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The sky was holding on to the last traces of sunset as Percy and Annabeth quietly slipped away from the chaos of a young camper’s impromptu birthday party. They’d been sitting on the cold floor of the Poseidon cabin, backs against the wall, their bodies gently pressed together from shoulder to ankle, for longer than either of them had realised. Conversation had begun to lull when Percy spoke nervously, his voice so quiet it would’ve been almost inaudible if they hadn’t been sitting so impossibly close.
“You know…” His hand slowly tracing the tips of Annabeth’s fingers resting in his lap. “I used to wish on every birthday candle that I’d find someone who wouldn’t push me away, someone who would actually want to keep me around.” He turned to face her and inhaled deeply. “I don’t think I ever really stopped until I met you.”
Annabeth tried to blink away the tears pooling in her eyes at the thought of a small blond boy so full of sadness whilst blowing out his candles. Once composed, she opened her mouth to speak but hesitated slightly before letting out a small, breathy giggle.
Percy frowned slightly. He hadn’t expected her to laugh at his story, not when he was being so earnest, not when she’d just rid herself of tears she probably thought he didn’t see.
She smiled at him, noticing the confusion written across his face, and began to speak in a whisper that mirrored his.
“After I ran away from home — before I came to camp — I’d pretend to be asleep until Thalia and Luke were. And then…” She took a steadying breath, faltering like even saying Luke’s name cost her something. “Then I’d watch the sky for hours in the hopes of seeing a shooting star.”
She lifted her gaze to Percy, meeting his eyes that were fixed on her, focusing like she might disappear if he looked away for even a second.
“I didn’t see that many. But for every one I did see, I made a wish that one day I’d meet someone who wouldn’t eventually leave me.”
Percy squeezed her hand that was now intertwined with his, a small reassurance from him that Annabeth was very familiar with.
“I even did it after coming to camp. I’d sneak out to watch the stars. Just… hoping.”
Annabeth studied his face for a moment before he asked quietly, “Do you ever do it now? Watch the stars, I mean.”
“Yeah, sometimes. They’re strangely calming. They make everything else seem so small.” She smiled softly. “But I don’t make wishes anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have to wish for that anymore,” The way she said it made Percy smile, his real, warm, comforting smile — the one that made Annabeth feel like she was glowing from the inside out.
She lingered for a second before tucking herself into the crook of his neck, fitting there as though the space had been moulded just for her. He responded almost immediately, planting a soft kiss to the top of her hair before resting his head against hers and closing his eyes as he breathed in the ever-comforting scent of her shampoo.
Several quiet moments passed, filled only with the sound of their combined breaths. No small jokes about their shared experiences or extensive list of ways they’re tethered to each other, no need to say anything at all. There was a silent understanding between them that their admissions were sacred, that the desperation of their younger selves was something entrusted only to each other. They felt safe in the knowledge that some of their deepest thoughts would forever remain between just the two of them.
“I wonder sometimes,” she murmured against his skin, “if it was one of those stars that brought me you.”