt.
***
Annabeth Chase was having a bad day. She had had a fight with her father, got screamed at by her stepmother and stepped on Lego all in the span of one morning. Now she stormed down the passage and out the gym, gold curls flying and eyes the colour of ash burning holes into the concrete as she waited outside.
It wasn’t her fault she had punched him. He shouldn’t have told her to “move out the way so the real game could start.” She would have thrown that basketball right at his stupid face if someone hadn’t grabbed it from her. Now she was standing outside the gym, waiting for class to end so her coach could take her to the principal’s office. She was probably going to get suspended again- not that she cared. She was more concerned with what her father would do. Her anger was interrupted by a throat clearing.
She looked up to see black hair, dark skin and green eyes staring at her.
“What do you want?”
“I got sent here. I punched the other two idiots who were still snickering after you got kicked out.”
And it’s then that she noticed his bruising knuckles and red jaw.
“Oh,” Was her eloquent reply, “Why?”
“They were wrong and it was rude.” He shrugged as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
“Well thanks I guess,” She tried to set her face into some semblance of a smile, “Guess we’re both getting suspended huh?”
“I’ll probably get expelled,” He rolled his eyes.
“What? Why?”
“This is my third offense. I seem to have a lot of run-ins but usually they don’t involve defending pretty girls.”
She blushed at that, and then took comfort in his reddening cheeks.
“What’s your—”
“Annabeth Chase!” A stern voice started towards them.
“Guess that’s my cue. See you on the other side—”
“Percy,” He smiled.
She returned it with a dazzling one of her own before being dragged to the dungeons.
Percy Jackson did not dream of stormy eyes and golden curls that night. And for the first time in six months he finally knew that Annabeth Chase was not hurting.
“Percy,” She laughed, shoving away.
“Annabeth,” He whispered, pulling her to him.
What is a dream?
A sixteen year old Percy Jackson asked.
And the glowing girl tucked into his side turned to him and said, “Subconscious imaginings that happen when you sleep that could involve sound, image and other sensory components.”
He smiled at her, at his wise girl who thought of everything with her strategist brain, and he pulled her closer.
“They’re just in your head, made up. Your imagination running wild.” She shrugged as if that was the sensible explanation, the only explanation.
“I guess they are. Why do you think we have good or bad dreams?”
“Probably to do with stress and our emotions. Maybe throw something about hormones in there.” She looked up at him with her knowledgeable eyes, pools that held equal amounts defiance and pride, that held much more of something, something, something.
***
Annabeth Chase was having a good day. She woke up to the smell of pancakes and hushed whispers outside her door. Her boyfriend and her father were waiting for her tell tale sign before they came barging in. With a soft smile she clicked play on her phone and let the opening notes of Last Dance fill her room, her head, her smile.
The door eased open, floppy black hair and ocean eyes peeking at her. With a troublemakers smile he sprinted for the bed and flopped over her.
“Happy birthday Wise Girl,”
“Thank you,” She kissed his forehead and then smiled up at the adult walking in.
“Happy Birthday sweetheart,” He said softly holding out a plate with a ring of cupcakes and a single candle in the middle.
“Eighteen huh?”
“Don’t remind me, I think I can already feel my bones creaking.”
“That’s not your bones, your machine body just needs some oil.” Percy said cheekily.
She shoved his face away but laughed, “If I was a machine I would have my degree by now,”
“How about finishing high school first? Life is just beginning.” Her dad sat down beside her.
“I know I know, just sometimes feel like I’ve been dreaming about living it for so long it’s hard to imagine waiting even a second more.”
“Well I’ll be here to help you past the time,” Percy grinned at her before swiping a cupcake and shoving the entire thing into his mouth.
“I know you will.” She grabbed his hand.
“Annabeth,” He cried, watching as she walked down the steps and out out out.
“Life,” She sighed, gripping the handle of her bag and walking towards the gate and into the world beyond.
What is a dream?
A 21 year old Percy Jackson asked.
And the boy in the mirror gave him a broken look and said, “It is the alternative ending.”
He closed his eyes, lifted his face to the skies.
“Why do we have bad dreams?”
“Some endings are not so happy,”
That night Percy Jackson went to sleep and watched storm clouds and lightning dance behind his eyes. Who was this person and why did they have no feeling at all?
***
Jason Grace did not expect to see a boy in a blue hoodie and faded jeans strolling through his secret garden but it seemed this bright breezy morning was ripe with surprise.
“Hey,” He called
The boy startled and then turned towards him and the breath knocked clean from his lungs. He had never seen someone so full of the world. Ocean eyes and coffee skin. Midnight hair and forest heights.
“Uh hi, sorry I didn’t think anyone was here,”
“I didn’t either. How did you find this place?”
“By accident mostly,” He flushed, “I didn’t mean to disturb you I just got lost in thought.”
“It’s okay, this is a good place to think. To just be.” He gave him a reassuring smile.
“Well I guess I should get out of your way,”
“Why don’t you stay a little longer, we can get lost in thought together?”
And as he came closer, as he sat down on the cool grass, offering a shy smile the world fell off his shoulders and landed in their palms, holding together, together, together.
“Jason,” He grinned.
“Percy,” He sighed, hugging him tighter.
Jason Grace layed down a blanket and intertwined his fingers with his boyfriend’s long supple one’s. Today they celebrate the day they first met in the little garden tucked away in a little park.
”Happy anniversary Percy,”
He smiled that heart-breaker’s smile and kissed him.
“I cannot believe it’s been two years,”
“Time is not real when you don’t have to keep track of it,” He mumbled, kissing golden knuckles.
Even all these years later he still looked like the world. Although maybe it was the world who looked like him. With those clear bright eyes and unbreakable will. With that never-ending steady loyalty and the warmth of a thousand suns.
“Where are you?” He asked Jason.
“I am lost in thought,” He smiled into the closing space between them.
“Can we get lost together?”
“We have been that way since the stars started shining.”
What is a dream?
A 25 year old Percy Jackson asked.
And the boy with lightning eyes gave him a curious smile and said “Us.”
He grinned, bright and unrestrained, the answer settling in his bones.
Us.
He had been searching his whole life for that word. Sometimes it takes two people in order for it to be true. Shakespeare did not make a word because he wrote it. He made one because he said it and someone echoed.
“Yes. We are a dream.” He nodded, holding his hand to that electric heart.
“Are we a good one?” A whisper floated between them.
“We are the only one, my love.”