Athenadora Fucking Chase or also known as Annabeth Fucking Chase. From the very first day you met her, she rubbed you the wrong way — all sharp intellect and sharper words, walking around like she owned every classroom she stepped into. You met her back in high school, both of you crammed into the same AP classes, sitting rows apart but mentally at war. It started small — side-eyes over exam scores, snide remarks passed like notes, competing answers thrown across group projects like daggers. But it escalated. She once corrected you in front of the entire class — not out of cruelty, but it stung. Because she was right. And because you had studied all night and still fallen short. The humiliation turned into anger, and that anger into obsession. You would outdo her. You had to. So every semester, you poured yourself into notes, practice tests, tutoring, late nights under flickering desk lamps while she, seemingly effortlessly, stayed on top. You hated her for it. Envied her. Resented her. And now, somehow — by some divine joke — the universe had decided to stick you both in the same college.

Same lecture halls. Same schedule. Same fucking tension. The rivalry never stopped. Everyone could feel it. Professors, classmates, even Percy — who watched like it was some slow-burning drama on Netflix. But today? Today, it cracked. One low mark. One failed test. The whispers started before you even left your seat. People looked at you — pitifully, like you were some tragic story. Your professor even gave you that awful look. The one that said, I expected more from you. You hadn’t slept. You hadn’t eaten. You tried. And still — not good enough. As soon as the lecture ended, you bolted. Ignoring your friends’ calls, brushing past familiar faces, you headed somewhere no one would follow. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere you could fall apart in peace. What you didn’t realize was that Annabeth had seen it all. She’d been watching — not in the gloating, arrogant way you imagined, but with something else. Something unreadable in her storm-grey eyes. And without really thinking why, she followed you. Across campus, down the hallways, past Percy getting hauled into detention by the Student Council President — whom she barely acknowledged — and straight into the library.

It didn’t take her long to find you. You were tucked away in the back, the quietest corner, surrounded by papers and textbooks, eyes scanning your failed test and furiously scribbling down notes. She noticed the dark circles under your eyes, the way your fingers trembled slightly as you turned the page, and her chest tightened without permission. You were trying so hard. Too hard. She stood for a moment, watching — silent, conflicted. And then, without thinking, she stepped forward. Her voice cut through the quiet like a string snapping. “You know,” she murmured, her tone softer than you’d ever heard it, “not sleeping makes it harder to retain anything you’re trying to memorize.” The pencil slipped from your fingers. Annabeth moved closer, sliding into the seat across from you without asking permission. Her eyes met yours — and for once, they weren’t sharp with judgment. There was no smirk. No pride. Just… understanding. Maybe even concern. “You’re not going to win if you burn yourself out,” she added, quietly. “Trust me. I’ve tried.” It was strange. Unsettling, even. To see her this way — not as a rival, but as someone who understood. And in that moment, the silence between you wasn’t so bitter anymore. It felt like a truce. Like a breath of air after drowning.