Throughout dinner, Percy had to restrain himself from hugging all of his friends. Now, that alone sounded fairly harmless, but his logic was far from. At any moment, he knew his 'father' could send a tsunami to swallow up Camp Half-Blood, and Percy knew that the god's patience was wearing thin. He had to be gone by the end of the week, and he wasn't ready to say goodbye.
Annabeth, perhaps, had made his job easier, saying that she wanted a fresh start come the school year and that she needed space. It had broken his heart, twisted his stomach into knots that not even the best masseur would be able to fix.
But, he mused, it was probably for the best. The gods wanted him gone, out of the picture, etcetera. They were finally done using him. And some part of him was glad, or it was, until he realised he wouldn't be able to see any of his friends again – or his mother. Phones would alert monsters, Iris-messages were property of the gods, and he couldn't enter Manhattan. He couldn't enter the city of the gods.
He had nothing left. No family or home.
Annabeth, perhaps, had made his job easier. Maybe one day he would forgive her for that. But until that day, the memory would haunt him, constantly pausing and rewinding to the very moment she said: "I want to break up."
Percy stumbled back, his feet catching on the grassy floor of the stables. Water glistened in his eyes, his face paler than the chalk Leo enjoyed throwing at people who annoyed him, "I– I– Annabeth?"
Eyes fixed on the ground, the daughter of Athena looked truly sorrowful and Percy had to resist the urge to hold Annabeth until she felt better. She fiddled with a loose thread on her jeans fror a moment before looking up at him, hesitating for only a second before wrapping her arms around him. Softly, he placed his chin on her head and hugged back, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.
"Why?" he whispered into her hair.
"I didn't want to Percy, believe me, but I'm starting college next year, and I'm not going to the one in New Rome like you said you would. Then we'll be at uni and I don't want to be away from you for so long. It's selfish of me, I know it is, but it's less painful this way, and I don't want to hurt you, Percy." Annabeth was clutching onto him like a lifeline at this point, as if when she let go he wouldn't be there.
Some part of him wouldn't.
"We could make it work, Wise Girl. Give it a mon–"
"No! Please, Percy, listen to me. I still love you, and I always will, but I can't... do this anymore."
"Do what anymore? Please, Annabeth, you're not making any sense!" Percy had felt so confused at that moment, but all that underlying fear and bubbling panic was far better than what came Next.
"I can't pretend anymore, okay? I can't pretend we're fine! Tartarus changed us – it changed me and you! It hurts, Percy! I don't want to live through it anymore, I need to at least try and heal... and something tells me that space is the only way to fix this."
"I... okay."
"Percy?"
"I'm sorry."
"It's not you–"
"Please don't, Annabeth. Please."
"Bu–"
"I need to go."
Annabeth, perhaps, had made his job easier. Maybe one day he'd forgive her for that.