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Three ♰ Till Forever Falls Apart
PERCY RUNS AWAY the second they get to the bus terminal.
Aileth doesn't appreciate it— though she supposes it is justified, considering how Grover keeps looking at her like she's dead already, and muttering to himself: "Why does this always happen?" & "Why is it always sixth grade?"
When they get off the bus, Grover runs to use the restroom, and Percy grabs his luggage in one hand and Aileth's wrist in the other, preparing to slip away.
"I'm leaving first," he tells her. "Are you coming with me?"
"No," Aileth answers. "I'll try to talk to Grover about. . . whatever that was. I'll see you during the break?"
He doesn't seem to want to leave her behind, but Percy nods, understanding. "Right. I'll stop by at your place later, then."
He pulls her in for a hug at the same time he flags down a taxi, pressing his face into her shoulder.
"Get home safe, okay?"
"Of course."
When they break away from the hug he grabs her shoulders, and he looks like there's something he wants to say.
The cab screeches to a stop in front of them. Aileth watches the words form on Percy's tongue, watches him try to get himself to say it, watches him tell himself it's not important, not right now, and discard the sentences.
"See you later," he tells her instead, and hops into the passenger's seat.
She watches him leave, the tide drawing away from its shore.
Grover comes up to her just as Percy's cab disappears down the corner. "Don't tell me that's—"
"You just missed him," Aileth says, shouldering her bags. "He left."
Grover swears, and then blanches when she raises an eyebrow at him. "I can tell. Why didn't you try and stop him?"
"Why would I?" Aileth retorts. "What's happening, Grover? Why are you acting like this?"
"I— I can't tell you." His voice is ragged, and he seems to have forgotten how to breathe. "Prophecies— saying them out loud is like surrendering to their existence."
It dawns on her, a fatal sun. "I'm the one who's going to die, aren't I? Is that what it means?"
His skin drains of color, now a sickly shade of pale brown.
"Don't. Fucking. Say. It."
"What? That I'm going to die?" She presses on, essentially cornering Grover. "Why can't I say it? Why do you think I'm going to die?"
She thinks of the broken yarn, hanging limply like a severed lifeline. "I heard you and Mr. Brunner. You know something happened to Mrs. Dodds. He said something about me— said I wasn't one of you. I don't know what that means, but you do, don't you?"
