Third Person's POV.
When Percy walked out of that hotel bathroom stall, he didn't go back to the party or the woman who was waiting for him. He packed up and left the city.
The next few days were a blur of frenetic action. He did everything he could to distract himself from the sting of Gemini's rejection. Gemini hadn't just rejected him; he had rejected Percy's sacrifice, Percy's entire plan to stay with him. That cut deeper than anything his mother had ever done or said to him.
Percy swallowed his pride and his anger. He went straight back to his mother's company, flying out to Geneva as planned, even though he'd told her he wasn't going to. He buried himself in sales reports and company mergers, working eighteen-hour a day. If Gemini wanted him to have a career and a future, then that's exactly what Percy would focus on—until the work became meaningless noise.
Meanwhile, Gemini went back to his life, too. He threw himself into his third year, spending every spare minute at Crestwood Greens or huddled in the library, trying to simply survive the silence. Every time he saw Penelope or Mr. Phillip, he was reminded of the enormous, empty space Percy had left behind. He misses him so much?
One evening, about two months after Percy's graduation, Gemini got a call from Penelope.
"I want you and Ohio to come over for dinner," Penelope announced, her voice sounding oddly cherry.
"Penelope, you don't have to—" Gemini started, ready to refuse.
"Stop. I don't want to hear it. I've already cooked," she cut him off. "Real food. And I've moved into a new place in the city, so I need you two to break in. Please, just come. I miss you. We need a night off from pretending to be busy."
Gemini agreed, mostly because he knew Penelope wouldn't take no for an answer, and he realized he genuinely missed her easy company.
When they arrived at Penelope's new apartment—which was predictably stylish but much cozier than the big house she shared with Percy—she was already waiting.
"Surprise! Happy birthday, sweetie." Penelope cheered, giving Gemini a big hug. "I wanted to do something for your birthday."
Gemini froze. His birthday had been quietly looming, a date he hadn't planned to acknowledge. He couldn't believe Penelope had remembered.
Being around Penelope felt different without Percy. It was louder, but less intense. He realized that Percy really did moved to another country for his job like he said he would, cementing the distance between them for good.
Dinner was surprisingly great. Penelope was an excellent cook, and the conversation with her and Ohio was easy and comfortable. She gave him a thoughtful set of architectural pens and a first-edition book by his favorite theorist.
"Happy Birthday, Gem. I'm so proud of you." Penelope said simply, giving him another hug.
Gemini thanked her profusely, genuinely touched. He didn't want to acknowledge it, but he was disappointed he hadn't seen Percy. He'd secretly held a foolish hope that her twin might show up, or perhaps Penelope would mention him. But Percy's name wasn't uttered once.
Later that night, Gemini walked back into his silent, lonely dorm hallway. He was tired but felt lighter than he had in a while. The dinner had been a true act of kindness. Then he stopped short. There, propped neatly against his door, was a carefully wrapped package.
Gemini approached it slowly, his heart thumping a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The tag was simple, written in a stark, elegant hand writing he recognized instantly.
It was from Percy.
Percy hadn't forgotten his birthday.
He picked up the package, which was surprisingly heavy. He didn't need to open it to know what it meant: that even miles away, even after their heartbreaking breakup, Percy was still watching over him, silently refusing to let Gemini erase him entirely.
He carried the package inside his silent dorm room and slowly tore off the wrapping.
Inside was a heavy, custom-bound sketchbook. It was beautiful, made of thick, high-quality leather, clearly meant to hold architectural drawings and fine art. Tucked inside the cover was a small, embossed silver pen, the kind Percy always used. There was no note, just the meticulous selection of a perfect birthday gift.
It meant that Percy remembered his birthday. It meant that Percy knew exactly what Gemini needed for his studies and his art. It was a silent reminder: I still have you in my heart. I still care about you.
Gemini ran his thumb over the smooth leather. The gesture was classic Percy—grand, expensive, and delivered without explanation, respecting the distance Gemini had demanded. He didn't cry, but the ache in his chest intensified. He put the sketchbook carefully on his desk, placing it beside the vinyl record Percy returned to him.
He was grateful, heartbroken, and more confused than ever.
After his lonely birthday Gemini went back to managing his life and classes, filling every minute with work and study to avoid the gnawing emptiness. He successfully avoided the rumors of Percy and his ex, focusing only on the reality of his third year.
Then, the phone call came that broke his small world.
It was a nurse, her voice tight and frantic. His Nana was in the hospital. Gemini didn't wait. He rushed straight home, Ohio refused to let her best friend go alone.
When they arrived at the small hospital, the truth hit Gemini like a physical blow. It turned out Nana had been terminally ill and had been quietly hiding it from him for months, managing her pain and keeping her diagnosis a secret so he wouldn't worry.
Gemini stood by her bedside, his vision blurring. He couldn't believe he'd missed it. If he wasn't so distracted, so consumed by the drama with Percy and his own feelings, he would have noticed something was wrong. His grief was instantly mixed with a searing, terrible guilt.
To make things worse, Nana didn't make it through the night. She died peacefully, her hand in Gemini's. Gemini's only living relative just died in his arms. He was truly alone in this world.
In the days that followed, everything was quiet. Too quiet. Gemini moved through the motions of funeral planning and arrangements in a heavy silence. He didn't cry. He didn't break down. Ohio was scared. She watched her best friend bury his grandmother without shedding a single tear. He looked like he was barely breathing, his calmness an unnatural, terrifying shield against the world. He looked like he was going to drop dead any moment now from the sheer exhaustion of holding everything in.
Ohio waited until the funeral was over, until the last guests had gone and they were back in Nana's silent, empty house. She couldn't watch this controlled self-destruction anymore. Gemini needed an anchor, an explosion, something to break the silence. She went into the kitchen, away from Gemini, and pulled out her phone. She hesitated for only a second, knowing this was an intervention that would unleash chaos. But she was desperate.
She dialed the number—a number she shouldn't have known but had memorized from months of keeping him informed of her best friend's activities. She waited impatiently through several rings until Percy's voice came through, sounding professional and distant, already far away in Geneva.
"Hello? Ohio, I'm in the middle of something. Can I—"
Ohio cut him off, her voice trembling with urgency. "It's Gemini. You need to come here now, Percy. Nana is dead."