ᴄᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴇᴍ: ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴀʙᴇᴛʜ/ꜱᴏʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ

xɪɪɪ | ʙᴀʙʏ'ꜱ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʜᴀɴɢᴏᴠᴇʀ, ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ʙᴀʙʏ ɪꜱ ᴀʟᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ-ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ-ᴏʟᴅ

CW: hard drugs (referenced)

There's pain pulsing through Percy's body. It's a throbbing pain, but not the kind he used to get when he'd wake up in the Camp Half-Blood infirmary. He can't even pinpoint where the pain is coming from. He just knows it's there, it's really bad, and he wishes it weren't there.

Shit, it hurts to think.

Where is he? This is undoubtedly not his bed at his mom's house. If it was, his Jaws poster would be where that no parking sign is, and his laundry basket would be in the corner where that dumpster is.

Besides, Annabeth's here, and she hasn't been to his room since that time his mom caught him with his head between her legs. Sally can't keep the days of the week straight, but she sure does remember that unfortunate incident ten years after the fact.

Annabeth groans next to him, lifting her head off the pavement. Her grey eyes widen when they meet his green ones, and just as quickly, she drops her head back to her folded arms.

Then it all comes crashing down on him like a tsunami. Last night he went on the brewery tour with Annabeth. He's on a quest with Annabeth, his ex-girlfriend.

She said she'd take care of them both, but for some reason, he woke up in an ally and not in a bed.

He doesn't have the energy to get mad about that right now, so he asks, "Are you good?"

She lifts a finger, motioning for him to wait a minute. "I feel like my face got scraped across the sidewalk. Do I look okay?" She lifts her head again, and he notices the white powder under her nose.

He laughs a little but stops when it starts bouncing around in his skull. "You got drunk and ate donuts? That's hilarious."

"No, we were at the club. How would I have—oh fuck. Oh, fuck. Fuck me in the ass." Her nose bleeds, red blood trickling down to her lip. Desperately, she presses her fingers to her nose to catch the blood before it can hit her clothes.

"Hey, it... happens?" Percy wouldn't know. "Do you..." he starts, afraid of the answer. Does he want to know?

"No, Percy, I do not do cocaine regularly. Shit, it hurts," she whines.

He sits up, swaying slightly. It's so bright outside. He checks his phone, but the battery's dead. "Maybe we can go back to the hotel? That feels like a good idea."

"I have no idea where we are and I am starving," she says.

"Annabeth," he asks, "what happened last night? I promise I can handle it."

"I don't know if I can handle it!"

It takes him a minute to register what she's saying because of how loud it is.

But he eventually gets the point. Annabeth doesn't know what happened, which means she was so high... "This was pointless," he says. "We did all that for nothing."

"There might be a video on your phone," she whispers.

"My phone is dead and the charger is in the hotel," he says, rolling over onto his side. The reason why he can't pinpoint the pain is that everything hurts. "Is yours dead?"

"Yep," she says, using a conveniently located crate to pull herself to her feet. "Listen, I don't want to be a dick, but you mixed beer with liquor and may or may not have taken a pill."

Wait. "I did what?"

"Yeah," Annabeth continues. "And like, I know that's pretty bad, but comparatively speaking, I wasn't sure if I'd wake up today—if you know what I'm saying—and I'm standing-"