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Michael Yew had arrived at Camp Half-Blood when he was eight. It had been a rather traumatic experience—as is the norm for demigods. He hadn’t been the most pliant child, and even though Luke insisted he only had a rather “harsh” temper, Michael knew he was hard to look after.
People called him lucky when he was claimed after the first week of residing at camp. Most kids in the Hermes cabin either look saddened by his departure—or maybe because they lost a bet on who his godly partner would be—while others looked unfazed. It was normal, they said. Kids got claimed or they didn’t.
That was Camp Half-Blood. Not like Michael cared for any of the kids in the Hermes cabin, they were all loud and obnoxious anyway. Staying in the Apollo Cabin was a refresher; it was quieter and much less crowded—but that was a given.
He had been introduced to his siblings—who were all terrible, he told himself, you don’t like them. He knew he was lying—and then begun his archery lessons. That came easy to him; archery. When he picked up the bow and readied his arrow it felt as though he knew where his arrow would land. Lee said he had a knack for archery. He didn’t believe him.
It had been a few years since he’d first crossed Half-Blood Hill. Now, he woke at the crack of dawn during winter to practice with his bow and quiver. It was relaxing, allowing his mind to focus on where the arrow would land and how the weight of the bow felt reassuring. He nocked the arrow, eyes focused on the bullseye staring at him. His grip on the arrow loosens—
“Michael?” He startles, letting the arrow go subconsciously and watching it spew past the target. He grits his teeth but turns around to greet whoever decided to sneak up on him.
Lee walks up to him with a raised brow, curiosity written all over his face. His mouth is slightly turned in that amused way, he must have noticed Michael’s slip up.
“Lee,” Michael greets, shoulders relaxing slightly now that he knows it wasn’t someone he didn’t want to talk to at five in the morning.
“You’re up early, aren’t you?” Lee questioned, glancing at Michael’s bow then his quiver before meeting his eyes.
“I’m always up this early. Got a problem with it?” Michael retorted, eyes narrowing in suspicion as Lee chuckles softly.
“No, not at all! I wasn’t aware you were keen on waking up at this time...” Lee trailed off, finding the fact that Michael woke up willingly amusing. He didn’t understand Lee, but then again, he never understood half the kids here. Many shared this sentiment.
“Well... can you go away? I don’t need you here distracting me while I practice,” Michael stated, glaring at Lee who looked at him with a loving smile.
That’s the problem with older siblings, they never understood why so many kids found Michael unpleasant. All they saw were his accomplishments, as if his faults weren’t a never-ending list of reasons why he sucked.
“Alright, I’ll leave you alone. But don’t stay here all day, we’ve got a lot of camp activities planned,” Lee said, giving him his infamous elder-brother stare before retreating back to the Apollo Cabin. He sighed, glad that Lee and his overbearing mother-henning were gone.
Michael grabbed an arrow from his quiver, readying his stance once more.
A broken bow lay uselessly in his hands, he glares at it. Hoping it would just mend itself instead of needing repairs, unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Michael sighed in exasperation, he should’ve known his bow would get damaged. Ares kids were all about destruction or whatever.
The camp activities that morning had been more exciting than usual. He felt adrenaline still pumping through his veins, the aftermath of Capture the Flag had yet to fade. He might have gotten carried away when shooting his opponents, allowing for a weak spot to show its ugly head and thus breaking his bow. It was stupid, he thought, how things could break with ease.
“Is it broken...?” He heard Will ask, concern lilting his voice as Michael turned towards the younger. He gave Will a grin.
“Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’, “but it’s nothing the Hephaestus Cabin can’t fix.”
Will brightened, nodding his head enthusiastically. Michael ruffled his hair, the golden-blonde similar to their older brother Lee’s hair. The similarities the two had were uncanny but, then again, they were siblings. It made sense.
“Will they fix it in time for tomorrows training?” Will asked, looking at Michael with hopeful eyes. It was funny how the bow didn’t even belong to Will and yet he seemed more attached to the inanimate object than Michael was.
“Of course,” Michael reassured, grabbing a stray arrow from the ground and placing it in his quiver before grinning at Will. “In fact, I’ll go right now so it’ll be done for tomorrow.”
The younger smiled, it brightened his face before he scampered off. Probably going to check on Lee. Michael gave the broken bow in his hand another useless glare before heading towards the forges.
The forges were packed with Hephaestus kids running around; he could feel the heat from where he stood at the entrance. He wondered how the Hephaestus kids tolerated it, but maybe they were used to the blistering heat.
No one payed him any mind as they yelled for spare parts or ran around the forge looking for things. Most of the kids were focused on building or mending things, whatever they were constructing it didn’t interest Michael.
He passed a few work stations, grimacing at the heat. How did they handle such temperatures? He spotted a familiar face: Beckendorf. The Senior Counsellor was sitting on his work station table, tinkering with a metal cube before glancing up and spotting Michael.
“Lee’s brother?” He asked, Michael merely nodded his head.
“Michael Yew, my bow needs repairing,” he said, gesturing to the broken bow in his hand as Beckendorf nodded.
“Yes, you can hand it over to Jake. He’s in charge of those today,” Beckendorf pointed to a station filled with broken weaponry, sitting on the stool was a kid—around Michael’s age, he assumed—with chestnut brown hair, slumped towards the table as if examining something.
Michael nodded, walking over to the station. The kid—or Jake—looked preoccupied; running his hands on the broken blade of the sword as his eyes scanned the weapon with precision.
He placed his broken bow on the table, gaining Jake’s attention rather quickly as he looked up to meet Michael’s gaze. Jake blinked a few times, as if caught by surprise before smiling.
“Hi! Nice to meet you, I’m Jake Mason,” he greeted, his rusty brown eyes reminding Michael of dried up leaves during autumn.
“Michael Yew,” he said, voice sounding uninterested but Jake didn’t seem to care or maybe he didn’t notice. Instead, he set his gaze on the broken bow Michael had placed on the table. His eyes scanned it, as if he knew exactly how to fix its broken parts. He glanced up at Michael again.
“Michael? Can I call you Mike, for short?” Jake questioned, tone curious as Michale crossed his arms, glaring at the brunette.
“No,” he stated simply, locking eyes with Jake as the other gave him an innocent gaze. His eyes were filled with curiosity, as if he found Michael interesting. Like he would find a machine or broken weapon.
“Got it, Mike! Your bow needs fixing?” Michael doesn’t bother trying to correct him, something tells him that Jake will continue to use that nickname just to annoy him.
“Yes, I do. Can you fix it?” He asked, watching as Jake’s eyes shined in the prospect of a challenge.
“Of course I can fix it!” Jake said, grabbing the bow with delicacy he didn’t know the brunette had. He stared at the bow for quite some time, tracing the crack in its wood before mumbling something to himself. “It’ll be done by tomorrow, at most. If you need it any earlier I can do that, too.”
Michael raised a brow, conveying an emotion that Jake was able to read with too much ease. He wouldn’t say he was impressed but he wouldn’t say he wasn’t, either. He nodded his head, “tomorrow’s fine.”
Jake chuckled, his eyes lightening in a way the reminded Michael of melted chocolate. He wouldn’t admit such a thought aloud but he wouldn’t mind staring into his eyes, watching the way they seemed to change shades of brown with a flicker of the light. He didn’t dare linger on that thought, however, and left the forge after thanking Jake. He pretended that his flushed cheeks were because of the heat of the forges, yet he knew what a blatant lie that was.
After Michael had met Jake it felt as though he’d never stop noticing him. Even in a huge crowd Michael was able to spot the brunette with relative ease, not entirely sure if that was a good thing or not.
Either way, Jake deemed it necessary that they ‘hung out’ for a few hours or so. At first, it had only been a few conversations.
“Have any favourite colours?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s fine!”
Then he began to indulge the brunette more, allowing the two to spend countless hours together merely talking about this or that. Yet Michael didn’t feel bored, he enjoyed Jake’s presence more than he’d like to admit. So many people saw him as rude or blunt, but Jake didn’t seem to care.
“What’s up with you and getting into so many fights, anyway?”
“Some assholes were being assholes.”
“Pfft- fair, fair.”
And then it felt wrong not having Jake by his side. For reasons Michael didn’t know, Jake Mason had found a way in his heart. And he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
Michael watched the horizon, tapping his arrow on the grass as he waited impatiently. His gaze landed on Jake after a few minutes, watching as the other picked the ripe strawberries from the bushes. He looked pretty with the sunset illuminating him, his chestnut hair shined with gold accents from the sun, making him look more attractive than Michael thought necessary.
“Jake, can you hurry up? We don’t have all day!” Michael complained, eyes never leaving Jake as the brunette huffed fondly.
“Yeah, yeah, Mikey, just wait. I’m almost done,” he picked a few more strawberries, putting them in the basket he held in one hand, before walking towards Michael. The two had set up a picnic blanket on the grass, their backs to Thalia’s tree, and a few blankets lay folded near Michael’s feet.
Jake joined him, placing the basket filled with strawberries between them before chuckling. “Told you, this spot is the best to watch the sunset!”
Michael rolled his eyes, although he couldn’t hide the smile on his lips. “It’s pretty.”
“Obviously,” Jake sassed, earning a chuckle from Michael. The brunette plopped a strawberry in his mouth, gaze focused on the sunset as the skies’ colours changed from hues of purples and pinks to darker blues.
They stayed silent as the sun disappeared into the horizon, Michael wondered if his father had thought of a terrible haiku whilst setting the sun. It seemed like something Apollo would do. He glanced at Jake, who kept his gaze on the horizon, as if trying to solve whatever mysteries it held.
His cheeks flushed, even without the sunlight Jake still looked beautiful. He didn’t think there was a single word in the dictionary that described how utterly gorgeous Jake Mason was.
“Hey, Jake,” Michael said hesitantly, breaking the silence. Jake ripped his gaze away from the sky, looking at Michael with a curious glint in his eyes. Michael felt a lump in his throat, he wasn’t sure why he was doing this but he would. He had to. Only to stop shouldering such a burden, even if rejection is a path he’ll face.
“Yeah, Mikey?” Jake questioned, prompting Michael to continue. He sighed, trying to calm his nerves before staring at Jake in the eyes. He could get lost in the different shades of brown staring at him, never getting bored with the sight in front of him.
“Jake, I...” He inhaled sharply, exhaling just as fast. He was tense, yet he ignored it, “I like you Jake. I- I love you.”
The world seemed to have gone silent as Jake kept staring at him, eyes blown wide in surprise. Michael furrowed his brows, paranoia filling his brain. Shit. He shouldn’t have confessed. He couldn’t face rejection, why did he think he could? If Jake rejected him... he wasn’t sure he’d heal. If—
“I love you, too,” Jake blurted out, crushing the silence. Michael stares wide-eyed at Jake, blinking once, twice, before confirming that, yes, he was not dreaming.
The next thing he knows he’s cupping Jake’s cheeks, their lips only inches apart before Jake leans in and they kiss. They actually kiss. Michael’s whole world seems to stop, as if giving them this moment to themselves.
When they part, panting heavily and staring into each other’s eyes, Michael can see so much love in those beautiful browns. He doesn’t think he’s loved anyone as much as he’s loved Jake Mason.
When the bridge collapsed, Michael felt the air leave his lungs. His vision blurred, he wasn’t sure where he was. Yet as time seemed to slow, he felt himself drift. As if his soul was leaving him, parting from his body; bidding it farewell.
No. He thought, I can’t die yet.
Dying sounds nice— some irrational part of his brain supplies— I can rest. No more worries.
His breaths came unevenly, his lungs hurt as he tried to desperately supply oxygen to them. Futile effort , a voice echoed in his mind, give up. Rest.
Michael’s half-lidded eyes began to close, he could feel rubble all around him; piercing his skin with its sharp-edges. His voice wasn’t working, he couldn’t move. Yet, he embraced it. He allowed himself to succumb to what he assumed was his death.
Forgive me, Lee. I couldn’t protect everyone.
Will. I’m sorry. You’ll carry a burden not meant for someone so young.
Jake... Michael felt his conscious begin to leave him, black spots decorated his vision. I always loved you, sweetheart. Never forget that.
Darkness enveloped him as his body went numb.
Jake looked around the lobby of the Empires State Building with a frown, trying to spot Michael anywhere. His frown deepened, he wasn’t here.
Please, he thought, be okay.
His eyes landed on Percy Jackson, a fire of hope igniting in his chest as he sprinted towards the demigod. He looked tired, but unscathed.
“Percy!” He called, stopping right in front of the younger demigod. Percy looked at him, his sea green eyes filled with grief. “Have you seen Michael?”
Percy’s eyes widened, a look of pity written all over his features as his bottom lip wobbled.
“Jake... I- I’m sorry. Michael, he... he’s gone ,” Percy said, averting Jake’s gaze as the other looked at him with wide-eyes.
Gone. Michael was dead. Jake muttered something, he couldn’t recall what, and left the Empires State Building. His legs buckled the moment he left, hitting the hard pavement. The pain didn’t register as he let the words sink in. Michael was dead; gone.
Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes, his hands shaking as he balled them into fists. He bit back a scream that almost escaped, he couldn’t grieve. Not yet. There was still a war to fight. A war Michael gave his life for.
Don’t let his sacrifice be for nothing, a voice inside his head reasoned. He inhaled, vision blurry, but he got to his feet—albeit shakily. Jake didn’t dare linger outside any longer, just staring at the wreckage of the bridge made him want to breakdown.
But he couldn’t, not now. He still had a war to fight. Even so, he felt as though a piece of him died with Michael. On that bridge.