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perseabethj · 2 years ago

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ABOUT LAST NIGHT . . .

TLG BONUS CHAPTER 35.5 CHAPTER 35 // start from CH 1 // song to set the mood <3

When they first walk inside, he can see the brief flash of panic in her face, can feel her tense from her head to her feet. Then her eyes find Connor and her smile returns as she falls into his arms. Percy stays close and quiet, watching how she lights up when he walks over.

He wishes that she shined like that for him.

It’s what she does; she’s sort of like a glow stick— shining that much brighter not in spite of her breaks but because of them. She illuminates everything around her and never even realizes that she’s doing it. She feels undeserving of the love that surrounds her because she fails to see how love flocks to the warm light of her soul.

Her friends — the ones he’s come to think of as his own — love her for the very things that she punishes herself for. For her unrelenting determination, her neurotic mindfulness, her overactive, anxious imagination. All of the things that make her her, all of the things that he loves about her.

And he does love her, of course. It snuck up on him gradually, like a stray cat that returns night after night to rest under the stoop until eventually it doesn’t leave. Percy can’t recall exactly when his feelings shifted from admiration to affection to something all-consuming, only that he hasn’t been able to look at her the same since.

When he looks into her eyes these days, he thinks that he sometimes sees flickers of that same endearment reflected there, but he can never be sure. He loves her, but he’s never told her for fear that it won’t be enough. And what would he say then? How can anything that he could offer her possibly make up for the disparity between them?

She’s confident and sure and she goes after what she wants. When people that she trusts knock her down, Annabeth brushes herself off and stands up. She finds new motivation and closes doors and puts the past behind her. She’s organized and put-together and fucking brilliant. She has dreams that make sense. They’re possible and tangible and she’s created plans to achieve them. She’s better than him in every way that matters.

Most of all, she’s kind. She’s patient and gentle and forgiving. Though she has more reasons than most to be angry with the world, she’s found her peace with the hand that she’s been dealt. The anger that he sees rise in her chest from time to time is always just and righteous; it does not control her. It doesn’t consume her or pilot her motions; she never allows it to blind her.

That alone makes him wholly unworthy of her. The best he can hope for is that there might be a place for him in her life at the end of the summer— whatever it looks like. But for now, she’s here, shining like starlight and he’s just thankful to be within her orbit.

She moves through the party and he watches. There’s a golden ring of light that follows her as she greets her friends and breaks off little pieces of herself in gratitude and he wants to know what it’s like to be on the other end of her love. Her cup empties, fills again, and the others join in the revelry. Percy takes a moment to look around and commits the evening to his memory.

It’s a luxury he’s not sure that many of the guests will have, judging by the copious amounts of alcohol being poured every time he glances back toward the kitchen. It doesn’t bother him, it never has; it’s a decision he’d made for himself a long time ago and no one had forced him to make it. Besides, even if he were for some reason annoyed by the antics going on all around him, he doubts that he could be angry about it.

Every person in this room is here to celebrate the best person he’s ever met. They could set the place on fire in her honor and he’d probably step back and watch it burn and hope that she’s edified by the sacrifice.

When she finds her way back to his side eventually, cheeks pinkened and steps a little less sure, he pretends not to feel the backflips that his heart is doing. She leans into him and he lets her— she stands tall all on her own too often. He’s happy to hold her up for as long as she’ll let him. The arm he wraps around her waist is itching to pull her away from all of this, to have her to himself for just a little while.

“You did too much,” she says, her voice just barely carrying over the sound of the music. Her breath smells like vodka and the end of each of her words hold hands with the beginning of the next, forming one uninterrupted string of sounds. Annabeth’s eyes are twinkling and he’s not sure if it’s the party or the lights or maybe some combination of all of the events of the day but he decides to pretend that it’s for him.

“Never,” he says, holding her closer. She’s here for now, he reminds himself. He has to go back to Sacramento tomorrow and he won’t see her again until he returns from Greece, and all he wants is to engrain this moment in his mind. She’s here for now. “You deserve to be celebrated.”

Her face flickers with confusion, like she hadn’t expected that response, and maybe he shouldn’t have said it. It hurts to see how she can’t understand it— how she still questions why people can’t help but to love her. Maybe he should pry his greedy fingers away from her skin now but he doesn’t, and when he presses his lips to her temple, he can feel her soften in his arms. She should always be held like this, he thinks. She should never feel unsafe or unloved or unwanted.

“You deserve to be celebrated every fucking day,” he whispers, unsure if she can even hear him as he rests his head against hers. “Happy birthday, Beth.”

/ / /

He can tell, even from the chair that he’s spent most of the night occupying, that she’s having the time of her life. Sometimes when the music lulls between songs he hears her laugh carrying though the open space, filling the walls of his home almost like it was meant for just that— to liven up the cold, empty places.

Things are clearly winding down now: Travis put himself, Katie, Reyna, and Piper into a cab almost an hour ago and a few others have filtered out since then. Percy thinks that the stragglers will probably begin making their way out soon. He’s about to go over and ask Annabeth if she’s ready to go home when he spots Frank.

“She looks really happy, man,” he says, dropping onto the end of the couch and looking over at Percy. “You pulled off a good day.”

“I wish I could take all the credit,” Percy shakes his head as he brings the can of Dr. Pepper to his lips and takes a sip. It’s more true than he’ll admit. “It was mostly Connor’s idea. He told me he wanted to put together a party and asked if I’d be able to come down for the weekend. I just got her out of town for the day.”

“Sounds like you had fun,” Frank shrugs. He looks down into his Solo cup. “She’s been talking Hazel’s ear off about your trip all night.”

Percy lets himself smile. At least the distraction had made her happy. He can live with that. “Yeah, it was a good day.”

Fifteen minutes later, Clarisse drags Chris to the door while muttering something about the surge pricing for Ubers in this part of the city and Hazel tries to look as inconspicuous as possible as she walks slowly toward the bedroom door on the other side of the living room. She won’t stay the whole night (not that Percy would care if she did), but at least he knows Frank will be sure she’s sobered up before she leaves.

Connor is busy trying to clean up the kitchen while Annabeth sits on the island, her legs swinging as she tells a story that Connor has clearly heard a thousand times. He hums in agreement when necessary, but mostly he’s focused on wiping down the counters.

“You don’t have to worry with all of that, man,” Percy assures him. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

“No way,” Connor shakes his head. “It was cool of you to let us use your place for this— I don’t want to run out and leave you with a mess.”

“It’s not even that bad.” Percy glances around the kitchen and living room to emphasize the reality of his claim. Aside from a few abandoned cups and some slightly out of place furniture, most of the apartment looks perfectly fine— nothing that can’t wait until morning.

“Connor’s just scared you’re going to hate him,” Annabeth giggles, her eyes red and a bit droopy. She looks exhausted but the smile on her lips tells a different story. “He has a big fat crush on you.”

“It’s true,” Connor smirks, tossing the last of the paper plates into the trash compactor before he crosses his arms and leans back against the counter. He seems to be completely sobered up now which is a very different result than Percy would have expected but it’s for the best. He’ll feel better about Connor driving himself and Annabeth home knowing that he's okay to drive. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

“Eh, I kind of already knew,” Percy shrugs. “You’re not very good at hiding it.”

Connor laughs and turns his attention to the girl sitting on the kitchen island like it’s a throne. “You ready to head out, birthday girl?”

She shakes her head once, blinking. “What about the movie?”

“What movie, Beth?” Percy asks, his brow furrowing. Annabeth’s words are way more slurred now than they’d been a couple of hours ago, but he’s pretty sure he’d heard her correctly. He glances at Connor who is clearly as confused as he is.

“The movie we were s’posed to watch,” she sighs heavily before sliding off of the edge of the counter. He notices for the first time that she’s lost her shoes at some point in the night, traipsing barefoot through the living room as she walks unsteadily toward the television. “You know what I’m talking about.”

The guys follow her, slowing when her feet come to a stop and as she turns to face them, Percy realizes what’s about to happen. He sees the look on her face, cursing under his breath at the realization right as she rushes off down the hallway, staggering with each step as she covers her mouth.

“I got it,” Percy says to Connor, already hurrying after her.

He follows her through the bedroom and reaches the doorway of the bathroom just in time to see her dropping onto the floor in front of the toilet. She’s not quick enough and the long sleeve of her overshirt is caught in the crossfire as she retches and Percy steps toward her carefully.

“Beth—”

“I’m fine,” she groans, her head still hovering over the toilet bowl. “Go back to the party, Percy.”

“The party’s over, Beth,” he says in an attempt to soothe her. Percy takes another step but she holds up a hand.

“Go away.”

“Just let me—”

“I don’t want you in here.” It stings a little, probably more than it should, but he stops and she lowers her hand as she settles onto the floor, her back leaned against the glass wall of the shower. “Can you just go get Connor?”

He sighs in defeat. “Yeah.”

Connor looks up from his phone as Percy enters the room. “She okay?”

“Yeah,” Percy says, trying not to let his frustration with himself show. “She’s asking for you.”

They walk back to the bathroom together and Percy tries not to be too offended by how she lets Connor make a fuss over her. He holds her hair and runs a hand down her back as she leans over the bowl again, even though he seems to be turning a bit green himself. Percy wouldn’t have pegged Connor as one for having a weak stomach and if it weren’t such an unfortunate situation, it might even be a little funny.

He wonders again what life will look like on the other side of the Olympics— and even if she does save a place for him in her life, Percy wonders if he’ll ever get used to coming in second to Connor.

He’s the one that she called for when she was sick. He’s the one that she’s accepting help from, the one that’s comforting her even though his face is plainly saying that he’d rather be anywhere else. Percy’s known well before tonight that Connor’s role in her life is so much bigger and more important than his will ever be and he’s not sure why the realization feels so brand new.

“Can you take over?” Connor asks after a few more minutes. Annabeth is sitting with her back against the shower door again, her head in her hands, and she doesn’t object. “I’ll grab her some water.”

Percy nods as Connor steps past him. He can’t take his eyes off of her. She’s miserable and he’s kicking himself for not stopping her when he knew that she’d had too much to drink— but he knows it’s foolish to feel that way.

“I’m sorry,” she slurs, still looking down at the floor.

“Don’t be sorry,” Percy says gently, unable to stop the smile forming on his lips. It’s just so like her to apologize for being sick, even when he’s probably more at fault than she is. He’s the one that brought her to a party when all she’d eaten all day was three-quarters of a gyro and a few bites of gelato. “I’m glad you had a good night.”

Connor returns a minute later and sets the glass on the corner of the counter. “Emptied out, Chase?” She groans a bit in response and Connor smiles fondly. He loves her in a way that Percy envies— he loves her openly and wholly and unashamedly because he’s allowed to.

Percy hates him a little bit for that. It’s not fair, and it passes quickly. It’s hard to hate Connor. It would take too much energy to try and stay angry with someone so easily likable and Percy doesn’t have it in him.

When she starts putting up a fight about leaving, Percy realizes that he’s never really considered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of her immovable spirit. Connor tries to bargain and bribe but nothing seems to sway her. She won’t go.

Connor sighs as he straightens and turns to Percy. He shrugs his shoulders in defeat. “I hate to ask you to let her stay—”

“No,” Percy shakes his head. It’s not even a question. “No, of course she can.”

“Are you sure? She’s going to be a mess,” Connor eyes Percy curiously. “She always gets a second wind after she pukes.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I can handle it. You gonna just Uber?”

“I have Chris’s car since he left with Clarisse,” he explains. They stay like that for a moment longer before Connor decides it’s as good of a time as any to head home. “You wanna come lock me out?” he asks, even though the look on his face asks a different question.

Something in Connor’s expression seems bizarrely familiar. Percy feels a bit like he’d felt when he’d met Cal’s dad for the first time, aching for approval and knowing that he was being judged for every single thing that he did and said. He nods anyway. “Yeah, sure.”

They leave Annabeth in the bathroom for a moment as they walk back out into the living room and through the kitchen. Predictably, Connor pauses just before reaching the front door. He eyes Percy like he’s not totally sure he has a right to say whatever he’s thinking.

“Connor, she’s safe here,” Percy says, unable to stand the tense silence for another second. “You don’t need to worry about her.”

“I’m always gonna worry about her,” Connor replies. Percy understands that a little better than he would have a few months ago. “Just don’t let her do anything stupid, alright? I’m serious about the second wind thing. She’s been like this since we were in high school.”

“Big on the boot and rally thing, huh?” Percy asks.

“You have no idea.” Connor sighs, feeling around his pockets for his phone and keys before finding both. He’s about to say something else when the other bedroom door opens and Hazel creeps out into the living room. She freezes when she realizes that the room isn’t empty.

After another second, she straightens and lifts her chin, walking through the kitchen. She barely even acknowledges Percy as she reaches for the door and points a finger in Connor’s face. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Oh, you’re getting an earful in the elevator, Levesque,” he laughs. “You need a ride?”

Hazel sighs as she opens the door. “Fine.”

Connor smirks as she walks out into the hall and he pauses to look back at Percy. “Take care of her, alright?”

Percy nods. “Always.”

A few seconds later, the door is locked and the kitchen is empty and it feels eerily quiet in the apartment that had been so noisy and active just a few hours before. He turns off the lights and heads back toward the bathroom. As he steps through the doorway, he watches as Annabeth lowers her hands from her face and notices that the mess on her sleeve has at some point been spread to her undershirt and apparently her shorts as well.

“I’m gonna find you some clean clothes,” Percy says before he turns back to the bedroom. He’s about ninety-five percent sure that he’s already given her the only t-shirt he’d owned that would be even close to being a reasonable size for her but it doesn’t really matter too much at the moment. He grabs the first pair of sweatpants he can find and pulls a t-shirt at random from the drawer before he turns back toward the bathroom.

She starts to pull herself up from the floor, her cheeks flushed. “I’m so stupid,” she mutters, tugging on the sleeve of her overshirt once she’s on her feet again. “I’m sorry, Percy.”

“Stop apologizing,” he says, setting the clothes on the counter. “I’m gonna leave these here. You can take a shower if you want to, and here—” Percy opens the bottom drawer of the bathroom cabinet and pulls out an unopened toothbrush. “You’ll probably want that.”

Annabeth nods, dropping the plaid overshirt to the floor and it puddles at her feet as she begins to tug the tank top over her head and Percy swallows as he steps back toward the door.

“Let me know if you need anything,” he says quickly as he hurries into the bedroom and pulls the bathroom door closed. He gets himself changed for bed while he waits, listening out for any sign of distress from the bathroom but she seems to have it under control.

Percy wonders idly about this ‘second wind’ that Connor’s warned him about and whether or not he should be concerned. More than likely he’ll end up sitting her down in front of a movie and forcing her to drink water until she either sobers up or falls asleep. He’s about to walk back to the kitchen to retrieve a bottle of water for her when the bathroom door opens and he freezes.

Her eyes aren’t her own, half-glazed over with a distant stare but he swallows under the weight of the gaze anyway. Annabeth takes a step out of the bathroom, the loaned pajamas still sitting on the bathroom counter as she walks toward him. It shouldn’t be so shocking— he’s seen her in her uniform plenty of times and how different is that from underwear really? That logic, while mostly sound, does very little to stop the heat that rushes up his throat as he fights to keep his eyes from sweeping over her body.

“Annabeth, what are you doing?”

“What?” she asks, heavy lidded as her feet come to a stop. “You told me to get cleaned up.”

“Okay,” he nods. It’s a stupid thing to say but he can’t really think about words when she’s looking at him like this. “Well, what about your clothes?”

“They’re on the floor. They’re dirty.”

“The ones I got out for you, Beth— the clean ones.”

“I don’t like them.”

Percy sighs, swallowing hard. He shakes his head, coming to his senses at last, and begins to move past her toward the bathroom to retrieve the clothes himself. Maybe if he was able to do anything but focus on keeping his eyes on the floor he would notice her reaching for him. It catches him entirely off guard when she rests a hand on his abdomen, bringing his feet to a halt.

“Annabeth—”

Her name is swallowed up by a sharp intake of breath when she moves even closer. Percy is frozen in place, hands itching to reach out for her but knowing better. She’s not herself, he tells himself again and again. She wouldn’t be doing this if she were sober. She wouldn’t even be here if she were sober.

But the space between them, thin as it is, is filled with the scent of wintergreen toothpaste as her lips part softly and her hands move slowly up his chest to rest on his shoulders. Even now — with her eyes red and streaked with smeared mascara, her hair wild as it falls over her shoulders — she looks better than he’s ever imagined possible.

He never tells her how unfairly, unbelievably beautiful she is. Half because he’s not entirely sure that he can manage to say it without ruining everything, and half because he knows what it does to her.

He’s seen it himself more than enough times, has watched how being confronted with the simple fact that she is attractive can make her crawl inside herself. Most of the time, he leans on the former as an excuse, knowing that if he were to be truly honest with her about how he never wants to look at anything else whenever she’s nearby, it might be too much. It might be the thing that finally pushes her away, and he’d rather die than lose her like that.

“Annabeth, you need to put some clothes on,” he manages to say, fighting every urge and instinct in his body and mind as he chokes on the words. “Come on, let me help you.”

Her fingers sink into his shoulders as she squeezes gently. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Nothing,” he answers, too quickly. “But you can’t— Please, Beth, just let me get these clothes for you—”

She presses her lips to his so quickly that he doesn’t realize it’s happened until she’s already pulled away, a mischievous little smirk on her lips that doesn’t seem to match her tired eyes. He stares back, slack-jawed and at a complete loss as he wonders how much of this she’s going to remember when she wakes. When she leans in again, he doesn’t stop her, despite knowing that he should.

Maybe that makes him a bad person— probably it makes him weak. And maybe he is.

He’s weak for stealing the affection she’s willing to give him now, letting his hands rest on her hips even though he knows it’s wrong. He’s weak for taking a step forward, walking her slowly backward until her shoulders are pressed against the wall. She’s not herself, she’s not herself, he thinks to himself over and over but she tastes like the perfect mix of mint and vodka and maybe he doesn’t drink but he’s pretty sure he’s intoxicated by her. He’s weak, and she’s beautiful, and maybe kissing her like this isn’t so bad. It’s nothing they haven’t done before.

Her hands are light on his neck and he imagines that she doesn’t even know that they’re there. He wonders if she’ll regret kissing him when her head is cleared, if she’ll wish that she’d left with Connor in the first place. He wonders how many of these secret, vodka-soaked kisses Connor has tasted. He wonders if she’ll even remember this.

Percy summons a wave of strength he didn’t know he had, lifting his head away from hers. He carefully steps out of her reach, his eyes apologetic. He should never have let her kiss him and he definitely shouldn’t have returned it with such fervor.

He hopes that she’ll forgive him— he knows that she shouldn’t.

There’s a look of hurt on her face that makes him wish he were too drunk to remember this.

“I thought you’d want this,” she says, and her eyes look so sad that he has to swallow back his immediate reaction. Because of course he does. There’s nothing in the world like kissing her and if he could just do it for real he’s pretty sure that it would be the thing that finally undoes him.

Of course he wants this— but not this way.

Not when the shakiness of her hands is a product of alcohol and not adrenaline. Not when the things said here won’t last til morning. He’s thought about it nearly every time he’s let himself consider what the world might look like when the summer is over and he hopes that he’ll be able to convince her to stay.

He wants this — wants it badly — but not now. Not when it comes with strings that they can’t control. When he touches her for the first time, it will mean more than this. It will be real. And if that day never arrives, it’s better this way.

“Beth,” he sighs, the name carrying a wave of memory of the way that she tastes, “you just have to trust me this time, okay? Can you do that?”

“Trust you?” she asks, voice soft. Her shoulders slump as she relaxes back against the wall and her knees wobble just a bit. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that this can’t happen,” he answers, and for the first time he’s actually praying that she won’t remember any of this. “You’re drunk and it’s not right.”

“I’m not that drunk,” Annabeth replies, indignant, and the words are so completely thick and slurred that Percy can’t help but laugh. Her frown deepens at that and he collects himself quickly.

“Okay,” he nods, playing along, “you’re right. You’re not that drunk. Still.”

She folds her arms over herself as if she’s just suddenly realized how bare she is. “I just thought it was what you wanted,” she says again, and it hits him differently this time now that his brain is a little less fogged. He plays the words over again and it feels so obvious to him that she’s trying to be what she thinks he wants her to be.

For most of her life, Annabeth has been fighting to fit herself into boxes that make other people happy. She tried to be a good daughter, despite having a mother that skipped town and a father that couldn’t care less. She tried to make things work with Connor because it’s what other people expected of her. She kept Luke’s secrets because she didn’t know how to be anything other than the carefully compacted version of herself that had been shoved into corners for nearly two decades.

And now she’s standing in front of him, trying to do what she thinks will make him happy. And he didn’t even try to stop her. He looks up, meeting the stare of his reflection in the bathroom mirror just inside the doorway and Percy’s disgusted with himself for a whole new reason.

He’s no better than her father, who always asked too much; no better than Luke, who had tried to take what he wanted despite it being wrong.

He won’t be another person that abuses her trust. When he looks back at her, her grey eyes lost and concerned, he knows in an instant that she’s the closest thing to true north that he’s ever known. Everything else fades into the darkness, shadows consuming all but the light that she’s emitting now.

“Are you throwing me out?” she asks, pulling him out of his own thoughts. He can’t help but smile at that, a bit amused at the conclusion she’d drawn from his silence.

“I promised Connor I’d keep you safe,” Percy answers, stepping into the bathroom and grabbing the clothes from the counter before turning back to her. “I can’t very well do that if I leave you to the mean streets of San Francisco, can I?” She doesn’t answer so he continues. “You’re staying here tonight. And hopefully, when you wake up, you won’t strangle me.”

“Why would I strangle you?” she laughs, taking the clothes from him.

“I’m sure that sober-Annabeth will think of a thousand reasons,” he says before he bends over to gather her dirty clothes from the bathroom floor carefully. “Go ahead and get ready for bed. I’m gonna throw these in the wash.”

For the first time, she doesn’t seem to be in a contrarian mood. Annabeth nods as she sighs and begins to walk toward the bed. Percy walks out into the main room and crosses through the kitchen to the laundry closet. By the time he’s thrown in the load of laundry and walked back into his room, she’s already in bed. The clothes, he notices immediately, are now sitting on top of the dresser.

“Chase—”

“I’m in bed,” she protests instantly, groaning dramatically.

“Why are you so opposed to having clothes on?”

“You don’t have clothes on.”

“Well, that’s not true.”

“You don’t have a shirt on.”

“Annabeth, that’s different,” he replies and she scoffs. She stares back at him, blanket pulled up to her chin until he finally sighs in exasperation. He flips off the overhead light as he walks toward the bed and pulls back the comforter. “Fine. But if you get mad about this in the morning I’m going to be really mean to you about it.”

He’s only barely laid down when she rolls over. “No, you won’t.” She says it confidently even though her voice is quiet. There’s just enough light cutting through the curtains to make the lines of her face visible in the darkness and he watches her expression as her stare flits from his eyes to his lips and back again. “You’re never mean to me. You’d never hurt me.”

Percy swallows. Somehow, he thinks, this is even harder. The feel of her skin beneath his fingertips had been exhilarating but the intimacy of her moonlight confession is overwhelming. It’s suffocating to think about how easy it would be to reach out and pull her body into his. People make mistakes all the time and as much as he hates to admit it to himself, he really wishes that he had it in him to make this one.

“You’re right; I’ll never hurt you, Beth,” he repeats, confirming the theory that she’d laid out in the small space between them. “Not if I can help it.”

“I know,” she says, her smile soft and her lids heavy. When she shifts ever so slightly to rest her head on his arm, he flinches and wonders if he should pull away, but maybe it’s okay to let her this close. He’s practically holding his breath while she makes herself comfortable, and by the time she’s actually fallen asleep, he’s able to pull his arm away without disturbing her.

She’s asleep beside him and for the first time she looks person-shaped. It doesn’t make sense. Annabeth is a superhero, not a human. That’s when the guilt hits him at last.

He realizes that he’s never seen her relax; never seen her without that little crease of doubt and distrust between her brows or the subtle muscle of her jaw, clenched and aching. He knows how tired she must be from carrying the world on her shoulders, and he can’t help but marvel at how they’ve dropped now. He’s never seen her soften.

Looking at her now, he can only see the well-worn edges that always seem so sharp when she’s awake. She trusts him, he realizes, and maybe it’s stupid that he hasn’t really seen it before but the realization feels a little overwhelming now.

Percy swallows back a fresh wave of emotion as he pulls the comforter over both of them and settles into his own pillow at last. He watches the gentle rise and fall of her breaths and he thinks about that morning on the water. He’d been so sure that he’d ruined everything by telling her the truth about himself and his past, and how she’d hardly even flinched. In fact, she’d comforted him. He remembers how she’d been unable to dismiss the blame that she put on herself for the actions of a man that should have known better than to put her in the position that he had. He can still hear the wistfulness of her voice that afternoon at the ballpark when she’d told him her dreams.

Something permanent, she’d said. It’s echoed in his mind for a while now, but he thinks that he’s finally beginning to understand what she meant. Someone with as much good and light in them as Annabeth should never feel a moment of pain in their entire life, and she’s had to swim through far too much of it in her twenty-two years. Something permanent, something real, something safe— that’s what she wants and it’s what she deserves.

As he lets his eyes slip closed, he realizes that he’s going to be fighting to keep her safe for longer than just tonight. He’s known that for a while, he thinks, but acknowledging it doesn’t feel quite so intimidating now. He’s going to keep her safe, no matter what it takes. He’s going to help her create that world that she wants for herself because it’s what she deserves.

His world is ruled by deadlines and expiration dates and maybe it’s a stretch to think that anything in this life can truly be permanent but, goddammit, he’s willing to try.

For her, he’ll try.

#literally crying #this is probably the sweetest thing i have read in my entire life and i am not even kidding #fic rec

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