Chapter Text
Annabeth Chase loves avoiding.
"Loves" is not the more appropriate word though. More like she feels safe doing it because, in her head, she's not losing anyone else. At least not while she's avoiding him. "Maybe it'll hurt less when he disappears out of my life if we keep hovering around each other" a voice in her head says. Deep down, she knows they might be too far gone already. It's clear that there are feelings on both ends. But still, she doesn't falter.
Annabeth feels safer avoiding because it's something she's used to. Because admitting to the world and to herself that she's in love with Percy Jackson is uncharted territory, and it requires too much changing. She despises change with a passion because, every single time, she needs to adjust to it.
She doesn't want things with Percy to be different. Mostly because she's scared of the consequences. And definitely because every time something or someone stable shows up, she feels the need to bolt. She's always been on the run after all. It's automatic. And for the first time in her life, Annabeth wishes it wasn't.
Because if she didn't keep on running and doing her best to avoid the pain, maybe she wouldn't be here, all alone being chased by monsters and bleeding out from an open wound on her stomach while Percy's probably having the time of his life and being a teenager with Rachel Elizabeth Dare.
Annabeth also can't pin-point the exact moment when she got distracted enough by the monsters to let her guard down and be injured like this, but she suspects it might have something to do with an extremely irritating seaweed brain that refuses to leave her mind. And unfortunately, due to a small moment of weakness, or maybe because of the mental confusion caused by the blood loss, she finds herself making her way to Percy's apartment without thinking twice. She mentally convinces herself that this is only happening because she feels dangerously close to losing consciousness, and his home is the closest place she can think of.
When she gets there, she considers using the ladder of the emergency exit, and climbing through his bedroom window, but the pain is too distracting, she's weaker and dizzier than she would like to admit, and her vision is already tunneling.
When she gets to the door, and lifts her hand to knock, she realizes that her limbs feel heavy. Not a good sign. Still, she manages to knock, sharper and more desperate than she intended. Annabeth silently wishes that Percy's at home, suddenly feeling scared that Sally or Paul catch her bleeding out like this.
No, not scared. Embarrassed. Ashamed, even.
A wave of dizziness and nausea crashes over her, and she quickly leans against the doorframe, bracing herself for what might happen. Yep, she's definitely close to fainting.
Before she can think more of it, the door opens, nearly sending her flying forward. She regains her balance on the last second.
Percy stands on the other side of the door. At first, he's absently standing there, like he hasn't registered her presence yet. Then, she looks into his eyes and sees the exact moment when something in his brain clicks, and he realizes that it's really her. His lips part, his eyes widen, and she swears he goes paler than he already is when his gaze drifts to her shirt. Her eyes follow the direction of his, and— the front of her shirt is soaked through with blood. Right. Annabeth had all the symptoms to prove blood loss, and she knew she was bleeding. But she didn't stop to consider how much blood she was actively losing because she was too busy thinking about a way to avoid Percy.
'Annabeth...' Percy whispers, and his voice cracks.
At first, she wants to brush it off, and tell him that it's nothing. Then, she gives up on trying to gaslight herself, and is finally willing to admit that it hurts like hell, that she's extremely — maybe dangerously — lightheaded, and that she'll most likely lose conscioussness. However, all that it takes is a step forward, and a sudden wave of dizziness for her knees to buckle. And, though Percy still seemes to be mentally frozen, he immediately jumps forward and places his hands on her hips to stabilize her. They nearly landed at her waist, but with the blood, he doesn't know where the hemorrhage ends and the wound begins, so he decides to play it safe. Annabeth is not unconscious, but she appears to be halfway there. She registers him saying something like "I got you", before he scooped her up in his arms as gently as possible, and shut the apartment door closed.
Her head limply sways from side to side because she can't keep it upright, and the motion makes her even more dizzy. Her eyelids grow heavier by the second.
'No, no, no, hey.' An urgent voice calls from the distance. A very blurry and distressed Percy shows up at her line of sight. 'Stay with me, Beth. Tell me what happened.' He pleads.
Percy lays her carefully on the couch. She slowly adjusts her position. Then, her mouth feels too dry and she swallows with difficulty. 'Monsters.' She explains bluntly. She hates how weak she sounds. Her voice is barely audible. Percy's gaze flickers across Annabeth's face full of worry and desperation. He nods once, though she might not be able to see it with all the blurriness.
'I need to see it.' He says gently. His hands hover around the hem of her shirt, silently asking for her permission to remove it.
'Just do it.' Again, she hates how hoarse her voice sounds. She weakly lifts her back off the couch to make it easier for him to take her shirt off.
'My parents aren't home.' He says while carefully peeling off the shirt that glued itself to the wound with a grimace. She can't really tell if he's trying to avoid any embarrassment from her, considering the semi-nudity, or if he's panicking because there is no trusted adult to tend to her wound, and he can't exactly explain the real thing to a mortal doctor without sounding schizophrenic.
The second his eyes land on the entirety of the wound, his breath hitches. 'Gods, Annabeth...' he mutters.
'Is it really that ugly?' She asks, failing to sound sarcastic. She can't really tilt her chin down, so she doesn't see the wound, but she instinctively tries to ease his nerves like second nature. Mostly because he doesn't look like himself when he's driven by fear, and she doesn't like it when that happens. It doesn't happen so often, but when it does, it's mostly related to her. Sometimes she feels terrible for having such importance to him because of the whole "I'd burn it all down" and holding the sky thing. Other times, she feels... cared for. Wanted. And another word that sits right at the tip of her tongue. One she's deeply afraid of. Loved. She feels loved by him. And she's constantly mourning the day when he might disappear right out of her life. Because everyone else does. No one deliberately chose to stay with her. Until him. He has always been here. And yet, commitment still feels scary, even when it makes the chance of being with him real.
'That wasn't funny.' He replies, his voice shaky, like it once was in Waterland, when they were just scared, awkward twelve-year-olds.
'Just a little funny.' She argues, though she's not exactly able to emphasize her point through body language, like she usually does. She doesn't even have the strength to glare at him.
He seems to ponder his words for a second, which is completely unlike him. 'It'll leave a baddass scar, but now it's... It needs stitches.' He adds nervously. 'Annabeth. I don't know if I can—'
'I'll guide you.' She says, cutting him off right away. 'You have to do this.' She carries on, more softly, despite her voice still being strained.
'But... what if something goes wrong? What if—'
'Percy. It won't go wrong.' Annabeth protests firmly. 'I trust you to do this.' She adds, her expression softening for a split-second. They look into each other's eyes.
Percy doesn't respond. He nods faintly and he looks like he's going to be sick. It's even worse than what he felt back in Olympus, when he was fourteen, and thought she'd become immortal. The thought of never seeing Annabeth again was unbearable to him.
'It's either that, or I'll bleed to death.' She insists more seriously now.
'Okay.' He whispers. His voice is barely audible. He inhales sharply, and turns to the emergency aid kit (for demigod emergencies). 'Okay.' He repeats to himself, exhaling loudly.
A beat. Then— the house phone rings.
Percy shuts his eyes hard, and curses under his breath.
'I'll be right back.' He promises.
He disappears into the hallway and Annabeth can hear him apologizing from the distance. For what, she doesn't know. After all, she's just trying her best not to pass out.
When he returns, Annabeth does her best to lift her head up from the cushions. 'What was that about?' She asks, trying to sound curious, but not too interested. Unbelievable. Even now, she's overthinking and avoiding at the same time.
'Rachel wanted to go somewhere with me.' Percy admits hesitantly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. And, unfortunately for Annabeth, that information stung more than the wound did. But before she can say anything else, he quickly adds: 'I turned the invitation down. That's not important right now.'
And because Annabeth has issues and is a total emotional masochist, she replies with: 'So, tell her to wait. You two can go to that place after you stitch me up. I'll be as good as new. She attempts a fake smile and, of course, it comes out wrong.
Percy's eyes darken at her words, and he looks hurt as if her last statement had been a physical punch to the gut for him. She doesn't know why. Or, maybe, she's great at pretending she doesn't.
He shakes his head. 'No.' He says all of a sudden. His eyebrows are all scrunched together, like they usually are when he's worried. 'I don't want to go.' He continues surely, a hint of irritation and exasperation surging in his voice.
'Why are you mad at me?' Annabeth asks clearly frustrated, but also on the verge of tears. The pain is making her unfiltered and pathetic, she thinks.
'I'm not.' he answers quickly, and his demeanor softens a little bit. But he still sounds slightly cold and detached, and his shoulders are all tensed up. That seems even worse than him going on a date with Rachel because he feels like he's slipping away, and that it's her fault.
'And even if I went on a date with Rachel,' he adds suddenly, like he knows exactly what she's thinking. 'It wouldn't even be a date. Because Rachel and I are just friends, even though she has feelings for me. I turned her down. Because I know what I want... unlike you.' His eyes flicker to her stomach again, and he completely focuses on her injury. He's more focused than he's ever been since she met him. Annabeth's heart flutters in her chest.
Despite being angry and silent, Percy cleans and disinfects the wound with gentle, trembling hands because, even after all the human mistakes she's made, he still cares for her. And that thought alone is enough to make her eyes prickle with tears.
'Sorry.' He apologizes. It's either for snapping, or because he most likely believes that the pain is the reason behind her tears. Maybe it is too. She does hiss a couple of times when it stings too much.
'Don't worry about it.' She replies absently while being consumed by the usual, soul-crushing guilt that comes with the avoidant issues that she can't seem to avoid herself. Right now, she justs wishes she could be here, with him, living in the moment. No overthinking, no fear, no six steps ahead, and no near death experiences. She wishes they could just... be. But they can't. Because of her, and her stupid urge to flee all the time. She can't even blame him for being oblivious anymore. This time, she's the one pulling away.
'I'm going to start stitching now, okay?' Percy asks after a while, just to give her a heads up. She nods in response, silent tears streaming down her face. Annabeth does her best not to cry or breathe too hard, so her abdomen doesn't contract too much, otherwise it will hurt even more.
Slowly, but surely, she places her hand on top of his and guides him throughout the entire stitching process with practiced precision.
The whole time, Percy kept his other hand on the side of her waist, fingertips tracing her ribcage with a feather-light touch. Honestly, she's not even sure he realizes he's doing it, but either way, she doesn't mind. It makes her chest feel warm, and she almost forgets the pain and sadness. He finishes everything up by covering the stitches with a well-secured gauze.
'Where were you when you were attacked?' Percy asks quietly, after throwing all the bloody gauzes away, and disinfecting everything.
'I left camp for two weeks. I wanted to try and bond with my dad again because he insisted on it, after everything that happened during the last couple years. But there's no use, I guess. He always finds some historical research to do that seems to be more important than I am, at the end of the day. Didn't even last four days with him before I... left again.' She explains, drifting her eyes from him. She sounds slightly embarrassed and disappointed. Not in her father, but in herself, which makes it ten times worse in Percy's eyes.
'I think your dad doesn't deserve you if he can't see how special you are. From my point of view, you are worth all the time in the world.' Percy replies causally, almost as if he was stating a universal fact. And, unfortunately, that's all it takes for the dam to break down — Annabeth starts crying again, and muffled heart-breaking sobs come out of her mouth.
Percy wants to say something like "careful with those stitches", but it doesn't feel right. He wants to comfort her, but doesn't know how. So, he leans forward, and she awkwardly wraps her arms around his neck, wincing because of the pain in her abdomen caused by the motion of her sitting up. Silently, he wraps his arm around her waist for support, allowing her to relax and lean her on him. Then, he sits on the couch, places a pillow on his lap, and gently brings her down to lay her head there.
'This okay?' He questions, so quietly that it seemed like he was sharing a secret. She knows that he does it because he's afraid she might leave if he says one wrong word, which is fair.
'Yeah.' She whispers tiredly, and she's crying again. Percy hesitates for a second before gently wiping the tears off her face with his thumbs. He's never touched her face before. And she never lied her head on his lap like this either.
Now that she's so close, and he's hyper-aware of every detail of her face, he suddenly remembers the fleeting sensation of her lips pressed to his before he blew up Mount St. Helens, and she was forced to plan him a funeral without knowing if Grover and Tyson were alive or dead.
Unbeknownst to Percy, Annabeth is thinking the same thoughts. Deep down, she yearns to feel the brush of his lips against hers and the faint taste of saltwater that he always seems to have.
'Percy...' She mutters. 'I'm sorry.' Her voice breaks.
He opens his mouth to respond, but she cuts him off, and keeps talking.
'You're right. I keep avoiding you, avoiding... this.' She gestures between them with her hands. 'I want to stop. But... I can't. I don't know how.' She confesses.
Percy nods, like he got to that conclusion before she said it out loud. 'Just stay.' He pleads. 'That could be a good start.' He adds quietly with an obvious hint of hope.
Her ears start ringing, her mind runs miles away in less than a second, calculating the options, and her brain screams at her to run away, to hide, to avoid. She's scared of the consequences that she can't predict. She's afraid to let her guard down, to allow her inner walls to crumble. But she fights that voice, for real this time. She wants to be stronger than her hesitation.
She wants to stay.