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Chapter Text

"Dude, you should go to therapy." 

He chuckled lightly. Even so, it was a serious suggestion. He could tell by the tone of Percy's voice. 

"I'm serious. This might be weird, coming from me, but if you really felt like that, even if you don't anymore, you should probably see someone." He took a breath and then continued. "I, uh," -he whispered the next bit of his sentence- "I actually have one. Being a demigod hero or whatever really got to me. She's a legacy or something, she never elaborated, but she can see through the mist fine and most of her family lives at Camp Jupiter." He smiled to himself, as though remembering an inside joke that no one else knew. 

"Her name is Dr. Jill. She'll be able to help, maybe. Just think about it." 

Apollo wasn't even taken aback at receiving advice like this from a mortal. He hadn't really cared about the birth status of people interacting with him for some time now. Since his, ah, unfortunate encounter with being human, he had learned a few things. And he did, admittedly, appreciate the offer. Even if it made him feel a bit pathetic, it did help to think that someone cared about his mental health. Although he'd never admit it. 

"My mom has her number written down somewhere."

Annabeth, who up until that point was engrossed in one of her textbooks, looked up. "You really should. I don't know you that well, but it's clear you've got some shit going on. And it really worked for Percy and I. Couples therapy, best thing to do on a Friday night." She said jokingly, linking her pinky with Percy's. 

It was an odd friendship, the one he had formed with the members of the Jackson residence, but upon finding out about Sally's new knack for poetry, he decided he should show how grateful he was for everything they had done for him, and what better way to give her pointers! He'd even babysat Estelle once, the small girl drew him a picture of him and his ukelele. Another thing he'd never admit is that he'd showed Hermes, who convinced him to frame the damn thing. 

He enjoyed hanging around the apartment, usually in the slightly altered form of Lester Papadopoulos. (Now that he could choose what he looked like, he would not be seen with acne or flab, no matter how much his personality had changed for the better.) It felt weirdly comfortable. 

And Sally Jackson could make some bomb blue-chocolate-chip cookies. 

Percy's mom did indeed have 'Dr. Jill's' number. She copied it down on a sticky note, and gave it to him, wishing him luck. He left soon after. 

Chapter Text

He called her. He wasn't sure why he called her, but fiddling with the dial on the radio in the Sun Chariot™ (Or, Sun Maserati, rather) was getting boring, and he was in a 'fuck it' kind of mood that day anyway. She answered after the second ring, which surprised him. He half expected no answer at all. 

"Hello, this is Dr. Jill Menendez, how can I help?" A cheerful voice was speaking to him, a voice belonging to an older woman, apparently the therapist Percy went to. 

Fuck it. "Hi, uh, my.. friend Percy recommended you to me?" The lady sounded pleasant enough, if not a little too happy to be receiving a call from an unknown number that apparently knew one of her patients. 

"Well, due to patient confidentiality, unless he has specifically mentioned you, you'll have to give me more than that." "Like what?" He was a little confused, if he was honest. 

"Your name would be good, for starters." 

He answered honestly, if not a bit nervous. "Apollo?" 

"First, and last name?" She asked. 

Last name. Last name. He didn't have a damn last name. He probably made one up for himself at some point, but that must have been several millennia ago, when he was only a child. 

He may as well elaborate. "This is gonna sound weird, so hear me out, but it's just Apollo. Unless my sister's mad at me, then she calls me Phoebus and I know to run."

"You know what? I think I have heard of you, I have a vacancy next Tuesday, if that's alright. I'll try and squeeze you in. Forgive me, but are you driving?" She asked. 

"Ooh uh, technically I'm just sitting here. See, the sun has a little autopilot button, so I usually just relax."

"The sun?"

He sighed. "The sun."

"Make it Monday, 5pm." 

Chapter Text

The meeting was planned. Now, what did he wear? 

Truth is, he had never stepped foot into a... where did he even go? Was it like a counseling office? 

He knew, where to go, like the directions and what room it would be in, and the start and end time, but he was a bit confused on what events would even take place inside? He knew the basic premise of therapy. You talked about your feelings and problems to someone who was supposed to listen, and maybe that would help a little bit. Maybe he could get a few things off his chest. Maybe not. 

So, one hour before the first therapy session he had ever been to in his extremely long life , he was standing in front of a full length mirror, trying to decide what the living hell he should wear. was it a formal occasion? Casual? What even was his sense of fashion anymore. But, he supposed, six months in a Led Zeppelin shirt and dirty pants was enough to mess with anyone. Even Aphrodite couldn't pull that off, and she once wore checkers and striped matched together and still looked amazing, so that's saying something. 

Semi-formal. Semi-formal it was. (Nice clothes, nothing he would wear while alone or with friends, but not so formal he was over dressing. He decided it would probably be best to just take on his old form, it was more appropriate, and he was keen on making a good first impression.

He wondered whether he should just show up in front of the building, or if it would be better to drive. Did he even own a car? Needless to say, it had been a while. 

He settled on "borrowing" one from Hermes, (a very loose term for basically stealing it from his brother, but the little shit owed him from the time he had covered for him while he was out drinking, so it was a fair trade.) and just driving it there. It was a private clinic, so the place was small and gray, but he really had no standard as to how an office like that should work or look like. he wasn't judging. 

Walking in, he felt slightly intimidated. Which, woah, was not at all like him. He didn't get intimidated. Ever. He had done far more terrifying things than walk into a fucking building to go to therapy. Jesus, he could feel his hands trembling a bit as he opened the door.

The room was small. Not cramped, and not uncomfortably so, but small enough that he was a bit surprised. He might have expected something.. ah, grander? The thought sounded silly when he thought about telling anyone that. Not everything has to be fancy, Apollo. Get your head in the game and shake her hand, gods be damned! 

He did. Her smile was warm. 

They sat. 

"Well, let's get started. I take it you're wondering how I feel about the circumstances of this, specifically, who you are." And he had. Very much so. 

"While you're in here, I will treat you like any other patient. If there's any problem with that, don't hesitate to tell me, but I try to keep a standard for how I treat my clients. And yes, I am aware that you are a god. It's an odd thought, but I've seen worse, trust me." She continued. 

"These sessions last about an hour to two hours, usually I take people for an hour and a half, so that's how long I've scheduled this to be. I believe we already went over the requirements, you can sign here when you're ready." She handed him a paper with small writing, something he assumed to be a contract. 

"What do I uh, sign it with?" "Your name." She answered. 

"See, that's the thing. Do you mean my real, actual name, like the one my mother gave to me at birth? Or the English adaptation."

"Whichever one feels more comfortable. But I would prefer English, if you don't mind." 

"Of course." 

He signed it. In English. In his familiar, swirly handwriting. And shifted in the slightly uncomfortable chair. 

It seemed everything about this was going to be slightly uncomfortable. 

"If you'd like, we'll introduce ourselves? My name is Jill Menendez, I have a daughter and a son, Maria and Marco respectively, and we have three cats." 

"My name is Apollo. I currently have two sons and one daughter, Will, Austin, and Kayla respectively, and I don't have any pets, but I guess my horses count. I used to have cows, too. I live alone most of the time, if not then with my extended family, mother, or sister."

"Can you tell me about your family? What are they like?" 

Apollo assumed she was probably just trying to get him to open up, and if she knew Percy then she definitely knew all about his family. He answered anyway. 

"Well there's my father, Zeus. And his wife, Hera. And my many, many siblings or cousins. There's Hermes, he's my brother and I'm the closest friend he's got, there's Artie, that's Artemis, she's my older- my twin sister. But you probably already knew that." 

"I guess I did." She laughed warmly. Her arms were crossed as she leaned towards him, as though hanging on his every word. 

"And you two are close, you and your sister?" She asked. 

"I.. I guess you could say that? She's not around a lot, and sometimes we don't get along, but at the end of the day does any sibling, really?" 

"No, I suppose not. How about your brother?" 

"Oh we hang out a lot. Recently I've been trying to get him to interact with his kids more, I told him it would work wonders if he communicated or showed up for their birthdays or something, but he's stubborn and never listens to me anyways." 

"And do you.. interact with your children?"

"Of course I do! Now, anyway. They're great, really, I don't get why I never bothered before." 

"And why do you think you're here today?"

Oh. The fateful question. Why did he, a perfect, immortal, idol need to be sitting in a therapist's office? 

He wasn't even sure. He had known it was probably best that he get help, but he had never done anything about it up until this point.

"I'm not sure. I guess I thought it would help."

"Well that's what this is all about. You can treat this like a time where you can get anything that's on your chest off of it. For now, let's start small. What do you do on a day to day basis?"  

Chapter Text

"What do I do?"

"Yes."

"Well, if you've hear anything from Percy, you'd probably know that I was human for a while about five years ago. Which sounds like a lot of time but I'm 4,000 so it's really not. I guess I wake up, sometimes pilot the sun if no other deity is doing it, and we've also got science for that but I enjoy it. If not, I take care of my horses, I... eat? I eat breakfast sometimes, and.. well that's where it varies. Depending on who I am that day." 

"It varies? You don't have a set schedule for yourself?"

"Well, no, so it does vary."

"Can you pick what you are doing each day?" 

"Most of the time, yes, if I'm not interacting with my father." "Does he make you have a schedule for that day then? Or is it more he doesn't let you do certain things." 

"If I do see him around, he usually asks me to do something, even though it's not really asking because I know I'll end up doing it, or makes me come to a counsel meeting."

"Do you enjoy these meetings? Or do they bore you." "It depends on what the meeting is about. Sometimes they'll make me go to war planning and I'm just sitting there like, I get why I'm here, with the archery and all, but you could call in my sister and she'd be ten times better at this." 

"Do you not like archery?" "No, I really do, but only on my free time, you know? I don't care so much about the war or hunting aspects of it."

"So you do it, when?" "When I'm trying to impress someone, or I want to make my sister mad by winning against her."

"And you win against her most of the time then?" "Ah... no. If I'm being honest, which I kind of have to be since I am the god of truth, she's a tiny bit better than me. Okay, she's just better than me." 

"Does that make you upset? That she's better." "Sometimes yes, but I can't really complain if I never practice." 

She stopped writing on the red notepad on her lap for a moment, and checked her watch. 

"We only have five minutes, I'm afraid. We'll pick up where we left off next time, alright? There's mints on my desk" -she gestured to  a large bowl of life-savers- "you can take two. Same time next week?" She asked. 

"That sounds fine." 

"Alright. Buh-bye." 

He walked awkwardly out of the room as she took a call. That was, uh... interesting? I guess. 

It was... interesting. He wasn't sure what to make of the hour he spent in there. He would just have to wait until the next week to see what's in store. 

Chapter Text

The days blurred into one another. The only remarkable things that happened in the short period of time was taking Leto out to dinner with Artemis and Hermes, and the one meeting they all attended where he spoke for a few minutes. Other than that, the peak of his weak would be the next Monday that rolled around, where he would go back to the office for another session. 

He pulled on a jacket, taking the same form as their last meeting, even if he hadn't used it since. He'd dubbed it 'the therapy body' for anyone (who knew) and asked why he looked different on Monday's at 5pm. For the sake of his pride, he hadn't explicitly told anyone what he was doing, with the exception of his mother and Artemis. Well, those were the only gods who knew. He had told his son Will, who seemed oddly proud of him, and Meg, who didn't make any snarky comments for once. Plus Percy, and his own mother. 

So that was six people in the entire world who knew, not including himself or the doctor, of course. 

The air was cold and since he hadn't bothered to bring his, well Hermes' car, (or that's what he told Dr. Jill, in reality he was just too lazy to drive there, he'd much rather simply appear in front of the building instead.)

Which is exactly what he did, apparently scaring the hell out of a baby in its stroller, who started bawling. He hung his head and walked briskly inside. 

She was burning a candle that smelled like Autumn in her office. He enjoyed it. He'd always liked the smell of fall, the way you could inhale and feel like the air would make you float. 

"Welcome back."

"Hi."

"So last time, we left off where you were about to talk about your family? I believe you mentioned your brother. Has anything else of note happened since I've seen you?" 

"Ah.. not really. I-we took our mother out to dinner, but that's about it." "And was that nice?"

"Yeah, I liked it." And he had. Even if Artemis looked at him disgusted when he flirted with the waiter whenever he came to their table. He got a phone number out of it, so it was worth it. (Now, that's not to say Artemis had any problem with her brother flirting with men. She had turned several people who made rather.. ah, nasty comments about that into target practice. No, it was more simple than that. She got grossed out by flirting, period. It was one of the vast, many reasons they didn't always get along.) 

"Well, did you want to talk about our family?" "I..."

"We can talk about anything, you know. Or nothing at all. I like to set goals for each meeting. We could pick a topic and talk about it for a while, if you'd like." 

"Uh.. sure." He shifted in his seat, running his hands up and down his jeans. "My family."

"Where the hell do I even start?" 

"Anywhere you'd like. When I'm talking to people about my family, I usually start with my kids." 

"Well, I have three of them, right now. There's Will, he's my oldest, and his boyfriend Nico is essentially my son in law already, once he called me dad and since he didn't want to back out of it he helped make a birthday cake for me. Long story, anyway Will is a healer. There's also my other son, Austin. He's amazing at the saxophone. Like really, really good. Then there's my daughter Kayla, she got archery, and that's just because her mortal dad, yeah, long story, very confusing, is an archery instructor." 

"Do any of them get upset because, and I'm assuming here, they have different parents?" 

"None of them have ever mentioned anything to me, so I guess that's a no, but I've never asked." 

"Alright. Do you yourself feel awkward about it?" "Well when I was on my quest I was technically younger than Will, and that weirded me out, but other than that I don't feel weird around my kids."

"That's good to hear. A lot of parents with children from multiple or different people feel guilty about not staying with only one person." 

"I don't think I've ever felt like that. You know, since I've had children from multiple people for millennia." 

"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking."

"This summer I had my 4,618th birthday." "That's a very long time." 

"I suppose it is." 

"Do you want to talk about your other family, or would you prefer not to."

He took out his phone to check the time. He could pretend to be busy? Maybe? 

It wasn't that he didn't like to complain about his family, if you could call it that. He did it all the time. 

If he was being honest with himself, he would realize that he was afraid to. 

He was afraid to say anything bad about his father. Or stepmother. Or siblings. He was scared they'd find out, and ban him from Earth.

Which sounds really irrational, but he almost was, on several occasions. At some point his father found out that he would rather be on Earth, and that keeping him off Olympus was doing him a favor. 

"I actually think I have to go. Yeah, I definitely have to go. I'm 99% certain I have an award speech in ten minutes."

"That's alright. I'll see you next week, okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, next week." 

He gave a little wave an exited the room. Dr. Jill Menendez wrote down on her notepad; Seems to be avoiding mentioning non-human family. 

She was right. 

He did not have any speech, not that he knew of. He played off his absence as being in Aeithales with Meg, and immediately went to bed. 

In his defense, talking about his problems with a stranger was getting awkward. He didn't want to open up to someone he barely knew. 

Chapter Text

He did not feel good. 

Now, good is a loose term. It can mean many things. In a stranger's case, it meant that they did not feel like a good person. In someone else's, it would mean that they were having a bad day and did not feel particularly happy. 

Apollo felt none of these. He felt physically unwell. 

It was a sense of unrest more than anything. He felt as though he wasn't actually making any progress. What was avoiding sensitive topics going to do for anyone? 

And it wasn't like he knew the lady. He'd much rather prefer to talk to someone that he knew, that he could sympathize with. 

Thing is, most people did not know him that well. 

Of course, they knew him; but that was more in a superficial sense. They knew who he was, they didn't know him, as him.

And mostly, he was okay with that. He didn't want just anyone to actually know him, that would be unprofessional. 

He was pathetic. 

Most of the day, he moped around. Like a loser. Like Lester. 

His head pounded, but he didn't have the energy to even attempt healing himself, and laying in bed staring at the ceiling was much easier. 

Minutes faded in and out. 

Hours. 

Maybe days, he wasn't sure. 

Occasionally, occasionally, his phone would give a quiet buzz, and he just knew that it was Hermes. He could sense it. 

He didn't answer. 

He didn't do anything. 

That is, until his sister called. 

He knew it was serious then. 

His sister never, ever called. 

Ever. 

He was pretty sure he hadn't ever heard Artemis' voice over the phone. 

He was sure he hadn't heard her so worried in centuries.

"Where the hell have you been? Hermes has been calling you for literal days. Mom's been asking after you."

"I'm in my room." 

"Your room? Your fucking room, Apollon? Seriously? We've been looking for you."

"Well, you could've just checked my room."

"Which room? Because I swear upon a higher being than you if you're just drunk I will make you feel the full effects of a hangover."

"I thought you were in Canada."

"We are gods you moronic idiot. Of course I can just... you know what? Nevermind."

"Oh. My normal one. The one I'm in the most. Just.... just ask Hermes or something."

She hung up abruptly. He couldn't find it in him to care. 

It only took five minutes. He hadn't risen from his spot on the bed. 

"What is going on with you?"

"I'm in therapy, you know." He felt like laughing.

"For what?"

"You would know if you were around more." 

"You never even try to contact me! And I have responsibilities Apollo, I take my job seriously!"

"I don't 'contact' you because everytime we see each other you talk shit about me to your hunters."

"When have I ever done that?"

"Oh, one month and five days ago, I showed up to drop off new bows and while I was making small talk somehow the conversation steered into my bad poetry."

"That was a month ago! Can't you let things go for once?" 

"Well I'm sorry I don't like feeling like shit, okay? I'm sorry I avoid you because every damn time I see you, you insult me, and guess what? It fucking hurts! It hurts to know that I pour so much time into sharing with you something that makes me happy, and you just call it trash so easily! Hell, I know my goddamn haikus are bad. But guess what? It makes me fucking happy to appreciate the art form and I'm sick and fucking tired of giving a shit about what other people think! I'm sick of it Artemis! I try every damn day to be exactly like my old self, but I cannot find it in me to be needlessly happy and sunshiney all the time! What's the point anymore?" 

Artemis went silent for a few seconds. 

"I'm sorry. Really, I'm sorry. I didn't think I was hurting you. I... honestly I wanted my hunters to hate you."

"Why would you want something like that?" His voice was threatening to crack. 

"Archery, the outdoors, hunting... It's my whole life. And sometimes I guess I just want to be the center of attention. Just once. And it makes me feel.. insecure sometimes to know that everyone credits you for what I do, you know?"

"Shit, yeah. I do know." He laughed shakily. "They do realize I'm not the one who invented all those tricks, right? I still don't have all of them perfect."

She smiled a bit. It was a small smile, a sad one, but her brother would take what he could get. 

She sat down on the edge of his bed, patting the spot next to her. 

"I'm lucky to have you Artie, you call me out on my shit."

"And I you, brother."

"Where are we? Seventeenth century England? Keep up with the times goddamnit!"

He fell back on his bed with a thud. 

"Genuinely though, why have you been going to therapy?" She asked quietly.  

"I thought that I should maybe pull my life back on track, you know?"

"What do you, ah... talk about?"

"Well I want to talk about what happened, my stabbing myself first and foremost, then I want to learn how to properly grieve in a way that's not so.. extreme."

"Hold on. What was that first part?"

"Oh, I want to talk about my trials?"

"No, the... the next bit."

"How I stabbed myself? With the arrow, remember?"

"What?" She wasn't angry, genuine fear flickered across her face. 

"I...."

"You.. you stabbed yourself? With an arrow?"

"Are you mad at me?" He looked like he would cave in on himself.

"Mad at you? Shit, no 'Pollo I'm not mad. Why... why did you do it?" Her tone was soft, like that of someone speaking to a fragile child. 

"I thought.. I thought it would protect everyone. Because if I died, then they couldn't use me and everyone would be safe." 

He turned slowly towards her for any reaction. 

She pulled him into a hug. 

Artemis had not hugged him in quite some time. 

It felt nice. Homey, like that's what he had been missing these days.

And although his ego and pride would never admit it, he was crying. And trying not to sniffle so loud she heard it. 

They stayed like that for a while, until Apollo pulled his head back upwards and she released her arms. 

"You should see Hermes."

"I should."

Chapter Text

Hermes' phone rang. 

Once. 

Twice. 

Three times.

After the third ring, he picked up. He had a habit of waiting a few seconds before answering phones, it made him look busy when all he was doing was pacing the streets of Manhattan and worrying. He had been worrying for five days now. 

Apollo wasn't anywhere to be found, he was coming up on a deadline for his latest ideas, and Olympus was in general unrest since Apollo's return. Everyone was left feeling uneasy, both at Zeus for leaving him to die, and Apollo for.. not dying. 

He was no god of prophecy, but he knew what the future held for his brother. A most certainly negative end. 

Or so they'd thought.

When he'd crawled his way back to Olympus, bloody and beaten and broken, all of them had to hold it together.

After all, not all of them wanted the punishment to happen. 

Hermes himself nearly threw up when he watched Apollo stab himself in the chest. At least Artemis wasn't watching. 

Although both of them swore not to mention it, they had cried together many, many times during those six months.

But Apollo was back, and that's what mattered.

Now, where was he?

Where was he? He had been wondering that for five days. Apollo had seemingly been vanishing every week, (Hermes assumed it was just another fling with some mortal Apollo didn't want him to tease about at first, but he often came back looking exhausted or avoiding everyone to go to bed.) and this time he had come back, left no explanation, and vanished into near thin air. 

Hermes then thought he was drunk.

Or sleeping.

Or other various activities that Hermes wouldn't want to intrude upon. 

But it became worrying when he tried calling.

And calling.

And calling. 

No answer.

That was unlike him.

He always picked up when Hermes called him. They had each other on speed dial, ever since phones were invented. 

He sighed. 

"Hiya, this is Mr. Hermes, god of travelers, thieves, and other various achievements, how can I help you?"

"Hermes."

Oh. 

After Artemis had left, Apollo took a deep breath, and called his brother. 

Hermes deserved to know what was going on. And he had missed him, as annoying as his little brother was, he had missed his pranks and the way he made fun of their father behind his back, and how he could nearly beat Athena at scrabble sometimes, and he had missed him. 

"Hiya, this is Mr. Hermes, god of travelers, thieves, and other various achievements, how can I help you?" 

He held back a sob.

"Hermes." 

Hermes was there in an instant, travelling through space and time to try and see why, why exactly it sounded like Apollo had been crying. 

It was, evidently, because he was crying. 

At least, before he pulled him into a tight hug, there were tears in his eyes. 

Hermes was not a very loyal person, but at that moment, he knew that he would destroy whoever made his brother feel like that. 

He felt a strange, overwhelming urge to protect him.

Usually, Apollo was the one who protected him. When he got upset, Apollo was there in seconds and the murder in his eyes was enough to send them running. 

Then they'd get icecream or something that would cheer him up, something sweet or something fun. 

He had never had to cheer up Apollo before. 

The thought seemed absurd. Apollo never needed cheering. He was a naturally happy person, and if he was in any distress, no one knew. 

Apollo was still crying. Why was he still crying?

Hermes began to take notice that his appearance was rapidly shifting, trying to pick a body that he felt most comfortable. 

He decided on no body at all, or not what would normally be described as one. 

This was serious, then. Apollo had always liked to remain pretty permanently in a more human form, it was rare for him to give up the act entirely. 

Hermes did not let go. Neither of them did.

Eventually, he slowly lead Apollo to the couch, but not before giving him blankets and making sure that he wouldn't freak out if Hermes were to get up and possibly leave.

He was not going to, but it was best to know how Apollo would react to the notion that he was. 

One of them turned the TV on. 

He decided to just leave the default channel on, which was a program about painting. 

He could tell Apollo did not want to talk about whatever was bugging him, and that was okay with him. 

They could just sit there, watching the same show until both of them inevitably fell asleep. 

And they did.  

Chapter Text

Hermes was gone when he awoke. 

He wasn't even upset, which was a start. It was a bare minimum, but it was a start. And his head felt clear, his hands were more steady, and he could walk without feeling tired. He felt good. And it wasn't entirely where he wanted to be, but it was a start. He felt happy. He had made up with the two people that meant so much to him, and he was going to get his life together. It felt nice. 

He looked at himself in the mirror, and he didn't see a flaw in Lester. For once, even the acne couldn't bother him. Who cared? Who cared what he was going to look like anyway? 

Yes, he'd go to the Jackson apartment. Unless they had plans, (which they didn't, other than Percy, who was visiting Camp. On second thought, he should probably take a trip to camp as well. It would be nice to see his kids again, even if he visited the week before.) He would go, and take serious advantage of the seven layer bean dip that Sally Jackson made. When he said it was famous, he meant he brought it back and now several gods were hooked, including his mother. Say, she really should meet Sally in person. He made a mental note of it in his brain. 

What time was it? He had forgotten that he could simply know the answer to that, and spent several minutes looking around for his phone, again having forgotten that he could just summon it.  

One o'clock wasn't too early, was it? He was still learning a normal, human sleep schedule, and that apparently i-messaging Austin at the exact second he was born was rather "inappropriate", since he was born at 4:23(am.) But one was after lunch, wasn't it? 

He kept thinking as he got dressed, taking on a younger body then the one from the last night, looking around the same age Percy was when they met. (Technically, he had met Percy when he was only fourteen, but that didn't exactly count as the boy almost died while in his care. Yeah.) He just wanted to look normal. Not ugly, not unnecessarily attractive, just normal. Plain. There was a comfort in having people look at him like he was just another normal person, on the streets of New York City. 

And should he walk? One time he just appeared inside the house, and scared Paul so bad he had to sit down. It was embarrassing, to say the least. He had left early. 

Now, he cared a little more whether he bothered them. He wouldn't have some five years ago, and that meant that he had changed a bit, right? 

He decided to teleport to an alley and simply walk to their apartment. It was less suspicious, and oh that is a crime scene. That is definitely a crime scene. He picked up his pace. 

He knew the Jackson's lived near the top of the apartment building, but he had honestly forgotten just how tiring it was to climb five flights of stairs. At least he wasn't mortal. For a while, it had been hard to believe that anyone would have wanted to live in a small place like this. Especially Percy. I mean, he had been on numerous quests and had risen to fame amongst the demigods of his generation, so forgive Apollo if he assumed his room would be fancier. 

But it didn't matter so much now that he was there often. It may be small, but it had a sort of comforting feel to it, like a lived-in place. That was unnatural to Apollo, who had only known expensive, modern things and people that were cold. 

He made it up the stairs, and buzzed in. "It's me!" 

They'd know who it is, even if he looked slightly different every time he came (which, again, freaked Paul out, but what can you do.) 

He was let in with a smile. Estelle was probably sleeping, which made his yell a bit unwelcome, but his presence was fine. 

There was something in the oven that smelled suspiciously like cookies. Great! He gave a genuine smile. He loved those things, even if they were probably unhealthy. And wasn't he supposed to care about that, as the god of healing and science? Probably. 

He most likely did at some point too, but now he honestly could not give a shit what he was putting in his body. 

"Smells great, Ms Jackson."

"That's Mrs. Blofis to you, my lord." She was smiling as she said it. 

"And that's Apollo to you!" He took a seat on the couch. "How's everything been going?" 

"Pretty good, how about you?" "It's been alright, I guess." 

"That's good to hear, I'm glad. Would you like a cookie when they're done?"

"You know I can't resist them, they're infamous."

She chuckled. "Paul, be a dear and check the oven?" 

He gave her a thumbs up. 

Apollo took a moment to survey his surroundings. There was a pot of daisies on the windowsill, and the sun hit them just right. He felt like taking a picture. But that would likely be weird, since it was someone's house. He decided against it.

"How's the poetry coming?" He asked loudly. 

Sally smiled back at him, a warm, motherly smile. She really did remind him of Leto. "Great, I'm learning rhyme scheme." 

"Good luck with that. Some poets come up with their own, and lemme tell you, it is infuriating trying to figure them all out." 

"Well, I've only got up to ABAB CDCD EFEF GG." 

"That's a whole sonnet! You should be proud!"

"Paul's been encouraging me." She turned to her husband, who was looking over some notes at the table. He glanced up and smiled. 

They were everything a married couple should be. Apollo wondered how different he would feel about his family if Zeus and Hera truly loved one another. Or if his mother had found someone who treated her better. Everything would be nicer, for one. He wouldn't have been such an asshole all these years. Being a god would feel better. 

They had cookies some time after. They were soft and tasted delicious. And he was happy with how the day was going. 

Unfortunately, as every god knows, Zeus is a dick. He felt himself being violently pulled upwards. 

Chapter Text

I am very sorry to disappoint since this fic has gotten so much positivity, but it will be much harder for me to update consistently from now until about a week. 

I'm going to write as much as I can today, but tomorrow I leave for my grandparents house since my mom is getting surgery, (she's okay, it's nothing life threatening) and they only have like one ancient computer that I can't use properly. 

I'm actually really surprised at the love this is getting, 400 views is the most I've gotten on any of my works. Which in some aspects is a bit annoying, because not to sound ungrateful, but I have put much more effort into my other things, specifically Efflorescence. And I'm not trying to complain or guilt anyone into reading, I simply expected that to be liked more. 

Again I'm super grateful to all of you and the comments you leave, I promise I read every single one and they all make my day.

Much Love, 

Milo 

Chapter Text

Fortunately, the meeting passed without much effort on his part. He spoke up about once, and it was after his father left the room and they were filing out. And even then, it was only to make plans with Artemis, and that didn't count as effort. 

The weekend passed, fast and fun and it flew by his eyes in a second. He enjoyed it. He really enjoyed it. But Monday was a welcome. 

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Sunlight streamed in through the window of Dr. Jill's office. She was pleasantly surprised at his active listening, and how he hadn't turned down a question yet. 

"Do you happen to remember what happened before the events of your... trials?" 

He drew a blank. "Not exactly. I remember... lots of yelling, and my mom pleading with my father, and I know the fall hurt, but no." 

Either does not remember what took place, or is unwilling to share.

"Well, that's alright. How did it start?"

He recounted the first major events. How he was reminded of Icarus, falling from the sky. And what cruel irony being in his place felt like. 

He told her all about the body, his body, being all wrong and uncomfortable.

"And you felt a discomfort, looking the way you did? You described it as being 'wrong'." 

"Well, yes. I had never looked like that before. It unnerved me."

He remembered being told to get over it, that there was nothing to be done and that he looked normal and 'gods, Apollo, stop whining', but he didn't. He didn't look normal, and it was all wrong. 

"What indicated the wrongness? What part of your body was the most different?" 

"Everything. I was shorter, and more pale and just not me. And my face was wrong."

"What about your face?"

He paused for a moment. 

"My eyes were brown. I don't have brown eyes." 

And indeed he didn't. He never had. And these brown eyes weren't pretty or bright or unique in any way, they looked murky, and human, and wrong. 

"Was that... scary, to you? Not looking like your normal self." 

"Very." 

Feelings of distress when placed in an environment/situation that is unusual. 

"If it makes you feel any better, I understand. That's a perfectly normal thing to feel when confronted with something unfamiliar." 

He needed to hear that. That it was normal. That he wasn't crazy, and feeling fear or discomfort was not unusual. That it was okay. He was going to be okay. 

"What did you feel towards your family during this time?"

"I.. I didn't really hate any of them.. I resented my father for punishing me so harshly, and I wished my sister would have helped me, but it's against the Divine Laws to force yourself onto another's quest. That's kinda why we have demigods." 

"How do you feel about these quests? Do you believe they are fair?" 

"I did, once. But after being on like five? No way."  

She paused once more to write something down, and glanced up at the clock. It was nearing 7. 

"Oh, I think we've gone a little past our time here, but I'll see you next week, alright?" 

"Alright."

The walk out of her office filled him with disappointment. He knew he shouldn't feel like this, not when he'd been having such a good day, but he couldn't help but be a bit bummed that they didn't get to talk for longer. He was really trying to open up! 

It would be alright, though, he told himself. He was not going to let this be a setback on what had been motivation. He'd go home. He'd do something productive. He'd go to sleep.

Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow he could make even better. 

Chapter Text

Apollo's next day was supposed to be relaxing. That's all he wanted to do. Relax. 

He had near cleared out his schedule for the week with his sudden motivation the night previous, and he now that he had nothing to do and was extremely tired, he took the day to actually drive. The sun. 

Most days, he'd simply lay back and play on his phone or something, only half trying to look like he was actually doing something as he landed. Today, he was going to actually drive. 

He enjoyed driving. He liked taking it slow, taking road trips and doing other general slow-paced car activities. 

He really only figured out his liking for long, slow drives, after he had been in a police chase with Hermes. As the driver. 

So now he was definitely just going to relax. Maybe turn on the radio, listen to something other than himself for a while. Music was ever changing, and he really ought to check up on who even was considered a celebrity these days.  

Chapter Text

"You've seemed particularly talkative these past few weeks. Has anything changed?"

They were finishing up a session. Apollo was eager to get home, as it was game night and he was determined to beat Artemis at charades. 

"I guess I've just been in a happy mood.' He answered, and it was true. He had been in a happy mood for about a week. And he had been opening up during therapy. 

"That's nice to hear. Any follow up from your sister?" 

That's right, he had told her about their plans to go camping together that weekend. Preparations were in full swing, he was already packed in anticipation.

"Yeah, we're still on."

"Good, good. Okay, we have about five minutes before you have to go. Anything else you'd like to mention?"

"Nope." He was actively controlling his stomach to keep it from rumbling.

"Okay!" She waved, concluding their meeting and indicating that he could leave. For a second, he wondered what would happen if he just stood there, but he made his way out the door. 

Cold night air blew into his face as he exited the building. He never liked the wind (for personal reasons), but it was welcome since he was coming from the overheated office. 

And damn, he really was hungry. He supposed he could just stop at a drive through. 

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Content, he sipped his ice coffee and drove down the freeway. 

He liked contentment. It was one of the finer things in life, to be utterly satisfied with yourself in the moment, even with the knowledge it wouldn't last.

Content, he drove. 

Content, he thought about calling the waiter from weeks before. They had texted, it was nice. 

Content, he thought about all the things he had done, and how he had ended up there, in that moment, drinking iced coffee on a highway in his brother's car. 

 He definitely liked contentment.

Chapter Text

Time is a very fluid concept to immortals, especially Apollo. As the god of prophecy, he was always getting mixed up with the dates and lengths of things. One time, he spent nine whole years  in service of king Admetus, simply because he mixed up his punishment with a prophecy. 

But king Admetus was very pretty, and very single, however, so that was a definite plus. 

But his lack of time conception was a flaw to him. Sometimes he forgot important, or enjoyable things. 

"Does this thing.. does this thing work? Thalia, how does this.. you just speak into it? Oh. Hello brother." 

Apollo had been suppressing a laugh with his hand. He was glad she couldn't see him. 

"Apollo?" He cleared his throat, ready to speak. 

"Yeah?" 

"Are you not coming camping with us? You said you'd be here by ten." 

"Artie, it's only Thursday..."

"What are you talking about? It's Saturday, you said you were busy Friday so you'd come today..."

He internally smacked himself. Of course! Of course it he had messed up the dates, that's just his luck. 

"Right, right. Where are you, I'll pack."

"...We packed together on Tuesday, Apollon, are you feeling well?" 

"No, yeah, wait I mean... yes I'm fine. I'm great! Just busy." 

"I'll just come to you then." "Good, good, I'll see you in a few." 

Dammit. I thought my memory loss was gone by now?

He did indeed assume that since his time as Lester had ended, so had the loss of memory that plagued him. He was awfully tired of relying on the Arrow of Dodona for advice on things he should be able to know in an instant.

But that thought only brought back painful memories of his quest, and so he started looking for his apparently packed clothes. 

He found them underneath his bed, nicely organized by group, in a suitcase. At least they were there, he supposed, because Artemis appeared behind him moments later. 

He spun around. "Oh hi! Haven't seen you in a while!"

"Are you certain you're not ill? I.. we.. I saw you four days ago, I visited here for the day?"

He had no memory of the event. 

"Oh, right. Just.. said that out of habit, I guess." And maybe he had! Seeing his sister used to be rare. But that thought still didn't shake the unease at his amnesia. 

"If you're busy or.. or you don't want to go that's alright. I understand."

Physically, Artemis had always reminded him more of their father, but at that moment Apollo saw a striking resemblance to Leto. 

"No, I'm coming. I'm definitely coming." 

Chapter Text

The forest was an array of greens, from barely there ones to the deepest Apollo had ever seen. And surprisingly, the trees did not loom down at him or start whispering. It was a nice change of pace. 

And astonishingly, her hunters did not look at him with annoyance. Artemis must have spoken with them. They did look at him with pity, which wasn't much better, but it was a start. 

It was a small group, of maybe five, and Artemis later told him they were the most inexperienced. The rest were being led by Thalia, still hunting in Canada.  

He halfheartedly wondered if the dryads would object to his presence, or maybe they learned about all he did in California? He wasn't in a rush to ask. 

"It's pretty." Was all he said. And it was, truly. But his mind was still racing with just how he could have forgotten all the plans he had made? 

"It is, isn't it?" A younger girl, maybe 8, if that, answered. He turned towards her. She had messy red hair, chopped to her shoulders in wisps (probably by herself, he doubted Artemis knew anything about hair care.) Her silver coat was a size too big, her boots as well. Freckles adorned her face, wide blue eyes staring up at him gleefully. He bent down. 

"Yeah. Say, what's your name?" The girl was far too young to have left home for this. She must be a rogue demigod then. Of course, Artemis did take in mortals, but there was a gleam in her eyes that Apollo was certain he had seen before. 

"Aoife." She grinned at him, revealing gapped teeth. 

"That's a very nice name you got there. Do you know who I am?" 

"Nope!"

One of the older girls spoke up. "That's Le-"

Please don't say Lester. Please don't say Lester. Please don't say-

"-ster."

God fucking dammit

"Well, nice to meet 'ya, Lester." 

He turned to his sister. She was very intently studying her bow, looking sheepish. 

"No, sorry, but my name is not Lester," -He made sure to emphasize that point, turning to glare in Artemis' direction- "it's Apollo." 

She giggled. "You have the same name as Lady Artemis' brother."

How come Artie didn't tell them he was coming?

She continued. "And we've never met him, but Lady Artemis says he's very silly. And he makes bad po...poems. And he's an id-i-ot." 

He made a mental note to shoot his sister when he got the chance.

A girl a little older than Aoife gave her a nudge. "Aoife that's-"

A few feet away, Artemis cleared her throat. The girls stood at attention. Apollo copied them, just for fun. I look like a giant; they're all so tiny...

"As you all know, lieutenant Thalia is away with the rest of our team. I have selected you all for proper training, since you're new. You might be wondering, why do I look different? This is because my brother here-" she gestured to him "-doesn't want to be the only adult."

They looked at him and giggled, pushing and nudging each other around. 

"Plus, this is a better way for you all to see me as a teacher." 

"Uhh.. Lady Artemis?" 

"Yes, Lila?" 

"Which brother is this? You have like a million." 

More giggles ensued. She walked up to him.

"Just introduce yourself, get it over with." He walked up to the front of the room? Forest? Group would be the most accurate comparison. 

"Uh.. Hello? My name is Apollo. I'm Art- Lady Artemis' brother. Her.. her twin brother. I'm uhm.. I'm the god of music, poetry, prophecy and other things, including archery, which is why I'm here." 

He wasn't, but that was the logical explanation. 

"I thought Lady Artemis was the god.. goddess of archery." 

That he could answer. 

"We invented it together when we were kids, so it's only fair that we share the title. However, my sister does far more with it then me." 

The kids collectively "oh'd."

"Why don't we get started, huh?" Artemis clapped her hands together. 

Yeah. Let's. 

Chapter Text

Apparently "Let's get started." meant 'Let's force Apollo to teach a bunch of barely teenaged girls how to shoot'. 

He ended up with two kids, and Artemis took the other three. Montana and Aoife, those were the ones he had to teach. 

Hell, he wasn't even aware that's what he was going to be doing! He thought this was gonna be a nice camping trip, and he'd be able to talk to his sister in peace, and quiet. But nooo, now he's gotta teach tiny kids how to shoot with a potentially deadly weapon. 

And Aoife kept asking him questions, about who he was and what he did and how come she'd never seen him before, until Apollo eventually just promised that he'd answer all her queries at dinner, but only if she was good and followed directions. 

Montana was having a much easier time hitting the targets, which Apollo credited to her height. She was tall for her age, and bony, with dark skin and coily hair that she wore tightly braided. 

Aoife... not so much. She could hit it fine, but it took a bit to get her to stop being scared of hitting herself. She said pointy things creeped her out, and Apollo wondered why she joined in the first place then, before thinking that maybe she had no choice. 

They continued their practice until lunch time, when Aoife practically begged him to sit with her and Artemis didn't look sympathetic. She just shrugged as he was pulled away to another log. 

He did not want to eat on a log, one that was probably infested with bugs, but you know what? He'd been in far more uncomfortable situations. 

"Do you really drive the sun around?" She asked. Apollo had almost forgotten his promise to talk to her. 

"Yes, I do." 

"Is it super hot? Do you sit on top of it, like a sled?" 

"No, it's a car. A Maserati. And no, it feels normal. To me. Maybe I'm used to it, I dunno." 

"Huh. Is it true that you tripped and fell when you were trying to impress a pretty lady? That's what Lady Artemis... your sister told us." 

The blood rushed to his face. His ears had to be on fire. 

I'm gonna kill my bastard of a sister-

"I think that means yes. How old are you?" 

"I'm about 4,600, why?" 

"Woaaaaaaah. You're super old." 

"Yeah, yeah, eat your sandwich, and hush." He stood up, walking towards Artemis. 

He sat frustrated next to her. "Would you mind to tell me why you didn't tell them I was coming?"

She shrugged. "Not enough time?" 

He lowered his voice. "Bullshit. C'mon Artie, I thought this was gonna be fun?" 

"It will be fun, just hang in there. We're doing far more tomorrow anyway. And... these kids are really excited to meet you. Gods I hate saying that." She made a sour face. "Well, some of them are, anyway. I see you've met Aoife." 

"Yeah, why?" 

"She was really happy to hear you were coming. She's still, ah.. adjusting to the whole 'gods are real and you're a demigod' thing."

"Oh. Well, she's a sweet kid, I just... I dunno." He took a bite of his own sandwich, which he had been neglecting. 

Bologna. Ugh. 

He hated bologna. It reminded him a bit too much of the texture of human. Long story. Tantalus. Don't ask. 

"I think I'm gonna take a walk. I.. I'll be back."

"Alright. Try to be here in an hour?"

"Sure Artie, whatever." He gave a little wave, and wandered into the dense forest. 

Chapter Text

The water from the bank he dipped his legs into was cold, but he didn't mind. He could regulate his body temperature anyways.  

He was disappointed. He wasn't sure why he was disappointed. This was supposed to be fun, why was he upset?  

He just wanted to have time with Artemis. 
You are having fun. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. 

He felt like shit. And nothing had gone wrong yet! They were having a nice time! Artie was trying to connect with him, in her own way. 

He guessed he was just overreacting. He knew his sister had to work, she had stuff to do and couldn’t mope around like a loser. Like him. 

He wondered if the kids really were excited to see him. If he deserved it. If he even deserved being a god, if now that he was back, he’d completely forget all he learned about being human.

But that was for the best, wasn’t it? Everyone was already expecting him to go back to his old ways, why shouldn’t he act like he used to? 

But truth be told, he didn’t want to. He never liked Olympus. He pretended to, for the sake of his reputation. He never liked their stupid council meetings or the speeches he’d have to sit through, or give.

The lectures. Gods, the lectures. And the fact that he was so stupid, so weak that he felt like cowering at a statue. 
A fucking statue, Apollo, really?

He was better than this. He’d have to be better than this. If those little girls were excited to see who he used to be, than he’d put on a show.

———————————————————————

Artemis startled him out of his trance by poking him on the shoulder. 

“Are you gonna come back? We were looking for you.”

”Yeah, I was going to, it’s just...” 

“What?” 
“Were they actually excited to meet me, or are you trying to make me feel better?” 

He said it. Gods above, he said it and now it was all ruined, all ruined and Artie would go back to being so cold and he would have to be selfish again and- 

“Yes. They were asking about you all week. They heard of all you’ve accomplished.” 

Oh. How stupid am I? 

“Yeah, of course I’m coming. What’s next?” 
_____________________________________

Chapter Text

Camping with Artemis, like all good things, must come to an end. 

He felt oddly relieved when he returned back to his palace on Mt. Olympus. The trip was fun, but he still had that lingering feeling of forgetfulness, like there was something he was missing. Something he had to do. 

Of course, he had many godly responsibilities. But he felt as though he should be remembering something from his time as a mortal. So he tried recounting the events of his punishment. 

I found Meg, and then we met up with Percy Jackson, we went to Camp Halfblood- 

Camp Halfblood. It was something to do with Camp Halfblood. He knew it, the anxiety in his gut kept rising as he remembered the struggles there, the whispers from Dodona, the constant fainting, the battle... 

No, back up a little bit. Before the battle. What came before the battle? 

The visions, more fainting, the uselessness. 

Visions. Visions?

Yeah! The Grove of Dodona whispering to him, his memories of tragedy, the vision of Daphne, the ghost of-

No. No, no, no Apollo, you are not going back to your delusions about being able to bring him back. He's dead, remember? He's gone. It's over and done with, and nothing in the world could possibly change the fact that you'll never ever see him again. 

I miss him so much. 

And he did. He had for millennia. To the point where you couldn't mention the man's name without that feeling of dread and guilt weighing on him, crushing him with an iron fist. 

And he knew it was delusional, to think that hallucinating about his ghost visiting him was actually real, that it wasn't just his father playing games with him, that he was even worthy of being with him, but he liked it. 

He enjoyed the idea of being good enough. But he wasn't, was he? No, he "commemorated" him for his own selfish gain. Maybe if they hadn't ever met, maybe if Apollo made him a god, maybe if, if, if, if, if, if, if....

He enjoyed the idea of Hyacinthus loving him. Loving him completely, since no one ever had, really. 

But what if he didn't even truly love him, if the mortal was simply basking in the benefits it gave him, if Apollo really wasn't good enough, even for him. 

What if he was alive? Would they even still love one another? Would Hyacinthus hate who he'd become?

Would he? Would... would he still love Apollo after seeing him like this? 

I'm insane. I'm so bloody fucking insane to even think that he'd.. that he'd even take a second glance at me. 

He was so fucking worthless, wasn't he? Wasn't he? He had ruined lives, ruined the life of Hyacinthus, and Daphne, and Coronis, and Cyparissus, and Admetus, and the countless others he thought he'd "loved." Love. So cruel, isn't it? 

Why did love need to be so cruel to him? 

He'd cried over it, countless dozens of times, how ugly and mean love could be. But did he even deserve it? 

Chapter Text

Apollo had been crying, Hermès  could tell. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, he had tissues sticking out of his pocket. Hermès was concerned. He did know full well that the process to recovery from his trials would be slow, and likely painful, but he didn't expect crying so soon after the camping trip he had suggested Artemis take him on. It was going to be fun, they had planned it together, a rare occasion all things considering. 

But Apollo didn't seem upset about his trials when Hermès coaxed him to talk about it. He was babbling in Ancient Greek. The words seemed odd coming from him, like he had an accent. Usually they used the standard greek, but this was likely a specific dialect, one that Hermes was not all that familiar with. 

"Hey, could you use the standard, 'Pollo? I can't quite understand some of the things you're saying." Apollo buried his head further into his arms, but nodded slightly. This time, Hermès could make out the sounds. He seemed to be repeating the same thing over and over, which wasn't a good sign. 

"Are you prophesying right now? Should I give you some space?" Back in ancient times, when they were far younger and Apollo was still getting a grasp on how to handle the prophecies, he got very upset and sometimes physically ill from the over exertion. He never liked people comforting him then, and Hermes knew it was usually best to leave him alone for a bit, even if just to recharge. 

Apollo shook his head vigorously. Well, that's a good sign, at least. Maybe he'll want to talk soon. Hermes thought. He focused on attempting to at least get Apollo in a chair or something, not just on the floor of his room. Slowly, slowly, he guided Apollo over to his bed, and sat him down.

His hands were still covering his face, but odd looking purple things were falling from them and collecting in his lap. Hermès stared at them for a few seconds, but decided to move on. 

Apollo was still repeating the phrase over and over, and only when Hermès leaned to rub his back did he catch the meaning. 

Hya... hyacinth? Hyacinthus? Who's..... oh. Oh.

Of course he knew what his brother was sobbing over! Hyacinthus, his lover, the prince from Sparta all those years ago! And obviously he knew why! Gods, he should have noticed earlier! 

"Hey, hey, it's alright. Hug?" He spoke softly, holding out his arms so Apollo would hopefully have someone to cry on. He seemed to accept the hug, burying his head into Hermès' shoulder, still breathing erratically but with significantly less tears. 

Apollo finally spoke. “I.. when I was.. on Earth, I saw him. I know it was him. He told me about the cave of Trophonius, but then he faded and... how could he have known?” 

Hermès was skeptical of his brother’s story. As much as he wanted to believe it, (and he knew just how much pain Apollo felt, he desperately wanted to believe it) he couldn’t help but think that maybe Apollo was having a bit of a breakdown. 

“Are you sure? You’re certain it was him?” 
“Yeah. I’m sure.” He drew in a shaky breath. 

“He was really there, Hermès, I’m not crazy.” 
“I don’t think you’re crazy, ‘Pollo, it’s just.. never mind.” 
He changed his mind about telling Apollo of his worries, realizing it would only upset him further. 

“Just what?” 
He sighed. “You’re sure it wasn’t someone tricking you?” 

It didn’t seem to upset the god as much as Hermès thought, which might be a good sign. 

“I know it wasn’t. You had to be there, Hermès, it... the way he spoke. It was him.” 

This should be thrilling news, Hermès supposed, but he didn’t want to propose anything without being sure.    

“You know what? Hey, do you want me to go and check? I have lists of every soul! If he’s not on there, we can figure something out, alright?” 

“... Okay. I have an appointment tomorrow anyway. But... Hermès?”

”Yeah?” 

“What if he’s.. what if he’s really down there?” 
“If he is, I’m willing to bet my entire bank account Artie and your mom will be upset, and we can do something fun.” 

“Okay. And Hermès?”

”Hmmm?” He had already made his way to the  door. 

“Love you.” 
“I love you to Apollo.” 

Chapter Text

Flying is not a problem when you are a god. Especially not when you’re Hermès, and you have cool flying sneakers that will take you down to the Underworld. 

Hermès was determined to find out whether his brother’s lover was indeed in the Underworld, or if his soul was preserved in the hyacinth. 

He hoped it was the latter; if it wasn’t getting Hyacinthus back to Apollo would prove to be near impossible. He wished he were the god of luck. 

He knew how much Apollo missed Hyacinthus, he knew it well. His poor brother had been missing someone he admitted was likely the love of his life for centuries. 

And with all that had been going on, Apollo deserved a little happiness. 
_____________________________________

Apollo was restless after Hermès left, pacing his room and waiting for the day to end. He had already had enough of this Sunday, and tomorrow he would go back to seeing Dr. Jill. 

How he hoped Hermès didn’t find Hyacinthus on the list. He shouldn’t, anyway.

Apollo had preserved Hyacinthus’ soul inside that damned flower, and he was certain it wasn’t for nothing. 

Still, it was better to check. 

He was nervous. Sure, if it didn’t work out, everyone would be upset and comfort him, but he would feel even worse than before. 

But somehow, knowing this was a last resort made him feel a bit better. Like maybe if it didn’t work out, he could move on in a way? 

Then he felt guilty for even thinking he could move on from that. 
Who am I to move on? It’s my fault anyway. 

He felt like he was being selfish. Why should he make Hermès help him like this? Hermès shouldn’t care about his problems. 
____________________________________

First stop, he’d need to visit his own place. He was certain there was some decent flying sandals in his hoard of shoes!
There had to be.

After searching for barely more than five minutes, he decided to just teleport. It may scare the shit out of Cerberus, but this was important, wasn’t it? 

Although he did suppose if Hyacinthus had spent several millennia in the Underworld, he could probably stand a few more minutes, or maybe hours. 

He wanted to make it up to Apollo. He still felt awfully guilty about betting on his survival for selfish purposes. 
He should really find some better ways to cope. 
_____________________________________
 
Apollo sighed as he watched the clock, waiting for an opportunity to get ready for his appointment. He didn’t think he should be getting ready so early, but who would care? 
He shouldn’t be anxious over this. It didn’t matter anyways. 

What was he going to say to Jill? That he was attempting getting his boyfriend back from the dead? It would be confusing to explain, even the basic concept of it. 
But, Jill Menendez had seen a lot. A lot. 

The clock struck four, and he realized he had been spacing out. He might as well get dressed. 
_____________________________________

Hermès blinked after he teleported across the Styx, disoriented. He hadn’t done that in a while. Charon was looking at him, disapprovingly. 

“Catch!” He took a drachma out of his pocket and threw it towards the old man, who caught it, bit it, and restored it to his pocket. 

Hermès smiled to himself, remembering the time he gave trick money, patented by himself, which blew up if you pressed hard enough. Charon never saw any of his pranks coming. 

But he had a job to do, he couldn’t be goofing off. He had to do this, for Apollo. 
Hell, for Hyacinthus as well. Any mortal that made his brother that lovestruck, must be special. 

Hermès supposed he would be pretty miserable too, if he was murdered violently. 
But hey, at least Hyacinthus had people coming for him! He just hoped the man wasn’t difficult, or too angry. Although, he’d be pretty angry if he were Hyacinthus. 
_____________________________________

Apollo appeared in the hallway, and started walking to the office. He hadn’t shaken his feeling of nervousness, and he wasn’t sure why he felt this way. 

It’s not like anything would happen during the meeting! And it would probably take Hermès several hours to even locate where Hyacinthus was, if he was down there. 

That didn’t make Apollo feel any better about it though. 
_____________________________________

Hermès zipped past the various souls near the bank of the Styx, most looking faded, watery, wearing the same plain clothes. They didn’t look different in any form of the word, and he greatly hoped Hyacinthus was not one of them. If he was? Hermès didn’t want to think about it. 

He made his way towards the storage units (yeah, you just had to roll with it. The Underworld was weird.) 

The long, long lists of scrolls entailing all of the shades names and information lined the walls, some in crates. 

He was certain Hyacinthus would never have ended up in the Fields of Punishment, so it was either Asphodel or Elysium. 
He hoped it wasn’t Asphodel. There were so many people in there, it would take ages.

Then again, he hoped it wasn’t anywhere. He had nearly forgotten that he was looking for Hyacinthus not to be on any of the lists at all, still safe in his flower. 

He decided to skip Asphodel for the time being, skimming the Elysium lists and making a mental note to get someone to arrange it by death date, not name. 
Which sounded backwards, but he knew the exact date of Hyacinthus’ death. And you’d be surprised to see how many ancient names sounded like his. Mainly people from Corinth. 

Nearly two hours later, the Elysium lists were finished. Hyacinthus definitely was not on there. He nearly got exited when he saw ‘Hya’ but that turned out to be the full name. He pitied the poor person that ended up with that one. 

Now, Asphodel. He was gonna be there a while, wasn’t he? 
_____________________________________

Apollo ended up not mentioning Hyacinthus, a feat he was oddly proud for. He wanted to forget it entirely. 

Hermès must still be searching, because he didn’t receive any word from his brother until he had sat down to relax. Or, attempt to at the least. 

“Hey, Apollo?” 
Oh no. No, no, no, no. Hermès sounded worried. That was never, ever a good sign. 
“I can’t find him on the Elysium list. Do you think he might be in Asphodel?” 

Oh thank the gods. Him? Why did he say that?
“Maybe? I never exactly, ah, checked?”

“I may as well look, just to be sure. All good so far though.” 
No, this time he meant it fully. Thank the gods.

Especially Hermès. 

_____________________________________

Hermès sighed as he hung up the phone. 
Okay, Asphodel. Only several million people to get through, this shouldn’t be a problem. 

He didn’t even bother to check the full list that time. He simply scrolled down to the ‘H’ section, regretting not making this digital beforehand. There could be a search bar or something, make this ten times faster, but nooo. 

He lost track of time. Then he realized the scrolls were set up like a dictionary. He could simply scroll to the ‘Hy’ part, and be done. 

No Hyacinthus. There was no Hyacinthus on any of those lists. 
He thanked someone, anyone that there wasn’t one, and that his hunt was over. 

He’d turned up with the best product possible. 
Empty handed. 

Chapter Text

Apollo looked up, startled as Hermès appeared by his side. He looked out of breath. 
Bad news then, huh? I should’ve guessed. 

“He’s not down there.” A lopsided grin spread across his brother’s face. 

“He’s... you mean we can get him back?” He smiled too, equally, if not far more excited than Hermès. 

“Yeah, I think we can. And Apollo? I know how much this means to you. We’ll try our best, alright?” 
If Apollo had tears in his eyes, Hermès didn’t say anything. 

“Thank you. Now let’s bring my boyfriend back.” 

Chapter Text

When Artemis received word of her brother's current project, she was shocked. You would be too if your brother was attempting to raise the dead. Or retracting a soul from a magical botanical bond. 

She was shocked. She wasn't aware Apollo still felt so strongly about the death and demise of his lover, but Hermes sounded earnest in his insistence that they had a plan. And that it was actually going to work. 

Artemis didn't believe them. She didn't think it was possible. She thought that this was likely not a good idea, since it would only cause Apollo more pain. Did he really want the commitment of it all? But he kept insisting that they had a plan, that they found a way. 

She was happy for him, truly she was. But she was worried. 

_____________________________________________________

They called Artemis near immediately, high on the adrenaline of their success. Apollo felt better than he had since.... probably before Hyacinthus died in the first place. It seemed that everything was finally falling into place.

_____________________________________________________

Artemis showed up soon after; they had asked her after all. She was still a bit concerned her brother might be taking things a bit too fast. 

"Are you absolutely certain this is going to work? Whatever you have in mind." 

Apollo looked confused. "What'd'you mean? He's not in the Underworld, he's still alive!"

Artemis sighed. Hermes picked at his hands. "Hermes, tell her what you told me!"

"I... I never said he was alive, just that his soul is not in Hades. It.. doesn't mean much. He could've been lost along the way, or maybe he's one of the souls at the river Styx, and I'm gonna stop talking now because I'm making this worse... right..." 

Apollo looked betrayed. "You told me..." 

"I'm sorry 'Pollo. There's no way to know. We just have to hope." 

The distraught in Apollo's voice turned to sarcasm. "Hope. We have to hope, don't we? I thought this was an actual opportunity, but I guess I'm wrong. Sorry." 
"Apollo, perhaps it's time to move on-" Apollo cut her off.

"Move on?? Move on? Artie, are you really looking at me and telling me to move on? As if I haven't thought of that, a million times?" 
"You think I really want to be like this? If I could have moved on, could have forgotten him, I would've. But I'm tired of pushing things aside. And I have hope that this is going to work. It has to work." 

Artemis sighed yet again. Her brother was right, it couldn't hurt to try. "Alright, alright. What did you have in mind?" 

______________________________________________________

Hermes and Apollo hadn't quite gotten to that part yet. They thought that Artemis would have ideas. She was smart, surely she'd figure something out. 

"You don't have anything?? Apollo, if we're going to get together and do this, I expected at least a few ideas from you." 

"Yeah Apollo"-Hermes chimed in-"We expected more from you." 

Apollo elbowed him. 

"Well, let's brainstorm. Asclepius is out of the question- we don't have a body for him to operate on anyway. So..... what now?"

Hermes looked as though a light-bulb had lit up inside his skull. "Stupid question, but you know the golden fleece?" 

"Obviously Hermes, but that was lost... how many years ago? Since Jason. The other Jason, not Jason Grace. So no, can't use that one." 

Artemis would've smacked him if he wasn't already in a very vulnerable emotional state. "Apollo." 

"What?"
"They, the heroes found it. It's currently at Camp Half Blood. That's what revived my lieutenant, Thalia. And she was a pine tree, remember?" 

Something clicked inside Apollo's mind. 

"If... if Thalia was.. well if she was a plant, do you think...?" 

"It could work." She put her hands on his shoulders, grounding him in the moment. He was grateful, he would've collapsed otherwise. 

"It will work." Hermes spoke up. "We.. we'll make it work."

"And if it doesn't?" 

"It will."

Chapter Text

When they started making plans to go to Camp Half Blood, Artemis knew she had to leave. She wasn't nervous about going or anything, she was reminded of her young hunters, still waiting for her in Canada. 

So she left. Apollo was disappointed, he deeply wanted his sister to be there for it all. Hermes was great, he was awesome; but he wasn't quite as close to Hermes as he was to Artemis. He loved his little brother, but they didn't have the same connection. 

They had made plans to request the fleece from Camp Half Blood. Apollo half worried that they wouldn't give it to him, but he was friends with Chiron; he had practically raised the centaur and they had been on close terms ever since. Which made it a tiny bit weird that Apollo saw him as a sort of father figure, but what can you do. His son (one of his godly sons, mind you, Will is a child.) was fucking his dad's (Zeus') lover, nothing could get weirder than that. 

Hermes seemed wary of visiting, which made sense since he never really went, claimed his kids from afar and was generally absent in the lives of demigods. He chalked it up to overworking, but Apollo was 99% sure he was just scared to visit. Which again, seems weird but his kid did almost start the second Titan war. He was afraid they'd be angry and bitter, so he stayed away, which made it all worse, and it was an endless cycle. 

And Hermes cared for his kids. Truly, he did. Apollo thought he just didn't know how to show it. 
Apollo was far more present in the demigods schedules. (Do they have those? I'm pretty sure their is one for daily activities, but what do I know?) A lot, actually, he was the god of knowledge. 
(A lot of people, including himself, seemed to forget this. Smarts are always attributed to Athena, but he is the actual god for it.) 

Apollo was snapped out of his trance by Hermes' discontinued talking. He hadn't been paying attention, but the silence seemed off. 
"I can't go, I mean... What am I even going to do?! Show up and be like 'hey kids that I've been neglecting, how's life?' that would just be weird! Besides"- He patted Apollo on the back -"You should be the one to bring him back to life or whatever. I would just get in the way anyways." 

Apollo knew full well this was an excuse to get out of visiting camp, but he played along anyway. If Hermes really went out of his way to avoid Camp Half Blood, he thought it was best to leave him alone about it. They'd talk later. (if everything went well.) 

"No, no, It's okay. yeah, I probably should do this alone, he won't recognize you anyway." Hermes nodded quickly, wringing his hands together, and disappeared. Apollo sighed. He supposed he'd have to do it himself then. 

He felt bad for Hermes, but also understood if his children held a grudge. He loved his brother, but he knew that Hermes needed to take some accountability when it came to parenting. If he didn't the situation would simply get worse until it spiraled out of control. 

He breathed in deeply, stood up straight, and willed himself to appear near the border of Camp Half Blood.
________________________________________________________________________________________

The first thing he noticed was the warmth in the air. Oh, how he had missed camp's magical weather protection! Of course, he could make his own personal Spring or Summer wherever he went, but Demeter glared at him when he did and you do not want an angry wheat goddess staring you down when you're on your way to one of Hestia's house warming parties. It dampened the mood even more than her apple juice, which she poured out for guests. Because 'wine hurts you!' Ganymede showed up once, took one look at the place, and left. Apollo didn't blame him. 

Anyyyywaaaayyssss.... The gentle spring, summer (?) breeze pushed his hair behind his ears. Then it blew so hard a stick hit him on the left side of his head. 

So yeah, Zephyrus didn't like him. That was completely fine, the bastard was too much of a coward to even face Apollo after what he did. 

What he did. Apollo was literally here to reverse what he did. 

It was all his fault. Zephyr (Apollo) killed him. If it wasn't for him (Apollo) Hyacinthus would still be alive! Apollo loathed Zephyr for what he (Apollo) did. 
(You threw the discus. He warned you of the storm! You did this.) 

Apollo pushed his own thoughts behind him. If it was true that he was at fault, he needed to fix it. This would fix it. 

Maybe. 

Chapter Text

As soon as he came into view of the cabins, Will jogged up to him.
"It's been a while."   "It has, hasn't it?"

He noticed his hands were shaking slightly, and pushed them back into his pockets. Will smiled. He looked older somehow, though he hadn't aged since his father's last visit. It was likely from the most recent quest he and Nico had been dragged into going on. Quests do that to you. 
Will's eyes looked tired, like he had been up all night in the infirmary. Apollo knew that look, he looked like that whenever he spent too much energy healing someone. 

"What happened?" He asked, because he was concerned. He hadn't heard of any attacks on Camp Half Blood, and there were certainly no more wars, but something was up. 
"Harley, the little kid from Hephaestus? He... I'll tell you later." 

Hesitation was never good. Apollo knew something deeply wrong must have happened, but he hoped his imagination was just running rampant. It hadn't occurred to him that the demigods might be struggling at the moment. He was too wrapped up in his own endeavors, which were still important, but not immediate. 

"Is there anything I can do?" 
"Only if you can raise the dead." Will shook his head and Apollo's stomach dropped to his toes. 

What cruel irony he was being asked that as he searched for a way to raise his dead.  Harley was so young, barely ten. No one should die that young. 
Unfortunately, the golden fleece likely couldn't help any. This was a special occasion, and the god wasn't even sure it would work. 

Will looked at him. "So... what's up?" 

He felt embarrassed to even say. His trouble seemed so small compared to the bombshell Will had just given him.
"I'm.... is Chiron here?" He hoped the centaur was. He didn't think he could admit anything else to his son. 

"Yeah, he should be in the Big House. I'm gonna go take a nap, alright? Long shift." Will pointed over to the large farmhouse that served as Dionysus and Chiron's home at the moment, and started making his way to his cabin. 

"Go rest!" He called after Will. 

It was time to see if this would work. Anxiety ate its way through Apollo's stomach, leaving him hungry, scared, and looking very, very young. His hair was somewhere between blond and brown, he seemed shorter, younger, as he knocked on the door. 

Chiron opened it. Without looking, he said; "Will, please go get some sleep. I already told you, there's nothing left to be-" he cut himself off, seeing Apollo. 

"... Hello Chiron." It sounded more like a question than a greeting. The wrinkles showed on Chiron's face as he smiled down towards him. 

"Apollo, hello. Is there a reason you're visiting?"
"Actually? Yes." 

Chapter Text

"And what would that be?" Chiron asked him, his eyebrow quirking upwards towards his graying hair. 

"Well.." Apollo took a deep breath, preparing to be shot down, "I heard that the golden fleece was found a while ago, I was hoping I could... borrow it?" 

"Of course! I mean, what for?" 

"It's a bit personal, if you don't mind, I'll just return it tomorrow?" 

Chiron looked concerned, but didn't say anything, just nodded. Apollo felt vaguely guilty for not telling him what he was up to, but he really did not want to be the center of attention at the moment. Not when the camp was so clearly in distress. 

He took the fleece and left. It somehow didn't feel right, like he should be worrying about something else at the moment, but he desperately wanted this and he needed to take the opportunity. And he definitely did not want to do it at camp. 

Not only would that be weird for the campers, who really had no idea about Hyacinthus' existence, it would be awkward for Apollo to. Hell, it would probably freak out Hyacinthus!
And there was always the possibility that it didn't work. That would give him something to talk about in therapy.

So he'd do it somewhere private, secluded, hopefully not while being watched. He didn't want his tearful reunion to be spied upon by his family. And he wasn't even letting Artemis or Hermes watch. It would be just for him, just for them, no one else. 

Chapter Text

One problem. Where would he even find such a place? He supposed he could maybe do it in his palace, but there was always a chance of the muses or someone walking in or disturbing them... him. 

He mulled the possibilities over. He definitely wasn’t doing it in the Sun Palace, that was not personal enough in the slightest. But no one had really left him alone to himself since his return to godhood. 

Then again, he could just make a place. Yes, he had nearly forgotten he had the ability to create things out of thin air. And Hyacinthus would probably react best in a place he was used to, so a villa it was. 

Of course, Hyacinthus didn’t live in one normally, but in the last few months they had shared, they had a cottage near the field where he died. Apollo thought it best that he try to replicate that, to ease him into the world. 

He’d create an exact replica, for he still remembered it clearly, how could he forget, that was the best two months of his life! 
And when he lost it, he felt like he’d never find love that deep and pure again.

And he never did. It was true what they said, that he’d never gotten over Hyacinthus. Of course, many people pegged Daphne as his one true love, but now that he had gone through that time as a mortal? Even thinking about trying to romanticize his actions made him nauseous. He wasn’t in love, he was obsessed. It was purely fabricated, made by Eros to play with his feelings, and play he did.

But Hyacinthus was.. different, in a way. At the time, he had been hesitant to offer immortality to the prince, because of their inability to be married, but he was going to ask. For his birthday. A birthday that never came. 

Now, creating a picture perfect replica of their abode in his mind, warping it into exsistence and seeing back together the fabric of reality, he knew that if he had the chance to see his lover again, there would be absolutely no hesitation. 
He needed Hyacinthus, needed him badly, to be by his side once more. 

Chapter Text

The villa was finished. Their was no going back now, no matter how he felt anxiety creep into his gut. What if something went wrong? What if it didn’t work? What if, worst of all, Hyacinthus was angered with him? 

He had known that was a possibility, yes, they had argued sometimes, but that was a fear of his he had been harboring on to. If Hyacinthus was mad at him, mad at him for everything? 

What if the man didn’t understand the order of events that had happened, that it wasn’t truly Apollo that had killed him? 

What if he didn’t want to be with Apollo anymore? 
They were reasonable questions, reactions, and that alone scared him. If Hyacinthus reacted poorly, how could he blame him? 

He would need to accept his fate. Their fate. Whatever it may be. 

Chapter Text

But did he want to? No. 

He would much rather have maintained his mindset from before his trials, before he had seen sacrifice, before he realized that love can come from anywhere. This would be so much easier if he was the old Apollo, he thought, as he draped the fleece over a chair and sat down.

He missed this place. It reeked of longing for life, things he thought he'd never experience. How could he? How, when life formed at his fingertips, as though on command. How, when he himself had never chased life, only beseeched it. Beseeched it to stay, to stay with him, often not for his gain, but for the others he'd loved. 

He realized now, that all the people, all of them, that he hurt, deserved justice. It was unfortunate that he couldn't bring it. But he didn't want his guilt to stop him from taking this chance, for happiness.

He stood up once more, not taking the fleece but going outdoors, out back, near the glen that he had made, a replica of times far better than these. 

His hands shook. He could feel sweat building on his upper lip. It reminded him of his time as Lester. (He'd have to explain that to Hyacinthus, wouldn't he...) 

His breathing, surprisingly, was steady as he knelt on the ground and dug with his fingertips. 

He hated doing this. He hated creating one, and then feeling the same guilt and pain and dread that rose with it. 

A hyacinth bloomed.

He walked back inside. 

The fleece was right where he had left it, on the chair. His hands were steady now as looked at it, and remembered that Hyacinthus would not recognize him, not while he looked like this. 
He had nearly forgotten in his exitement that Hyacinthus was from an entirely different time, and it would likely scare him to be thrust into the modern world. 

Luckily, Apollo remembered what he used to look like. 

The body felt comfortable, from the memories attached to it. He oftentimes changed appearance when talking to people. He had an Olympus form, a 'I'm talking to Zeus and I'm scared out of my mind but he wants me to be macho', many bodies attached to different people, etc. 

This body felt like Hyacinthus. Like home. It made all their days a little more clear, he could remember the little things with instinct. 

He ran his hands down the chiton, shorter and more easily equipped for physical movement. He had put this on to play the discus, he remembered, he had helped Hyacinthus into his own. 
Oh, if only they had stayed inside! He could still hear his lover teasing him about taking a bit too long to help him with the clothes. If only he had taken him up on his offer. 

He walked back outside, this time with the fleece. 

A hyacinth still bloomed where he had left it. 

He wanted to do this. He would fix it. 

His hands were steady. It all felt like a breath of fresh air. He was reminded of what being human was. 

He knelt down, placing the fleece carefully next to him. 

He wished he could do this for the others. 

This would be so much easier if he was the old Apollo. If he could be overly confident, in his abilities.

But did he really want that? No. 

Chapter Text

Gently, slowly, he laid the fleece atop of the flower. And he sat, a few feet away, waiting. 

Why hadn't he asked how long this took? Dread bubbled in his stomach as a minute passed. Then two. Then three. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes. 
If this didn't work, he simply could not do it anymore. He would finally breakdown, probably cause another plague, and destroy some cities. 

He did not look up from his hands, which he held in his lap. Fear filled his heart. 

He did not look up, no.

Until the fleece was glowing. 

It was glowing, getting brighter and brighter, until he was forced to protect his eyes with godly power to watch. And he watched. He watched as a silhouetted figure rose from the flower, into the glow, and then fell. 

He couldn't move. He wanted to move, wanted it desperately, wanted to see what was going on and if it had worked. 

The figure stood. 

Gravity, or was it his own shock, forced him to his knees. The figure walked towards him, curious. 

As it approached, Apollo realized it was speaking. 

He knew that voice. 

He understood those words. 

The tears rolled down his cheeks. They must have built up too strong. Vaguely, he understood that he was in shock, and that he needed to calm down. 
He couldn't make out the words the man was speaking, (Hyacinthus! That's Hyacinthus, a voice inside him screamed, but he didn't hear it.) but he knew the voice. He knew the concerned tone, the cautious approach in every word. 

When Hyacinthus kneeled in front of him, something inside him broke. He could move. He could understand. 

"Ἀπόλλων? Are you alright?" 

His name. That was his name, that was who he was, and it was coming from.. it was coming from.. 

He was touching Hyacinthus, when he reached in front of him. 

"What happened?" 

He found his tongue. "What?" 

"What happened? I.. you were showing me how to play, remember? And I was teasing you about not being able to reach that tree, the big one near that lake? And you threw it, I ran and... well that's all I remember."  

He threw his arms around Hyacinthus, openly sobbing. Now the prince was understandably worried. 
"I.. what's the matter, love? I don't understand.."

He was not going to explain it out here. He didn't want to explain it at all. He had to, but he could do it inside, where they were safe, and he could hold Hyacinthus in peace. 
"Inside. I'll.. please, please come inside." 

Hyacinthus only nodded, taking his hand and guiding him inside. 

They walked towards the bedroom. His hands were shaking again, even as Hyacinthus sat him down, held his hands, and waited for him to answer. Apollo couldn't bear to look up at him. He'd surely cry seeing those concerned eyes, violet with the sunlight hitting them. 

"You don't have to tell me, it's alright. Do you wanna lay down?" 
He shook his head. He had to do this. 

"I.. threw the discus, and you ran to get it."
"Mhmm..?"

"The wind.. it. It hit you. It bounced off the ground and hit you." He reached up to move Hyacinthus' hair, trace the scar with his fingers. Hyacinthus was silent, it seemed like he was unaware of the injury. 

"What hit me?"
"The discus.. it flew and hit you, the wind must have changed. I ran towards you but.. there was.. there was nothing I could do. I even tried nectar. Nothing worked. I'm so sorry, I swear I didn't mean to-" 

Hyacinthus cut him off, placing a finger to his lips. 
"It's okay, shhh, it's okay. You tried to save me, it's alright."

Apollo was not deterred. 
"Are you mad at me? 

"Of course I'm not mad at you, don't worry. Why don't we lay down, huh? Wanna lay down?" 

He did indeed. 

Chapter Text

Laying down was probably the best choice, it allowed him further access to Hyacinthus, more of him to wrap his arms around and hold like he'd disappear any second. Which, in Apollo's mind, was definitely possible. Hyacinthus was running his fingers through Apollo's hair, and the god felt a sense of safety, like his need for physical contact had been satisfied. Which, by the way, was not something he was even aware of needing. But it sure felt nice, having his lover there to be the one to fill it. 

His arms were wrapped around the middle of Hyacinthus' back, holding on like he was the only thing anchoring him to the Earth. He felt like that, too. Like he would simply float away into the clouds if he could not reach out to feel warm skin next to him. 

He felt he could lay there forever, burying his head into Hyacinthus' shoulder, letting him play with his hair and whisper words of comfort that he did not deserve. He should be comforting Hyacinthus, he realized, he should be holding him gently in his arms as he cried. Not the other way around, he should be stronger than this. He should be better than this. 

But he was not. And Hyacinthus did not seem to mind, murmuring about how it was all going to be okay, and that he loved him. It just made Apollo sob a little harder, that Hyacinthus loved him. The fear of resentment from his lover was washed away in the soft kisses pressed to his forehead, and he noticed that he hadn't even kissed Hyacinthus properly yet. That wouldn't do. 

It was almost chaste, compared to the other times they had embraced, but his cheeks were wet with tears and he felt paralyzed. It was not devoid of emotion, no, certainly not. He mustered as much 'I missed you' to convey in the kiss, barely even capturing the other's lips, but it was fixed when Hyacinthus cupped his face and brought him closer. 

Hyacinthus was smiling and he realized that he wasn’t crying, not then. How could he ever when Hyacinthus looked at him so tenderly. No, he wasn’t crying. Affection so powerful it swept over him in waves, drowning him in his own love, came over him. 

He realized he could explain all of this tomorrow. All of it could be done tomorrow. Tonight, he needed to fall asleep on Hyacinthus’ chest, tracking the steady rise and fall, listening to his heartbeat.

Chapter Text

For a sun god, Apollo hated mornings. 
Or, he hated having to wake up early and then get on with his miserable chores again. It was like he was still being punished. 

Even so, he had had quite the dream. Not that he could remember what it was. Something about.... a fuzzy thing? And love. 

He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to get up again just to go through the motions like everyday. Without looking, he reached for his phone, which should have been on the end table. 

There was no end table. 
That’s... weird. I don’t remember renovating. He sighed. His breathing sounded louder than usual, for reasons he could not muster. 

That’s not me. He realized, for when he held his breath there was still the sound of breathing. 

Damnit am I drunk? I better not have brought someone home. 

He shifted his body, and noticed that there was indeed another person in the bed. He looked around. 

This was not his palace. His room in their was huge, this was cozy, and very, very old. He hadn’t seen a room like this in... who was the person anyway? 

His head felt groggy, and he turned around. 

No. No way. No. He was hallucinating, he had to be. The man laying asleep looked exactly like.. like... 

“Mmm.. ‘πόλλων?” He was awake now, apparently. 

The events of the day previous rushed back to him as he recognized the voice. 
Hyacinthus was alive. He was alive, and he was here, in their old villa, and-

“Yes, love?” 
“Don’t you have to.. rise the sun?” 

Right. He should, ah.. probably explain. 

“Well I don’t really.. need to, and I’d rather not right now, if that’s okay.” 
“Oh.” Hyacinthus sighed lightly. “Come back, I’m cold.” 

He was cold himself, and how could he ever deny his lover something like that. 

Chapter Text

This day was.. different, somehow. Not a bad kind of different, just different in the way that it made Apollo's anxiety be amplified, different in the way that Hyacinthus was not smiling his brilliant smiles, but had his face drawn into a serious expression, the kind one would wear when they learned their kingdom was under attack. 

Something had to change, Apollo knew, but he couldn't tell what. Of course there were the obvious things, like how he needed to break the truth to Hyacinthus, how he needed to do his job, needed to get back to Olympus, needed to ask the most terrifying question possible. 

See, Hyacinthus was alive, but he was still mortal. Any little thing could take him away again, and he had certainly made some enemies. So when Apollo got the call from Chiron that their weather barriers were entirely broken, he couldn't say he was surprised. It wouldn't be true. 

They were still sitting on the bed, phone hanging in Apollo's loose grip, and Hyacinthus put a hand on his shoulder. 

"What do we need to do?" He asked. It wasn't a question, not really. What needed to be done, he was wondering, and he was sure as hell gonna do it. 

"I should explain."

Hyacinthus looked at him, waiting for news. Bad news, good news, news. 

"It's been... a long time since I've seen you. Millennia." He expected Hyacinthus to pale, to get angry, to do anything, but he didn't. He simply sat there, and listened. 

"Over the years, demigods have formed their own... training facilities, to protect themselves. The person who just spoke to me is the.. king of this training camp. We, the gods, have been protecting these camp borders for a long time. No one but demigods, and us, can get in or out. Your arrival... some people have figured out that you're back. There's no nice way to say this, but Zephyr is likely out to get you. To get us." 

He paused for a moment, but Hyacinthus only nodded. "I figured as much."

"He can't.. He was banned from being near me, even seeing me, Hyacinthus. Which means as long as you're with me, he can't get you either. So he'll attack the next best thing. These are children he's threatening. My children." 

He again expected something. A negative reaction. He didn't want one of course, but human emotions are.. complex. He wasn't sure whether the thought of him having kids would make Hyacinthus upset. 

"I understand. We have to help them."

"I have to help them. I can't let anything happen to you."

"You are not doing this on your own. I caused this, I have to fix it!" 

"I can't loose you again, alright! I can't... I-" He cut himself off. He wanted to curl into a tiny ball and cry for everything that had happened. Cry for all that he's done, cry for the tragedies, cry. 

But he couldn't. He knew that. He had to be strong, for himself and for his kids and for Hyacinthus, but he wanted it all to go away. Instead, Hyacinthus wrapped his arms around Apollo's waist, letting him lay his head on his shoulder, and if there were tears in his eyes? No one saw them. 

Chapter Text

“You should probably get some new clothes.” 
Hyacinthus stared at him, seemingly confused as to why he would be asking such a thing, especially right after they had just made plans to rescue his kids, which by the way, he had. 

“The dirt?” Right, he probably thought it wa star mud and grass stains on his toga that were the problem. More explaining. 

“No, the uh.. fashions have changed. There’s pants now, you should try them.” 
Hyacinthus blinked once, twice, as thought trying to process the information. It reminded Apollo of Mr. McClean, how he had a somehow managed to shove down his own emotions for the sake of Piper. 
It also reminded him of that embarrassing celebrity crush deal he had going on there. 

“Pants are... what?” 
“They’re like.. leg armor. For everyday use.” 

To his surprise, Hyacinthus immediately began laughing. 
“Leg armor?... like the Persians? What’s next, physical tests are mandatory for old men and the aulos is not played at banquets?” 

Ooh. This.. this might be worse than Apollo thought.

”Yeah.. umm.. anyways.. The people in this, ah.. kingdom, have very strict traditions with that kind of stuff. They might not take it very well if you don’t wear the proper... leg garments?” 

A lightbulb must have clicked in Hyacinthus’ head, because he nodded. 
“Oh, it’s tradition? I understand. And we are going to help them, right? So it will be best to wear the proper gear of their land.” 

Well, maybe he better just leave the explaining for later. They needed to get moving, before anything progressed. But he really did need to ask Hyacinthus something. 

It would have to wait, for the phone rang again. Hyacinthus stared at it quizzically. 

“Hurry, we’re—attack—border down!” It was Chirons voice, frantically giving orders in the background. It cut in and out, and hung up suddenly, like the power lines had gone down around the area. Come to think of it, they probably had. 

Hyacinthus stopped his confusion as he saw the panicked look on Apollo’s face. 
“We need to go, now. Just, it doesn’t matter what clothes you have anymore. Come on!” 

“Slow down, slow down. Where is this place?” 
“We’re gonna have to.. I’ve done this with you, haven’t I? Teleport.” 

“That thing where you show up out of nowhere and scare me? Yeah, I know.” 
“We’re gonna have to do it together. Uh.. take my hand?”
(Wow, now was not the time to get flustered by holding hands with someone you’ve done much more intimate things with. Way to go, Apollo.) 

Chapter Text

They landed outside the borders of Camp Half Blood. Without realizing, he had already taken a modern appearance, but if Hyacinthus noticed, he chalked it up to Apollo being a god, and gods could do that. He had learned to just accept that some things Apollo did would weird him out. 

Of course, Hyacinthus had no such ability. He was still wearing that damned toga, which by now was covered in blood, sweat, and tears. Quite literally, might I add, since he had died in it. 

They were right about the storm. Giant, fully black clouds hovered directly over the camp, and the wind was blowing so strongly the oak trees threatened to keel over. 

It seemed that the border was indeed broken, since Apollo could not sense any magic, other than the very clear signs that a certain wind god was orchestrating all of this. 

The wind seemed to funnel specifically around the Apollo cabin, but they had other problems. The borders were entirely removed, which meant the camp was open to attack. And the monsters would be jumping at the opportunity. 

They ran down the hill. Apollo was vaguely aware that his hands were literally on fire, but he was too focused on saving the camp that he didn’t notice. Hyacinthus’ eyes had a different sort of shine to them, like how Megs rhinestone glasses would glitter. 

Apollo remembered his pledge not to ever count Meg out if the rhinestones still glittered. He supposed the same went for Hyacinthus. If he had taken the time to notice a few things abut himself, he would have realized that his own eyes were emitting light so strong it looked as though he lit a light-bulb in them. And his hair was on fire. He couldn't worry about that thought, he needed to.. to.. 

Apparently, he needed to follow Hyacinthus, who had taken off towards a group of demigods. 

"Why.. where... they're wearing armor. Why are they prepared for battle? Where's the troops? The cavalry? Don't tell me this kingdom isn't supplied?!" He looked around widly at the group, which were now staring at him openly. 

"There.. there are none. This is their battalion. I brought you here..." He turned to the kids. "Can you all understand him?" 
Most of them nodded. Good, he thought. Then the dialect in Amyclae is intelligible. He had been getting worried that no one would be able to understand him, but he guessed it just sounded like a strong accent. 

"I brought you here because you.. well you know the most about this kind of thing. If anyone can lead a group of demigods in a fight against Zephyrus? It's you." He looked up from the ground to find Hyacinthus staring intently at his hands, looking like he was thinking furiously about something. He could have been making a decision. 

He then nodded once. Apollo took that as a "Alright, I understand what I need to do" because he led the group of demigods away and began asking questions. Turning his gaze away from him, he looked back towards the camp. In the distance, the figure of Will Solace approached him. 

He looked back one last time at Hyacinthus, who was asking where they kept their weapons, and ran towards his son. 
Well, he wasn't running. His feet were no longer touching the ground. 

By the time he actually reached Will, he was several feet into the air and looked like a pillar of light. That was okay, he supposed, he was supposed to be threatening and what better way to do it then become the sun itself. 

Will was clearly injured, and it made him significantly more furious at that cowardly wind god. 
"What happened?!" 

Will took a deep breath, or what he guessed was an attempt. It was like his ribs had been crushed. "Skeletons. Nico managed to get most of them under control, but some of us were hurt pretty badly." 

"Where is Nico?"
"He's... I don't know! I don't know I don't... I have to go.. heal. Heal. There are people hurt." 

He was tempted to order him to get some sleep, but he knew that would only make it worse. He himself had been driven mad by paranoia and anxiety before, it was not fun. Yet, Will ran off in the opposite direction.

He looked around. There were demigods on all sides, some familiar, some not. He wondered where his kids were, but was drawn away from that thought with the sound of swords clashing. He whipped around towards the sound, ready to intervene. 

It was Hyacinthus. Fighting. It wasn't surprising, no, definitely not, he was a prince of Sparta, heir to the throne, and obviously he would know how to fight. 

His toga was somehow more bloody, stained with hues of red and gold (monster dust, Apollo realized with pride), and brown. It was torn at the ends, where he had ripped it to tie his hair back in knots. 

He had apparently found a sword to use, for he was holding off several various monsters. 

He couldn't do it, Apollo knew. There was just too many.

One of them came up from behind him, baring their long, sharp claws.

No.

The fire from his hands exploded, blasting the monster, not just killing it, but completely evaporating it. There was no signs of a body, or anything at all. Not even dust was left behind. 

Hyacinthus remained unscathed. "Κίνηση!" He just wanted him out of the way, so that he could slaughter these things. Luckily, Hyacinthus dodged another blow from a scorpion-spider hybrid, and ran back up the hill. 

He felt his hands heating once more, but focused on concentrating the blast in several directions, so as to eliminate all of them at once, but not harm Hyacinthus. 
He was successful. They let out piercing, high pitched screams while they melted into the earth, withering the grass as they went. 

That was the last of the bunch. Hyacinthus had sat down, gripping his leg like a vice. 

He's injured.

Your fault. 

It was a new voice, not quite the one that had taunted him as he came to camp for the golden fleece, but it was certainly familiar. 

What?
You heard me. It's your fault. If you hadn't been so selfish, well.... maybe he could have survived. 

Who the hell was this bastard, and why did they sound so... familiar? 

Who are you?
Oh, I think you know. I could have spared him. Alas, you had to be... difficult.
You. 
Oh, I'm so scared! What's the great and glorious Phoebes Apollyon going to do to my poor soul?
What I should have done a long time ago. 

Him. It was him. Apollo wanted to destroy him, flay him bit by bit, piece by piece, rip him apart with his teeth, swallow, and make the μπάσταρδος watch, make him suffer. 

Zephyrus. 

Later, he’d understand that the mental conversation lasted less than a second, but it felt like he had just abandoned his goal of helping Hyacinthus. 

He rushed over to the place where he sat, kneeling down and trying to get him to move his hands, which were likely keeping the blood in. 

“Can you move them for me, αγάπη? I’m gonna heal you, don’t worry.” 

His calm demeanor faltered as Hyacinthus slowly moved his hands away from the wound, gripping them together. Apollo could tell he was trying not to scream.

It was bad. Really, really bad. The flesh had been torn, it looked like he had been stabbed with a claw similar to the one of the monster Apollo evaporated. It was still stuck within.

Had he not been entirely focused on healing, he would have completely broken down. So it was lucky he was murmuring words of encouragement to Hyacinthus, whose hands were still clasped together. 

He’d have to pull it out. It was the only possible way to get to the root of the injury. 
“σκατά, σκατά, σκατά!” 

He took a deep breath. 
“Okay, I’m gonna have to pull it out.” 

Hyacinthus looked up at him, eyes wide with pain and fear. He was sweating, dirty, bloody, had just been stabbed, and yet somehow he managed to still find the strength to nod. 

Apollo positioned his hands around the claw, one making a ‘u’ shape around it, while the other would pull. It was reminiscent of pulling arrows out of a target. 

“Do you want me to count down?”
Another nod. 

“Okay. 3, 2, 1!” He pulled firmly upward, and Hyacinthus screamed. 

The claw was out. Now, he could start healing. 

His hands glowed as he quickly hummed a hymn that would speed up the process, and he set them gently upon Hyacinthus’ leg. He only whimpered in response. 

The glow seeped into the wound and around them, sealing the skin and leaving only a deep scar that would heal further with time. 

Hyacinthus sighed gratefully as the pain faded.  Apollo took his hands, which were still held tightly, and held them in his own. 

He vowed that when they got home, there could be time made for intimacy. Now, he just kissed his forehead and helped him up. 

“Can you walk?” 
Hyacinthus demonstrated his yes by moving swiftly ahead. 
Good. It had worked properly then, as it should, since he was a bit more tired now. 

They moved towards the big house, where monsters lay, choking on vines. Dionysus was encouraging his kid (Castor? Pollux? Apollo couldn’t tell the two apart) to make a net of sorts, and get multiple at once. 

All the while the wind raged. Apollo knew he needed to think about priorities. 

They needed to stop the monsters from attacking. That was the first step, and the most easily fixed. The border simply had to be repaired. 

He hovered in the air yet again, trying to sense the location of the disturbance in the magic. It was likely a temporary thing, caused by Zephyr, so if he could be distracted, it would go back up. Right? 

It was worth a shot. He flew higher. 

“Zephyrus! Be brave and face me, coward!” From behind a cloud, Zephyr emerged. 
He looked the same as he did near 2,000 years ago, but then again, so did Apollo. 

“Me, a coward? How sweet. You’ve spent what, 1,938 years waiting to be reunited with your sweetheart?” 

“Don’t speak of him. You have no right.” 

They flew in circles, Apollo’s form crackling and shimmering now that he was near the sun. Zephyr’s dark hair blew up like it was caught in a tornado. 

“No right to speak of the man I love?” 
That was it. The straw that broke the camel’s back. Without thinking, a volley of electricity and fire flew from his hands, directly at Zephyr.

This was his game, wasn’t it?! Trying to get Apollo riled up, until he could call on his servitude to Eros as a means to an out. 

It was too much. It was all too much. 
“Love?! Love! TWO THOUSAND YEARS! I’ve loved him! I’ve been there! Not you! Who held him? Who let him be upset, let him be angry, let him hate?” 

Zephyr was silent, catching his breath after the blow.

”Me. It was me, Zephyr. Did you love him?” 
He seemed to have found his tongue, laughing incredulously. 
“Obviously! But no, the great Apollo had to steal away my chance at happiness!” 

That struck a chord with him. A sliver of pity rose in his mind. He knew how it felt, to be in love with someone who did not return the feelings. 

“I never.. I just wanted to love someone, alright? I’m tired of being looked down on, overturned. I’m not useless.” 
Thunder boomed above. 

Maybe he could go the peaceful route after all.

“No. You’re not. People rely on you, you know. You are important.”
Zephyr faltered. Apollo could sense a bit of the border being restored. Far below him, Hyacinthus helped Will bandage the younger campers.  

“I never thought of what that must be like, until now. After my punishment, I realized something. You are just as important as you make yourself out to be.” 

“I just wanted to be happy. I thought I found a person that could make me happy.” Tears slid down his cheeks. 

Deep down, Apollo realized, Zephyr was lonely. He had spent most of his life reminiscing on what could have been, he had never truly found happiness. And while they could never be friends, Apollo felt for him. He understood the pain of losing out on love. 

“I understand. You said you loved him?” 
“Still do.” 
“Then you need to let him go. He’s made a decision, Zephyr. And there’s something else I’ve learned.”

“If you love someone, if you really, truly love them? Then you want them to be happy. I want Hyacinthus to be happy. And if he chose someone else? Then I would live my life knowing that he was happy. I will let him go, if that’s what he chooses. Yet, I don’t think that’s your problem.” 

Silence. The tears hadn’t stopped. But the border was slowly reforming. 

“I think you’re holding yourself back. You can love, Zephyr. In fact, I want you to. I can never forgive you, it is not my place, but.. I want you to move on.” 

“I don’t think I hate you, not entirely. I’m only defending Hyacinthus. Please, let us, let him be. I will leave you alone. No taunting, no teasing, no hatred. You can find someone, and we can both be happy. That’s what I want, Zephyr. I want happiness.” 

The wind gods body shook, noiselessly sobbing. Apollo could tell he was rapidly losing his grip on the border. The clouds were not so dark. 

“I couldn’t.. can’t.. I hated myself. For feeling that way, you know? Who was I to fall for a man? I want to be happy. I love him. If love means happiness, If love means making the person you love happy, then.. then I’ll leave him alone. I’ll leave you alone. Please, just.. please don’t taunt me.” 

“I won’t. I promise you this, Zephyrus. I swear upon the river Styx that I will not interact with you, so long as you swear the same?” 
He felt the binding of the promise. 

Zephyr sighed, as though relieved. The last of the border connected. 

“I swear. I swear upon the river Styx, I shall leave you both alone.” 

And with that, he was gone. 

Chapter Text

He descended to the ground with some semblance of glory. All the demigods saw or heard was their mini battle, and Zephyr's retreat, so he was naturally the hero of the fight, right? Well, he certainly wasn't going to inform them of their wrongness. 

He would tell Hyacinthus exactly what happened later, when they were at home and safe from prying eyes and ears. Right now, he walked straight past the crowd forming around him, towards his son who was still bandaging wounds and healing like lives depended on it. Which they did. 

Will was creating a make shift splint for a young girl who looked unconscious. She could have been Hyacinthus' twin when he was younger, they looked so alike. He offered help.
"I'm fine here, there's uh.. well there's someone in there, they look upset and mistook me for you so.." 

He nodded, giving a thumbs up to him before opening the door to the other room. It was Hyacinthus, he understood that with dread, who else could it be?

He wasn't wrong. Hyacinthus sat with his head in his hands, like someone who had a headache. He knelt down next to him, wrapping an arm around his back. 
"Are you alright?" Hyacinthus sat rigidly still, and Apollo knew from his time with Meg that that meant 'No, and I don't want to talk about it.' But not, 'Leave me alone.' 

He wouldn't leave him alone. Not in a bad way, but he felt that if he left, something would happen and he'd be gone again. This time, they would never be reunited. 

So they sat. Apollo did not move his arm, and Hyacinthus still had his face cupped in his hands, and it was far from a comfortable position, but they were together and that's what mattered. 

It was unclear how long they were there, what with Apollo's warped time perception skills and Hyacinthus not knowing how to read a clock in the first place. It was long enough that the people Will was tending to had been moved to the infirmary. Apollo spotted him sitting on the steps with his boyfriend Nico, who stared quizzically at Hyacinthus, who stared right back. 

They were tired, so tired. Everyone was. Hyacinthus was not speaking, and only leaned on him as he said their goodbyes and started walking back to the edge of the borders. There was one more thing he waned to test. 

The border was in its place, the sky had cleared, and he was satisfied. 
"Are we going home?" That was a start, the first words Hyacinthus had uttered in what must have been hours. 

He nodded, and took his hand. 

Chapter Text

They appeared yet again outside of the cottage. Hyacinthus looked like he was about to pass out, and Apollo felt the same way. 

He had things to do. Ugh. 

"Why don't you take a nap or something? I have to, uh.. contact some people but I'll make dinner later." 

It was likely past dinner time, but Hyacinthus must be starving, having not eaten since... 1,938 years ago? 

Hyacinthus just walked back inside, in a daze. Apollo was concerned to say the least, but he really did need to call Artemis. And Hermes. And visit his mom, and get back to work and... 
A lot. He had to do a lot. 

He sat on the steps, and his phone materialized with him. Huh. Hermes really was on speed dial. 

One ring. 

Two rings. 

Three. 

"Hiya, this is Hermes, patron of travelers, thieves, assistant to Lord Hades in ferrying.... Apollo?" 
No, not ferrying Apollo. He was asking if it was Apollo calling.

"Hermes!" 

"Did it... did it work?" He asked, tentatively, waiting for the no and the sobbing. 

"Yes! Yes we.. just come over." 

There were several perks to being a god. One was that if you focused long and hard enough, you could go anywhere. And Hermes kept wherever Apollo was as a very important place to be, in his mind. Similarly, Apollo could always show up just in time to get Hermes out of any laws he had broken, any trouble he'd created. It was a very useful thing. 

See, Hermes appeared in a flash of light exactly he same as Apollo's, yet different. It felt like him.

"Holy shit. Holy motherfucking shit Apollo it actually fucking worked?! Oh wow! I- this is great oh my gods.. I'm literally speechless and I'm not being sarcastic I promise you." 
He was staring dumbfounded at the replica of his brother's temporary home from the past. 

"He's inside." 
"He's alive?! He's.. Jesus Christ! Or dad! Or.. someone!" 

Apollo laughed. "I know! It's great."

"Oh Artie is gonna be thrilled, she cant complain about you whining, and your mom'll be so happy." 
"Yeah, yeah I should.. we should visit. The three of us. Four, if Artie wants to come." 
"Totally! Uh, I don't mean to be.. well I don't know if you were doing something, like, for example, him,-"
"Hermes!" His face burned at the notion. 
"Okay, okay geez! Can I.. go in there? I don't know how to phrase it.." 

"Of course, yes, uhm.. come in." 

Chapter Text

Hermès waited in the kitchen, to be introduced to Hyacinthus. They had seen each other before, or rather, Hermès had seen Hyacinthus, but only for a very brief time. They had never spoken. 

Apollo had gone to get Hyacinthus, to be introduced. But the man was not sound asleep, peacefully like he thought, and was instead crouched in the corner of the room. 

He crossed over to him in a second, kneeling on the hard wood floor and trying to get him to look up. His face was buried in his arms, which were holding his knees up to his chest. 

He either was crying, or had been, it was clear. There was a very good chance he did not want to be introduced to Apollo’s brother. 

“Ὑάκινθος? τι τρέχει?”

No response, yet again. But Hyacinthus did allow himself to be touched, so that was a start. He did not protest to the hands on his shoulders, slowly rubbing them to try and coax him out of the protective position. 
"I'm gonna go tell Hermes to go, alright? Then we can talk." 

Hyacinthus shook his head, the first response he had given. "No to Hermes leaving, or no to talking?" 
"Second one." First words. It was progress. 

He didn't want to talk, then. That was fine, really. Apollo understood. Oftentimes when he was upset, he did not want to even mention what made him that way. It was a normal reaction, especially considering what had happened that day. He patted Hyacinthus on the shoulder, whose rigid position had begun to ease up. 

He walked out of the room. He felt a little guilty bringing Hermes here only to kick him out minutes later, but Hyacinthus was what mattered at the moment, and there would always be tomorrow for his little brother to meet him.

"What's up?" Asked Hermes, his hands folded on the table in front of him. 
"Uh.. well Hyacinthus isn't feeling great, we've had a long day, but maybe tomorrow? I promise to call later, maybe we'll face time."
"That sounds good. Tell him I hope he feels better."
"Will do." 

Hermes disappeared. It didn't bother him too much that he couldn't see them today, he'd just have to call Artemis and tell her that Apollo was okay, that everything worked out. And then go to bed. 

Back at the cottage, Apollo had re-entered the bedroom. Hyacinthus was on the bed, he'd moved, and that was a good sign. The fur blankets, heavy and dense to combat cold winters, were tucked up to his chin. 
"Should I make dinner?" Apollo asked. Behind the covers, Hyacinthus only shrugged, but that was concealed. 
"Well, are you hungry?" No answer. He sighed, taking off his shoes and preparing to get into the bed. 

Wordlessly, he lifted the covers and got into the bed with him. He simply laid there, not touching his lover. He knew that sometimes you just wanted to lay in silence, that sometimes being held didn't make things better. Hyacinthus, however, moved closer as soon as he laid his head on the pillow, his side touching Apollo's. 

"Hug?" Maybe physical contact could be the solution. Hyacinthus nodded, so he moved closer, wrapping his arms around him, heating them just a little after feeling the cold skin of Hyacinthus' back. 
Hyacinthus, the man in question, melted into the hug, laying his head in the crook of Apollo's neck.
Apollo had taken this for granted, he realized. He thought about how tense Hyacinthus had seemed in public, how he had looked around nervously at the group of demigods, waiting for them to judge him. He remembered the kingdom of Amyclae from years ago, how people would eye Hyacinthus greedily and make him so uncomfortable that he cried himself to sleep each night. Often he used to find Hyacinthus curling upon himself, sobbing and clawing at the fabric on his body. He had often asked if Apollo was only using him for sex, which wasn't at all true, yet he had admitted once that several people he trusted had told him that.
It had taken quite some time for him to be entirely comfortable being vulnerable and open Apollo, who was worried that this could be a step backwards. 

The good part was that he seemed comfortable. He had been the one to initiate the hug and be in the position they were in, which showed a level of trust Apollo could only hope would never be broken. Truth was, a lot of people had at the least, wanted to use Hyacinthus. Some had. 

Apollo laid now, contemplating asking Hyacinthus what was the matter, what had hurt him so badly he hadn't even spoken to Apollo more than a simple yes or no. But he had said no to talking, so Apollo remained silent, just content that he was still there, and not angry at him, if the hugging was any indicator. 

Chapter Text

They laid there for some time, Apollo staring up at the ceiling.
After what must have been no less than half an hour, it seemed like Hyacinthus was asleep.  His breathing was steady, chest rising and falling slowly, and Apollo simply watched. It made him feel safer, somehow. Safe in the way that he felt protected, that Hyacinthus was safe. 
Maybe not entirely happy, but safe. 
Apollo had taken upon the form that Hyacinthus knew best, the one that felt safe and nice and like home. He felt better, so much better, watching Hyacinthus breathe, feeling his heart beat. 

Hyacinthus face was still tucked into his neck, lips brushing the skin in a way that would make Apollo kiss him deeply, if he was awake. And in the mood for it, of course. 
Instead, Apollo only moved him gently, setting his head on the pillow instead of his shoulder. 

He slowly lifted the blankets, climbing out of the bed. As much as Hyacinthus seemed like he didn’t care about eating, he needed to. At least a little bit.

One problem. Apollo had no idea how to cook. Why would he? He was a god, the most culinary experience he had ever gotten was chopping carrots at the Waystation! Food was never a problem; he didn’t need nutrition like a mortal, and you couldn’t possibly run out of nectar or ambrosia. 

He thought about what he should make.. summon.. get? For Hyacinthus, what foods he liked. If his lover was hellbent on not eating, however... that wasn’t a good sign. Hell, it was a bad sign, a terrible one. 

In all honesty, he wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t mortal, and even after being one for six months, he still couldn’t completely understand what Hyacinthus could be feeling. What was wrong? What happened in the time that he was fighting Zephyr. If that bastard even spoke to his lover, the deal was off. 

Figs. Hyacinthus liked figs. He wasn’t sure why that popped into his head at the moment, nothing about what he was just thinking alluded to remembering Hyacinthus’ love for the fruit, but que sera, sera. 

He summoned a few into his hand, because what was he gonna do? Go to a fig vendor? Did they have those? 

He tried to be as quiet as possible walking back into the room, but Hyacinthus was already awake, and shivering, staring at him with this dazed look in his eyes. 
Apollo was so concerned about emotional distress, he hadn’t even thought about whether Hyacinthus really might be just sick. 

Chapter Text

He wouldn’t admit it, but he was scared. Not only had human immune systems gradually advanced since Hyacinthus’ time, but there was the struggle of explaining modern medicine. 
He wouldn’t worry about that now, as he crossed the room to sit in front of Hyacinthus, and put his hand on his forehead. It was burning, and he was shivering, which meant that it was likely a fever. 
Fevers could go away with time, depending on the severity, and if the contractor was taking proper precautions. And Apollo would be damned if he didn’t make sure Hyacinthus took the proper precautions. 

Hyacinthus looked upset. It wasn’t odd that he would be, really, they had had a very long day and on top of that, there was so much that had been going on, it was a wonder he hadn’t completely broken down yet. 
But that wasn’t like Hyacinthus, Apollo thought. From what he could remember, his lover often had a hard time expressing that he was upset. He didn’t like showing vulnerability, even if he liked being vulnerable. 

Hyacinthus’ eyes were still glazed over, and he appeared to be staring at nothing. 
“Hyacinthus? Love? What’s going on?” 
“‘Cold.” He muttered. The blankets were wrapped around his shoulders in a tight embrace. 
“Oh.. oh honey okay. Uh.. do you wanna lay down?” 
He nodded, stiffly moving his body to be laying on his side. His shoulders shook. 

Apollo couldn’t think to do anything but curl next to him, pulling the furs around them both. He wrapped his arms around Hyacinthus, whose skin felt like it was burning. He definitely had a fever then; his symptoms checked out. Glassy eyes, shivering, burning skin, dry mouth.

And oh, his toga was still covered in filth! Apollo had forgotten all about getting him into new, clean clothes or taking a bath. 
“Hey, you need to take this off, okay? It’s dirty.” 
Hyacinthus shook his head. “Can’t.”
“What’d’you mean, honey?”
He was still repeating the motion, even as Apollo took his hands. “Can’t do it right now.”

Apollo was concerned, to say the least.
“What can’t you do right now?”
”I’m just.. really tired and I don’t feel good and I’m not really in the mood and-”
“What?” The question must have come out harsher than he meant it to, because Hyacinthus pulled away and looked at the floor with intensity.
“I’m really really sorry and I love you so much but I don’t want- I don’t want to I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I-“ 

oh. Oh. Oh. 

Of course, of course Hyacinthus would think that he meant.. that he wanted something Hyacinthus was clearly not capable of doing! Apollo was stupid, he was so stupid, his brain told him, of course he’s gonna react that way, all things considered! With his past..

”No, no baby! I.. that’s not what I meant, I understand. I get it honey, it’s okay, it’s fine! I.. it’s dirty, the clothes you have on, and you’re burning up, alright? I know, I know you’re cold, but we have lots of blankets and I’ll be right there, okay? Right there.” 

Hyacinthus calmed down at this, and inched closer to where Apollo was now standing. 
“Just.. take it off?” He asked. 
“Yeah, be careful because there might be scratchy parts.” 
“I know. Can you.. turn?” 
“Turn around?” 
“Mhm.” 

He did as told. He had forgotten Hyacinthus’ aversion to having people watch him get undressed. Even when he was in the mood for what he thought they would be doing that night, he still felt uncomfortable. Apollo never asked why. 

“You can.. you can look now.” 
Hyacinthus was securely tucked into the blankets once more. Apollo climbed back into the bed, lifting the covers while making direct eye contact with Hyacinthus so he knew there was nothing to worry about. 
He wanted to cry, sob because Hyacinthus thought he’d take advantage of him like that. He almost wished Amyclae still existed, so he could find the people who made him feel that way and make them suffer. Yet he never got the chance, and even then, Hyacinthus never spoke about it. It was a choice Apollo agreed with entirely. Some things are best left unsaid.

Slowly, he slid his arms around Hyacinthus’ now uncovered body, wrapping them around his back and trying to massage away the stress that plagued him. His skin was burning, near radiating heat, and Apollo for once was glad for his aptitude to absorb heat. 
Tears slid down Hyacinthus’ cheeks, wetting Apollo’s chest, but he didn’t mind in the slightest. He hummed the song that always helped him calm down, the Song of Sekeilos. It was old, far older than either of them, the true meaning lost in the translations, but Apollo liked it. It was soft, and soothing, and boy did it help former plants fall asleep. 

Chapter Text

Apollo was absolutely determined to make breakfast. He could do it. He could do it, it was just some eggs and toast and bacon, since it occurred to him that Hyacinthus had never tried bacon. He had never even tasted the most delicious thing on the planet! Hopefully the fever would be down. Apollo had hopes since Hyacinthus' forehead was only warm that morning, not entirely burning. 
Back to the bacon thing, Apollo loved bacon. It was like, the best thing on the planet after Hyacinthus! And Hyacinthus wasn't even food! 

He stood in the kitchen, pondering whether to actually make the omelet and toast, or just summon it. He decided on summoning it, especially after considering that ancient cooking supplies was all he had. Now, should he do breakfast in bed, or at the table? It was a very intense debate within his mind, so much so that Hyacinthus woke up hearing him mutter about the pros and cons. 
A sheet was wrapped around him, like a makeshift toga, tied back in tight knots, and there was sleep in his eyes. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, "I heard muttering." 
"Ah wait don't look! It's a surprise, go back to bed!" 
"...If you say so." He turned around and headed back to their room, confused. 

The bacon making was underway, he had figured out that if he wanted the satisfaction of cooking, but not actually doing any work, he could take a piece of pre-cooked bacon and heat his hands to the right temperature. That might have violated several guidelines in some high-scale restaurants, but Apollo didn't expect his hands to have germs, and so they didn't. 
He still hadn't decided on the breakfast in bed or at the table debate. It would be more romantic, he thought, to have breakfast in their bed, maybe with some cheesy poems, like they were in a romcom? He blushed, imagining the stupidly romantic things he could do with Hyacinthus. Hold hands, take walks, stargaze, picnics, kiss under the sunset, beaches... what was wrong with him? Why was he so flustered? 

This was stupid, so so stupid, and cheesy, and he shouldn't be falling prey to the idea of true romance! But he was, admittedly, a sucker for being in a cute couple. It was a major weakness, actually. Doesn't mean that he had to act upon it!

He was so focused on getting his act together the bacon almost burned. Hyacinthus again popped his head through the doorway.
"Are you burning the house down?" He sounded almost calm, like this was a typical occurrence. It was, but never-mind that. 
"I was making breakfast.." He responded, sheepishly. 
"I see... I'm just gonna.. go back to sleep." 
"Yeah, get some rest. Love you. Hyacinthus laughed. "Yeah, yeah, love you too." 

Oh. Okay then. He had nothing to be worried about. Well, burnt bacon it was. Although, he did say in his "ode to bacon" work that he would not stand for the burning of such a delicious food. It had been compared to nectar and ambrosia countless times throughout the years, and in Apollo's personal opinion, they were right. 

This was a more interesting breakfast than he'd planned on. Huh. 

Once everything was finally ready, and he had decided on breakfast in bed, he brought the plate of food into their room. Hyacinthus was sitting upright on the bed, as if expecting something. Which he did, he expected to have to teach the god how to not burn your food and make the most of it, two things he'd gotten extremely good at, especially during the two years of mandatory survival in the wilderness he'd gone through to become an adult. Speaking of that little ritual, Apollo couldn't understand it. Didn't you just become an adult at eighteen or whatever? No, Sparta had to make things difficult. 

The expectancy of Hyacinthus was not unusual, nor was it offensive. It was perfectly reasonable, he had had to teach Apollo a few things over the years, and Apollo was always willing to hear the sound of Hyacinthus ranting about something. Or reading poetry, that was a fun pastime, his voice was all smooth and it sounded like he was meant to be reading to a god. 
Anyway, he smiled at the sight of Apollo approaching him, and with food. It wasn't like anything he'd seen before, but times had changed and he assumed that this must be the food of the land. He took the platter as Apollo climbed into the bed, next to him. 

Chapter Text

The phone rang. Which, of course it did. Why does trouble always have to start with a phone ringing? Apollo’s phone ringing, to be precise, Hyacinthus didn’t have a phone and probably never would. He had no idea who it could be. Other than maybe Hermes? But when Hyacinthus fell asleep the night before, he had called. And they were certainly in no position to go to Delos now, Hyacinthus didn't even have clothes and Apollo, admittedly, would much rather keep it that way. 

Yet, he knew he had to answer it. It could be important, he could have missed a manner of things that could get him into deep trouble. 
And so he did. 

Dr. Jill Me-fucking-nendez. 

Shit. 

Chapter Text

“Who’s that?” Hyacinthus asked, turning to him with a confused look. He shrugged, clicking the phone’s power off button and looked at him. He sat half upright on the bed, blankets pulled not entirely over his body, his bare chest, his muscles...

“It’s nobody you need to worry about.” Hyacinthus sighed, looking dissatisfied. 

“Are you sure? Because you look... concerned.” 

And maybe he did. He couldn’t see himself, after all, unless he detached himself from the mortal-looking body and assumed his true form, but there was no way he’d put Hyacinthus in that kind of danger. 

Mortals weren’t even able to be exposed to it, to his true self. And while that did make him feel guilty, like he was hiding something from Hyacinthus, it also made the idea he was growing in his mind bloom ever the stronger. 

"Of course.” He answered. And maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe he was concerned, after all, his lack of emotional perception was concerning. Why didn’t he understand how he felt? He always used to. 

“Okay, just... tell me if something’s wrong.” 

“I will.” 

Maybe this promise could be kept. 

Chapter Text

"Hey, Hya?" Apollo prodded the sleeping man in the side, hoping he'd take the hint that this was something important and wake up. 

"Hyacinthus?" He asked again. 

"Hyacinth, love? Wake up." He poked Hyacinthus again, hoping this time he'd get a reaction. 

Nothing. 

"Do you want me to let you sleep? I just wanted to tell you that I have to go somewhere later, okay? I need to be somewhere." 

Hyacinthus stirred finally, turning to look at him. 

It was evident he had been asleep, his hair poofed up at the side and Apollo could see clear marks where his face had been pressed into the pillow. 

"Where're you going?" His speech was slurred, and Apollo wanted to let him sleep more, reminded that he was still healing from the stab wound. The scar stretching across his forehead was distinct, more pinkish then the pale that it was when Apollo had seen him again, for the first time.

They had time, a few hours before Apollo was due to be back at therapy. 

Good. Apollo thought, moving to wrap his arms around Hyacinthus' back, who in turn buried his face into the crook of Apollo's neck. 

They could wait. 

They had time. 

Chapter Text

He wasn't going to do this. No. There was no way. 

It was already Monday, somehow, someway he was supposed to go back to the weekly routine of therapy. He still, still hadn't asked Hyacinthus the question yet, the one that verged on his entire happiness and probably sanity, if he was being honest. 

Hermes had called, earlier that morning. They were still lying in bed, and Apollo wanted to be lazy forever. But this was his brother, his baby brother, and he had to answer. 

A week after Hyacinthus had returned to him, the novelty of seeing his lover just be there, near and next to him, had worn off. Creeping anxiety filled its place. 

He had to go back to Olympus. He knew that. There was no other option. That was his home, even if it definitely did not feel like it at the moment. The only problem with this was the fact that Hyacinthus was undeniably mortal still, even being resurrected. There was no way his father would even allow him to be anywhere near his precious kingdom. 

Not unless he was made a god.

If Hyacinthus was, that would be his right, as an immortal. A minor god, he would be allowed access to Olympus, to Delos, to Hyperborea, anywhere Apollo so desperately wanted to take him but couldn't. 

That was what he needed to ask. 

That was the dreaded question. 

"I want to make you immortal Hyacinthus, I'm paranoid that you're gonna be taken away from me again, and you'll never survive the twenty-first century as a mortal." What was he supposed to say? Hyacinthus wasn't even aware that his kingdom, his life, it had all fallen and he could never get it back. 

He was supposed to be running Amyclae, for the gods sakes! He was supposed to have a perfect life and be wealthy and spoiled by his kingdom for years and years to come. 

But he didn't get that luxury. Because Sparta was gone, because Pierus and Laodamia and Argalus, Cynortus, Polyboea. They were gone. 

Deep, deep down, Apollo was afraid. He was afraid that when, hell, if he told Hyacinthus all this, it would be too much. 

He needed to wait. 

And ask. 

Humans were fragile, oh so precious and fragile, and Hyacinthus especially so. Yes, he was Spartan, beautifully so, fit and strong and Apollo probably shouldn't get detracted by the memories of hiking and archery and the clear ploys Hyacinthus pulled to get him to 'correct his stance.' 

Yes, he was Spartan. He could run, and fight, and he was raised tough. He was tough. 

But he was sensitive. Apollo knew this. He wasn't ashamed of it, either. He never had been. Hyacinthus was confident in every part of him; he lived by the motto that to be a good person, to be good to others, you needed to be confident and secure in yourself. You needed to give joy to receive it. 

Karma, that's what it would be called, later in life. 

Not his life, necessarily, but life. 

Hyacinthus was fragile. And Apollo wasn't sure he could handle the truth, how harsh it was. 

Chapter Text

"I have to go." He said, checking the time on his phone. It was nearly 5. He should start getting ready. 

"Have to?" Hyacinthus hadn't officially woken up by then, still lying lazily across Apollo's chest. "Have to." Apollo replied, shifting and clearly trying to imply that Hyacinthus should get up. 

"And I can't come with you?" He asked. Apollo hated that face of his, the one that made him feel so guilty and sorrowful and just weak, weak enough to give in. 
"Maybe you can, at some point. Just... not right now." 

Hyacinthus nodded, now adjusting himself to not be directly on top of Apollo. "Is it because you're a god? That's why I can't come?" 

What was he supposed to say to that? He stumbled over a response. "No... Yes... Yes. It's official business, you stay here. Wait for me." 

"I will." 

He wasn't driving. He couldn't, there wasn't even any modern technology anywhere near the house, their house. He hadn't thought of borrowing a car from one of his siblings, and it was too big of an object for him to summon without a commotion. He could, hypothetically, do such a thing, but it wouldn't be the best idea. It required time, energy, and a surplus of power. He was pretty spent from resurrecting Hyacinthus, and creating a replica of where they used to live. 

But he could teleport. Or not teleport, really, it was disappearing from one place and reappearing in another, it was creating another form in the place he wanted to go, and shifting his energy and essence into that body, then dissolving the one that was left behind. It sounded complicated, but he had done much harder. 

Teleport he did, reappearing near the building he often frequented. He would need to walk a bit, he didn't want to scare anyone and so chose to appear in an alleyway. The dark and dingy-ness of it all reminded him strongly of when he first met Meg. He needed to visit soon, maybe not taking Hyacinthus, but just to remind her (and himself) that he hadn't in fact forgotten his promise. He remembered what it was to be a human. 

But he wasn't. At the end of it all, he was Phoebes Apollon, he was a god, the god of light and prophecy, and plague. He was light, was the prophet, was the plague. 

He walked, walked a few minutes to the building. He should visit Percy, and his family as well. He wondered how Sally was doing with her poetry. Did she figure out rhyme scheme? Probably, he didn't doubt her writing prowess. The internet was a wonderful place, after all. 

It looked exactly how he remembered. Gray, flat, with low ceilings. A private clinic. 

The hallways were the same, too, except she must have gotten a different painting to replace the one of sunflowers. He didn't remember it being daisies, after all. 
She must have gotten a haircut, too, and changed the candles. It no longer smelled of fall in the room, instead it was a scent that reminded him of the sunset. In fact, that candle was labeled sunset, so he was pretty accurate in his rememberings. 

"I'm glad you're back!" She greeted, letting him sit in the worn brown chair across from her desk. She held out a bowl of caramels, which replaced the mints he hadn't eaten from the last times. 

"I'm glad to be back." He replied, letting himself relax in the chair. He used to be anxious here, waiting to slip up and say the wrong thing, but now it was familiar enough that he didn't have to tighten his shoulders and check his pocket for his phone repeatedly. It helped that things had worked out with his plans to resurrect Hyacinthus, as well. 

"Well"- She said, leaning back a bit in the swivel chair she no doubt had confined herself to for the past few hours -"How have you been? I haven't seen you in a while." 

"Good, good." He answered, and this time he wasn't lying. "I've been pretty busy, sorry I couldn't make it last week." 

"No, that's alright, I understand your schedule can be a bit... how shall I say this... hectic. Don't worry about it."

They sat in silence a bit after that, and Apollo remembered that he hadn't told Hyacinthus when he'd be back. It didn't really matter, and he would have preferred his lover know where exactly he was, so he had tried to make a point of telling him when he'd be back. Apparently that didn't work out, since he couldn't recall saying anything much more than a goodbye to the still sleeping man. 

"So, what have you been doing these past few days?" 

What had he been doing? Only resurrecting a long dead Spartan who had been turned into a flower by him, of course. How was he supposed to tell a therapist that? He wouldn't, he decided. There was no point. It would only make things confusing, and he might just be recommended to the psychiatric hospital nearby. 

"Just... general responsibilities and the like." He waved his hand in the air, trying to appear nonchalant. 

"Mmmhmm... and did you work on a proper schedule for yourself? Or are we still dealing with a non-day to day thing." Her pen tapped the notepad she always carried, although sometimes it was in the form of a clip board. 

"Yeah, I've been trying to follow one." The lie tasted sour in his mouth, as lies tended to do with him. He was the god of truth and honesty, he wasn't supposed to lie, he was supposed to confess that he hadn't, that he'd been too busy with... other things. 

"Actually... I haven't. I don't know why I said that." By the way she tilted her head, maybe he shouldn't have said anything. 

"You seem to only give the answers you think I'd like hearing. Maybe that's the problem." 

Wow, way to hit the nail on the head. She was right, absolutely right, he knew, but would he confess that?

"Maybe." 

They talked for the rest of the time, although sparsely. All hopes of having a good session had faded after her comment. 

He wanted to go home. 

He tapped his foot impatiently ten minutes before their time was up, and didn't even bother to go outside before summoning a new form in front of their house, shifting himself to that body and destroying the other one in his wake. 

He wanted to see Hyacinthus. 

Opening the door to their bedroom, his lover was still sleeping. It wasn't odd to see, he must have been tired from the night... day previous. 

He was home. 

Taking a deep breath, he sat down. 

It was alright. 

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, the next week was much the same. Dr. Jill was insistent on delving far too deep into the reasons behind his actions and mind. There was even more pressure to get back to work, and he had had to set his phone permanently to do not disturb. He hadn't answered a single call from anyone in six days. Hyacinthus seemed suspicious, and kept asking hard to answer questions. It had gotten to the point where when Apollo told him he was going out for a walk the next week, Hyacinthus didn't believe him one bit. 

"No way. That's not what you're doing, I just can't understand why you won't tell me?" 
"Why do you think I'm lying to you?" Even still, the bile in his throat was bitter. 

"Because if you were going for a walk, you'd invite me. I'm not stupid, I know you're hiding something. And I get it, I understand if it's god stuff and you don't want me to worry, but at least stop lying." 

"Hya, I promise I'm telling you the truth. You're not dressed, I just wanted some air, that's all."
"You know full well that you can summon damn clothes for me! You always have, why change? Why... what happened? Why change?" 

Because change is good, change is what I do, he wanted to say. I never stay the same, I can't. 

But he was silent. 

"Say something! Why... why are you keeping me here? We don't speak, we... I can't even count on you using me! You don't, you bring food and you sleep in this bed, but you do not live here! I'm tired, Apollo. I don't know what's going on. I don't know where we are. I want to go home." 

He didn't wait for Apollo's answer, and Apollo didn't give one. He just turned and left. 

Hyacinthus was crying. He knew it, there were tears sliding down his cheeks, and he cursed them. It was not the time for crying, it was time to be strong, be stronger than this, and stand up for himself. The pillow was dampening by the minute, he could feel it. Apollo was not coming back, he knew. He knew it in his heart that the god had finally got fed up from him not being enough, and he was going to leave because they were all the same, weren't they? They stayed for a bit, enough to lure you in on their hook and catch you, make you love them. 

And he did, he did love them. He loved Apollo especially, but what was going on? 

The alleyway was not the same as the one near Dr. Jill's office. It was not an alleyway at all. Apparently his subconscious did not want to go, and he agreed with it wholeheartedly. Looking around, this was not the city. It couldn't be. It likely wasn't even the same state, maybe not the same country. 

But seeing the greenhouses, the palm trees, the modern looking house surrounding him, he couldn't say he didn't recognize where he was. 

Aeithales. His subconscious brought him to Meg. 

Why?

That's what Hyacinthus asked you.  

Shut up, brain. 

Why here?

Yes, he had been meaning to visit his former master eventually, but those plans had been put on the backburner. Way far back. He hadn't even thoughat about it in what? The past month?

Despite that, he started walking towards the house. Meg would... hopefully be there. It's not like he particularly wanted to speak with the dryads, not when that would just bring up unfinished pasts and old memories of what he could never have. Not when he was content with the new content of his life. 

Better time than never. 

He took a breath. 

Chapter Text

She's not here. He thought, and maybe that was for the best. His heart still dropped at one of the dryads answers, that she wasn't here and wouldn't be until the weekend at least. Why? He had wondered, but didn't ask. It was for the best anyway. 

He needed to go home. He didn't want to in the slightest, didn't want to face Hyacinthus and his questions and his understandable concern, but he knew he had to. Even if it wasn't for him, he had to. 

He could take Meg not being there when he needed her most as a wake up call. He had failed her, failed his family, failed his job. Most of all, failed the man sitting at home who he had longed for as long as he could remember. He failed the one who needed him most, and if anything, that was the push he needed to get home. 

Apologize. 

Restart. 

Chapter Text

Sighing with the air of someone who knew they were in trouble, Apollo appeared back in front of his house. Well, his and Hyacinthus'. He hoped the man was still inside, and hadn't gone somewhere. He felt a twang of guilt in his gut at the thought. 

Wherever Hyacinthus was, he would find him. And confess everything that had been going on. And ask the big question, the one he had been dreading. 

He shivered. The air wasn't cold, but it seemed freezing. Maybe I did that? He thought, still walking towards the cottage, although he couldn't sense Hyacinthus in it, which scared him. 

He walked a little faster, opening the door to the cold presence of nothing. 

The kitchen? Nothing. 

Living room? Nope. 

Bedroom? Nada. 

Fear pounded harder in his chest as he checked closets, doors, spare rooms, anything he could find only to be greeted with emptiness. His heart felt like a hard pit, stabbed on a spit or arrow or knife or love in his chest. 

Pain.

And fear. 

And guilt. 

Chapter Text

Nowhere. Hyacinthus was nowhere to be found, and Apollo was a wreck. Guilt tore at his insides along with fury, fury at the world and at himself and at everything, for making them go through this mess of a lifetime. He could feel his form expanding, tearing apart and reflecting exactly what he felt inside. 

Fear. He was afraid, and he could recognize that. He tried to think rationally, attempted to breath slow and remain calm, but the internal panic was still there. What should he do? He thought about his options. Continue looking for his lover, yes. He had to, but not in this state. His mortal form was almost gone, and Hyacinthus couldn't see him like this. Not out of shame for his appearance, it was the truthful knowledge that how he really looked would quite literally kill Hyacinthus. He cursed himself for wasting time. 

if he wasn't in the house, than he'd be outside. That was a place to start. 

Apollo knew he couldn't have gotten far, especially not as a mortal that was wounded a few days prior. He took a few deep calming breaths at the realization that Hyacinthus would be found, he would be okay. He wasn't in the front of the house, that Apollo knew, but the expanse of what Apollo had created stretched far and wide. He hoped Hyacinthus hadn't gone too far, since he couldn't replicate everything. 

Which brought up another possibility. Hyacinthus could have gone looking for his family. 

Chapter Text

He scanned the land surrounding the house, desperate for any sign or trace of his lover. He first searched in the direction where they would have walked to the palace, many, many years ago.

Nothing. 

Good, it proved his theory wrong. The field he had replicated next to their home, the one that was so painful to make it made him sob? 

Nope. 

The last possible place it could have been would be the forests. He hadn't done much with those since his energy was low, other than making the pond they used to sit at, and talk. 

Something dinged in his mind akin to a tracker.

Chapter Text

"Hyacinth, love, what are you doing?" He asked, kneeling next to the mortal who was looking down into the water. When Apollo touched it, it was freezing, but Hyacinthus' feet were already soaking, his sandals abandoned by his side. 

"I was going to wash my clothes." Hyacinthus answered sharply, and turned his head away. "Since they're dirty." 

Apollo sighed, taking his own shoes off and dipping his feet in the water, wrapping an arm around Hyacinthus' back. "I'm sorry." 

That got a reaction out of the mortal, he turned his head towards him, looking confused. "Why?" 

"For leaving you like that. I was wrong, I see that now. I-... I should've explained what was going on sooner." Hyacinthus didn't say anything, just leaned his head on Apollo's shoulder. "I don't know what I was thinking, but I guess I wanted to stall telling you everything as long as I could. I see now, that was a bad choice." 

Hyacinthus took his hand. "I love you, and I've loved you all this time. Even when we were parted, you remained... I loved you still. And I'm going to explain everything." 

Apollo took a deep breath, and continued. "You know what I said, that it's been a long time?" Hyacinthus nodded. "Amyclae... Sparta... it's all gone. It's been gone for a long time. This is-" Hyacinthus cut him off. 

"Modern times, I know. I talked to your son. He already told me, that's why..." 
"That's why you were so upset?" 

Hyacinthus nodded. "I didn't want to believe it. But I'm not- I'm not stupid, Apollo. I can figure things out for myself." He turned away again, but looked back towards him as Apollo spoke. "I'm sorry for making you feel like that. You're not stupid, not at all. I just thought it would be easier." 

"I love you too." "What?" 

"What you said, I love you too. And I forgive you." 

Apollo almost didn't believe it. He was forgiven, and loved by the one person in the world who was starting to make him truly happy. 

Hyacinthus cupped Apollo's face in his hands, and kissed him. 

He had never felt better. 

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He had never felt better, but anxiety still rose in his gut. He had been having an internal conflict for how long over this question? 

About 2,000 years. 

There was one problem though, one that he was reminded suddenly of when at an emergency meeting on Olympus. He had taken to telling Hyacinthus when and why he was leaving, when he would be back, etc. It had really improved their relationship, and Apollo hoped he could gain trust back from his lover. 

But it wasn't just those problems he needed to worry about. 

His father would never say yes to something like this. There was no way. So... he might have done some convincing, some talking to people closer to Zeus that he might listen to a little better. 

He started with Aphrodite. 

He visited her personally, sat and talked with her over brunch at some fancy french diner she insisted they go to. 

"So... what's up? Got a date or something you need help with?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Something like that...." She looked ecstatic. 

"Spill." 

And so he told her what had happened. She was the third Olympian to know, and seemed more excited than even he was at his request. 

"Do you think you could convince him?" 

She contemplated his question a little, sipping her tea in quiet thought. "Maybe. But I'll need some help. Did you talk to his mom yet?”

Oooh. He’d completely forgotten all about telling Clio. He hadn’t even thought of it, and cursed himself for not realizing. Aphrodite sighed as he disappeared. 

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Hyacinthus mother happened to be the muse Clio. Which was odd, because it would seem to modern demigods that Clio had no mortal children. 

And they would be right. She hadn’t had any since the death of her first, and only one. 

See, she had been convinced by her peers, by her sisters that it’s not so bad having a child with a mortal. On the plus side, Pierus was a wealthy king and her baby would be taken well care of. 

They were all wrong. She had been heartbroken when her Hyacinthus passed. She didn’t speak to anyone but her sisters for weeks on end. She didn’t attend gatherings, didn’t focus on her duties or responsibilities. 

And she had hated Apollo. Loathed him, for the longest time. Now, about 2,000 years later, that wasn’t the case, but some bitter part of her still arose whenever her son was mentioned. 

The worst part of it all was that Apollo had never had the chance to explain what had happened. Clio was right in her anger, she was justified, as she had no way of knowing the true story. 

But Hyacinthus didn’t quite remember his mother anyways. The muses had been so good at convincing Clio that Hyacinthus would be taken care of that she thought she would just get in the way if she ever tried to contact him. 

The last time Hyacinthus had seen his mother was when he was fourteen. It was in a dream, right after he had started having more adult responsibilities in court. 

It had been a warning. A warning to keep him safe from all that was out there. Clio was far from stupid, she had been taken advantage of before and did not want anything of the sort to happen to her son. 

But… there’s no preventing that sort of thing, even if Hyacinthus did heed her warning. 

**—**

Apollo’s heart kept leaping in his chest as he thought about approaching her. He had to, and he knew it, but… it would be hard. It would be so, so hard. 

Still, he took three deep breaths and walked up to her as she sat alone, reading. 

“Can I talk to you? Alone.” He asked quietly, and she nodded and set down her scroll. 

He led her to the garden that he knew she liked to frequent. It was painful. It was so painful, for the both of them to still see the heartbreaking reminder of all that had happened laying right at their feet. 

“It’s about Hyacinthus- I just… I wanted to explain something.” 

She nodded again, taking a shaky breath as he began speaking. “I know you are angry. I’m not going to tell you that you shouldn’t be. I would be furious at myself too. In fact, I am.” 

Her hands twitched and she folded them into her lap, looking down at them and trying to fight back the memories that threatened to rush forward. 

“I would never hurt him Clio, I- He means everything to me.” 

She looked at him with a hardness to her eyes. “Then why did you move on?” Her voice was stern, though a tear ran silently down her cheek. 

“I never did.” He said, and it was the truth. He never had. 

“He was my son, my boy. I- I hadn’t ever felt so much in my life. He was my life.” She confessed. 

“I just wanted you to know what really happened. Maybe it could give some closure.” 

When he was done explaining, she was sobbing with her head in her hands, her shoulder racking. He rubbed her back tentatively, trying to console but still not wanting to suppress her righteous feelings. 

When she had calmed down enough to look at him fully, he took her hands into his own. It was time. 

He took a deep breath. 

“He’s alive.”

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And she believed him, which isn't what he expected. After all this worrying, all this nonsense and anxiety and ruthless torturing of himself, she believed him. And she listened. 

So when he was done, after they both finished crying out the sheer pain that still, still lingered in both of their minds; he felt at peace. He felt content, which was a lovely and wonderful thing to feel. He'd been feeling peaceful quite often the past few days, and there was no doubt that Hyacinthus helped that. 

Soon, he'd need to get back on track with the other things in his life. The top priority was getting back to Olympus (and getting Hyacinthus there with him), but he also wanted to balance his social life out and get back to therapy... 

Speaking of Hyacinthus and things he needed to do, he might as well head back home, where Hyacinthus was probably outside, tending to the garden perhaps. So, with a quick burst of light and energy, he transported himself back to the house. 

Hyacinthus wasn't outside, which wasn't unordinary but did leave him a little worried as Hyacinth did say he'd likely be out there. He didn't want to go through the stress and anxiety of not knowing where he was again. 

It was likely a blessing that Apollo found him at the table eating something he had found in the woods. (Apollo was a little worried it might not be edible, but considering Hyacinthus wasn't throwing up or dying, it probably was.) 

It was frustrating that he still felt afraid. Hyacinthus was back, hopefully forever, and he thought that that would ease all his troubles! 

He had thought that Hyacinthus was the answer to everything, so he had ignored the other signs that pointed toward something deeply buried, something that if he recognized, could be his downfall. 

He had problems. 

Actual, legitimate, probably psychological problems that he shouldn't be having, that he couldn't be having. He was a god, an Olympian. 

Olympians don't get trauma from a couple months as a human. 

Plus, he had done it before and turned out fine! It made no sense at all that this time should be different. 

That it was stupid fucking Lester that had been the breaker of the dam. 

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Okay... so if he still wasn't alright then maybe his problems were beyond his control? As much as he loved Hyacinthus (and he loved Hyacinthus), having him there still wasn't fixing things. Of course, it had helped, but...

But he still didn't feel all there. Well, he was happy, happier than he had been in a long time, but there was still that nagging feeling under the surface that something else needed to be done. 

Maybe he had been treating Hyacinth like he was some kind of distraction from the real stuff, which made him feel strangely guilty. Hyacinthus didn't deserve to be treated like some kind of miracle cure. He wasn't medicine, he was a human being with complex feelings and emotions, and Apollo was taking that for granted. 

In the end, Hyacinthus' existence and life as a whole didn't revolve around him at all. Even if he had been transported into a new world, he still had friends and family that he loved... and Apollo had been treating him as if he only cared for Apollo's own wellbeing. 

Wow, he had some major shit to figure out, huh? 

He didn't want his thoughts to end there, though. He let Hyacinthus know he was going to do some "god stuff" (which wasn't entirely untrue) and left the house.