I'll be here forever

chapter 27

I laid there, and I stared up through the top of the tent, looking for the bare pinpricks of starlight that barely shone through, trying to calm my racing heart.

I couldn't stop thinking about it. Percy's dreams, his terrible, awful dreams. My deep concern for him. The fear that they might happen to me, again. Worry for what might happen tomorrow, or the next day. What if I was killed somehow? What is he was killed? I don't think I'd be able to handle that. What if we met a monster we couldn't beat? Was there someone waiting for us? Waiting on him? Waiting on me? What would happen to them if we died? My thoughts bounced around in my brain like they were at a trampoline park, and I just couldn't sleep.

And I was tired. Gods, I was so tired. But no matter what I did, my eyes didn't seem to want to close. My body didn't want to afford me the luxurious illusion of peace. It seemed determined to keep me up, no matter what.

I don't know how long I laid there, but it was a long time. At this point, I was just waiting for the sun to rise, so I had at least something, anything to do.

That was when Percy shifted beside me; the blanket rustled, and I held my breath. We were on opposite sides of the mattress, but I didn't want him to wake up because of me.

"Can't sleep?" he asked tiredly, and I winced. I thought I'd been quiet, so I wasn't sure how he'd woken up. He made my already racing heart go into overdrive, beating so quickly that I thought I might have a heart attack.

"No," I admitted, sitting up. Percy sighed. We sat in silence for a moment; there was no way he couldn't hear how fast my heart was pounding.

He reached over, gently grabbing my wrist and tugging me toward him. I swallowed thickly and let Percy pull me back down, gingerly lowering myself onto my back.

"Cmere," he mumbled, still sounding muddled from being asleep, his voice sleepy and deeper than it usually was. So I turned to my side toward him, shifting over so that we were even closer, maybe a foot apart. I wasn't sure if my heart could take much more.

"I can't hold you if you're all the way over there, dummy," Percy murmured, and I felt the heat rise to my face. Thankfully, it was too dark for him to see.

I grumbled something in half-hearted protest. Honestly, there wasn't anything I wanted more than to fall asleep in his arms, but I had my dignity to uphold.

"Come here," he insisted, and I couldn't bring myself to refuse. To hell with dignity.

And so I cautiously moved over to him, my heart beating like I'd just taken a shot of adrenaline. I could feel my hands shaking.

Percy wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close to him.

There was nothing that could compare to it; being held by him, it was something I knew I'd never really get used to. The feeling of being this close to him was addicting, and like a drug, it made my brain go into overdrive.

When I died, if they sent me to whatever the Greek version of heaven was, it'd feel like this.

He threaded his fingers through mine, the heat from his hand sharply contrasting my own cold one. His thumb slowly, gently rubbed circles into my palm, making me lightheaded. I was sure that I was about to pass out.

"Your heart's beating really fast," he said, laughing softly, and I felt my cheeks flush even more, if it was possible. I rested my forehead against his chest in embarrassment.

"I know," I replied, my voice muffled, my face buried in his shirt.

"Relax. You're okay," Percy mumbled.

I had half a mind to argue some more if only for the fact that he told me to relax, but I found he was right. The thoughts in my brain started revolving a little less quickly.

I listened for his own steady heartbeat, and mine fell into place right after. My forehead was still pressed against his chest, while one of his arms was under me, and the other hand was holding mine.

I heard his breathing even out and I realized that he'd fallen back asleep.

Was this platonically? Do friends just casually hold each other at night to help with their nightmares? Did he just want me to shut up and decided this was the best option?

I shuddered, my throat closing up and tears pricking my eyes. Gods, why the hell did I care about him this much? Why did lying here in his arms feel like the safest place in the world?

My tears spilled over, and I cried as quietly as I could into his shirt, hoping he wouldn't wake. Even if he couldn't hear me, I needed to tell him.

Eventually, my eyes were too dry to make any more tears. So I listened to his breathing, the steady sound lulling me into a sense of security. He'd fallen asleep before he'd felt the urge to take his hand out of mine, so our fingers stayed threaded together, and it made me want to cry. Again.

I gathered whatever was left of my courage and squeezed his hand slightly.

"I love you," I told him, choking on the weight of it in my mouth. I was so quiet that I couldn't even hear myself, but it felt so much better to get it off my chest. Even if he didn't really know, even if he didn't really hear, I'd still done it.

And I did. I did love him. I didn't know how, or why, but I did. I wanted to spend every moment of my life with him, I wanted to do everything with him. I didn't think that it was healthy to care this much about someone.

How was I supposed to tell him that? How are you supposed to tell someone that you'd take a knife for them without hesitation? That they occupy every single one of your thoughts, in dreams and while awake?

And my biggest fear; what if he didn't feel the same?