Percabeth One-Shots

62. Sent and Received

Hello all. This one is a little shorter, but I got an idea so I wrote something. It's another quarantine related one-shot, and I gotta be honest for a moment, it's based from experience. This one-shot was a lot like writing a diary entry for me, and I didn't realize I needed that until now. But anyway, if anyone else is missing someone during quarantine, I know how you feel. No amount of Google Duo/Zoom/FaceTime calls will replace them actually being there.

Luckily I only have to wait another month before I can go back to campus and see my someone again. And dear gods do I miss him! But for all of you who may not be as lucky as I am, just hold on. Soon all of this will pass and your someone will be waiting. Until then, stay safe, stay healthy, and keep being awesome!

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I miss you. Send.

I love you. Send.

I miss you too. Received.

I love you too. Received.

Annabeth smiled. Seeing his texts that he sent back always made her smile. She used to be able to picture him smile, almost hear his voice say what he typed and sent. But the time away has made it harder. The memories faded as memories tend to do and she couldn't help long for a day when he would say it in person to her again.

Then came the doubt that hid behind her smile. What if the time away had given him time to think? What if he didn't feel that way anymore? What if he was just saying it because she had said it first, just to be nice? But then there were the times when he said it first.

Over a call when she had said something that let him know, inadvertently, that she was sad. Or when they texted and her phone didn't send the message as fast as his did. And he would say it first. Or he would whisper "I love you" into his phone. Those words would crackle through her own phone's speakers right next to her ear and she would smile. A smile that started in her chest, made it tight with longing and love for him, then seeped into every part of her being to split her face into a smile and send a tear of happiness down her cheek. She lived for those.

The soft spoken 'I love you's between conversations. When she knew he said it because he needed to. Because something she did had reminded him that he loved her, and so he needed to say it.

The 'Good Morning Beautiful's that she woke up to daily, to which she would respond with a 'Good Morning Handsome'. Or the times when she would text him in the morning first and he would respond in kind. Or like that morning, when she had switched it up and texted "Good Morning Beautiful", a text accompanied always by a red heart, and he had responded with "Good Morning Handsome" also with a heart. The switch had made her smile, a laugh brightening her face and shining in her eyes just as much as on her lips.

Then there were the good night texts. Whoever went to bed first would send a simple "Good Night Beautiful," or "Good Night Handsome". Also with the heart. And on the nights when she would send it first, she would wait for a response. Just for a few moments. He could have been busy after all. If there wasn't a response soon, she would turn off the sound and go to bed. She rather liked those nights though, because when she would wake in the morning, she would look at the phone to see that he had written out a small paragraph, telling her how much he loved her. Or he would have sent a picture, always of himself. She loved the pictures.

Every picture he sent, she would get lost in his eyes. Sometimes they would be an early morning 'thinking of you' selfie. Other times a picture he took with his dog, only including himself in the picture because he knew she wanted to see him.

The time away was hard. Very hard. Her dreams whisked her away to a world where he was there, wrapping his arms around her, whispering "I love you" right into her ear instead of into a phone. She loved those dreams, but they made waking up that much harder. But until the world righted itself again, until they saw each other again, the dreams and the phone calls and the texts were all she had. And she would take those over nothing. She would take the toneless texts, the posed pictures, the practiced phone conversations, the late night heart to hearts that were somehow easier over the phone. She would take them all over nothing. Nothing, well nothing just might kill her.

But now there's only a month to wait. Only a month until she can see him again. Only a month until she can be wrapped in his arms and not have to look at him through a screen. She's living for that moment now. And this month is going to crawl by.