Caution: Heartbreak Ahead

Drunk on Memories

Drunk on Memories by travestiously

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"See! I got a good grade--for once!" she smiled cheerily at him, shoving the B+ in his face. "Now, grow up!" Drew pocketed the quiz in her pocket, crumbling it a bit.

"Fine," he agreed--but mostly because she was there and happy for once. "But I got an A+ so...you still need to study," he added, grinning wildly.

"Nope!"

"Yes!"

"Guys!" Annabeth called out, a sharp pencil in one hand and a blue cupcake in another--icing smearing the sides of her lips. She was smiling, though, too, her grey eyes sparkling and blonde hair up in a messy ponytail. "Stop flirting!"

"You're one to talk, Chase!" Drew shot back, flipping her silky hair back. "I got a B+!" she said proudly. "More than what your boyfriend ever got!" she added, throwing thick shade onto the green-eyes teen who was shoving blue cupcakes in his mouth.
"I once got a B! In handwriting! In fourth grade, Tanaka!"

"Oh, for shame that your F in Beauty doesn't match that." Drew slung an arm around Malcolm's shoulder, and whispered into his ear loudly: "I think that's the only class she failed in."

"You forgot Health! She throws up everytime!" Percy yelled.

"Percy, I'm going to kill you!" Annabeth yelled back at him, placing her cupcake back on the counter and running after him.
He took this as a hint and dropped the cupcake he was eating, and ran. Ran like his life depended on it and said: "I'm sorry! Annabeth, sorry?!" loudly with a bit of a screech on it.

"Poor guy, expecting a kiss on Christmas," Malcolm said, shaking his head sarcastically. "Annabeth will probably chase him to his grave, huh?"

"Probably. I don't think we should help him, I mean, he's doing fine on his own, isn't he?" she sniggered, as they both walked out of the kitchen. The Jingle Bells tone was sang--lack of a better word for the awful voice--by Leo and Calypso--who was doing more of the singing.
"Probably."

They both shrugged like they couldn't care less--because they really couldn't right now. The halls was decked with laurel wreaths and mistletoe was hanging from the ceiling. Malcolm almost--almost--got a kiss from Drew, but all she did was put a finger to his lips and said, "Nope."

"Why not?" he whined.

"Because," she said, smiling slyly, "I'm mad at you." Her tone was light and playful, and with that, Drew walked off.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. END OF SIMULATION.

If feels like sleep.

Like you're breathing and you're drowning and everything's a dream. It's a nightmare but you love it and you can't leave it. He was addicted to them. Simulations were something dangerous, they told him repeatedly, but Malcolm didn't listen.

Lots of things were dangerous. Sending him there was dangerous, actually. Especially on the brink of death, which was why. They said he was important--he had to come to them and almost dying was a chance.

Not a choice, a chance. He had to leave his family, his friends, everything behind. That price he had to pay--hell, they said, everyone had to pay it; he wasn't special--the price of abandonment. They thought he was dead.
Which he wasn't.

Propping himself up from one elbow, he searched for the serum to inject in him again but someone's voice interrupted him: "What do you think you're doing?" her voice was sharp and demanding--as usual.