Chapter Text
Percy loves the rain, but hates the thunder that follows. It’s something that’s ingrained in him; an irrational fear that will never leave, even when he’s thirty years old.
“Thirty isn’t old Percy.” Sally laughs from across the room; closing the curtains with a bright smile. It’s such a difference from the gloomy outside that Percy relaxes even more, burrowing himself in his mother’s pillow.
“Older than me, at least.” He quips back, inhaling the safe scent of peppermint and mango. It’s late September and Percy is happily relaxing in his mother’s room, hiding away from the storm outside. Between school and random quests from camp, he hasn’t spent much time with his mother lately and he’ll take every chance he could get. It’s been a few months since they moved into their new apartment and even though Percy has his own room, he often finds himself sleeping next to his mother more than a few times. Neither minds and Percy knows Sally needs him as much as he needs her.
“You do know I’m 32, right?” Sally walks over to the bed and flops herself down, draping both arms over him. “Although, I do feel my age sometimes.”
“It’s okay to be old, mom.” Percy chuckles, taking some strands of his mother’s hair to braid. There’s a gray streak and Percy tugs it lightly, a heavy feeling starting to sink in his chest. Will he ever get to be old? The prophecy is only a few years away and even then it seems to be just around the corner. Everyone at camp keeps looking at him like he’s already dead; a corpse of a boy who was burdened with too much. Cursed to live only for the gods and be the cause of their reckoning or glory. It hurts. It hurts so much and he doesn’t miss the flash of surprise on his mother’s face when tears start rolling down his cheeks.
“Oh honey.” She soothes, scooting up on the bed until her face is right in front of his. Her hands are warm where she rests them on his cheeks, thumbing his tears away. “What’s on your mind?”
Can he even tell his mother that her only son doesn’t think he’ll be alive for much longer? She barely lets him go to camp, much less go to the store alone. He loves his mother to death but even he knows some of his thoughts are too dark to share with her. The thought is crushing and he only cries harder.
Her eyebrows dip as she frowns. Her brown eyes are so dark he can see his own face staring back at him. He looks so young, a baby. He wants to look old. He wants to know how he’ll look if given the chance to age. People always say he looks young for his age, short and pure. If only they knew he’s anything but. Will he look like his mom, kind, and mature with a weight of strength? Or will he look like his father, vengeful, powerful and destructive with a touch of fragility? Is this too much for a twelve year old to be thinking?
He’s so out of it he doesn’t realize he’s in his mother’s arms until she starts rocking him back and forth, singing a song Percy vaguely recognizes as a lullaby. It sends him to a state of calm and he stays here, closing his eyes to the vibration of her voice.
“I hate the thunder, too.” Sally states, stroking his hair back from his face. She continues, mistaking his crying for fear instead of overwhelming dread. “Not just for the obvious reasons. I hated loud noises over all. When I was younger, I used to gather all the blankets I could and burrow my head in.”
He can just imagine a smaller version of his mom running around with tiny feet, hefting pounds of blankets all over her house. It makes him smile.
“But one day, my uncle brought me to Montauk when a storm was coming. We were in the lodge and I hid myself in the bed. He whisked the blankets away from me and demanded I’d be louder than the storm. I didn’t know what he meant, but before I could ask, he started yelling with all his might towards the window, swearing at the sky whenever thunder rumbled.”
Percy fully laughs at that, perching himself to look at his mom, eyes sparkling “Seriously?”
Sally is laughing too “Yup. And I was so confused. Then he looked back at me and yelled at me to do it too.”
“Did you.”
“Of course. It was the most free I ever felt. We were laughing so hard we didn’t realize we were shouting long after the storm passed. I’ve never been scared of thunder since.” A moment passes, breaths heavy as they soak up the joy their laughter brought. Percy misses this. The people at camp are funny, sure, but a group of equally traumatized kids brings a lot of dark humor jokes that’s followed by tight lip smiles and bitter chuckles. Here, with his mom, he feels light. Lighter than any flight could bring him.
They both go quiet, and Percy follows when she pulls him back to lean against her. Her fingers card through his hair while her other brushes up and down his spine. Percy could travel all across the universe and would never feel safer than in his mother’s embrace.
“Sometimes you just have to yell at the storm, Percy. The Fates throw so much at you and it's easy to feel burdened by the path they gave us. But you have never listened to anyone in your entire life. You make your own rules, Percy. You are so brave and smart and resilient and I am so, so proud of you. Don’t let these self-righteous assholes get to you, honey. You are Perseus Jackson, my son before all else. Chiron told me about the prophecy.”
Percy snaps his head over his shoulder to look at her, but she gives him a reassuring smile, pressing a light kiss to his forehead.
“It’s okay. Of course I’m scared, but you have never let anything keep you down. There is so much fire in you, so much fight and I'll be damned if I ever tell you to snuff it out. You have years, Percy, years. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but it’s moments like these, right now with you in my arms that makes me know we’ll be fine, You’ll be fine. Believe in yourself, Percy. Be louder than the storm.”
Percy nods, tears running down his cheeks.
“Be louder than the storm.” Yeah, he could do that.