𝙗𝙮𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙘𝙩, 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚.
SECTION TWO: LOSS—0004.

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YVONNE'S HAND TOOK A HOLD OF HER WRIST, AND THE GIRL'S LAUGHTER ECHOED IN HER EAR AS SHE LEANED IN CLOSE TO WHISPER, "HE'S WAITING FOR YOU OUTSIDE AGAIN!" Within seconds, she lost sight of her friend, swallowed by the tide of students surging toward the school's exit. The air buzzed with hollering and laughter. She let her classmates pass, quietly apologizing when bumped into, disregarding calls of her name and the attempts of boys vying for her attention. When the halls became empty and the noise subsided, Wilmarie's footsteps echoed against the tiled floors as she walked slowly to the front court of the school. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the city skyline.

She found him seated on the ground, knees drawn up to his chest, his gaze fixed on nothing at all.

Percy always had the scariest look on his face whenever he was upset, just like that classical painting of the fallen angel or something immortal like that. His sadness has always been tinged with a simmering resentment, some feeling of disdain for the world that she never learned how to ease.

She dropped her backpack next to him, taking a seat beside him.

"It's almost spring break," she acknowledged. "I thought you said you would show up every day until you earned my forgiveness, or whatever. That was in January."

Percy sighed heavily, his gaze still straight ahead. "I know I said that," he replied. "But, uh, I got a friend killed. I guess. So... Yeah, I was kind of dealing with that." His voice trailed off, filled with so much guilt—regret, pain, anger, always anger—that Wilmarie found herself unable to say any of the awful things she had fantasized about saying to him when he stopped showing up.

She looked at her old best friend, studying his face intently, searching for answers within the lines and shadows cast upon it. Percy seemed older, worn down in a kind of way she hadn't witnessed before, even when the bullying and the name-calling, and all the beatings from Gabe and their shitty classmates would send him home with bruises and terrifying thoughts. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, resting her chin on her knees. She felt shallow, because she knew she was going to forgive him in the end, no matter how much he disappointed her—because he is Percy, and she doesn't know how to be Wilmarie without him, but she had wanted it to drag on—to see how loyal he truly was. She wanted to see him groveling, begging for her forgiveness, pleading for another chance.

And, through every awful wish and assumption she had, Percy was mourning. Getting overwhelmed with guilt and regret, losing friends, and hurting. Wilmarie felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She pressed her face to her knees, just for a moment, because she knew the type of things that filled Percy's mind when he hurt. When she lifted her head, she didn't attempt to smile.

"What was your friend's name?" She asked.

"Bianca." Percy's voice cracked. "She had a little brother, Nico. I promised him... that I would protect her. He ran away, afterwards. I've been trying to find him ever since. So, uh, I'm—I'm sorry. I didn't forget about you, I swear on the—I swear I didn't forget about you, Wils."

"Oh," she said, grinding the bottom of her shoe on the concrete just to hear the scrape. A selfish part of her wanted to say that it isn't okay; that she felt abandoned, and that his new friends couldn't possibly compare to the lifetime of memories they shared. Instead, she simply nodded, swallowing her resentment for all those faceless  strangers who had taken him away from her. "What did you get into, Percy?" She murmured anxiously, her voice barely above a whisper.

Percy shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact as he mumbled something about getting caught up in the wrong crowd.

"I'm sorry, Wils. I really am," he repeated, his eyes filled with regret.

Above them, the sun shone brightly, but the shadows cast by the tall buildings of New York City made the world feel smaller and colder than it used to be. "I don't want to be your friend," she admitted.

Something must've broken inside of him.
"What?" Percy asked numbly.

She sighed, her fingers absentmindedly twisting a lock of her curly hair. "Percy," she told him, then she looked away, her gaze fixating on a distant point. "Look, Ojitos. I think... We've both been through a lot in the past few years, and I don't think—I don't think it would be a good idea to be friends again."

Percy felt a lump form in his throat as he tried to process her words. "No," he denied; Wilmarie's eyes flickered up at him. He hadn't meant to sound so aggressive. "No—what the fuck, Wils? What does that even mean?"

"You just told me you got someone killed." Wilmarie said, her eyes welling up with tears as she fought to keep her composure. Rising to her feet, Percy mirrored her actions, and they locked eyes. She continued, "I should be calling the cops on you, or something. I'm not sure what you've gone through to believe that is normal, but I can't be a part of it!"

"I know it isn't normal!" Percy argued. "I just—I told you because I need my best friend!"

Wilmarie crossed her arms, shaking her head with frustration. "You have ADHD," she told him, as if he didn't know. "I'm not your best friend. You haven't thought of me in two years, and now you're suddenly unable to live without me again? Be real, dude. You're just obsessing over me right now, fixated, hyper-focused, or whatever. You don't actually care about me anymore. We don't know each other anymore, Percy. We don't."

"Fuck you," He said instinctively, and Poseidon had warned him about his anger, but it felt indescribable, like his blood has suddenly heated a million degrees, and the only thing he wanted to do was shake Wilmarie until she stopped saying stupid things. "It was two years, Wils. Two years; we've been friends since we were born, and you're telling me that two years is enough to ruin that? No, no, you're full of shit."

"It fucking is!" Wilmarie retorted, her expression sharpening from whatever pitiful look she was trying to portray earlier. "Because I needed you for those two years, and guess what? You were nowhere to be found! What kind of best friend does that?"

"I was trying to survive!" Percy yelled at her.

"What?" She demanded. "Surviving what? That's all I want to know, Percy. What was so important that you couldn't even check up on me once? What was so important that you couldn't even send a text or make a call to see how I was doing?"

Percy hesitated, his eyes avoiding hers as he struggled to find the right words to explain his absence. He could do it—Thalia had shown him how to manipulate the Mist—he could show Wilmarie the truth about half-bloods. But he remembered Nico's excitement when he found out he was a demigod; he remembered the heartbreak in his eyes when Bianca died, too.

Wilmarie isn't like Annabeth. He would need to protect her—to keep her safe at all costs.

Telling her the truth meant exposing her to monsters he wasn't strong enough to fight; if he didn't, he would lose her either way. Percy looked up at the sky, wishing he could find an answer in the clouds, or believed in some God that could guide him in a way Poseidon never will, but all he saw was the cloudless expanse of gray stretching out endlessly above him.

The burden of responsibility rested heavily on his shoulders; he had to make the right choice for both Wilmarie and himself, no matter how much it hurt, because Percy is a hero now. He had to be selfless and  put the needs of others above his own desires, even if it meant sacrificing his own happiness.

But he didn't want to. He didn't want to lose Wilmarie.

"I met my dad," he admitted. "His family is... Complicated. My mom tried to keep me from getting involved in their mess, but his brother accused me of doing something I didn't do; it's why I left in the first place, that summer. I had to go and prove my innocence. I had to make things right, for my dad's sake." He paused, looking down at his hands. "And once you get involved in something like that, it's impossible to walk away. I've been staying with my dad's side of the family every summer ever since. We can't use phones or anything like that, so I couldn't really message you. And I... can't tell you the full truth right now. I swear I will tell you eventually, but right now, I can't, Wils."

Wilmarie remembered being 10 years old, believing the world was against her; thinking that it hated her and Percy. Yulissa always slapped her between hugs, and Sally seemed eager to get rid of Percy, sending him to academy after academy. At 10 years old, she knew that in this life, she only had Percy, and Percy only had her. They had no fathers, one lost in the sea and one too busy to care, and mothers who regretted having them. She is fourteen now, a bit more mature. She was starting to learn that life is not always fair, good intentions don't always lead to good outcomes, and sometimes, she'd lose people the way she lost Percy.

"I hope you can understand and forgive me," he said, his voice brimming with emotion. "I just need more time to sort things out before I can explain everything to you."

But he is back, staring at her with an ocean of ache in his eyes, and she can't fathom how many blessings she still has in her life. All she knows is that Percy is one she doesn't want to let go of.

"Okay," she whispered, words barely escaping through the lump in her throat. "I'll give you the time you need. I'll give you all the time you need, but you need to promise me—you won't leave me again." Hesitantly, she reached for his hand; her heart trembled, fluttering in her chest like a fragile butterfly caught in a storm when Percy intertwined their fingers. Scared, she told him. "I don't want you to leave me,"

Tears streaked his cheeks, yet Percy mustered a smile for her.

"I won't," he vowed. "Never again, Wils."

They were fourteen the first time Percy ever kissed her.

He had been missing for two months; Wilmarie had not heard from him in June or July. But when he finally returned in August, he held her close and whispered, "I'm here now." Like it would be last forever. When she had began to cry, he wiped away her tears and sworn—I'll always come back. If I have to go, I'll always come back for you, Wils.

He hadn't intended to kiss her; it had been awkward and unexpected, and Percy had stuttered the entire time until she kissed him. It had tasted like salt, lips stained from tears and an argument. It wasn't romantic—not a story she told her friends—but it had been real.

It meant everything to her.

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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !
Short chapter I only needed them to be friends again <3 now they're a bit older and THE REAL DRAMA CAN START HAHA  I love jealousy and miscommunications so much
(≧﹏ ≦)  I'm so excited okay

Thank you for reading! Bye-bye!