WHISPERS • A PERCICO AU

• Chapter 17 •

No.

It was the only thought coursing through Percy's mind as he hit the ground running, each of his footsteps seeming to echo down the thankfully mostly empty street. Under his mask of rage hid a forlorn, helpless expression.

He felt like he was back in the beautiful Nico di Angelo's neighbourhood, running, running away from all his problems, running away from his rejection, running from the sadness that quenched the flame like it was a game.

But as his body rocked with choked sobs and breathless intakes, soon enough Percy was in no condition to run anymore. His lungs felt like they were going to explode. His forehead was burning, sweat standing out like beads against his skin. I can't, he thought. His throat was as dry as the Sahara desert— the thirst was burning his mouth.

He quickly scanned his vicinity: he was getting pretty used to the fact of running away. The thought was so pathetically sad, a bubble of laughter formed in his stomach, but the green-eyed boy didn't let it out. He found himself physically unable to. He wondered if this was how Nico felt when he unsuccessfully tried to speak: feeling your throat clench, your lungs failing you and your lips move uselessly.

Bitter resentment crawled in him. He shouldn't think about Nico.

But he was unable to do that as well. As much as he wanted to hate him, Nico still owned his heart. Whenever he thought about love, Nico was the only one whom entered his mind. Percy wanted to destroy his feelings, but he couldn't find the button to switch them off— he could only find himself caressing the thought.

His mind focused back on the present. He was standing on a sidewalk, and if he walked a little more, he would get to a coffee shop. Like in a trance, the black-haired teenager ambled to the place that was cheerful in a serene way.

He amalgamated his scattered spirits as he walked through the front door, the bells above him jingling.

Without thinking, Percy sat in a table for two at a reasonable distance from the door, yet he could still peer out the large glass windows. Unbeknownst to him, he had sat in the exact same place with a certain brown-eyed boy only a few weeks ago.

A dark-haired waitress with forest green eyes seemed to appear next to him, clutching her tablet a little too tightly. She looked a little flustered, her cheeks warm. Percy read her name tag, Lou Ellen, without much thought to it. He didn't even realise she was from Goode as well.

"Have you decided on your order yet?" she asks with a persuading voice, pointing at the untouched menu in front of Percy's tan folded arms. He bit his lip, some of his anger draining away. "I'll take your hot chocolate, thank you."

A small smile tugged at the waitress's young lips. "Any preferred toppings?" she inquired, scribbling with her blue ballpoint pen. "No thanks." the green-eyed boy finished briefly.

The dark-haired girl nodded and walked off.

Each minute of his waiting seemed to fuel his bittersweet thoughts. As he clenched his fist, his thoughts drifted back to the boy he had left behind. Percy didn't want to feel guilty about how he snapped and said foul things to Nico. But he did. And that just made him angrier.

Recent events flooded back in him, each detail piercing him. He remembered perfectly how his jealousy had fuelled his rage, and how that rage turned into helplessness because he just gave up. He remembered exactly the soft, innocent caring expression painted on Nico's angelic face, and how quickly Percy had made it look torn. He remembered just how he spat his resentment like venom, an angry blush filling his face, his heart overthinking his emotions.

Percy was pulled back to the present as the same green-eyed waitress arrived with a nice warm cup of hot chocolate, blinking expectantly at him.

The black-haired teen gladly accepted the mug, but as he brought it to his lips, anger swelled his chest again. The chocolate milk shouldn't be lukewarm or sweet. It should be bitter and cold, just like Percy's world was right now.