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The apartment was smaller than she had imagined, a narrow and cramped shoebox tucked into a corner of the bustling city. Its windows were streaked with dust and city grime, catching the muted light, making the room feel even smaller than it was. The paint peeled from the walls, and the humid summer rain definitely didn’t help. But despite all its flaws, it was hers.
She turned to the small corridor to her left, where she was met with a single yellow lightbulb, flickering weakly, the buzz of electricity filling the silence. Lightly illuminated, two doors faced each other at the end of the short walkway, one for her and one for her roommate.
Right, her roommate.
Her stomach knotted as she thought of meeting him. She had been wanting this move for as long as she could remember, and New York was as far as she could get from San Francisco. Through endless track meets, relentless studying, and stacks of AP textbooks that could’ve been doorstoppers, she was finally here. NYU, the city, everything, was supposed to be her escape, yet right now, standing in the small corridor, the enormity of it all swallowed her confidence whole.
The sudden, loud creak of the front door startled her thoughts away. A boy appeared in the doorway, arms full of grocery bags, and dark curls plastered with rain. His eyes were a soft blue, they were hesitant and painfully aware of her gaze. He flashed her an awkward yet genuine smile, one that was soft and warm, startling her with its warmth.
“Oh,” he said in surprise, stepping inside, completely ignorant of the effect he had just had on her. “You must be Annabeth.”
His voice carried a certain enthusiasm and warmth Annabeth wasn’t accustomed to. A simple sincerity that seemed to lighten the air around her.
“Yeah, hi, um, you’re Percy, right?” she stuttered out, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat. Her voice came out tighter than she had intended.
“Yessir, Percy Jackson,” he said with a wide grin, “You’re at NYU, right?”
“Yes. Architecture.” She blurted out, feeling the words leaving her before she could think. Why am I being so awkward? she thought, “And you?”
“Swim, actually,” he said, scratching the back of his neck, curls bouncing slightly with the motion. “Scholarship. I know it’s silly to put your future on a sport, but it got me here.”
“No, it’s not silly at all,” she said quickly, aware of the flush creeping up her neck. “I wish I’d been good enough at my sport to compete at the college level.”
He blinked, surprise softening into a grin. “That’s… really sweet of you to say. You should come to a meet sometime, I’d love to have you there!”
She swallowed an awkward laugh. That’s a courtesy offer, she thought. And yet, the offer hung in the air, oddly warm and comforting.
“Maybe,” she said reluctantly, forcing a smile. “Anyways, I should unpack, but it was nice meeting you.”
“Can I help?” he asked, already stepping forward.
“No. I’m fine,” she said bluntly, wishing she sounded more graceful, but he only smiled again, gentle and unassuming, as she quickly retreated into her room. What is wrong with me, she thought with an exasperated sigh.
Days morphed into weeks as the fall semester started, and the foreignness of living with a stranger became into something more familiar.
A connection.
Early mornings carried the bitter fragrance of Percy’s coffee, which he drank with far too much sugar, and the chalky sweetness of his vanilla protein shakes, which he dyed an ocean blue. Something his mom did for him, he explained.
Evenings were marked by the steady rhythm of Percy throwing a rubber ball against the wall, each bounce sending soft vibrations through the apartment. It was something that should’ve annoyed her, and if she were at home, it would've, but the soft pulse reminded her of a heartbeat. But Percy, as Annabeth had noticed, was always fidgeting.
The soft shuffling of his socked feet across the floor as he paced with Spanish flashcards, fingers drumming constantly against his desk, the faint rise and fall of his breathing as he fell asleep before her. It became a lullaby of hushed rhythm, one she found herself subconsciously clinging to.
Her presence became part of his rhythm, too. The soft scratch of her pencil as she solved questions late at night, the frustrated collapse of a model, and the muffled hum of her voice when she forgot she wasn’t alone. Or as Annabeth would call it, she was getting too comfortable.
Eventually, her late nights were met with quiet gestures that stitched care into their routine. Percy would gently knock on her door with mugs of tea when she forgot to eat, and leave protein bars with absurd architecture puns outside her door before exams.
He’s just being nice. Don’t make it into something it isn’t, she thought as she forced herself not to read into it. But despite how hard she had tried, it was pointless.
She started timing her steps to his, lingering in the Architecture department to catch him at the end of practice. With her sketchbook in hand, she forced a casualness she didn’t feel.
“You didn’t have to come,” he’d tell her, his grin sheepish beneath chlorine-soaked curls, pulling her into a soft side hug.
This was kind of Percy’s thing. It had started when their shoulders would brush, but now this was just how he greeted her.
“I was in the area,” she said quickly. A lie, but not entirely.
As they walked home together, his rambles about practice were met with her quiet nods, and Percy giggling at his own bad jokes was enough to send warmth through her chest.
Their friendship grew through small rituals of comfort. Every Tuesday, they’d walk to the corner store for milk and eggs, bickering over whether peanut butter counted as a necessity. On Thursdays, she claimed the old couch for architecture sketches while he quizzed himself on Spanish vocabulary, the two creating an odd symphony of domesticity Annabeth refused to address. And Friday nights meant leftover takeout, as they bickered over what to watch on Netflix, which was a useless fight because he’d always let her pick.
When she stayed up too late, meticulously building her models, he slid a blanket across her shoulders without a word, and when he limped home from practice, she set a bag of frozen peas on his knee.
The city around them was vast, and their classes were relentless, but their apartment filled Annabeth with nothing but comfort.
One evening, a text notification from Percy drew her out of her fortress of foam boards and measuring tapes. Have you eaten? Her stomach growled at the mention of food as she typed back a response.
I had chips earlier, I’m good.
Beth… I meant real food. She’s not even sure when the nickname showed up, but she knew she liked it.
Fine. No, I haven’t. But it’s fine, just eat with your swim teammates.
Meet me outside in 5.
She should’ve ignored him, but there was no ignoring him. Nothing could distract Annabeth Chase like Percy could. Five minutes later, her sneakers were on, her blonde hair was tied back hastily, and she stepped out the door.
The air smelled like fresh rain, and puddles on the sidewalk caught the glow of streetlights. Percy stood there with an umbrella and a boyish grin, as though the sky was clear.
The cafe he brought her to was small and fragrant with cinnamon and comfort as the yellow lights spilled warmth into the damp night.
“Order whatever you want,” he said, pulling out his wallet before she could protest.
“No, Percy –” she objected.
“I want to,” he said, interrupting simply, eyes darting away.
Annabeth hated when he did things like this. She knew it wasn’t a big deal to him, because Percy was good at treating kindness like it cost him nothing.
They sat by a large window, their reflections overlapping as a comfortable silence enveloped them.
“You always fidget,” she remarked, noting Percy’s bouncing leg.
He flushed, quickly stopping his leg. “Sorry. Bad habit.”
“No,” she said quickly. “It’s… you. It makes the silence feel less empty.”
Something unreadable crossed his face, and for a moment, the air between them thickened. She tried to avoid his gaze by taking a long sip of her coffee, but when she glanced back, he was smiling, small and luminous.
As the semester progressed, Annabeth found herself drowning in assignments, her fingers trembling with exhaustion as her midterm model toppled over her desk.
A knock distracted her from screaming in frustration. “Beth?”
The door opened, and Percy stepped in, holding two coffees, and his expression softened at the sight of her and her broken model.
“You’ve been here all day,” he muttered. “Come on. Library. Change of scenery.”
He said it like he said everything, with ease. Like everything was going to be okay.
“I can’t,” she whispered, attempting to protest. “I’m drowning.”
“It’s fine, I’m a swimmer, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said with a grin. “Plus, the library has better lighting.”
Annabeth wanted to protest, but the warmth of his positivity loosened something inside of her. With a light flush, she let him guide her through the chilly New York air. Lamplights softened the library’s silence, and he set her down at a wooden table, sliding the coffee towards her.
“Drink,” he said, leaving no room for discussion.
They worked in silence, the weight of panic waning with every sip. When she finally looked up, he was already watching her, smiling lightly, and she nearly forgot how to breathe.
Winter arrived, and they shared umbrellas, coats brushing as they walked home, and he gave her his gloves when she forgot hers. She baked cookies, blue of course, and left half outside Percy’s door with a note that read Don’t eat them all at once!! Five minutes later, he knocked on her door, crumbs on his lips as he engulfed her in a tight hug.
But winter brought Christmas, and that meant Annabeth being sent back to San Francisco.
The Bay never quite felt like home. After Annabeth’s father remarried, it was clear that she became an obligation, rather than a part of the new family he had been building. Past baggage. It got worse when her stepbrothers were born, but she was used to the discomfort.
Yet somehow, this time things felt different. The light blue walls she begged for in middle school were chipped, and her shelves held books and trophies that were meaningless to her now.
Everything she cared about was in New York. Percy was in New York.
To her father’s credit, he tried. He asked about her professors, her classes, and her projects, but Fredrick Chase’s “trying” never really meant much anyway. Her stepmother chattered on about neighborhood gossip, and how successful “Brenda from pilates’” son was, and how Annabeth really needs a haircut because she was starting to look a little unkept. Her stepbrothers ran around the house knocking over every Christmas decoration they passed, their laughter so loud it made her skull rattle. Surrounded by the ruckus of her younger brothers and whatever Hallmark movie her stepmom turned on, all Annabeth could think about was her tiny apartment with Percy.
Lying in her bed that night, staring at the ceiling, her mind wandered as her eyes drifted to her phone, lightly glowing on her nightstand. She promised herself she wouldn’t text him first. He didn’t need her right now, she thought, He was happy with his family.
Regardless, her fingers betrayed her. How’s the East Coast without me? she typed out, then deleted, then re-typed, then finally pressed send with a sigh.
A reply came faster than she expected. Boring. Mom’s making me wrap gifts while she and Estelle get to bake cookies. And no one’s ever told me how to wrap gifts.
Annabeth instinctively smiled at her phone. She could picture him, tape stuck to his fingers, concentration scrunching his brows.
Save the worst one for me, she typed back.
Another buzz.
Anything for you, Wise Girl.
She laughed softly at the nickname, choosing to ignore the slight flush that ran through her body as she turned off her phone.
Christmas morning was a blur of wrapping paper, her brothers’ squeals of excitement, and her stepmother’s voice pierced the air with empty cheers. Annabeth smiled when she was supposed to and said “thank you” when gifts were handed to her. Her usual autopilot when she was around her family.
By afternoon, she slipped onto the porch, wrapping herself in a coat she didn’t really need. New York had prepared her for this, even though the sky was gray and the air stung her cheeks a little. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Did you eat yet? Percy.
Her chest stung. Of course he would ask. Of course he would care to check on her when they were three thousand miles apart.
Not really. Not too hungry, she lied.
Beth… That nickname again. Soft and grounding. The only thing she ever felt around Percy. Don’t make me come to California just to make you a sandwich.
She laughed, but it came out jagged. I’d do anything to have you in California right now, she thought to herself. Instead, she typed out a quick response telling him not to worry and enjoy his time with his family.
Two nights later, Annabeth’s phone buzzed far after midnight. She was sitting in the dark, sketchbook lazily discarded at the foot of her twin-sized bed, and the only thing illuminating the room was the pale light of her phone screen.
Percy.
She almost didn’t answer as she heard her heart slamming against her chest, and the thought of hearing his voice made her want to cry. Despite all of that, she picked up, because it was Percy.
“Hello?” she whispered, wincing at how raw her voice sounded.
There was a pause, then his voice, gentle and laced with concern. “You sound awful. Did I wake you?”
“No.. I just couldn’t sleep,” she said quietly.
He hesitated, as though he could tell when she was lying. He probably could. “Yeah. Me neither. I just had this, uh, bad feeling. Like I should call you.”
Her throat tightened. She wanted to brush him off, tell him he was ridiculous, but her voice betrayed her, cracking instead, “That’s…stupid.”
“Maybe,” he chuckled softly. “But it got me to hear your voice, so… worth it.”
Silence lingered in the air as Annabeth buried her face into her knees, pressing the phone impossibly tighter to her ear.
“You okay, Beth?” he finally asked.
It was such a simple question, but it cut her open. Unspoken words danced around her. No, she wanted to tell him, I miss you, and no one sees me the way you do, she wanted to say. But the words tangled in her chest as her voice let out a brittle whisper, “Yeah, I’m good.”
He hummed softly as though he knew everything she was too scared to say, but he didn’t push. “Well, I’ll just keep talking until you fall asleep anyway.”
And he did. He rambled on about how he still had swim practice over the break, about his mom’s famous blue cookies, and about how Estelle convinced Paul to do karaoke with her in a horrible off-key. His voice was steady, soothing as Annabeth curled beneath her blanket, eyes burning, and somewhere between laughter and terrible impressions of his teammates, she drifted into sleep.
It became a pattern.
On the nights she felt like the walls of her childhood room pressed too close, Percy's name would softly illuminate everything around her. Sometimes he called, sometimes it was just a message, but somehow he knew, every time.
No matter how carefully she built her walls, it was like he could see where the cracks were forming. And she hated how he always knew, and hated herself more for needing him.
She hated how much she needed it because every time he reached out, the guilt was overwhelming. This isn’t his problem to deal with, she thought, I’m not his problem to deal with.
New Year's Eve came, and Annabeth sat cross-legged on her bed. Her old friends had invited her out, but she couldn’t go. She couldn’t face their bright eyes, and their easy laughter, and all their questions about her “perfect” life in New York. She couldn’t take that tonight, so instead, she scrolled through her messages with Percy while fireworks painted the San Francisco sky.
She was staring at a picture he had sent dressed as Santa Claus when her phone buzzed, taking her down to their most recent texts.
Happy New Year, Beth. Wish you were here.
She felt her chest cave in. The words pressed against her lips, desperate and uncontainable. I wish I were there, too. I miss you.
She typed it, stared at it, and as her thumb hovered over the send button, tears blurred her vision as she deleted it.
Happy New Year, Seaweed Brain, she sent instead.
When Annabeth’s flight landed in New York, it was like she could finally breathe again. Percy greeted her with his usual grin, and it felt relieving to see him through more than a phone screen finally.
The hug he gave her this time felt like more, though. As he tightly wrapped his arms around her waist, she felt at home.
Back in New York, routines returned, and Annabeth felt like all of winter break was becoming a distant memory. Tuesday grocery runs, Thursday study nights, and Friday movie nights were starting to feel like more, but Annabeth was adamant about keeping her feelings locked away.
That was until the swim meet.
She waited for him like she always did, too absorbed in redrawing a stubborn design that she almost didn’t notice the girl who ran up to him.
A tall, skinny girl with curly red hair and the brightest eyes Annabeth had ever seen. Probably brighter than Percy’s.
The girl was laughing, her hand brushing Percy’s arm as if it belonged there, and Annabeth froze. Her pencil began pushing too hard against the page, graphite snapping under the pressure, as Percy smiled back, awkward but warm.
The girl leans in closer, her smile dazzling under the fluorescent pool light. “So,” she asked casually, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger, “are you seeing anyone? Because if not… how would you feel about dinner sometime?”
Annabeth’s stomach plummets.
Percy’s eyes widened, flicking almost instinctively to Annabeth before he stammered, “Uh, I’ve got a lot going on, like practice, classes, uh, maybe another time?”
Annabeth pressed her sketchbook against her stomach as if it could shield her from the sharp twist inside her chest. He didn’t say no, she thought desperately. He didn’t say he wasn’t interested. He’s only turning her down because I’m here.
She hated the feeling of heat rising in her cheeks, hated the twist of ugly jealousy curling through her ribs. I’m so stupid. He can do whatever he wants. He’s not my boyfriend.
But when she finally dared to look up, Percy was already walking towards her, dripping hair plastered to his forehead, smile soft and expectant as he leaned in for his usual post-swim-meet hug. Normally, this was Annabeth’s favorite part, and the only thing that made these events worth it, but normally, Percy didn’t get asked out right before.
So she swerves him, “Why don’t you go ask your new redhead girlfriend for a hug?” she blurted before she could stop herself. She shoved past him, the words bitter on her tongue as regret began to wash over her.
She felt it the second the words left her mouth, and when she looked back, she caught the flicker of hurt in Percy’s sea-green eyes.
The weeks that followed stretched on in brittle silence. Conversations were clipped, and smiles were strained. Annabeth buried herself in her architecture projects, staying up until sunlight hit her blueprints, living on coffee and stubbornness. Her hands trembled when she drew, her hands ached from skipping meals, and exhaustion left shadows beneath her eyes.
Percy noticed, because he always noticed, but he didn’t press her. Instead, he left quiet offerings like he did when she first moved in, and his distance killed her. She knew it was her fault, but every cup of coffee or granola bar he left for her, or his gentle reminders to go to bed, killed her. Sometimes, when he handed her a textbook, his fingers lingered just a second too long, and every touch made it more difficult to ignore the tension building in their small apartment.
If I ignore him for long enough, she thought, maybe he’ll stop trying, and finally let me go.
But Percy Jackson had never been someone who gave up easily, especially not when it came to Annabeth.
Annabeth had been sketching for hours, pencil digging deeper into the page with every line. The pressure of deadlines sat heavily on her chest, weighing down until she could hardly catch a full breath. And beneath it all was the ache she refused to name, the one that clawed at her ribs when the silence stretched too long, because the silence had reminded her of what she had lost.
When the panic eventually struck, it was merciless. Her lungs seized, shallow and ragged, and her body trembled so violently she barely managed to push herself back against their beat-up couch for balance.
She didn’t even hear the door open until Percy was kneeling beside her.
“Hey,” he said softly, voice calm but urgent. His hand hovered before finally settling gently on her shoulders. “Hey, Beth, breathe. I’m here, okay? I’m right here.”
Of course he was there. He was always there for her, and that was the problem.
Her throat burned as a sob broke free, and she tried to twist away from him as shame washed over her. “I’m a mess, Percy, and I’m certainly not your mess,” she whispered hoarsely, words catching between desperate gasps for air. Her knees wobbled, but before she could fall, his hand closed around her waist, holding her steady without hesitation.
I know,” he said. His voice carried a rare firmness, pulling her gaze to his. His eyes were unflinching and sure, anchoring her. “But I want to be here for you. So please, let me.”
The world seemed to still around them as tears blurred Annabeth’s vision, but through them she still saw him clearly. She saw the truth written in the quiet strength of his eyes, in the way he never hesitated to hold her together when she fell apart.
He was everything she ever needed. No matter how hard she pushed him away, Percy always stayed.
Annabeth collapsed against him, burying her face into his shoulder, sobs shaking her frame. He smelled like chlorine and ocean breeze, achingly familiar. “I’m so sorry,” she choked out, clutching onto him like he would disappear if she let go. “I’m so, so sorry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I saw you with that girl and I–I just didn’t want to be replaced.
Percy’s laugh was soft, broken at the edges but full of warmth. “No one could ever replace you, Wise Girl. I love you.”
“Whatever, Seaweed Brain,” she muttered, though her lips trembled into the smallest smile, but unspoken words hung in the air. They always did with Percy. I love you too, she thought, more than you’d ever know.
He didn’t mean anything, she told herself. He’s being nice because you broke down in front of him like a crazy person.
But regardless, after Annabeth’s meltdown, things returned to normal. Or at least, that’s what she told herself.
She went back to her routine of lectures, studio hours, and late-night sketching while listening to the sound of Percy’s fidgeting. On the surface, nothing had changed, they still went on grocery runs every Tuesday and watched movies on Fridays, and Percy still left his ridiculous puns on morning snacks. Every time she saw one before an exam, she imagined his boyish grin that made her stomach tighten in a way she refused to address.
Beneath the facade of casual domesticity, something had shifted.
Percy’s touch lingered a little too long now when he brushed past her. His eyes stayed on her a little too long, filled with a quiet intensity she wasn’t ready to name. And while she tried to bury the memory of her breakdown, the way he held her, the way his voice had anchored her, it haunted her.
She had embarrassed herself and burdened Percy.
One evening, filled with summer heat that clung to the air, Annabeth found herself sitting on the first escape outside their apartment, sketchbook balanced on her legs. She had been able to get out of going back home by taking summer courses, and she couldn’t have been happier. The city hummed below, but all she could hear was the scratch of her pencil and the faint echo of the water sloshing at Percy’s practice hours earlier.
Percy slid through the window behind her, dropping two sodas onto the railing before sinking down beside her. “Figured you could use a break,” he said, handing her one.
She took it without looking at him, choosing to focus instead on the lines of the building she’d been sketching. “Thanks.”
For a while, they sat in silence. The kind of silence that wasn’t awkward but weighted, filled with unspoken things pressing on its edges. Percy’s leg brushed against hers, warm and steady.
Finally, Annabeth cracked, closing her sketchbook with a sigh. “You know,” she said quickly, “you don’t have to take care of me.”
Percy tilted his head in confusion. “Who says I don’t want to?”
Her chest squeezed. She turned away, staring down at the streetlights flickering below. “I just don’t want to be a burden.”
He shifted closer, his voice low but firm. “Annabeth, you could never be a burden. Not to me, not now, not ever.”
Her breathing hitched, and before she could think of a response, his hand brushed her’s where it rested on the fire escape. He didn’t grab it, just letting his fingers hover, as if they were waiting for an answer. She glanced up, and the look in his eyes stole whatever words she had left.
“Annabeth,” he said again, softly, as if it would shatter if he wasn’t careful, “I meant it, you know. That night, when I said I love you.”
Her heart stuttered. “Percy–,” she trailed off.
“I’m not great at speeches,” he continued, fumbling for words, “but I know that you’re it for me. You always have been. And I don’t care how many times you try and push me away or whatever burden you think you are. I’m not going anywhere. So if you’re waiting for me to give up,” he shook his head and smiled, “you’re going to be waiting a long time.”
Annabeth’s throat tightened. She wanted to argue, to deflect, to make a sarcastic remark, but when she looked at Percy, the truth was right there. Raw and undeniable, it was staring her in the face. She shifted her gaze to the city.
“I was jealous,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “When that girl asked you out. I hated it. I hated how much it scared me, because it made me realize…” She trailed off again, eyes stinging, before she forced herself to meet his gaze again. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”
The relief that lit Percy’s face nearly knocked the wind out of her. “Good, because I only want you too,” he said simply, because he always made everything seem simple.
And then, before she could second-guess herself, Annabeth leaned forward, closing the gap between them. His lips met hers in a kiss that was soft and hesitant at first, but when Percy cupped her face with both hands, she melted into it, surrounding her with the warmth of unsaid words.
“Took you long enough,” Percy said with a cocky smile.
“Shut up,” Annabeth said, even though her smile matched his.