✩ ━━━ chapter eleven, lover of mine. ❝when I take a look at my life and all of my crimes, you're the only thing that I think I got I right,❞

PERCY CONTEMPLATED THE IDEA OF STAYING IN NEW YORK HARBOR FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE. He would rather risk the possibly radioactive water and grow a third arm than to face an inconsolable Hisa Matsuoka. In his defense, Percy didn't know that Hypnos failed to keep Hiroki's mother up to date about his double-identity as Micah, or his existence in general outside of trivial 'he is alive.'

No wonder she couldn't stop crying—she went from grieving her eight-year-old son's departure to suddenly finding out her eighteen-year-old son is the number two most wanted enemy of Olympus. Oh, and gay, too, because the first thing isn't shocking enough.

"He is really innocent," Percy tried to comfort the woman. "At least, like, eighty-five percent sure. Lord Hypnos and I are working on it."

Hisa let out another strangled sob and Naoki glared at him. He spoke to his mother in Japanese, then turned to Percy; "Take us to Hiroki."

Percy winced. "He is sort of busy right now—"

"The little twerp," Naoki said harshly, jabbing his finger into Percy's chest. "That idiot you are dating is my little brother, and he ran away ten years ago. I don't care if he is suddenly the second coming of Jesus H. Christ or the Anti-Christ about to blow up the world, you are going to take me to him and I'll—I will make him snort glass!"

Percy tried to ignore Naoki's full-body trembling and the way his voice broke. He nodded slowly, not wanting to provoke another outburst by mentioning that Hiroki has no memory of his family. Instead, he asked. "Can you fight?"

The twenty-or-so-year-old seemed fit, muscular enough to hopefully be trained by Hypnos, but Naoki just narrowed his eyes. "Are you an idiot? Of course not! I'm not a demigod, and I'm the adopted son of the laziest god. Hiroki is a... The mutated miracle we can't explain."

Percy agreed with him; how someone as brilliant and handsome as Hiroki is real remains a mystery.

Hisa smacked her oldest son's shoulder. "Do not call your brother a mutation!"

"You are going to save him, correct?" Hisa asked Percy then, staring him down with the darkest eyes he has ever seen. She is very towering and firm, and despite the overflowing tears drenching her cheeks, it's like nothing can shake her. She is very much the type of woman who would raise one of the greatest heroes of all time.

Percy nodded several times. "I swore on the Styx."

"We'll make our way to Mount Olympus and wait with Hypnos." She stated resolutely. "Win the war and return to me my youngest!"

Lately, he's been promising too many things; to his mom, to Lord Hypnos. To himself, and now the Matsuoka family. What's one more? "I will," Percy agreed. "The East River and the Hudson sunk down the enemy ships. If we hurry now, we can make it to the Empire State Building in less than twenty minutes. We might miss the start of the battle,"

Hisa raised a thin eyebrow. "Go help your friends. We'll be fine alone,"

Hisa raised her fingers in a familiar fashion and let out a sharp whistle. Stunned as a large Hellhound twice the size of Mrs. O'Leary appeared out of nowhere with a ferocious bark, Percy took a step back, reaching for his sword when Naoki and Hisa began mounting the beast.

"A gift from Hiroki's grandmother," Hisa's mouth lifted slyly. With a tap to its enormous neck, the Hellhound-taxi disappeared as it shadow-traveled away.

Percy paled with a feeling of impending doom—Nyx, the primordial goddess of the night, is Hiroki's grandmother.

He is starting to understand Nico's comment on Hiroki's family being deranged.

Reorienting to his surroundings, Percy shook off the last bit of emotion meeting the Matsuoka family brought out and call for his own ride. Within a few minutes, Blackjack circled out of the sky. Yo, boss.

"Thanks for coming," Percy told the Pegasus. "We need to get to the Williamsburg Bridge,"

Blackjack flew swiftly, cutting over the East Village speedily. The streets below them were on fire as cars were set ablaze. Arrows and spears hurling in the air in both directions. The Apollo campers hid behind whatever they could, but the odds were against them—the dracaenae marched without halt, shields locked together; behind them, monsters destroyed their way through, and untamed Hellhound devoured whatever neared them, grisly fangs stained red as blood matted their coats. Percy gritted his teeth as one got a hold of an Apollo camper, his screams ripping through the sky as the Hellhound dragged him away.

In the middle of the invasion snarled the Minotaur, shielded in Greek battle gear, his doubled-sided axe strapped to his back as he used his claws tear everything it could reach.

"Blackjack, dive!" Percy yelled as the Minotaur caught his scent, launching a white limousine with a roared.

The Pegasus tucked in his wings and plunged down; Percy tried to hold onto the reigns but as the limousine zoomed over his head, only sparing him by an inch or two, he swerved to the side and nearly fell off Blackjack's mount. He held on with white knuckles, shouting over the wild. "Drop me behind the lines with the Apollo cabin; Stay in earshot but get out of danger!

I ain't gonna argue, boss!

Percy jogged towards the head of the Apollo campers. "Glad you could join us!" Michael Yew said, covered in grime and ash; he had burn marks surrounded by bleeding cuts on his arms, but he still smiled. "Where are the other reinforcements?"

"For now, we're it," He answered.

"Then we're dead," Michael said.

Percy rolled his eyes. The black-haired son of Apollo updated him on the situation, managing to shoot a sonic arrow reflecting as he recounted giving the Flying Chariot to Clarisse; the arrow emitted a deafening noise, causing several monsters to drop their weapons in favor of clasping their ears. Those who didn't explode into dust.

"That was my last sonic arrow," Michael grinned wickedly. "We have to fall back. I've got Kayla and Austin setting traps farther down the bridge."

Percy drew his sword. "No, bring your campers forward to this position and wait for my signal. We're going to drive the enemy back to Brooklyn."

Michael laughed. Annabeth tried to follow him, but Percy shook his head.

"Too dangerous," Percy said. "Besides, I need you to help Michael coordinate the defensive line. I'll distract the monsters. You group up here. Move the sleeping mortals out of the way. Then you can start picking off monsters while I keep them focused on me. If anybody can do all that, you can."

The son of Apollo snorted. "Thanks a lot."

Percy smirked at him. With the plan in place, he walked comfortably towards the enemy's sight.

"Hey, Beef Boy, didn't I kill you already?" Percy shouted back when the Minotaur let out an enraged bellow.

He handled the dracaenae with ease, years of training under Micah and his own quests serving him well as snakes and giants and telkhines lunged at him.

The Hellhound snarled at him, only one brave enough to attack him. Percy killed it with a little remorse.

He handled the monsters with coolness, even teasing the Minotaur. "One on one?" He called. "Just like old times?"

That's when the monster unstrapped his axe, bronze wrapped in leather with bead necklaces—familiar necklaces, made with Camp Half-Blood beads, just like the one Percy wore alongside the necklace gifted to him by Hiroki.

Bloodied, taken from the corpse of the defeated demigods.

The sight ripped him apart. It blinded him; he couldn't quite remember the last time something repulsed him as much as the seeing of the Minotaur boasting the death of children. It wasn't anger that drove him to destroy the ax before killing the monster—it was pure hatred.

Percy raised his sword, dodging the first swipe of the weapon; he swung, slicing the ax in half, and the monster army fell silent.

Percy stared at the broke axe, grip flexing on his sword as he thought, for them.

Between that thought of and now, he couldn't be quite sure how it ended with the Minotaur staring at the broken ax handle sprouting from his breastplate, the twin blades struck in the Minotaur's massive head, but Percy didn't care enough as he dragged the stunned monster towards the edge of the Williamsburg Bridge, tossing him over the side of the bridge.

"Thanks for playing," Percy told him, satisfaction quietening the need to do worse to the next monster he spots.

He wants to destroy every last one of them.

He isn't sure if the crazed laugh that seeped from him as he slashed and stabbed and pierced the enemies was due to the curse messing with his mind, but it gave results; by the time the Apollo cambers shouted, only twenty-or-so monsters remained, retreating in horror.

"Percy!" Annabeth yelled. "You've already routed them. Pull back! We're overextended!"

A light chuckle seemed louder than her words; Percy came to an abrupt stop, turning to the base of the bridge. There, a small group of roughly forty or so demigods in battle armor gathered mounted on skeletal horses. In front, serving as the lead horseman, laughed Micah.

His bleached-white hair had bright red poppies weaved in intricately, the dark roots of the new growth breaking through the white strands. Unlike the rest of the army, his armor seemed to be made of light-weight metal, discolored to a bone white, ornamented elegantly with gold carvings and ultramarine blue patterns. His right shoulder remained bare, a spiked shoulder piece on the other.

He wasn't dressed for battle, Percy realized. Micah was here to observe.

"Shouldn't you know, daughter of Athena? It's the curse. The arrogance of invulnerability," Micah seemed amused, holding his winged helmet underneath his arm carelessly as if he knew no one would bother to attack him right there and then. He painted a picture of mockery, mouth tilted as he said, "I'm here to remind you, Percy, that invulnerability is not the same as immortality."

With an inhuman grace, he lifted his scimitar.

The doubled-edge with curved blade shined with the flames of the burning cars. Stygian Iron, threateningly stunning, the hilt is extravagant, patterned with the very same poppies its wilder wore in his hair. Behind Micah, the monsters whimpered at the sight of the blade and even those of his army seemed afraid.

"The cursed weapon!" Percy heard the monsters cry out. "Forged by a terrifyingly cruel sacrifice!"

The hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap.
A coldness seeped into Percy's bones.

"Retreat!" He ordered the campers. "I'll hold him off,"

Micah laughed again, a hoarse sound, nearly poisonous. "Now, that's just foolishness."

He let out a sharp whistle; his army shouted, javelins and spears and swords raised.

Annabeth fought with her knife and shield, fierce as she slashed at demigods, aiming to harm rather than kill. Percy did the same, staying shoulder to shoulder with her, pacing opposite directions. He couldn't see the faces of those he fought under their battle helmets, but some of them had probably been his friends.

Michael and his siblings tried to retreat, but the dozen snarling Hellhounds trailed them fervently, overturning vehicles and chewing off the heads of other monsters to catch them.

One by one, the Hellhounds snatched every single camper they caught sight of and dragged them away from Percy's sight, always returning eagerly with muzzles dripping blood and tore bits of clothes stuck in their incisors.

Percy couldn't handle it.

Rage bubbled in his throat, releasing in a single shout. "HIROKI!"

The white-haired boy stood idly at the center of the bridge, unmoved and untouched by the ongoing massacre. When he heard Percy's shout, Micah turned with a curious expression, the feathers of his wings bristling.

"Ah," he said dispassionately. "So, you know."

With a half-flap of his wings, Micah twisted, unbothered as he stretched casually. He walked off then, in the opposite direction of the battle.

"Percy!" Annabeth yelled, but he didn't listen, cutting this way through the sea of bloodied half-bloods.

He followed Micah, heart thundering with every step. New York City was showered red, buildings and cars on fire, the rising sun tinting every street and corner like a nightmare. Ten million inhabitants were sleep, nearly a hundred half-bloods at the battle, yet it seemed like a burning hell.

When he found Micah again, he stood alone in the narrow corridor between two brownstone buildings.

"Hello, pretty." He smirked, leaning against the building. He pointed with the scimitar; his champagne eyes looked charmed. "You look different. Did you enjoy the River Styx?"

Percy swung at him; all his promises might as well be forgotten.

But Micah has always been the best. He did not try to fully block Riptide, instead using his scimitar to redirect the blow to the shoulder spike. Riptide clanged against it, but it did not break; taking advantage of the forced collision and Percy's surprised-horror, Micah disarmed him expertly, batting away his sword with his forearm as if it was a training sword.

Micah smirked. In an unexpected move, he dropped his scimitar to the ground.

A hand wrapped around Percy's throat. "Call me again," Micah whispered huskily, cornering him against the wall. "Call me by my name,"

"You're a fucking psychopath," Percy hissed out; Micah's other hand wrapped around the back of his neck, squeezing slightly.

Micah was unsatisfied. "Psychopath?" he repeated; his hand trailed downwards, touching his shoulders and forearm possessively. "I suppose you most like that about me, then. You are still wearing the necklace I gifted you after all. Tell me, Percy. How often did you cry because of me, huh? A lot, knowing you." A thumb dipping into the space between his collarbones. "Doesn't it bother you? I know you, Percy, but you only know what I allow you to see. Does it hurt that I never even told you my real name?"

It hurt. It hurt so bad.

His eyes burned with unshed tears. Unblinking, Percy insisted hopelessly. "I know you,"

Micah's hand stopped its movement.
He tilted his head down, staring into his eyes.

"So quick to cry because of me; isn't it exhausting?" The hand around his throat tugged on the blessed necklace. Percy leaned closer, pearl-shaped tears rolling down wide eyes. Micah's expression softened. "I'll humor you since you believe it. Percy, if you truly know me, then you should know..." His lips brushed against his; Percy's eyes fluttered shut, his mouth falling open.

Micah pressed him against the wall, his body firmly against him to keep him in place but Percy did not fight back; his hands held onto Micah's shoulder, kissing him twice as roughly. He grew wilder, lips frantic, thirstier for more; Micah did too because he did not refuse. His lips parted, swiping his tongue out to lick at Micah's bottom lip before sucking it between his own. Percy's hand moved everywhere, from the cold armor to Micah's colder skin, yanking on his's blond hair, urging him to get closer and touch him more.

Then Micah's hand slid down, just at the small of his back.

Percy gasped, tensing as he felt Micah's finger dig into his weak point.

Micah nipped at his bottom lip. "Found it."

He pulled away, watching with those callous, champagned eyes as Percy began to tremble, huffing as he tried to control his breathing. How dare he use a kiss as a way to find Percy's weak spot? How could Hiroki do something so heartless to him?

"If you truly know me," Micah began, watching as Percy began to hyperventilate, watching his hand raising to his lips with a horrid expression; Percy's shoulders shook, knowing that he wasn't going to be able to stop Micah from doing what he wanted with the information that he now possessed.. "You should understand why I don't like unpredictable pieces. A name won't stop me—A past I don't remember will not move me. I'm the one who controls everything, Percy. Be a good boy and do not mess with my plan."

Percy's breathing became more rapid, shallow as Micah picked up his scimitar. "Y-you are lying."

Micah tilted his head. "Am I?"

"I know you! I am your soulmate. You literally gifted me hope, jackass! Stop acting like—like you don't love me too." Percy insisted stubbornly, uncaring of how weak he must look as his legs gave out underneath him, crashing him to the dirt-covered ground. "And you are right. I cried a lot because of you. I'm still crying now, even when I know the truth because you still believe you need to do this alone. I'm here, you idiot. I can help! Just tell me your plan and I'll—"

"You can't! Nobody can." Micah's mask cracked, and a slither of Hiroki's misery slid through. "How do you think this will end for us, Percy?"

Percy couldn't answer.

Hiroki let out a bitter laugh. "Precisely. I thought—I believed I was doing good. Each time I returned to camp and heard of a god responding to prayers, responding to offerings, I thought, my pain is worth their happiness." Hiroki's hands balled into fists, clenching around his hilt of the scimitar. He looked at it with abhorrence. "It wasn't terrible, at first. Difficult quests, too dangerous for others, but achievable for a child of the Underworld. Slay certain monsters, appease the minor deities, search for treasures, hide affairs. Then...Then..."

"Did you believe that after the pact, the Big Three decided to stop having sex with the mortals?" He nearly choked, taking a moment to breathe before continuing. "They didn't. Did you know Syrians sacrificed children to Jupiter and Juno? The Greeks and the Romans used to do the same, but without the ritualistic belief—if the newborn was illegitimate, unhealthy, or just... rejected by its father, it would be placed in a clay pot. If the child lived, it would be a blessing from the gods. Of course, they never did; the child would die of natural causes, like hunger or asphyxiation, but the parents would remain innocent, void of responsibility because the gods did not choose to save them."

Nausea clawed at his throat. Neither of them spoke for a moment, allowing the horror of their reality to sink in.

Hiroki's voice came out thin and distant. "Am I not the responsible one, then, for placing the child in the clay plot? Is it not me who committed the murder?"

"Hiroki—" Percy tried to argue, but the son of Hypnos hushed him. 

"Don't you see, Percy? It will never end. We kill for them, and they will kill us, regardless of what happens." He knelt down in front of him, shaking hands cradling Percy's face with a desperation he had never seen before. "I can't let you become a part of this. Because I love you—Heavens, Percy, I adore you, with everything I am—please, because you are my soulmate, allow me to continue. Allow me to take the burden from you, and above all, let me protect you the only way I know."

"The Curse is just a precaution, in case I—" He looked away, then steeled himself.  "Stop trying to get yourself killed, Percy. You are not immortal. Rest often, and stay clearer-minded; the curse will heighten your emotions and leave you exhausted."

Hiroki reached towards one of the poppies laced into his hair. "A symbol of Hypnos," he explained quietly, wrapping Percy's loose hands around it and interlocking their fingers together. "They signify eternal peace and endless sleep. They were used as offerings to the dead. Give it to my father. He'll understand."

Brushing aside the sweaty, soot-covered hair covering his forehead, Hiroki pressed a brief kiss to his head and stood up, sheathing his scimitar tiredly. He checked the watch around his wrist and sighed.

"I chose this path myself. I will walk it alone." Hiroki looked at the sky. He let out a breathless laugh at the sight of the sun. He smiled—the wary one, as if his own happiness frightened him, but it's a genuine smile, one of the most beautiful rarities in the world. It broke Percy's heart.

"Don't cry for me anymore, Percy. I'm just a bastard with a leash around my neck—I'm not worth your tears." Micah said. "But if these are my last words to you, then... I'm happy I had the privilege to be known and loved by my soulmate."

Micah disappeared before he could reply.

Percy yelled in anger and frustration. The sound carried forever in the morning stillness.

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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !

so uh yas no words from me

thoughts on the chapter?