Love Against All Odds

Oskar - Annabeth's Vision

I slept late the next day, exhaustion clinging to me like a weight I couldn't shake off. The conversation with Zoe drained my energy, leaving me more tired than after any battle or quest. It felt like I'd been hit by something far heavier than any monster or enemy. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, her words echoing in my mind on an endless loop. Every time I thought I had a grip on it, another layer of what she said peeled back, and the frustration resurfaced.

Was that it? I thought to myself. Was I broken up with?

Zoe had said she was done. But what did that even mean? Was she done with the conversation, done with arguing, or done with us? The question gnawed at me, a constant itch in the back of my mind. The more I thought about it, the more it plagued me, anger bubbling up inside like a storm I couldn't control. How long had she felt this way? How long had she been sitting on these doubts, letting them grow in the dark without telling me?

The idea that she'd been silently questioning me—questioning us—gnawed at me relentlessly. It wasn't just a passing doubt on her part; it was something deeper, something she had been holding onto, letting it grow like a poison between us. And for what? Because I went to college? Because I wasn't glued to her side every second of the day? It felt absurd, unfair even.

She kept talking like I was supposed to be out there "enjoying" college, like that somehow meant partying, hooking up with random girls, and living this wild, reckless life. It was as if she expected me to become someone completely different the moment I set foot on campus. But I didn't want that. I didn't need that.

I wasn't interested in living some stereotypical college lifestyle where people threw themselves into chaos just because they could. That wasn't me. I wasn't craving freedom from her or our relationship. The fact that she couldn't see that, that she thought I should be out "exploring" some meaningless flings, made me feel like she didn't know me at all.

The more I thought about it, the more infuriating it became. How could she think that was what I wanted? Did she not realize that I chose her every single day? I wasn't some clueless guy who needed to "experience" other people to figure out what I had. I already knew. I didn't need to test the waters, didn't need some reckless adventure to realize that what we had was worth holding onto. 

I wanted her.

It was that simple. Zoe was the one I cared about and was committed to. Why couldn't she see that? Why couldn't she believe I meant it when I said she was the only one? It wasn't just some line to keep her happy—it was the truth.

The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. The fact that she could even contemplate me being with someone else—that she could stand there and accuse me of lying about her being the only one I'd ever been with—wasn't just frustrating. It was fucking insulting. It was offensive on a level that I couldn't even put into words. I'd never given her a reason to doubt me. Not once. I hadn't looked at another girl so much, hadn't let anyone else even get close. It wasn't a decision I had to wrestle with daily; it was natural. Easy. I didn't want to be with anyone but her.

But there she was, throwing accusations at me as if they were facts. As if she knew what I was capable of better than I did. As she had already made up her mind that I was someone who would betray her, that hurt more than anything else. I wasn't that guy. I'd never been that guy. And the fact that she couldn't see that she couldn't believe me made it feel like she was tearing down everything we had built together.

I had been nothing but honest with her. I had poured everything I had into this relationship. Every word I said, every time I told her she was the only one, I meant it. But now, she was treating me like I was waiting for an opportunity to cheat on her. Like I was some cliché college guy who couldn't keep it together for the person he supposedly loved.

It was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. But that wasn't the worst part. No, the worst part was how much it fucking hurt. Deep down, it hit harder than anything else. Because it wasn't just about her accusing me—it was about her not knowing me. After everything, after all the moments we'd shared, she still believed I could be someone who would hurt her like that. That's what killed me. I rolled onto my side, staring blankly at the wall. The more I thought about it, the more that hurt turned into anger. I didn't deserve this. I didn't deserve to be accused of something I'd never considered doing. And if she had been feeling like this for so long, why hadn't she just said something sooner? Why let it build up until it exploded like this?

I didn't know what hurt more—the fact that she could believe I'd betrayed her or the fact that she'd been carrying this doubt for so long without telling me. Either way, it felt like a betrayal of its own.

With a groan, I dragged myself out of bed, every muscle in my body protesting. I didn't want to deal with anyone today, especially not Zoe. But there was no avoiding it. I had to go to the war room—there were things bigger than me and her that needed to be dealt with.

By the time I arrived, everyone had already gathered in the war room. The air was thick with tension, voices low, and the usual sense of urgency over these meetings felt sharper today. I slipped in through the back, moving as silently as possible, not wanting to draw any attention to myself. My body was heavy, weighed down by everything from last night, and the last thing I needed was more questions or curious glances.

I leaned against the far wall, crossing my arms tightly over my chest, doing everything I could to avoid looking in Zoe's direction. But even without looking, I could feel her. That connection between us was the one that always lingered, no matter what was still there. It was always there. It was like we could sense each other's presence without even trying, without needing to see or hear one another. I hated it right now. It felt like a tether pulling me toward her when all I wanted was to stay far, far away.

I knew she was watching me—her eyes burning into the side of my face. Every fibre of my being told me to glance her way, to see if there was anything left of the girl I loved in her expression, but I refused to give in. I couldn't. If I looked, I'd fall apart.

Annabeth was already talking when I arrived, her voice steady as she relayed the details of a vision she'd received from Hera—disguised as a mortal woman. Typical Hera, always meddling and using her tricks to deliver cryptic messages. This time, she had told Annabeth that finding a boy with one shoe at the Wilderness School would somehow lead us to Percy. It sounded ridiculous, but nothing ever made sense at first when the gods got involved.

That was the focus now. Percy. Not Zoe. Not the mess we'd tangled ourselves in. Percy was missing, and he needed to be found. It was the only thing I could let myself think about.

Annabeth glanced around the room, her expression sharp but weary. "I'll go," she said firmly, taking charge like always.

Butch, a towering figure with broad shoulders and a mop of curly hair that always seemed to be in a state of disarray, spoke up next. His deep, gravelly voice cut through the tension in the room. "Me too," he rumbled, the words steady and sure, like everything else about him. Butch wasn't the type to hesitate—he was solid, dependable, the kind of guy who stood like a rock when things got rough.

His arms, thick with muscle, were inked with the swirling image of a rainbow. It peeked out under his sleeve, a proud reminder of his lineage. Butch was one of the few demigods at camp who could claim a direct connection to Iris, the goddess of the rainbow and messengers. Most people underestimated Iris, thinking her power was all sunshine and rainbows, but her children were tough, resourceful, and had a strength that surprised you.

Without thinking, the words were out of my mouth before I realized it. "I'll go." 

It wasn't a request. I needed this—I needed something to take my mind off the chaos swirling around inside me. Annabeth turned to me, her eyes locking onto mine. There was a flicker of relief in her expression. 

"Thanks," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "We go tonight."

I simply nodded in response; there was no need for words. I pushed off the wall and headed straight out of the war room, my boots heavy against the floor, the tension in the room left behind me. I didn't look back, not at Annabeth, not at anyone, and definitely not at Zoe.

I needed to leave camp, away from the suffocating tension that hung between Zoe and me like a thick cloud.