"Where do you think you'll go?" Annabeth questions, flipping through the scattered college pamphlets on the desk in the corner of his room.

If Percy's being honest, he's not entirely sure. "Whoever will take me," he decides. "Probably going to do community college for two years then transfer, though."

Annabeth nods. "As long as you aren't too far from me."

Percy smiles softly at her from where he's propping himself up on his elbows atop his bed. "Nah, never," he replies. It sounds casual, contrasting the heartfelt meaning. Annabeth falls face-first onto his bed, squirming out of reach when he pokes at her side with his toes.

She lifts her head, if only to glare at him, but she ends up smiling when Percy laughs at her disgruntled expression. "You're the worst," she informs him, without much bite.

"Tell me about it," he intones sympathetically, dropping his elbows so that he falls flat on his back. "Senior year is going by pretty fast."

Annabeth inches up the bed until they're side by side. "Yeah it is. Faster than even eighth grade."

Eighth grade was all but a blink of an eye, Percy thinks, looking back on it. He had been in such a hurry to get to high school, having convinced himself that it would be so much better than Mendler Middle. It wasn't, not really, but something in him regrets the way he had spent the entirety of his eighth grade year wishing he could be in ninth grade. It feels like time wasted.

Then again, eighth grade had been… Different. Annabeth started to go to Luke's house more than his; spent a lot of the summer lounging around her boyfriend rather than her best friend. Percy hadn't been too bothered at the time, but now something tugs in his stomach, something that's entirely unpleasant and upset that he missed out on so much time with her. He knows how hard it is to keep an equilibrium between significant others and friends, or at least, he's heard enough people complain about it, so he can't blame her. Still, he finds himself scowling.

He feels Annabeth watching him before he turns to look at her. As soon as he meets her eyes, she breaks out into a grin. "Remember the tree branch? When we were twelve?"

Percy huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "Twelve was a bad age. We were so stupid. We picked the flimsiest tree out there to climb."

Annabeth doesn't laugh, but her smile is radiant enough to serve as one. "Twelve was a great age. We were just a little too daring."

"I wasn't daring at all," Percy tells her. "I was mostly just following you around because I thought you were cool."

"Awww!" Annabeth pinches his cheek, but not for long before he bats her hand away, looking up to the ceiling fan. "That's so cute. You thought I was cool?"

"Emphasis on the past tense," Percy grumbles, but his smile deceives him.

She chuckles, shuffling closer to him. He, stupidly, turns to her, knowing that their faces won't be more than an inch apart.

Percy's never had issues with personal space; if anything, he has no concept of it. He's the kind of guy that doesn't really see much reason for hostility and absolutely loves people, oftentimes finding it hard to feel uncomfortable around them, even if they're strangers. Regardless of his indifferent attitude to personal space, he stops breathing when their proximity registers.

Weirdly enough, Percy envisions himself leaning forward and kissing her. It's a pull that's so foreign and almost bizarre that he abruptly faces the ceiling again, pulse just a little too fast to be classified as normal.

Neither of them speak, but Annabeth presses her forehead against his shoulder. He exhales.