✩ ━━━ epilogue: the birthday of a broken-hearted (pretty) boy. ❝I want in fact more of you. In my mind I am dressing you with light; I am wrapping you up in blankets of complete acceptance and then I give myself to you. I long for you; I who usually long without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you.❞

PERCY JACKSON WOKE UP WITH A SENSE OF DREAD SO IMMENSE THAT IT FELT LIKE A HEAVY WEIGHT PRESSING DOWN ON HIS CHEST. Still, he sat up from his corner of the room and forced himself to go through his morning routine, no matter how subhuman and detached he felt. He folded his blanket and moved his pillow off the shikibuton, the traditional Japanese mattress he slept on, rolling it up before storing it in the closet full of unworn children's clothes. The prospect of a shower felt too daunting at that moment, so Percy settled for splashing some water on his face. And as he gazed into the mirror, he hesitated for a moment before attempting to tidy his hair—his mom would probably want to take pictures later on, so he attempted to downplay the greasy, matted mess that it had become.

It was his birthday.
Percy couldn't think of a day less deserving of celebration.

When he walked out of the bedroom, he found his mom drinking tea with Hisa Matsuoka—the two women seemed genuinely content as they sat on the circular breakfast table, a serene expression on Sally's face as she laughed at something Hisa said. It was good in a way that nothing else had been recently. So, he pressed a kiss on her cheek as she turned to face him, her eyes filled with happiness as Sally gasped, "Oh, Percy, you're awake! Happy birthday, honey!"

Naoki barely looked up from his breakfast, chewing absentmindedly with a blurred look in his eyes. "Happy birthday, bro," the twenty-two-year-old croaked, his voice still stained with sleep. He lifted his hand as if to pat Percy on the shoulder before realizing that he was too far away to reach him. He settled for a lazy thumbs-up.

Percy breathed out a quiet laugh as he joined them at the table, sitting next to his mom. Hisa poured him a cup of tea—bright blue, made of butterfly pea flowers and dried lemongrass—as she explained, "Sally informed me of your preferences, Percy. Don't be shy about asking for things. We are family."
She began to serve him a plate from the choices set out on the table—pale blue rice, which he had never seen before, with bean sprouts and cucumber, salted boiled eggs, and salmon. "I prepared Nasi kerabu, a Malaysian dish. I felt that you might enjoy." Hisa regarded him with a gentle kindness, her eyes resembling a deep, endless abyss as she spoke, "Happy birthday, Percy Jackson. May this day bring you joy, and may the year ahead be filled with blessings and happiness."

Percy managed a faint smile; the suffocating discomfort that had taken home in his chest refused to dissipate.

"Thank you," he said, and he ate despite the sickening feeling in his gut. He grinned, but all he could think was how underserving he was—because the fourth seat at the table wasn't for him—and even as Sally presented him with a gift that would've made him cry on any other day—the skateboard that he had wanted since his twelfth birthday—and the flashes of her camera went off, Percy could only think of Micah.

If he could, Percy would trade every single birthday wish he had ever made for the chance to see Micah sitting in that fourth seat, laughing and enjoying the meal with them. Even if Percy had to sit on the floor, or stand in the corner of the room, or even kicked out the building entirely—just to have Micah there, anything would be worth it.

Percy stared at the petals floating in his tea cup; Micah's absence felt like a void that couldn't be filled, no matter how many presents or kind gestures he received.

The noise of Hisa and Sally conversing faded into the background of his mind like noise. He ate slowly, and the steam of his tea had faded away entirely by the time he finished his meal.

Percy was jolted from his thoughts when his mom's hand rested on his shoulder. "Are you ready to go, sweetie?" Sally asked. He glanced up, taken aback by the touch. Her expression was light, but Percy could see concern creeping into her eyes.

He nodded. At some point, Naoki had gotten up to open the music shop downstairs, and Hisa had taken all the dishes to the sink, the sound of running water filling the silence in the room. Percy hadn't noticed; absently, he felt guilty. He hadn't thanked them for the gifts left on the table.

Percy stood up, pushing his chair back with a screech, and followed his mom towards the door.

He hesitated before calling out, "I'll be back later."

From the kitchen, the squeak of the faucet shutting off signaled the approaching of gentle, barely audible footsteps. Hisa appeared in the doorway; the gray strands that had begun to emerge stood out against her dark hair, and the lines at the corner of her eyes were new as well, but her smile remained the same from Hiroki's memories of her. "Please come back safely, Percy."

He nodded, unable to think of a reply.

Sally placed her hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

They left the Matsuoka household together.

Outside the building complex, Naoki was trying to scrape off the sticky residue off the shop's window, left over by a decade of missing posters and flyers. Paul stood next to him, tangled in balloon strings and a blue-colored bakery box, chatting—"Maybe Acetone or rubbing alcohol would help! There's this brand called Goo Gone, actually"—before he noticed them.

"Happy birthday!" Paul exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine excitement. Percy accepted the balloons—only enough to spell 'Happy Bi' and a demonic-looking dolphin—and got in the backseat of the car, mindful not to let the strings get caught in the door.

As they started to drive, his mom turned around and handed him a cupcake—blue velvet with cream cheese frosting. "How is Doctor Nguyen?" she asked; Paul chimed in. "It's a miracle that Hisa managed to book such a reputable doctor so quickly. She is one of the best in the nation, and she's a half-blood? It's perfect for you, Percy!"

Percy took a bite of the cupcake and shrugged awkwardly.

He has met a lot of counselors and therapists over the years, all issued by the dozen schools he has attended, but none of them ever actually tried; nobody wants to deal with a dyslexic, hyperactive boy with a D+ report card, after all. Doctor Nguyen was different; she had been Hiroki's pediatric psychologist for a specific reason—she was a legacy of Apollo, specializing in all the typical challenges that came with being a half-blood, like the learning disabilities, behavioral issues, and the constant struggle to fit in with the mortal world. Trauma and loss, too. Hisa had said she dedicated her life to helping other half-bloods overcome these challenges and find their place in the world, and that Percy could be honest with her.

It wasn't that Percy disliked his sessions with Doctor Nguyen—the opposite, actually—he just felt utterly exhausted.

Micah still hasn't woken up.

Olympus was destroyed, the gods were in disarray, and Micah was still in the Underworld, trapped in a state of unconsciousness. Ethan died—and Percy wasn't permitted to return to Camp Half-Blood because Lord Hypnos, who hasn't replied to any of his prayers or Iris messages, had deemed it necessary for him to stay home and begin his therapy sessions. His mom had agreed, even argued with him over it because she thinks Percy is struggling.

'Struggling' was an understatement.
Percy felt like his world had crumbled around him.

But other people needed him, and he couldn't afford to wallow in his own grief. He had always been the hero, the one who saved and guided others, and he couldn't let them down now. Annabeth had said that everything, from the gods to the campers, had frozen, essentially—people needed him to guide them after failing to complete the prophecy, because it was his fault, so he had to fix it. No matter how suffocating his own pain felt, he couldn't allow it to consume him.

It was his birthday.

Percy failed to be the hero of the prophecy, and he failed to save Ethan—Bianca, Nico, Beckendorf—and he failed Micah—who tried so hard, who did his very best and still suffered the most—and he was eating cupcakes with his parents on his way to therapy because it was his birthday.

Percy breathed—just so he wouldn't feel tempted to stop—and said, "Yeah, it's... It's really helping me stay grounded."

So he met with Doctor Nguyen, and he tried to listen to her words because Percy knew that Lord Hypnos and his mom just wanted him to find some peace and stability in his life while Micah recovered, but he found it impossible to explain how he just isn't worth all the effort and money they were putting into his therapy—into him. Still, he tried, and when Doctor Nguyen suggested different coping mechanisms, like journaling or practicing mindfulness, Percy nodded along and promised to give them a try, and when Doctor Nguyen asked difficult questions, just like she did now—"Who is Ethan to you?"—Percy did his best to answer honestly, even though it was uncomfortable.

"Ethan is Micah's cousin," Percy began slowly and hesitantly; Doctor Nguyen wrote and wrote in her notepad as she listened intently. "But they were more like brothers. We've known each other for a few years now; the three of us met at camp. Ethan must've been nine or ten the first time we met." Percy's throat tightened as memories flooded back. "He left camp with Micah, so I didn't really see him a lot. We didn't really start getting close until—until before he died."

"I'm sorry to hear about your loss," Doctor Nguyen replied sympathetically. "It sounds like Ethan was a significant person in your life, regardless of the limited time you spent together. If you feel comfortable discussing it, could you share more about the circumstances that led to his passing?"

Percy could still smell the scent of burnt fur; he could hear the crackling of flames in his mind.

"Lord Hypnos said Ethan managed to attack Nyx with his sacred weapon," he explained. "His scimitar has the ability to imprison whoever it cuts in an eternal sleeping state. Ethan got lucky, I guess, and he used it to put her to sleep before she could decide to take over Olympus." He thought of the way Ethan trembled as he stood before Nyx, and Percy's voice nearly gave out as he said, "He, uh, died though. Mortals aren't supposed to see gods in their true forms. It's too much for our bodies to handle. Lord Hypnos didn't want to tell me, but I'm guessing his body must've disintegrated or something. Otherwise, we would've cremated him instead of a shroud."

Doctor Nguyen is excellent at her job; her personal office in the heart of New York City with its thousand-dollar furniture and the dozen diplomas hanging on the wall and the year-long month waitlist attesting to her expertise. Still, she asked him certain questions that made Percy want to rip off his skin until he became as transparent as she made him feel.

"You blame yourself," Doctor Nguyen stated. "Why?"

Percy shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

He recalled the day Micah showed up at his apartment after he had mentioned struggling with a book report assignment. Percy had complained about it for hours over Iris Message, to the point where his voice had cracked and tears of frustration had welled up in his eyes. Micah had shadow-traveled from California to New York just to comfort him; at the sight of him, Percy had regained his composure enough to meet his eyes without crying and find the courage to ask for help. He couldn't think of any information about the book, not even the title, but Percy could still remember Micah's voice as he read it to him. There was a specific passage that made Micah smile at the time, something like 'there is a luxury in self-reproach. When we blame ourselves, we feel that no one else has a right to blame us. It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.'

Percy didn't really understand the meaning behind those words when he first heard them, but now, as he thought of Nico, Silena, and Micah, the weight of them was enough to kill him.

He thought of the way Micah had smiled back then.

He thought of Ethan's smile before he walked away.

Unable to come up with words sufficient to express his emotions—his hurt, his guilt, his need to repent and make up for the fact that they all died because he is a failure—Percy shrugged and answered, "He was just a kid."

Doctor Nguyen nodded; she wrote on her notes, and Percy closed his eyes, wondering if death felt like listening to the sound of a stranger writing down his life on a coffee-stained piece of paper, unable to change or see any of it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was an hour-long drive from New York to Westport, Connecticut.

Percy leaned his head against the car window, the passing scenery a blur as he listened to Paul and his mom discussing possible wedding venues. He couldn't help but feel a sense of detachment from the conversation; he was happy for his mom, but it felt like he couldn't breathe as the forest outside became a jumbled mess of green leaves and branches. It was as if the weight of the world was pressing down on his chest. It was suffocating and unbearable, and Percy didn't want to be in a car, but he couldn't be home without feeling like he would go insane, either, because everywhere felt wrong. He didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't know what made him ask Paul to take him to Connecticut in the first place, but he had a desperate need to escape the suffocating atmosphere of New York and do something meaningful—and if he couldn't go to Camp Half-Blood, then he figured Connecticut was the next best thing.

"What about the Brooklyn Botanic Garden?" Sally proposed as Paul exited the highway and merged onto a quieter street. He didn't listen to the reply; Percy gazed out the window, taking in the passing landscape. The sight of the grand houses and low stone walls was becoming increasingly familiar to him. Dread began to creep into his heart as Paul slowed down in front of a two-story white Colonial house, where a rusty old swing set lay beneath the shade of an apple tree.

Paul and Sally exited the car; Percy stayed seated.

The last time he visited this house, Nico and Micah were with him. It hadn't been that long, but it felt like an eternity ago. So much has changed since then.

Paul had walked up the sidewalk, and he glanced back, wondering what was causing them to take so long.

"Are you ready, sweetie?" Sally asked patiently; Percy took a deep breath, trying to shake off the memories. He nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah, let's go."

The stuffed
animals were missing from the lawn.

Percy's stomach dropped as he realized that windchimes were also absent from the porch, with only a lone brass bell hanging in their place. The place seemed cleaner and emptier than he remembered, as if someone had meticulously tidied up. He might have mistaken it for the wrong house if it hadn't been for the unchanged turquoise-colored door.

He knocked on the door.

His hand twitched with anxious anticipation, aching to grab Riptide from his pocket.

A woman he had never seen before answered the door, her expression curious yet guarded. "Can I help you?" she asked, her voice cautious.

Percy opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

His mom took a hold of his hand, squeezing it gently. "Good afternoon!" Sally greeted the woman, her voice warm and friendly. "I'm Sally Jackson, and this is my son Percy. We're looking for someone named May Castellan. Do you know where we can find her?" 

The woman's eyes widen with recognition. "Oh, Mr. Jackson! It's a great honor to meet you!" Her tone shifted to excitement as she offered her hand for a handshake. "I hadn't expected to meet you so soon! Please, please come in; this week's flowers were delivered this morning, and I just finished May's hair! She'll be thrilled to see you!" She stepped aside, inviting them into the house with a warm smile.

Sally and Percy exchanged surprised glances before entering the house, Paul closing the door behind them.

They followed the woman down a hallway, and as they went, Percy observed the changes in the living room. The mirrors and candles that had once cluttered every conceivable surface were now gone, replaced with fresh flowers and minimalist decor. The room felt brighter and more inviting, devoid of dust and the multitude of green and fuzzy Tupperware boxes that had previously clustered in the corners. The entire house seemed like it was taken from a magazine spread, with its trendy furniture and perfectly coordinated color scheme.

"Beautiful home," Sally complimented, admiring the throw pillows as they sat on the plush couch.

The woman smiled sheepishly. "Ah, thank you! I tried to follow the suggestions you gave, Mr. Jackson! You were right—Miss Castellan loves all the color and patterns, and the chalkboard wall in the kitchen was a huge hit! She could spend all day writing and drawing on it." She chuckled affectionately, her care for May evident in her voice. "It's been such a joy! Was the final bill okay, though, Mr. Jackson? I know you said to use the credit card as much as I needed, but I didn't want to go overboard—especially after my last bonus! Thank you so much again, Mr. Jackson! You know I'm happy just taking care of Miss May!"

The women looked at Percy expectantly, beaming, waiting for his response.

Percy bit his lower lip, holding back the urge to cry.

A ping went off in the kitchen; the woman jumped up, startled. "Oh, excuse me, that must be the timer for the cookies we put in the oven! We finally perfected the recipe—I can't wait for you all to try them!" She hurriedly made her way to the kitchen.

Sally squeezed Percy's hand before letting it go, cupping his face in her hands.

"Oh, baby," she whispered as she wiped away a tear from his cheek. "He did it again, didn't he?"

With his heart in his throat, unable to hide the fact that he was on the verge of breaking down, Percy simply nodded.

His entire life, Percy had experienced poverty.

Sally had dropped out of high school to take care of her Uncle Rich when he had been sick, and she has worked small jobs to make ends meet ever since; she was a single mom in the most expensive state in the country. Between paying rent, utilities, groceries, and Percy's tuition fees, money was always tight. No matter how hard they tried—no matter how many meals Percy had skipped at school, how many dogs he walked, or how many magazine subscriptions he had sold—it seemed like they were always struggling. Gabe's addictions had only made matters worse; the bastard had drained whatever little money they had to the point where Percy had been ready to live on the streets or join the military to make it easier on his mom.

Then Micah had shown up, and at the time, Percy hadn't noticed, but it seemed like opportunities just started falling into their laps. Scholarships became available overnight, fees were waived, brochures for affordable educational programs arrived in the mail, and publishers reached out with offers to publish Sally's writing after a lifetime of ignoring her talent. As if by magic, a world of possibilities had opened up for his family; his mom could afford to finish her education and pursue her dream career—she could buy the sundresses she had always admired in store windows without worrying about whether they would have enough to eat throughout the week. Percy could walk with his classmates at Yancy Academy without hiding his sneakers, he had a proper backpack without tears or holes, and he could join field trips or outings without feeling ashamed—and Micah had smiled at him without saying a word.

And as May entered the room holding a tray of cookies, her white hair neatly braided, cheeks plump and rosy, and wearing a new pink housedress free from scorch marks and ash—beautiful, she looked beautiful with her radiant smile and twinkling eyes and humming the same tune she did last time, but happier—Percy couldn't bear it any longer.

He rose from the couch, wrenching his hand free from his mom's grasp.

Short, ragged gasps escaped his trembling lips as he hastily exited the room, his desperate attempt to close the door leaving it ajar. He barely made it past the apple tree before he crumbled to his knees, his breaths coming in short, erratic bursts, his chest constricting with a painful heaviness—he clutching at his chest, wishing he could rip out his heart—wishing that Micah would just wake up and call him 'Pretty Percy' again and smile as if he had not changed his life forever—wishing he could breathe—and as hot tears streamed down his face, near the trunk of the tree, he noticed the small carved initials etched into the bark: L.C., T.G., and A.C. They weren't his losses—Percy didn't lose them, because none of them were Percy's, but gods, it was his fault—it was his fault, it was his fault.

Percy cried.

It felt like he would never quite stop.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

When they returned to New York, Sally told Hisa.

The woman, typically a paragon of composure, erupted in a sudden storm of emotion; her usual tranquil demeanor shattered as she stormed out of the apartment with resounding force, the door creaking in its frame as she slammed it shut behind her. Moments later, she had returned with a calm expression, as if nothing had happened—and behind her, being dragged by his ear, Lord Hypnos followed in his child form, his golden eyes wide with bewilderment.

Percy choked on the butterfly pea tea that he had been sipping.

Annabeth firmly believed that communication with the gods was an impossibility. Without Olympus and a portion of the thrones destroyed, she saw no way to reach out to the deities; monster attacks had surged, natural disasters had increased in certain domains, and the demigods were left to fend for themselves without any divine guidance or intervention. The way she had phrased it, everything seemed as though the gods had abandoned them completely, and all hope was lost.

Yet Lord Hypnos stood in front of him.

"Gawk!" The little god exclaimed, his voice squeaky and overflowing with bafflement. He struggled to keep up with the woman's brisk pace, his small feet barely touching the ground as he was pulled along. With a sharp tone, the woman ordered the god, "Take him to the Underworld to see Hiroki!"

She pointed at Percy, almost accusingly.

Lord Hypnos's wings fluttered frantically; in an instant, his form aged and transformed into that of a tall, towering figure he had seen in Olympus. The god's eyes were filled with concern as he took in Percy's pale face and still-trembling body. "You silly boy!" the god declared as he cupped Percy's face in his hands, examining it closely. "You silly, silly boy! Are you not seeing your general practitioner? You haven't been sleeping properly, have you? I can see it, so don't try to convince me otherwise, you mischievous otter! You must take care of yourself, Percy. My son will be very upset if anything were to happen to you while he is away!"

Percy, his eyes reddened and swollen from crying and his nose congested and stuffy, stared at the god; Lord Hypnos stumbled back as if he had been shot in the torso and said, "Hisa, dear tyrant of my heart, I humbly ask for your forgiveness, but I have to countermand your order, just this once!"

"Escort him to Hiroki," Hisa reiterated, her expression devoid of amusement, radiating a seriousness that bordered on the ominous. "It would help stabilize him."

Percy acknowledged that Hisa wasn't the most emotional person in the world, prioritizing logic and practicality over sentimentality. Still, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment at how unfazed she was by everything—in contrast to him, who apparently needed someone to 'stabilize' him.

He felt ashamed.

Staring at him carefully, Lord Hypnos's countenance changed in an instant.

Percy hadn't fully grasped the intensity of his gaze until the god's brows descended, revealing how deeply his eyes were set and the deliberate effort Lord Hypnos put into widening them to maintain his cheerful facade. His gaze shifted to an innate vindictive, half-lidded look, and the once-warm smile on his face disappeared completely. He was struck by the realization of just how much effort it must take for the god to mimic human expressions—to look human at all.

Without taking his eyes off Percy, the god denied Hisa.
"No," Lord Hypnos said. "It would not,"

To Percy, he explained delicately, "I cannot grant your request. I understand how important Hiroki is to you, and as a father, there is no greater joy than to know how loved my son is—but Percy, you matter to me as well. There are some sights and experiences that children are not meant to witness or partake in. It is for your own peace of mind and well-being that I refuse."

Percy could see the genuine concern in Lord Hypnos' eyes, and he knew the god's decision was not made lightly because, to Hypnos, fatherhood was a sacred responsibility—he could see it in echoes of preserved drawings and closets full of unworn children's clothing and the specialized psychologists and pediatricians and the million other precautions he had taken to ensure the safety and happiness of his son—that he would do anything to protect his child, and those same safeguards were now being extended to Percy. But now he could only think of how badly injured Micah must be—the immense pain he must be in—how gruesome the sight of his infected wounds must be—the lashes on his arms—he must be suffering—and Percy had breakfast with his family. He was the hero of the prophecy, and he had failed, and Micah had done more than anyone could have imagined in a single act of kindness—of mercy—with May Castellan than Percy could in a lifetime, and he was eating cupcakes because it was his birthday, and Ethan had smiled at him before he walked off to his death because he wanted to comfort Percy, for some reason he will never understand—and—

And Lord Hypnos's hand radiated a soothing warmth as it delicately stroked his head.

"I know you may feel otherwise," Lord Hypnos whispered gently, lowering himself to meet Percy's gaze. "But you have shown immense bravery every single day of your life. You've endured too much—far more than should be expected of a boy your age, Percy. If I cannot spare you from the quests and trials that lie ahead, at least allow this god to spare you from the pain that I can. You do not need more nightmares, Percy."

Percy blinked back tears.

"He is well," Hypnos reassured him, his voice filled with compassion. "You have given him freedom, Percy, and that is a gift beyond measure. He is asleep and free of pain, so don't fret. The Asclepiades are with him. Take solace in knowing that you have done everything you could to alleviate his suffering and focus on your own healing as well. You will meet soon; I promise."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Lord Hypnos left before nightfall.

Annabeth and Grover arrived shortly afterward, astonishingly quicker than the time it would normally take to travel from the north shore of Long Island to the heart of New York City. Percy refrained from asking questions and simply embraced the double hug from his best friends, grateful for their presence. The three of them huddled together in the guest bedroom of the Matsuoka residence, where Percy has been staying for nearly two weeks now, sharing stories and catching up on everything that had happened since they last saw each other.

"I had no idea Micah was this wealthy!" Grover whispered to Percy as if the son of Hypnos could hear, his eyes wide with astonishment. "I mean, I knew he was well-off, but I had no clue his mortal family was loaded! I didn't even know they made apartments this enormous in New York!"

Percy chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. He was aware that Micah had amassed the bulk of his wealth through his contract with the Olympians, who bombarded him with gems, jewelry, and relics as if they were tossing confetti. In the mortal realm, he had created a web of personas, each skilled at 'discovering' ancient artifacts and adept at negotiating deals with collectors, museums, and private buyers. He didn't know how the Matsuoka family managed to secure such a spacious apartment or how they were able to afford it, but he had witnessed firsthand just how strikingly similar Micah and Hypnos truly were.

"Yeah, it's definitely a step up from our usual hangouts," he replied. "But hey, at least we get to enjoy some nice things while we're here."

Annabeth, who had been staring at all the books lining the shelves, asked curiously. "How long will you be staying here, Seaweed Brain?"

Percy shrugged, picking at a loose thread on the blanket.

He didn't know. He didn't even know how he had ended up here in the first place. All he could remember was carrying Micah's dying body out of Olympus as it burned, needing to reach the Asclepiades. Thalia and Annabeth had helped move him, but somewhere along the way, he must've gone into shock or something and lost consciousness. He had woken up with Naoki standing over him, his worried expression still etched into his memory, wondering how he had gotten into the bathtub of Hiroki's childhood bedroom.

He should want to know; it was all a blur, and Percy couldn't shake off the feeling that something important had happened during his unconsciousness—that he had to take responsibility—but his mom insisted that he needed rest first and that Lord Hypnos had promised that everything would be explained in due time, and if the god said so, Percy had no choice but to trust him.

"Until Micah is back," he replied, the words slipping out naturally as if they were the perfect response.

To be fair, it was.

Just because Percy wasn't allowed to return to Camp Half-Blood or discover the full truth of what had transpired that night didn't mean he lacked other responsibilities and concerns—Percy couldn't assume that Micah would be at ease with the idea of returning to his life as Hiroki Matsuoka, considering everything. It didn't matter if Hisa or Hypnos believed otherwise; if Micah himself didn't say it, Percy couldn't make any assumptions. He knew that Micah would need time and space to process everything that had happened and decide what he wanted for himself. Percy just hoped that he could act as a bridge between Micah and his past, offering support and guidance without imposing any expectations or pressure.

If he woke up and wasn't prepared to face his past, then Percy would do it for him.

Annabeth nodded, her fingers tucking the strands of her blonde hair behind her ear. She appeared nervous, uncertain about how to approach the conversation. "I'm sorry," she suddenly confessed, catching Percy off guard. He blinked, momentarily surprised. "I spoke to Thalia about... about what I said back then," Annabeth continued, her voice carrying a hint of regret.

"You mean when you accused a nine-year-old of murder?" He interrupted; next to them, Grover bleated in surprise.

Annabeth winced at the reminder, her eyes darting away momentarily. "Yes, that," she admitted, her shoulders slumping slightly. "I wanted to apologize for jumping to conclusions without knowing the full story. Thalia clarified what happened, and I realized that I had been... unfair to Micah for all these years."

Percy wanted to accept her apology and move past it, but he couldn't shake off the lingering bitterness. "He feels so much guilt," Percy shared, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "About everything, all the time. Ares and Zeus, and Nyx all tricked him into thinking he was responsible for their actions. People at the camp don't like him. He had no one to turn to; nobody truly cared for him, I mean, without it depending on his powers or what he could do for them." He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. "He's been alone for so long, and I—I thought if we could all be friends and show him that he's not alone, maybe he could finally let go of the guilt and be happy, I guess."

But it never worked out because Annabeth hated Micah for as long as she had known of him, and Grover feared him a bit too much to ever give him a chance, and Percy had gone and fallen in love with him at first sight. Whatever friendship they had hoped to form with Micah was impossible to achieve with so many heavy emotions and what-ifs weighing them down. To make it worse, Camp Half-Blood fostered a bizarre collective herd mentality where the opinions and behaviors of certain people tend to define the atmosphere and dictate the actions of others—with Annabeth's resentment and Clarisse's hostility toward him, and the general distrust towards the children of the Underworld, it was almost impossible for others to form an unbiased opinion about him.

Ethan was Micah's only unconditional bond, innocent and without fault in every way, unmindful of the complexities and conflicts that surrounded Micah. Ethan's love was pure and unwavering in a way Percy's relationship with Micah did not allow—in a way Hypnos and Hisa and Naoki and the rest of his brothers could not replicate.

He had no one now. The loss of Ethan left Micah feeling utterly alone.

A part of Percy feared that Micah knew—that somehow, a part of him figured that Ethan had died and everything had gone to shit, and only complicated relationships and abusive gods and heartache remained if he woke up—so he is simply choosing not to. What possible happiness could be found in a world without Ethan?

Annabeth lowered her eyes, her expression tinged with shame.

Grover is usually cheerful and upbeat, but even he couldn't muster a smile.

Percy assumed it had been the end of the conversation; a part of him was a bit self-conscious for bringing up such a heavy topic, but Grover looked like he wanted to say something more, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right words. Eventually, he found his voice, soft and tentative, as he said, "But Percy, he is happy. You make him happy, man."

Percy knew that. After all, nobody went through what the two of them had unless they cared deeply for each other. Micah had consistently shown his love for Percy time and time again, even when it seemed impossible given his circumstances; he always kept Percy in mind, even when it didn't look like it. Micah made him happy, and based on the way he spoke, Percy made him happy too. It just felt different—like it was uneven, or like there was an imbalance in their happiness. Percy was taking more from their relationship—they weren't officially dating—than he was giving—yet, anyway—and he had so many issues. There were so many faults with Percy that the list felt endless compared to Micah, who was so beautiful and eloquent and quoted poetry effortlessly, while Percy could only mumble a few lines here and there. Percy couldn't offer much—something physical, maybe, even if Percy wasn't the most attractive or experienced, but Micah has always been so reluctant—so he didn't really know.

"I guess," Percy replied, trying to sound more confident than he actually felt. It didn't work, considering how well Annabeth and Grover knew him. But Grover was cool with it and didn't say anything further, reaching for a beat-up set of Uno cards instead, and Annabeth seemed fond, almost, as she said, "You two idiots are really meant to be together, aren't you?"

He didn't fully understand what Annabeth meant by her comment, but he couldn't deny the feeling of some sort of affection that spread through him at her words. It wasn't good, and it wasn't bad, and he wasn't happy, but he wasn't hopeless, either, and Percy feared that every day of his life would turn out like that.

It was fine, he guesses. He knew of worse fates, after all.

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Naoki brought out a dark blue electric guitar, armed with a 10G amp, and threatened to shred the house down with his killer guitar skills if they did not start singing Happy Birthday to him immediately. The room erupted in laughter as Naoki struck a power pose, ready to unleash his musical prowess. It wasn't the best birthday Percy has ever had, but the joy and laughter in that moment made it all worth it, even though the pain of missing certain people hurt. Still, Percy hadn't seen his mom so happy in a long time as she sat down on the couch, having a drink with Hisa, and talking to Paul, wearing a blue-colored cone hat decorated with rainbow pom-poms. Even if he wasn't the happiest, the sight of her smiling and enjoying herself brought a sense of contentment to Percy.

So he tried to smile, and he ate the rest of the blue cupcakes, savoring the sweetness on his tongue. And if no one spoke to him directly, Percy allowed himself the silence to observe the joyous atmosphere around him and think of Micah. So maybe he heard the knocking on the door because of that, but he got up from the floor and said, "I got it!" before Hisa could even make a move from where she had been preparing the candles for the birthday cake she had baked to surprise Percy.

It was stupid, but Percy has expected to see Micah on the other side of every door ever since the day they met at camp. The pangs of disappointment had lessened by now, but it didn't stop him from hoping for a birthday miracle, even if he didn't deserve it.

He opened the door to find Nico di Angelo instead.

Even in the sweltering heat of a New York summer, Nico refused to part with his aviator's jacket. His Stygian Iron sword was securely fastened to his chain belt, as always, resting at his side. He looked even paler than the last time Percy had seen him—like a true ghost—with dark circles under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and messy hair strands falling carelessly in front of his face, as though he had tried to hide his exhaustion. And Percy knew he had temper issues when it came to Nico; he knew the sight of him made Nico feel awful, too, and that they were both each other's triggers, but seeing him standing there, looking so worn out, Percy felt cruel—because Nico was a kid too, and he had almost forgotten that.

He had been so caught up in his own problems and quests that he hadn't realized the toll everything was taking on Nico. So he mustered a smile, hoping to put the boy at ease. "Hey, Neeks," Percy greeted, attempting to sound casual, like everything was fine between them and it was normal that the son of Hades knew where the Matsuoka family lived or that Percy was there in the first place.

Clutching an inconspicuous shoebox, the son of Hades seemed visibly uncomfortable. He fidgeted, shuffling his feet nervously, evading eye contact as he extended the box towards Percy. Somewhat awkward, he mumbled, "Uh, happy birthday? Don't ask any questions; I don't know anything. I was just asked to deliver it."

Percy wanted to question Nico's unusual behavior, but given what had happened in the Underworld between them, he decided to let it go for now. He'll need to earn Nico's friendship back before prying into his personal matters. "Okay," he accepted easily, growing used to all the recent mysterious and cryptic actions. "But wait here; I'll be back."

Nico nodded silently, his expression unreadable.

Percy returned with a cone hat and a cupcake. "Trade me?" He asked, and Nico's eyes widened, like he had expected to be kicked out, so Percy took the box from his skeletal fingers and opened the door wider.

"Percy, hurry up!" Naoki called from inside the room, his impatient voice punctuated by a wicked guitar drift that echoed through the hallway; Sally laughed as Paul managed to get the speakers to work, filling the room with upbeat music, and if the smell of burning candles made Percy's hand shake, he ignored it, choosing to grin at Nico, who couldn't help but crack a small smile in return as he entered the home.

And yes, Percy woke up with a sense of dread so immense that it felt like a heavy weight pressing down on his chest, and it persisted, even as the lights shut off and everyone gathered around the circular table that could only seat four, and Hisa brought out the blue cake with neatly written Kanji that he couldn't understand. It persisted, even as his mom placed her hand on his shoulder when he started trembling, and everyone sang "Happy Birthday" in a chorus that seemed to reverberate in his ears like the crackling of a distant fire, but it was fine, though, because Percy didn't have to think about what he wanted and he had a therapy appointment in the morning to help him deal with it.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and blew out the candles.

The room erupted into applause and cheers. Annabeth didn't seem annoyed for the first time despite knowing that Percy's wish has been the same ever since the day he met Micah—and Sally pressed a kiss to his cheek, and Hisa served Nico the largest slice of cake, a considering glint in her fathomless eyes, and Percy thought it would be okay for now. Manageable, until Micah decided he was prepared to wake up. Percy would wait as long as Micah needed; he just hoped it wouldn't be too long, because Micah taught him almost everything Percy knew, except how to live without him.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

And later, after everyone had finished eating and the excitement had died down, Annabeth and Grover had to leave, and Paul and Sally left as well before it became too late, and Nico was taken into Hisa's study to discuss 'some things', Percy sat on the shikibuton in the guest bedroom and stared out the window at the starless night sky he couldn't trust any longer. He reached for the black box.

Written on the lid in bold, elegant handwriting—so familiar that he could almost hear the voice behind it—were the words 'The Prettiest Boy'.

And as he delicately lifted the lid, revealing a collection of cherished memories carefully preserved within, from Polaroid pictures to unsent letters and receipts of gifts—things Micah had collected without him knowing, without ever intending to show him—for the first time all day, the weight on his chest had lessened slightly.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Deep within the depths of the Underworld, situated in the realm of the Cimmerian and adjoining the tranquil waters of the Lesmosyne, Hypnos's cave remained concealed amidst the perpetual blossoming of poppy fields.

Susanoo-no-Mikoto, or Nono, for short, rested on the ivory-carved bed, lounging on the softness of the sheep-wool mattress. The Hellhound slept soundly, undisturbed by the faint whispers of dreams that drifted through the air as the Oneiros floated above him, weaving their ethereal threads into the fabric of his slumber.

The god of dreams continued to use the mortar and pestle to grind the poppy seeds, releasing their potent aroma into the air. The sweet scent of the petals blended with the delicate fragrance of lavender, creating a soothing atmosphere that enveloped the room. Hypnos called out, "At one point you will have to talk to me, little prince."

Micah did not reply.

Lying on his stomach, immobilized by the bandaged lacerations on his back where his wings had been severed, Micah kept his eyes shut tightly. It was an attempt to shut out both the unbearable pain and the sound of his voice.

Hypnos sighed.
He continued to crush the poppy seeds.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !

Writing from Percy's POV is so messy to me I struggled y'all ;-; but i wanted to tie it back to the start. the real actual epilogue is the next chapter!

Here is a preview of the remaining chapters:

1. All the Lessons of A Flightless Bird: An Addendum by Hypnos and His Little Prince
2. Afterword: The Lament of Nico di Angelo.
3. Bonus Chapters:

• First Meeting: Five Times Percy Kissed Micah And the One Time Micah kissed Him Back

• The Son of Hypnos and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day; Alternatively, "Yes, I am the son of Hypnos. No, not that one. Wait, where are you going?!"

• Naoki Matsuoka and the Ballad of Unrequited love

If you'd like to recommend a bonus chapter, please comment so! I am slightly tempted to do one of the side stories like the Sword of Hades LOL.  After all that, I might write more bonus stories or I might take a break before tackling HoO, depends on how college goes!

thank you for reading!
bye bye! until the next one!!