Run | TMR X PJO [ Editing ]

I Would Totally Not Go to Your Funerals

Percy did not take lightly to being woken up when it was still clearly dark out by Teresa's excessive poking, with Newt, Minho, and Thomas leering at him from all sides. Never did he expect to be shook awake at such a time, everyone staring him down as if he were the one at fault instead of them. He propped himself on his elbows and stared back with equal conviction at the others. Teresa ceased her endless jabbing to his sides, her arms crossed across her chest.

"Would someone like to grant me the liberty of telling my why I am awake—" he got out before Newt's hand was slapped over his mouth, the British boy telling him to be quiet. From his experience, none of the boys sleeping near him were light sleepers, but he supposed one could never be too careful, especially when their lives were on the line.

"Shh," Newt hissed, then stood up. 

Ninja-esque movements were made as the five of them slinked in between snoring Gladers, freezing whenever one stirred, resuming their tiptoeing when the coast was clear. It was a constant game of Red Light Green Light for them, perhaps a more dangerous version of the game—nonetheless, it was still the same game. Meandering around groups of sleeping boys really should have been a lot easier than they made it to be, but they were being all too careful not to even disturb a leaf.

Percy was all for complaining about this sort of creeping around, though the moment he opened his mouth, he decided against it. A grueling two minutes later, they were home free outside of the Homestead. He still had no idea why they were outside—he would have been informed if there was a meeting, and were they not planning to run for it in two days?

"Okay Perc, change of plan," Minho said, answering his question before it was even asked. "We're leaving early, don't ask why. Newt's call."

"That makes me want to ask more," he grumbled, his lower lip jutting out in what could only be described as a childish pout. "You guys can be so mean sometimes..."

His excessive whining was ignored blatantly by the rest of them, Newt tossing a backpack roughly in his directions. "We packed for you. You're welcome."

Lack of hand-eye coordination caused Percy to actually catch the pack, then drop it a split second later. It landed with a loud klunk, causing them to shoot daggers in his direction—they said nothing about his blunder, however, their eyes said it all. Dawn was breaking on the Glade, already a breeze rustling from the Door's creeping open with the usual loud screeching. Early-birds were beginning to stir, though the five of them weren't too worried. When one was that drowsy, the clutches of sleep really disfigured their senses, thus Percy and the others would not be seen. Towards the Doors they creeped, packs on their back and Teresa's cleverly wired communicators in hand. There seemed to be a thick tension as they stood in front of the open Doors, so thick that you could slice it with a plastic knife.

"Well, here goes nothing," Newt said all too cheerfully for the morning. The others groaned at his sudden perkiness, but shut up quickly at the British boy's hard stare.

"If we never see each other again, I won't miss you," Thomas lied quickly, and everyone was quick to chime in with their own sarcastic remarks.

Minho was first with a, "I would totally not go your funerals!"

Next was a witty Teresa, who decided to whisper her comment in fear that they might be seen. "Look, let's be honest, I would bring you back from hell to kill you again if I wasn't in your will."

"You are such a ray of sunshine," he managed to spit out with fluttering lashes. "I always had a thing for violent girls!"

Everyone got quiet at that, Minho turning a bright and brilliant scarlet. They all knew full well that there was um, tension between Thomas and Percy over Teresa, though none of them chose to openly bring it up. Subconsciously they had separated into their groups, Newt and Percy standing together while the remaining three were huddled next to each other. It could easily be the last time they saw each other, but it was a risk they were all willing to take. Percy's memory of Annabeth grew by the minute, and Chucks' death was a trigger for them all.

No one had any last words for each other, as they had no idea what to really say. What did one say to your only friend you had recollection of? It wasn't like there was a lot to go off of for the five of them, as their little band had only grouped together less than a month ago.

Their backs were turned to the Glade--they couldn't trust anyone else anyways--and the group prepared to plunge into the depths of the Maze. Footsteps were approaching and fast. It was booming, coming closer and closer. They pretended not to notice, as it was already too late for the person in question to reach them once they entered.

"Hey Percy, where are you going?" The voice was both childish and way too bright for a dreary morning. And he recognized it immediately.

Percy had to bite his tongue to not yell back at the voice, which was getting more persistent at the moment. It took nearly all his willpower not to even turn, knowing full well who would be standing there like an eager little puppy. 

"Come on Percy, you just gotta tell me what you're doing so early!"

His patience was lost at that, the bouncy voice being all too annoying for his liking. With a dramatic hair flip, he whirled around, pointing an accusing finger at the little boy.

"Nico."

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I updated early? Yay?
AND ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR ALMOST 12K AND 700 VOTES OH MY CHEESE-IT!

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