Archive of Our Own

Annabeth has never known silence quite like this before. She has never felt the chill within her bones, the hollowness in her chest, the pounding of her head as intensely as this. Her stomach churns as the words swim on the page. Of all her vast collection of literature, Annabeth doesn’t know why she chose a book in English, especially one handling quantum theory. Her hands are shaking and the day is barely over. 

Annabeth closes her eyes and leans against the uneven bark of the pine tree, her heart weighing a ton. It’s calm on the hill, where she can feel the summer breeze flowing through her braids, filling her lungs. The sun is low, but Annabeth can see heat waves in the distance. She tries to remember when she was last truly happy at camp. Her mind draws blank.

Instead, she thinks of infinity.

It’s been weeks, but it feels like just yesterday she threw her dagger towards the very person that gave it to her. Camp is her home, but everywhere she looks is lonely when the person she grew up for is no longer by her side.

She thinks of alternate universes where she didn’t lose her brother, or her sister for that matter. Where she isn’t let down by everyone she knows. To anyone who wonders why she prefers wearing her cap, even when she’s simply existing, this is why.

Sometimes Annabeth feels summer is too long, too expecting of great achievements and productivity. It inches by slowly, demanding something out of her exhausted body. Her quest is complete, yet the sun still stands, beating down on her skin. If she could sink into the roots of the earth like dryads, like Thalia, that may make her a much better use of space.

She hears the dry grass around her crackle with the weight of footsteps, and her eyes fly open, hand reaching for her knife.

“I know something you don’t,” Percy singsongs in lieu of greeting, unfazed by her reflexes.

Annabeth scoffs, and the tenseness in her shoulders melts with her breath. She places her bookmark in the crease of the offending textbook and closes the cover. “Doubt it.”

He steps closer and settles on the grass, facing opposite to Annabeth. He stretches his long legs so his feet push against Thalia’s tree. It’s a little disrespectful, Annabeth thinks, but Percy’s never been one for respect. It’s fine, she tells herself. She’ll allow it for now. They’re angry and upset and utterly confused about losing someone they thought they knew. What Annabeth can hold onto is that she and Percy should never feel that way about each other. Not if she has any say in it. She just found him, and she’s intent on not letting him go. Percy isn’t Luke. But it frightens Annabeth a bit to imagine what her friend would be like if he didn’t have his mother, or if his father failed to help him. She’s glad Percy’s on her side for more reasons than one.

“There is an underground bunker underneath this camp,” he says with a quiet triumph, proud of his discovery.

Annabeth raises an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Okay, not really. It’s a basement. The Big House has a basement, but it’s dusty and smells like old people and it’s a secret.”

“I know, Seaweed Brain.”

He gapes. “What, how? The entrance is through, like, a secret door.”

Annabeth leans against the tree, the shakiness finally absent from her hands. She runs her forefinger under the woven bracelet on her wrist. She and Percy made similar ones together the other day, though it only took her about five minutes, and she had to step in before Percy’s chevron pattern was completely lopsided. She’s proud of herself for not gloating too much.

“Five years at camp means a lot of exploring. A lot.”

“Oh,” he says, deflated. 

She likes Percy, a lot more than she expected to, and something within her frays at the thought of ruining his happiness. Annabeth is practically a stranger to witnessing his joy, but she tries her best to draw laughter out of him. She doesn’t know why it’s so important to her.

“Was that all?”

His eyelids retract, pupils enlarged from the shadows of the tree. “Well I mean not really. I found an old box TV and I remembered how you said you’d never seen a movie before, which is still insane and I still don’t fully believe you, but I thought we could revive it and watch something?”

“Oh.” Annabeth was not expecting that. She’s becoming more and more acquainted with how sweet Percy can be, and how he doesn’t even see it as such. It’s nice. Percy is nice.

He picks a piece of bark off with the toe of his vans. “Yeah, it was stupid, I know.”

It was absolutely not stupid. Tell me, how do you choose to be so kind, so good? Bone deep.

“Let’s do it.”

His eyes meet hers, pale blue but with a warmth in them that keeps Annabeth’s gaze locked on his. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

His head tilts, suspicious. “You’re not making fun of me?”

Annabeth bristles. “You make it sound like I’m a bully.”

“Then you suck at your job, because you are the nicest bully I’ve ever met.”

“Thank you.” She nudges his hip with her foot. Their positions mirror each other, hands stretched back in support. “What are we watching? Better make it count, Emily Windsnap.”

“Will you ever go easy on me?” He nudges her ribs, and she pushes his foot away.

“Never. You’re doomed for life.”

Percy rolls his eyes, says, “Star Wars.” 

Whatever that means. Probably a pop culture reference or some city slang. He says those a lot, though Annabeth never understands them.

“What?”

“The movie, it’s called Star Wars.”

Annabeth frowns deep into her eyes. “How can there be a war between stars? They’re giant balls of gas.”

“No, that’s not—nevermind. You’ll see.”

Annabeth claps her hands together. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”

She stands, brushing the grass off her pants. Her hand extends to help Percy up, and he takes it readily. 

“You know, I was really going back and forth over what to watch,” he admits as they make their way down the lonely hill. “To make it count and all. But I love these movies so I’m gonna make you love them too.”

“Is that so?”

“Yep. We’re watching all six whether you like it or not.”

“Six?”

“Not today! But eventually. I’ll be devastated if we don’t get to see Anakin, seriously.”

“How long is a movie?” Annabeth tucks her hair behind an ear, feeling entirely out of the loop, then frustrated because her braid won’t stay put. Her hair tie broke the other day when Percy pushed her off the dock into the lake, but she doesn’t like thinking about that or she’ll get mad all over again.

“Any length really, but an hour and a half to two hours is most likely. This one is two.”

Annabeth takes in camp as the sun lowers for the evening. Walking side by side with Percy, she sees everything differently. Not a bad different, but one like the items on her desk were slightly arranged and she can’t spot the difference, but she knows there is one. She can’t tell if she likes it or not. But if this is what Percy sees, then it must be worth something.

Her eyes wander towards the groups of campers making their way to the dining pavilion for dinner.

“Aren’t people gonna wonder where we are?” Percy asks.

“No. No one cares.” She hopes it doesn’t sound bitter.

“I hear this place is full of gossips.” 

Annabeth frowns, not understanding how it relates. “You heard correctly. Have you met Silena?”

“Aphrodite, right? I think I’ve seen her around.”

“It’s nearly impossible to get on her bad side, but don’t do it,” Annabeth warns. “She can tell people to do anything and they’ll obey. It’s an Aphrodite thing, but rare.”

“What, bossing people around? How are you Athena’s kid then?”

She can sense Percy’s eyes on her. Annabeth’s face feels hot, but she ignores it. “Not just that. It’s called charmspeak. If she were using it, she could tell you to jump into Tartarus right now and you’d do it without hesitation.”

“And she can use it whenever she wants?”

“Yes. I’ve only seen her use it once. I don’t think she likes it.”

“Makes sense,” he says. “Must be lonely.”

“What?”

“Well everyone knows about it, right? I’m sure people find it hard to trust her, no matter how well she means.”

Annabeth chews on the inside of her cheek. “I guess so.”

At the crossroads in the forest, she begins towards the Big House until Percy grabs her arm, pulling her in the other direction as she protests his manhandling.

“No no no no no. Snacks first.”

She yanks her arm away from his grip. “Okay, the kitchens are in the other direction.”

“Not the good ones,” he says, all determined. Annabeth looks at him, a feeling of something rushing through her but the name coming up blank. His curly hair glints like gold in the sun. She tries not to think of when he became encased in the very same metal, suffocating in silence.

She fiddles with the beads of her necklace, the ones she tied around Percy’s neck not so long ago. It took him a few days to return it, though she never asked for it back. If Annabeth was defending as to why she didn’t say anything, she would argue that it was a test to see how oblivious he could be. 

She eyes the leather cord around his neck, the one he’s worn since she met him. 

“Why do you wear that?”

He follows her gaze, his hand coming up to tug at the string. “This?”

Annabeth raises her eyebrows pointedly as an answer.

“My mom gave it to me. There was a charm, and I lost it, but I didn’t want to take it off.”

“You can string your first summer bead on it,” she points out.

“What do you think it’ll be?”

“Oh, I already know.”

“What? How?”

Annabeth pats the pocket of her cargo pants, where her Yankees cap is kept.

The sound of air from his nose indicates a laugh. “You’re scary. You must know everything that happens around here.”

“Almost everything,” she says, her voice thin. She felt following Luke was wrong, all the way until he slashed at Percy without hesitation.

“So what is it?”

Annabeth blinks, coming back from the brief flash of pain. “That’s for me to know, and you to find out.”

He stops in his tracks, disbelief written on his face. “Are you kidding me?”

Messing with him is so easy. She begins to walk faster, the tall blue doors of Cabin Three within reach.

Percy grabs her wrist just as she ascends the steps. “Wait, isn’t it, like, blasphemy for you to go into my cabin?”

Annabeth stares at him. 

“Right,” he says, a bit sheepish.

They push through the doors at the same time.

It’s her first time in the isolated cabin. Skeletal sea creatures hang from the ceiling, but the rest of the decor resembles the inside of a fishing shack, if she ever saw one. There’s a pool in the center of the room, almost like a trough. Does Percy ever sleep in it? 

What grates on Annabeth the most is the mess. Piles of clothes are strewn all over the floor, shields and helmets and candy bar wrappers laying about. It’s a stark contrast from Cabin Six, where her half-siblings are neat freaks.

“You live like this?”

Percy steps forward to hastily organize, though it’s pointless. “Well damn I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting company.”

“It’s almost like you brought me here.”

“It only looks that way.” He turns to grin up at her. 

You’re such a dork. Why do I like you so much?

“I’m thinking of remodeling,” he says, throwing the items on his floor this way and that. “First, curtains. I mean, look through the windows, Annabeth.” A clear view to the outside, a clear view to the inside. She knows this. “Anyone could be watching me while I sleep. I already get enough of that in my dreams.”

“We have blackout curtains in my cabin.”

Percy glances at her. “Of course you do. Night owl.”

“Funny. Never heard that one before.”

“Aha!” he exclaims, holding up a small rectangular box, the paper cover worn at the edges. The very VHS tape that Percy claims will change the trajectory of her life.

“Where did you even get that from?”

“Asked around.”

“No one else knows about the bunker, and there’s nothing to put that in. That person definitely stole it, and for no reason.”

“Pretty sure the dude’s name was Stoll, so it checks out.”

“Connor? Of course.” That idiotic thief.

“You know him?”

She followed him and his brother around when they got to camp a few years back. “As much as I know everyone else.”

“By that you mean stalking them, of course.”

“For completely tactile, logical reasons.”

He smiles at her. “And look where it got you.”

“Look where it got me,” she says quietly.

“Are you gonna miss your stalking days? You finally found the one,” he teases. Poor boy. He doesn’t even know what that means. Not yet.

“Who said I ever stopped?”

That shuts him up. She snorts.

Percy gets on his knees to retrieve a grocery bag from beneath his bed, one Annabeth assumes holds the snacks too good for the kitchens to provide.

Her eyebrows raise when she sneaks a glance at the large assortment of candy. “Is the blue obsession a Poseidon thing?”

“God, no,” is all he says.

The circle of cabins is empty at this time. The earth hums around them as bugs and creatures alike settle in for the hot summer night.

“So what’d you have to give Connor in return? Your cabin only has one person, it’s not like you have much to offer.”

“Okay, rude. And that’s for me to know, and you to never find out.”

“Okay, rude,” she mocks in a bad impression of his voice.

He pushes her shoulder. She kicks the back of his leg, almost knocking him down.

They walk to the Big House, bickering the whole way there. They sneak through the halls because they don’t know where Mr D is, and neither is up for verbal harassment right now. Percy lifts the thick patterned rug and Annabeth opens the trapped door, venturing down into the bunker. It’s more of a cramped storage room than anything, and Annabeth coughs from the dust when her feet land on the ground.

She feels around for the metal string and pulls, a singular bulb humming in the center of the space. She looks around noticing everything in its place from the last time she felt the need to hide, where her cap offered a different sense of feeling invisible. The musty beanbags, the stacked boxes containing bedding, the broken weapons all remain in the war zone. 

“You couldn’t have cleaned up?” Annabeth complains as Percy shuts the door, natural light gone from the space completely. She runs her finger along the shelving unit against the wall, a thick mound of dust coating her skin. She wills herself to not sneeze.

“I honestly thought you’d say no.” Percy uncaps his pen/sword, using the glow to inspect the TV. “I have no idea how to do this.”

“Beats me.” Annabeth likes engineering, but she doesn’t know the first thing about televisions. “Why’d you think I’d say no?”

Percy gives his answer in the form of an uneasy smile and a half-sure shrug. He sets his sword on the little table beneath the TV and pulls and prods at thin wires. He should be careful, he could get electrocuted or something.

“You should get used to proving yourself wrong around me.” Wait, that was probably mean. She shouldn’t be calling him an idiot, it’s not a good strategy for keeping a friend.

Shockingly, he laughs. A second later, the glass screen flickers into life. Percy laughs again, this time with a hint of disbelief. “Maybe I should get used to it. Should I go into STEM? Nevermind, don’t answer that.”

Annabeth wasn’t going to. She doesn’t know what that is. She takes it as her cue to dust off the bean bags, moving them to a nice range away from the TV. She stands on her tiptoes to retrieve a box of blankets, because it’s honestly freezing in the small room.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” Percy says hurriedly as he pushes the VHS into the slot, then turns the dial for sound.

“What?” Annabeth turns around quickly, almost losing her balance from holding a pile of blankets twice her size.

“It’s exciting!” He practically dives into the bean bag, eyes sparkling.

She throws a blanket at his face. (“Oomph.”)

“What am I looking at?”

“Oh, this is like the company that produced the movie. You’ll know when it actually starts.” He sorts through the grocery bag of goodies, taking out the plastic packaging of something.

Annabeth takes her seat in the bean bag next to his, tugging at the quilt so they can share. It’s almost like they’re back on the quest, huddled close in sleeping bags for cold nights, but Annabeth doesn’t say that.

Instead, she groans when neon blue words on the screen. “Are you kidding—”

“Shh!”

Annabeth’s taken back by the sudden blasting of trumpets. When even more words appear on screen, this time slanted at an angle, she complains, “Dude.”

“It is a period of civil war,” Percy translates in a deep tone, like a solemn narrator. Annabeth’s eyes widen, turning towards the face of the previously squeaky voiced boy. He’s still watching the small screen, but takes her chin in his hand to return her focus.

Then there’s blasting and red lasers and explosions and Annabeth’s eyes begin to burn from her refusal to blink.

Someone or something in all black, a stark contrast against the piercing white, walks into the wreckage of the attack.

“Who’s that?”

“You’ll find out,” Percy whispers. Annabeth huffs in annoyance.

She asks him questions throughout, ones she would have the answer to if she were patient and watched, Percy tells her again and again. It’s probably annoying him, but she likes hearing the enthusiasm in his voice when he talks about things he loves. She studies the film like a puzzle missing its final piece. She wants to see and know and understand why Percy enjoys it so much. It’s a step closer to understanding him.

Then the heroes’ journey is complete, and a celebration is had with medals and glory for the protagonists. It reminds Annabeth of her own celebration, when laurel crowns adorned Percy, Grover, and herself. It all comes back in a flash, the way it always does, of what happened that night  when fireworks lit up the sky.

Annabeth feels sick. Her eyes fill with a pool of stinging salt. The credits are rolling, but she can barely see them through the blur in her eyes.

“Best movie ever, right?” Percy grins at her, but his expression immediately falls. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

She wipes her eyes. It’s the second time someone has seen her cry in years, followed by only weeks ago in an abandoned amusement park. She tries to give him a smile, and maybe it’s shaky, but he’ll see that she is totally fine. “That was really good.”

“Not that good. What’s wrong?”

His eyes are even softer than his voice. She wonders if he could share this pain with her—not that he deserves it, he could never deserve it—but she wants to know what he would look like, pale blue irises against reddened eyes. It would be a grand sight, worthy of permanence by the brush of Michelangelo.

It makes it harder knowing that he is temporary.

Her breathing is so clear, but shallow. It hurts. His hand hovers above her shoulder, unsure of what to do, what she needs. Annabeth herself doesn’t know. It’s only going to get worse in the years to come. She would be naive to believe otherwise.

She takes a large gulp of air, swallowing the lump in her throat. Then her face burns. She’s ashamed for sullying the night with her misery. “Sorry.”

Percy shakes his head, assuring quietly, “You’re fine.”

“Why did you do all this?” Her voice is raspy.

He frowns, a line indenting between his brows. “Because we’re friends. I’m sorta new to that department, but I’m pretty sure this is the kind of thing friends do.”

“Same,” she admits, brought forth by the feeling of being equals. She can say things to him that she’s scared to tell other people, and he won’t look at her like she’s crazy. At least she prays he won’t.

Percy cocks his head to the side, like a godforsaken puppy.

“New to the friends department,” Annabeth clarifies, sniffling the last bit of tears away.

“Seriously?”

“What?” She’s defensive.

“I don’t know, you’re just… easy to like, I guess.” He ducks his head, and Annabeth notices his face has gone pink. When the sun beats down on camp, she finds his pale complexion is subject to reddening rather quickly. Annabeth would hate for him to pass out from heat exhaustion, which doesn’t make sense because she’s still cold underneath their shared quilt.

“Coming from the kid who told me we’d never be friends.”

Percy winces. “It’s pretty obvious now that I was wrong. I’m really sorry.” A pause. Then, “Can I ask you something?”

“I doubt I’ll be able to stop you.”

A corner of his mouth twitches, moving a dimple along with the motion. “You’ve lived here for five years. I just don’t get how you’re not, like, the most popular person at camp or whatever.”

He talks so funny, Annabeth can’t help but smile. Percy doesn’t hold her to high standards, standards that became a normality for Annabeth at a young age. It can be frustrating because it just tells her that he lacks maturity. Sometimes Percy’s mischievous grin pays off though, like when they sneak out after curfew to take a canoe out onto the lake. Percy told her he can barely see the stars back in the city, and it made her sad. The bright constellations are all Annabeth’s ever known. Starlight has remained a constant throughout Annabeth’s life. It scares her that not everyone sees the same galaxy, though everyone lives in it.

“I had Luke. That was enough. At least, I told myself it was. We’re all demigods, but… no one really gets it. Except you.”

“Me?” 

Annabeth raises an eyebrow. There can’t be that much saltwater in his brain. “Is your hearing gone?”

“Shut up,” he huffs.

She mumbles under her breath, “Oh, I’ll show you how to shut up,” as she winds her arm back to punch his bicep.

“Hey!” He cradles his arm like she just broke his humerus.

“You started it!”

“Did not!”

“You told me to shut up! Or do you have short term memory as well?”

Percy narrows his eyes. “How much worse can it get than ADHD?”

“How can one simultaneously be so smart, but such an idiot?”

“Oh, so I can’t tell you to shut up, but you get to call me a dumbass?”

“Yes.”

“You’re crazy,” he comments, shaking his head.

Annabeth gapes. “Would your mother be proud of you talking that way to a girl, Perseus?”

He flushes. “Do not call me that.”

“It’s your name isn’t it?”

“Sure is, Anna Elizabeth.”

The blood rushes from her face. “What?”

Percy’s eyes go wide. Then his mouth stretches into a toothy grin and he snorts. Like obnoxiously so and way over the top. “I was joking what the fuck.” Another set of laughing. “That’s actually your name?”

“Well I can’t say no, now can I?” she shouts, trying to mask her embarrassment.

His eyes are crinkled, silent laughter racking his body. “No way. No freaking way.”

Annabeth crosses her arms, falling back into the bean bag and wishing she could sink into it like quick sand. “I am so close to stabbing you right now.”

Percy raises his palms in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry for laughing.”

“You are so mean.” He is, really. But at times he can be quite the opposite, which confuses Annabeth and makes her want to study the inner workings of his brain.

Percy gives her a contemplative look, chewing his lower lip. “You know what’s crazy? It’s like the more I get to know you, the more I want to know.” He sounds confused, like he can’t figure out why he wastes his time on her.

“Why is that crazy?” She twirls the end of a braid around her finger again and again, a nervous habit.

“You only gave me like one word answers before the quest.”

“That’s all you needed.”

He rolls his eyes. “Nobody tells me anything. I just stick with you and hope I figure it out along the way.”

She swings her head around so he can see her expression clearly and know she’s serious. “You’re smart. Give yourself more credit.”

He laughs without humor. “No, I’m not. Explain how I’ve never gotten above a C before.”

Annabeth shrugs. “School is different. They don’t like kids like us. But in the real world, grades don’t measure intelligence. Just think about the quest. How many times did your brain do all the work?” She adds, “Don’t lie.”

Percy seems to actually consider it, which Annabeth appreciates. “Like… a decent few times, I guess.”

She flicks his forehead as she says, “Dude, you’re smart. Accept it.” He makes an indignant noise, rubbing the wound.

“You’re not so cold or emotionless either.”

Percy sounds sarcastic, but Annabeth can’t tell for certain. She can never tell with him. “Okay. I never said I was. Wait, who did?”

He gestures vaguely. “Just around. Like when I got back and you hugged me, they said it was the first time it didn’t look like you were two seconds away from stabbing someone.”

Some people deserve a good stab or two, but Annabeth doesn’t say that. Usually a trip to the infirmary or a couple threats gets people off her back.

“They don’t take me seriously. To be a leader, I can’t goof off. You don’t win that way.”

“Point is, they don’t know you. I mean you cried over saying goodbye to the demon dog guarding the gates to the Underworld.”

“Why’d you have to bring that up? Jerk.”

He laughs brightly, which evokes a smile out of Annabeth. She likes making him laugh. She’d like to do it more often.

“You know what you should do?” Annabeth says. “As an apology.”

“What?”

“Tell me a secret.”

“Why?”

“What you said before, about knowing each other better.” Annabeth just hopes in learning her, he doesn’t run in the opposite direction. She wouldn’t blame him if he did.

Percy shakes his head, saying with a grin, “Nah, you’re just nosy.”

Annabeth shrugs nonchalantly. Percy’s smile widens.

“Okay. At my last school, I illegally sold candy out of my dorm room.”

Annabeth blinks, then a smile grows on her face to rival her friend’s. “That does not surprise me.”

Percy gasps dramatically, a hand flying to his chest. He can pretend to be shocked all he wants, but Annabeth expects nothing less from the twelve-year-old boy on the FBI’s watchlist.

“Were you not a wanted fugitive a month ago?”

“You were too!” he argues back.

“They actually had your name and photo though. I remained a mystery. My criminal record is clean.” She folds her hands and places them on her lap, all proper like.

Percy moves on, already onto the next conversation. “Your turn. Secret.”

“I sing in the shower.”

“Wow, no one is shocked,” he deadpans. “Do you even know good music after being holed up here for so long?”

“Of course I know music. Camp isn’t a prison.”

“They have music in prison. And movies, but so far you only have one ticked off.”

“I listen to music all the time! Chiron has a huge collection,” she defends.

“Chiron? Holy shit. I need to burn you a CD. Jesus Christ.”

“What, because your music taste is so superior.”

“Anything is better than Italian chamber choir, so yeah.”

“You are so dramatic, Percy.”

“One of my specialties” he spreads his hands out “Putting on the dramatics.”

Her mind can’t help but go back to the quest, where he mouthed off to gods and monsters, one of the same species.

“Whatever. Another one. And not something stupid.”

“I’ll have you know, those profits contributed to my mother’s birthday gifts.” His mouth snaps shut. “Oh. Well, there you go. Secret.”

A corner of her heart unthaws a bit. “That’s really nice, Percy.”

He frowns, his eyes unfocused. “It’s the least I can do for her. Poseidon should have built her an underwater palace or something.”

“Fit for a queen.”

“That’s what she is, Sally Jackson.”

It’s clear he loves her, if accepting a quest in her name was any indication. Annabeth tries not to be jealous. She wishes she cared that much for her father, or that he cared at all for her.

“I’m glad you have each other.”

“Yeah, but it wouldn’t have hurt Poseidon to send the occasional child support check.” He runs a hand through his messy, uneven curls. Annabeth makes a mental note to give him some hair products. Then he says, “Your turn.”

Annabeth draws her knees into her chest, thinking of what she can afford to let go. “When I put on my cap, it feels like millions of spiders are crawling all over my body.”

Percy looks stricken. “Doesn’t help that you’re terrified of them.”

“Who told you that?”

He hesitates. “Who else would have known?”

Her heart pangs. “Oh.”

Annabeth has been reeling through it all, tearing her mind apart trying to figure out what was real and fake. How many times Luke was putting on an act or really, truly offering her a genuine word of encouragement.

“We’ll find him,” she says. It’s a promise. “We’ll convince him that it doesn’t have to be this way.”

Percy nods. Then, “I’m sorry.”

Annabeth scrubs away the sting in her eyes. “It’s not your fault. I should’ve seen it sooner. I’m supposed to know these kinds of things.”

“Why does everyone expect so much out of you? Why do you expect so much of yourself?”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know, it just seems like a lot of pressure. Everyone talking about how you’re the strongest warrior or the wisest demigod, and that’s valid, I would never doubt your judgment, but…” His voice is a bit higher, like it does when he gets worked up. “You’re still a kid. It’s okay to just be one.”

What had she been telling Percy over the entirety of the quest? He’s not just a kid. Maybe Annabeth needed to hear the opposite. But it’ll take about fifteen more attempts before she begins to believe it.

“Who’s going to do it if not me? You can’t afford to be a kid around here,” she says sadly. “I’m not sure I know how to be one.”

“We do this,” Percy says simply, gesturing to the blank screen. “And we eat so much candy we get stomach aches. We play games, pull pranks, we… have a good time. No worrying about monsters and prophecies out to get us.”

Except he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know about the prophecy hung around the oracle’s neck. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him in three short years. But Annabeth has now, and as much as she tried to prevent it, the boy sitting beside her is her best friend. She won’t waste a moment.

“I had fun tonight,” she admits, keeping her eyes on the ground.

He touches her elbow. Kind eyes meet hers, pulling her into the deep end. “Let’s do it again some time.” He offers his hand. “Deal?”

They shake on it.

“Deal.”