Chapter 6

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"We didn't break up," Annabeth says, after she's settled at his kitchen table with a plate of waffles, generously made by his mother. "He says that we should just take a break, at least for a few months."

"Staying friends, then?" his mother questions from her place at the coffee pot. She passes Percy a mug of hot chocolate—coffee's never been his thing—and fishes another out for Annabeth.

"We're going to try," Annabeth answers. "I don't know if it'll work out. The whole point of the break is to give each other some space, and it'll be hard to get said space if we're so busy trying to salvage a friendship."

Percy rubs a hand across her shoulders, his brow dipping in concern. "And you're okay?"

"Honestly, Percy," she says with a sigh, jabbing him gently with her fork. "If you ask me again I'm going to go home and back to sleep."

He loves Saturdays, for the most part, because Annabeth usually attends breakfast, save the days Luke takes her out. Saturday morning breakfasts are of utmost importance at the Jackson residence, usually followed by some daytime television and occasionally a board game or a round of Family Feud; more often than not played with Sally and Percy up against Annabeth alone. Sometimes Percy joins Annabeth's team.

Today, though, Annabeth sprawls out in what she's claimed as her recliner and declares that she'll be taking a nap. Percy calls her lame, Annabeth throws a pillow at him, and Sally reprimands them both.

"Actually, now that you mention it," Percy says, stretching, "a nap sounds nice."

Annabeth sticks out her tongue at him. It's weirdly reminiscent of her sixth-grade self. "Who's lame now?"

"Still you," he tells her, with probably a little too much warmth.

So, it's easier to fall asleep when Annabeth's curled up in a chair a few feet away, Percy finds out. He doesn't wake up again until a few minutes past noon.

Luke stops him one day, just after Percy's slipped out of the boy’s bathroom. He looks tired and discouraged, but he still manages a smile. "How is she?"

Percy wonders when he became Luke's connection to Annabeth, but he answers him without a fuss. "She's fine. Adjusting," he adds, pulling his backpack further up his shoulder, "but fine."

Luke nods, grimacing slightly. "Thanks."

Percy shrugs. "You're welcome. I hope you're alright, too." He and Luke hadn't exactly been the best of friends, sure, but Percy can't imagine his life without Annabeth. Just the thought of going through what Luke is makes him feel nauseous.

Luke rolls his shoulders. "I'm adjusting."

They make small talk for a few minutes before Luke hurries off to class, looking dishevelled and out of balance. Percy remembers when Annabeth spent a month in Greece with her mother the summer of freshman year; remembers feeling like he had lost a limb and was forced to relearn how to walk.

Percy knows Luke, though not as well as he probably should, and he's gathered that he's a resilient guy. Always the first to bounce back from an argument (even if Annabeth's over it in under an hour, just refuses to apologize due to both pride and obstinance), and Annabeth's told Percy over and over again that Luke doesn't let things get to him. It's apparently one of the things she likes most about him.

Percy's sure that Luke'll be fine. That being said, he spends most of the day fretting over Annabeth and being incredibly overbearing, more likely than not.

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