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love on the run

The Brick and the Bloom

The Bluebird Motel was a shithole, but for the first forty-eight hours, it was a palace. They spent most of that time sleeping in a tangled mess of limbs, catching up on years of hyper-vigilance and adrenaline-fueled exhaustion. When they finally emerged, blinking like owls into the bright Missouri sun, the reality of their situation hit them. They had nine thousand eight hundred dollars left, a dead truck in a Price Chopper parking lot, and no permanent roof over their heads.

"First things first," Annabeth said, her voice chirpy as she bounced on the balls of her feet. She had spent the morning re-braiding the front of her hair, the light brown boho knotless braids framing her face perfectly. She wore a bright yellow sundress she’d stuffed into the bottom of her bag—a piece of her old life she’d refused to leave behind. "We need a base of operations. A real one. No more yellow plastic bird keys."

Percy leaned against the motel’s peeling railing, squinting at her. He looked like a different person without the constant shadow of his father’s temper hanging over him. His blonde curls were a chaotic mess, and his blue eyes were clear, though he still looked a bit dazed by how fast she was moving. "Beth, you're scaring me. You’re too happy. It’s like 9:00 AM. Who is happy at 9:00 AM?"

Annabeth laughed, a bright, bubbly sound that made a passing traveler stare. She didn't care. "We’re free, Percy! We can be whoever the fuck we want. Now, come on. I saw a flyer at the laundromat."

They spent the next four hours trekking across Columbia. It was a town built on red brick and college energy, and luckily for them, it was the tail end of the semester. Students were fleeing, leaving behind cheap rentals and desperate landlords.

They found it on the edge of the North Village Arts District—a crumbling three-story Victorian that had been chopped up into tiny, questionable studio apartments. The landlord was a man named Silas who smelled faintly of mothballs and didn't seem to care that they looked barely old enough to drive, let alone sign a lease.

"It’s a hundred bucks a month," Silas said, wheezing as he led them up a narrow, creaking staircase to the third floor. "But there’s a catch. The radiator clanks like a dying ghost, the window in the kitchenette is stuck shut, and the previous tenant... well, let’s just say he wasn't a fan of cleaning."

He pushed open the door to Room 3C. It was essentially a shoebox with a slanted ceiling. The wallpaper was a peeling floral pattern that might have been white in the 1970s, and the 'kitchenette' was a hot plate sitting on a plywood counter next to a stained sink.

Percy looked at the grime on the floor and the single, sagging twin mattress in the corner. "Silas, man, this looks like a crime scene."

Annabeth, however, was already at the window, peering out at the view of the street below. Her eyes were wide and sparkling. "It’s perfect."

"Perfect?" Percy choked out. "Beth, there’s literally a mushroom growing out of the baseboard near the shower."

Annabeth turned around, her brown skin glowing in the dusty shafts of light. She looked like a goddess of optimism. "Percy, think about it! A hundred dollars. That’s twelve hundred a year. We could live here for eight years on our savings alone if we had to. It’s a roof. It’s a lock. It’s ours. We can scrub the floors. We can paint the walls. It’s a blank slate."

Percy looked at her, then back at the room. He saw the way her small hands were already tracing the lines of the built-in bookshelf, imagining where her stolen library books would go. He sighed, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "A hundred bucks, huh?"

"Cash only," Silas chimed in, jingling a ring of keys. "No credit checks, no questions. I don't care what you do in here as long as you don't burn the building down."

Percy reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled hundred-dollar bill. "Sold. Give us the key."

As soon as Silas was gone, Annabeth let out a literal squeal of joy. She threw her arms around Percy’s neck, her braids hitting his chest. "We have an apartment! An actual apartment!"

Percy laughed, lifting her off her feet. "You’re insane. You know that? We just moved into a dumpster."

"It’s our dumpster," she corrected, kissing him hard. "Now, put me down. We have to go to the hardware store. We need bleach. Lots and lots of bleach. And then, we’re going to the library."

"The library? For fun?"

"No, Seaweed Brain. For the future."

The rest of the day was a whirlwind of domesticity that neither of them had ever experienced. They spent fifty dollars on cleaning supplies and a cheap set of sheets. They scrubbed until their fingernails were raw and the smell of bleach masked the scent of the previous tenant's poor life choices. By sunset, the room was sparkling, the single mattress was pushed against the wall with fresh blue sheets, and Annabeth had organized their remaining money into a hidden floorboard she’d discovered under the sink.

"Okay," Annabeth said, sitting cross-legged on the floor, a legal pad in her lap. She had a pen tucked behind her ear, looking every bit the brilliant strategist she was. "Phase two. Income and Education."

Percy leaned against the wall, eating a sandwich they’d put together from a loaf of bread and some ham. "I thought we were taking a break."

"No breaks until we’re secure," she said, though her tone was light. "I looked it up on the library computer while you were buying the bleach. There’s a community center three blocks from here that offers GED prep and testing. If we start Monday, we can have our diplomas by the end of the summer."

Percy groaned, sliding down the wall to sit beside her. "School? Already? I thought we escaped the principal's office."

"We escaped the bullshit, Percy. Not the education. If we want real jobs, we need those papers. I’m not spending the rest of my life scrubbing floors, and you’re too smart to be just a heavy-lifter for some asshole contractor."

Percy looked at her, his expression softening. He reached out and tugged on one of her braids. "You really think I'm smart?"

"I think you're a genius when you aren't being a total moron," she teased, leaning her head on his shoulder. "And I know you can do this. We do it together, okay?"

"Together," he echoed. "So, where are we working? I saw a 'Help Wanted' sign at the warehouse near the tracks. They need loaders for the night shift."

Annabeth nodded, scribbling it down. "That’s good. It’ll pay well, and they probably won't ask for an ID if you tell them you're eighteen and lost your wallet in a fire. You’re six feet tall, Percy. You look older than you are."

"And you?"

"There’s a little café around the corner called The Daily Grind. The owner is this sweet old lady who looked like she was drowning in the lunch rush when I walked past. I’m going to go in tomorrow and tell her I’m a college freshman looking for extra hours. I’m bubbly, I’m cute, and I can handle a cash register faster than anyone in this town."

Percy grinned. "You are definitely bubbly. It’s actually kind of weirding me out. Where was this Annabeth in San Francisco?"

Annabeth’s smile faltered for just a second, a flicker of the old shadows crossing her brown eyes. She looked down at her hands. "That Annabeth was too busy making sure she didn't get hit or yelled at. That Annabeth had to be a ghost. This Annabeth... she gets to breathe."

Percy wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. "I like this one better. She’s loud."

"Fuck you," she giggled, poking him in the ribs.

"See? There she is."

The next week was a blur of New Life energy. They fell into a rhythm that felt incredibly adult and terrifyingly fragile. Every morning, they walked to the community center. The GED prep was easy for Annabeth—she was basically teaching the class by Wednesday—but it was a struggle for Percy. The letters still jumped on the page, and the math problems looked like ancient runes.

But every time he wanted to throw the textbook across the room, he’d look over at Annabeth. She’d be sitting there, her boho braids tied back in a messy bun, chewing on the end of her pen, looking so hopeful and determined that he couldn't bring himself to quit. She’d spend hours every night sitting on their tiny floor, coaching him through the practice tests, her voice soft and patient.

"You're doing it, Perce," she’d whisper when he got a long division problem right. "You're so close."

By the second week, they both had jobs. Percy was working the 6:00 PM to midnight shift at the warehouse, throwing boxes of car parts into semi-trucks. He came home every night smelling of sweat and grease, his muscles aching, but with sixty dollars in cash tucked into his shoe.

Annabeth was the star of The Daily Grind. The owner, Mrs. Higgins, adored her. Annabeth was a whirlwind of efficiency, steaming lattes and charming the grumpy professors who came in for their morning caffeine. She made enough in tips alone to cover their groceries.

One Friday night, Percy came home to find the apartment smelling like actual food. Annabeth had bought a small electric skillet and was frying up chicken and potatoes. The window was cracked open, letting in a cool breeze and the distant sound of music from a nearby bar.

"Look at you, Gordon Ramsay," Percy joked, dropping his bag and pulling her into a hug from behind. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of vanilla syrup and coffee beans.

"Don't get used to it," she said, though she was leaning back into him. "I almost burned the building down twice trying to figure out the heat on this thing."

They ate sitting on the floor, using paper plates and plastic forks. For the first time in their lives, there was no tension in the room. There was no listening for the sound of a heavy tread on the stairs or the jingle of keys in a lock that signaled a nightmare was coming home. There was just the hum of the refrigerator and the sound of their own voices.

"I got my practice test results back today," Percy said around a mouthful of potato.

Annabeth froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. "And?"

Percy reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He handed it to her with a shy grin.

Annabeth scanned the page. "Eighty-eight percent? Percy! That’s amazing! You’re going to pass the real thing next week with no problem!"

She scrambled over the floor and tackled him, sending them both sprawling onto the mattress. She showered his face with kisses, her laughter filling the small room. "I knew you could do it! I knew it!"

Percy laughed, holding her waist to keep her from rolling off the bed. "Okay, okay! Chill out, you big nerd. It’s just a test."

"It’s not just a test," she said, pulling back to look him in the eyes. Her expression was serious now, her brown eyes shimmering with emotion. "It’s a way out. It’s a real life. We’re doing it, Percy. We’re actually doing it."

Percy reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from her forehead. "We are. But we wouldn't be if it wasn't for you. You're the one who saved the money. You're the one who picked the city. You're the one who didn't let me give up on the fucking fractions."

Annabeth shook her head. "We saved the money. And you're the one who drove us across the country in a truck that was held together by spit and prayers. We’re a team, remember?"

"A two-person army," Percy whispered, repeating the words they’d said on the road.

He pulled her down for a kiss that tasted like home and salt and the future. Outside, the city of Columbia moved on around them, unaware of the two sixteen-year-old fugitives hiding in a third-floor studio. They were just two more kids in a college town, trying to find their way.

But as Annabeth curled into Percy’s side later that night, watching the moonlight filter through the stuck window, she didn't feel like a fugitive. She didn't feel like a victim or a "useless brat."

She felt like Annabeth Chase. And for the first time, that was exactly who she wanted to be.

"Percy?" she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

"Yeah, Beth?"

"We should buy a plant tomorrow. A small one. For the windowsill."

Percy chuckled, pulling the thin blue sheet up over her shoulders. "A plant, huh? You think we can keep something alive?"

Annabeth closed her eyes, a small, confident smile on her lips. "We kept ourselves alive, didn't we? A plant should be easy."

"Yeah," Percy said, kissing the top of her head. "I guess it should. Goodnight, Beth."

"Goodnight, Seaweed Brain."

In the quiet of Room 3C, under the peeling floral wallpaper and the clanking radiator, they slept the deep, peaceful sleep of the free. They still had a long way to go, and the ten thousand dollars wouldn't last forever, but they had a plan, they had a roof, and most importantly, they had each other. The world was big and scary and full of assholes, but as long as they were in this together, Annabeth knew they were going to be just fine.