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Percy doesn’t say anything after he opens the door. Neither does Annabeth.
He wears a look on his face that Annabeth could hardly read. Something like confusion, or yet having to decide what he is feeling. Annabeth could understand that. It has been a year since they last saw each other, after all.
His face seems harsher than Annabeth remembers it. His cheeks have shrunk, as if they were sucked in. There is a scar splitting his brow in two. His eyes have grown into his face. His freckles have faded; it could almost be considered a metaphor, if it wasn’t for the fact it is mid-winter. He wears a bland tank and basketball shorts that cover his knees. Annabeth wonders if he is cold.
Percy clears his throat. “Annabeth. Is everything okay? What are you doing here?”
“I don’t know”, Annabeth says, as an answer to both questions, because she doesn’t. She removes the hood of her jacket from her head. Percy looks at her as if he finds it hard to. Annabeth doesn’t know what she is expecting. She doesn’t know if she has the privilege to expect anything.
Percy’s lips twitch. He steps aside, holding the door open, to Annabeth’s surprise.
As she walks past him, Annabeth catches his scent; the same scent that she has never stopped remembering and couldn’t forget even if she tried. She wants to hug him until her arms give up on themselves. She restrains herself from doing so.
Percy’s apartment is, Annabeth thinks, like a sneak peek into his mind. A punching bag hangs from the ceiling in the corner of the living room. Underneath are his headphones, right next to his boxing gloves, placed on top of a rugged towel. His walls are painted a dark shade of blue. The floor is decorated with a collection of sneakers and parking tickets and magazines and a fuzzy, berry red blanket that is falling from the tiny couch, only hanging on because of the heavy electric guitar lying on top of the edge. The television is playing an old RnB tune that Annabeth vaguely recognizes. A bookshelf covered with a thick layer of dust stands in solitude.
On the dining table, there are keys and an empty cup of coffee and a disposable cart and more magazines and parking tickets and a bowl of mixed nuts. On top of a stack of unopened envelopes rests a baby turtle.
Annabeth holds in a belly laugh.
“You look well”, Percy says, coming up from behind her. His hands are buried deep into his pockets.
“You look… Older”, Annabeth muses with a thoughtful hum, leaning on the armchair behind her.
Percy flicks his brow. “Older. Is that a compliment or an insult?”
“You know what I mean”, Annabeth says, even though she doesn’t know it herself.
Percy huffs a laugh. Annabeth’s stomach tugs at the sound.
Percy knuckles the length of his neck. “Hey, I’m sorry for the mess. Sit down wherever you like.”
Annabeth grabs a chair.
“Do you want anything? To drink, or eat.”
Annabeth shakes her head. Percy shrugs, drops onto the chair opposite to her. He grabs a handful of nuts from the bowl.
“Your place is very you”, Annabeth tells him, staring at the baby turtle, who was waking up slowly.
Percy pets the turtle on its shell. “Again, can’t tell if that’s supposed to be an insult or not.” He falls silent. “I can never tell anything with you.”
Annabeth winces. Looks up. His eyes look like sockets from this angle and under that light. His curls are disheveled and overgrown; they reach the nape of his neck.
“How’s your mother?”, she asks.
Percy leans back in his chair. He thumbs the rings on his fingers. “Fine”, he says. “How’s Connor?”
Annabeth unintentionally makes a sound that she tries to blow off as her clearing her throat. Percy wears a ridiculously genuine expression on his face.
“He’s fine”, Annabeth says, the words coming out more tense than she wanted them to.
A smile cracks onto Percy’s face. Annabeth’s gaze lingers on it. It has been too long since she has seen it.
“Yeah. I didn’t think anything else.”
Annabeth wonders what he means by that.
“So, you haven’t told him?”, Percy asks sweetly, but there was a sarcastic edge to it. “About the kiss.”
Annabeth breathes out long and sharp through her nose. “I have, actually. He was understanding.”
A scoff. “Of course, he was.“
Annabeth bites the inside of her cheek. “Have you heard from Rachel yet?”
“Nah.”
“You don’t sound too upset.”
“Because I’m not.”
“You guys were together for, like, forever.”
“Yeah.” Percy has a faraway look in his eyes. “I know. I…”
Annabeth tilts her face, regarding him. The curve of his forehead. The angle of his chin. The corners of his mouth are pointed downwards. He has his mother’s nose. Annabeth believes she could’ve sat there, in that shared silence, staring at him, for the rest of her life, and feel content.
“You saw it coming”, Annabeth finally finishes for him.
Percy blinks. Downs a couple of cashews. Slumps in his chair. “Yeah.”
“Hm.” Annabeth folds an overdue parking ticket into a tiny airplane. “I suppose we’re both single now, then.”
Percy starts choking on a nut. He manages to swallow it. Annabeth frowns.
Percy sits up straight. “Wait, single? You just said--”
“I broke up with him”, Annabeth says weakly. She thinks of the fight, of the stupid things she told him, even though they were true, such as how it felt like he was always putting up an act around her, and that she wanted to see his rough and uneasy parts, too, because that’s what you do when you love someone, you show them everything. She thinks of how she could only think of Percy when she said those things and of how she could only think of Percy when she walked out the door.
Percy doesn’t say anything. He combs his hair back with his fingers. Annabeth notices an eyebrow piercing that she could swear wasn’t there a minute ago.
“It suits you”, Annabeth says, nodding to his piercing.
“Oh, this?” Percy touches it briefly. His fingers are long and his knuckles bruised. “Clarisse pierced it for me. I had to practically beg my mom to let me."
Annabeth narrowly smiles at the thought of Percy still asking his mom for permission to get it, even though he was old enough to decide for himself.
Percy catches her smile. He mirrors it. "Yeah. She told me I… She told me I’d regret it, but I don’t.”
Annabeth frowns.
“I don’t regret it”, he repeats. He sounds like he has never been surer of anything. Annabeth, for a second, thinks he is not only talking about the piercing.
She feigns interest in the turtle. The lines in its shell.
Suddenly, Percy shoots up to his feet. “You wanna check out my drum set?”
“Sure”, Annabeth says, and not because she wants to see it, but because he wants to show her, for some strange reason that she couldn’t quite grasp.
Percy leads her to his room. Its square and roomy, and exactly how Annabeth imagined it would look like. The walls are papered with countless posters of which she recognizes few: a movie poster of Whiplash, and one of La La Land. In between them is a vintage jazz poster that reads A DAY WITH THE DUKE – IN PERSON – GENIUS OF JAZZ – DUKE ELLINGTON. A mirror plastered with polaroids and colorful sticky notes above his dresser, an empty guitar case and t-shirts on his twin-sized bed, a record player near the foot of his bed. His drum set is placed next to the window. Percy sits on its stool, bounces his leg. Annabeth sits on the corner of his bed.
“I only recently picked it up again”, he says, grabbing the sticks. Annabeth supposes he meant that as an apology, but thinks of it as ridiculous as soon as he starts playing.
He is really, really good.
“Cool, huh?” Percy breathes afterwards. He wipes a few beads of sweat above his brow away with the back of his hand.
“Really fucking cool”, Annabeth admits.
Percy tuts. “I’m basically Andrew Neiman now.”
“I knew it.” Annabeth glimpses at the poster right above his bed. “The real reason why you broke up with Rachel is because you believed she was holding you back from achieving greatness.”
Percy gives a loose laugh. “Funny.”
Annabeth leans back on her elbows. “Don’t you wish things had gone differently, sometimes? So much time has passed, after that stupid kiss, after your breakup. And I never even called. Do you never think about what your life would look like if you’d just stayed with her?”
Percy crosses his arms across his chest, holding his biceps. His face is screwed up in confusion.
“You thought it was stupid?” His voice was softer than usual.
“No, I didn’t—" Annabeth sits up straight. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
Percy twists his lips. “My life would’ve looked really miserable, probably.” He shakes his head. “I don’t regret things, Annabeth.”
Annabeth’s gaze drifts to his piercing. She frowns.
“You wanna give it a try?” he then asks, and stands up without waiting for an answer, reaching out the drumsticks to her.
Annabeth takes them with a snort, rises a little awkward. “Don’t blame me if your ears start bleeding.”
Percy waves his hand. “You can’t be that bad.”
“I tried to warn you.” Annabeth shrugs and takes place on the chair. Percy stands right behind her, and it makes her breath hitch in her throat, which is really dumb. Unsure, she hits one of the gold-ish circular things and follows up with a stomp of her right foot on the pedal it rests on.
Percy makes a weird, high-pitched noise. “Okay, hold on. Wait.” He holds her hands down before she could hit the other gold-ish circular thing.
“Scoot over”, he says, but doesn’t wait until Annabeth has done so, and forcefully sits down next to her on the uncomfortably small chair, his knees and shoulders pressed against hers, his face closer to her than she could handle.
Annabeth stands up to give Percy (and herself) some space, but he immediately grabs her arm.
“Wait”, – a laugh – “let me show you. Come, sit.”
Annabeth keeps her gaze down as she sits down again, on the pedals of the drum set, on her shoes, their shoelaces, because she knows, in the quiet of her heart, that she couldn’t restrain herself from kissing him senseless if she even glances at him.
“Like this”, Percy says, and what he does next almost wills Annabeth into standing up and running away and taking the next train to wherever and never coming back, if it wasn’t for the fact she completely freezes.
Percy puts his arm around her, takes both of her trembling hands in his, and starts drumming.
Annabeth can only stare at his hands holding hers and wonder if he knows that he is actively pulling out her organs and rearranging them in patterns she has never known.
When they’re done, Percy doesn’t let go of Annabeth.
“Look at you go”, he says. His face is turned to hers now, Annabeth can tell without looking. “You’re a fast learner.”
The silence stretches out. Annabeth can feel their chests expanding to the same rhythm. His familiar scent is overwhelming all of her senses. He slightly moves his thumb over hers, and he is still waiting, and she couldn’t ignore it even if she tried.
She looks up. Examines his face.
There is a small cut on his jaw. His freckles are still there. Fading, but still there. His cheekbones have always been visible, but now are as sharp as the edge of a knife. She can see his eyes clearly up close; they are deep, and daring, and blue, ridiculously so, and more captivating than any curse or story or ocean. She looks away again, fearing to find herself drowning.
“You came”, Percy says, quietly.
Annabeth stares out the window. The sun is setting already.
“Why?”
Annabeth’s lip quivers. She presses them together for a brief moment. “I broke up with Connor today. Right before I came here. I realized... some things, and I just left.”
A short silence fills the room.
“And you came looking for me.”
Annabeth looks up again. His eyebrows were scrunched together now, forming a crease in between them.
“Why?” he repeats.
Because it all comes back to you, Annabeth thinks. Every turn I take, every decision I make. It all leads to you. Because you understand better than anyone else. Because you're still waiting.
“Because”, Annabeth starts. Her throat is dry. “That night, you promised me you’d break up with her. And when I told you that I couldn’t do it, that I couldn’t— leave him. You said you’d wait. Forever, if you had to.”
Percy smiles, but it’s something more melodramatic than it usually is. His grip on her hands loosens a little. “You know, I almost thought you forgot. Before you showed up at my doorstep.”
“Forgot?” Annabeth scoffs a laugh against her will, as if even the thought of it was unbelievable. She rises to her feet, getting out from under Percy’s arm.
“How could I forget? Percy, I haven’t thought of anything else but you. These months…” She puts her hands on her hips, throws her head back, laughs again. “You don’t even know. You don’t even know. Oh, my god.”
Percy stands up, too. “I never heard from you again after that night. You disappeared, Annabeth. I thought you were living your happily ever after with that, fucking, Connor guy.”
“Then why did you still wait for me?”
“Because”, Percy starts. His voice is barely above a whisper. He turns his face away, dragging his knuckles across his cheek, but Annabeth had noticed the tear. She wants to wipe it away and cup his face and never let go.
“Because you’re everywhere”, Percy breathes out. He runs a hand through his hair. “Because everywhere I turn, I can only see your face. You haunt me. Annabeth.”
Annabeth is breathless. Percy steps closer, reaches for her elbow. “You think I chose to? You think I wanted to be unable to, to breathe, to function properly, without you by my side? Annabeth.”
Annabeth doesn’t know what to say. They stand before each other, and Annabeth mourns all of the hours she spent, all of the hours she wasted, wondering if it would be worth it; to leave her somewhat comfortable life as she knew it for something so unbearably new, something that made her nervous, something that she knew she couldn’t turn back from once she chose it.
Tears escape her eyes before she registers it. She lumps down on his bed.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Percy sits down next to her, wraps his arms around her. They are familiar. She rests her head against his chest, listens to his heartbeat.
He cradles her for a while in his arms.
“I don’t want to be away from you”, Annabeth murmurs. “Ever again.”
“Good.” Percy smiles. She doesn’t see it, but she can hear his smile in every syllable. “‘cause I wasn’t planning on letting you go, ever again.”