"Because of me!" Her voice raises a little when she says it. She's not sure if it's better or worse that he won't acknowledge or see it himself. "Percy, I had her." There were so many things she could have done differently, but she hadn't, and Arachne pulled her down because of it.

Annabeth clings to him, shaking as she sobs against him. Tartarus crawls and creeps through them both, even when they don't realize it. It's been months since she saw it, since Percy experienced it, and they can't do anything about it as long as they're stuck here with more and more time stretching between it. The pressure of it won't stop building up.

And right now, she sort of feels like collapsing with it. She's pretty sure he does, too. No amount of optimism feels like it'll work.

She kisses him back, the same way, choking on her words. "I love you, too." And then she kisses him again, roughly, desperately, lingering a little longer with a salty taste and the need to just be close. "I love you, Percy," and there's so much in the words, gratitude, fear, hurt, absolute love itself. It's the only thing she knows for sure right now: how much she loves him and how much he loves her.