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The members of Camp Half-Blood aren't sure what to make of Hao at first.
Not to say they dislike him. Most find him at least a little intimidating, but he’s kind to everyone, and is always willing to lend a hand even for the hardest tasks. His handsome face alone has earned him a great deal of admirers. But he doesn’t share much (read: any) information about himself, and apparently Chiron himself forbade Hao from speaking about his personal life, which of course only serves to further everyone’s curiosity.
Here’s what little they do know about him:
- He came to camp at the same time as Yujin Han (who is, as of today, still unclaimed), and then passed out for three days. Gyuvin, who was responsible for bringing Yujin to camp, has remained uncharacteristically tight-lipped about the entire story. Some people remember hearing a lot of thunder, and others recall seeing Hanbin himself sprint frantically across the camp grounds that day, but besides that not much else is known.
- He’s skilled. At a lot of things. He can hold his own with a sword, and can even rival some Apollo kids in archery, but his specialty is obviously the rope dart. He supposedly defeated every single Ares kid in duels with his rope dart alone (although the Ares cabin would never admit to it). Some said he looked surprised and even a little weirded out by the weapons in their armory…although no one knows why.
- He’s seventeen. Quite old, for a demigod that’s never been to Camp Half-Blood. It makes him one of the oldest campers present (besides Jiwoong, who’s a year older), but he takes to the role extremely well, guiding and caring for the younger campers and quickly becoming a favorite. The question of how he was able to survive for so long against the dangers of demigod life is another one he never answers. It’s especially remarkable, considering…
- He’s a son of Zeus.
That last fact is why so many still find him intimidating. Even when they’ve seen him dote on the kids and play camp games with everyone else, it’s hard to just… forget. He practically radiates power, and although he almost never uses any elemental abilities around others (not even in Capture the Flag), there are moments where the breeze dances around him when he laughs, or when something startles him and ozone crackles in the air as if in response. Small but undeniable reminders, of the immense power just…sitting there, simmering under Hao’s control, waiting like an incoming storm.
There’s also the fact that they already have a Big Three half-blood. A son of Poseidon. Hanbin Sung.
There are misunderstandings at first. There are a lot of misunderstandings. Given the disastrous history of Big Three children, it’s only natural for everyone to assume Hanbin and Hao will clash horribly. The last time there were coexisting Big Three children, an international war happened. Having Hanbin and Hao in the same camp at the same time surely spelled disaster. A son of Poseidon and a son of Zeus. Fated enemies.
Luckily, it doesn’t take too long for those misunderstandings to get cleared up.
Woongki, personally, doesn’t give two shits about who Hao’s godly parent is.
Yes, he knows it’s Zeus. Yes, he knows it’s a big deal that there’s been another Big Three kid this entire time (was the line about a “half-blood of the eldest gods” reaching sixteen even about Hanbin, if Hao had reached that age first?). And yes, he knows that if Zeus could read his mind he would get smited in less than a millisecond.
But really, who cares? At the end of the day, Hao is a demigod, just like the rest of them. His life is just as difficult as the rest of theirs, if not even more so. So when Chiron asks Woongki to show Hao around, he agrees without hesitation.
“Follow me!” he says cheerily to the other. “You don’t need the normal run down, do you? What do you want to see first? I can show you the pegasi! If there are no lessons scheduled you might even be able to ride one! Do you want to ride one?”
Hao seems a little overwhelmed by his chattiness (he can’t help how extroverted he is), but in his opinion it’s much better compared to how uncomfortable Hao had looked before. He’d looked almost shaken upon leaving the Big House, as if whatever he and Chiron had talked about was just that unsettling. Woongki doesn’t really want to pry about that, though, so he just does his best to distract Hao and (hopefully) lift his spirits a bit.
It seems to work, at least. Hao thaws to him pretty quickly, and when he smiles he looks less like an unflappable ice prince and more like a normal guy. He seems awed by their architecture and lush greenery, and laughs a lot when they catch the Hermes cabin’s latest prank of making a group of Hephaestus kids sprout flowers on their faces (which Woongki is very proud of), and even manages to befriend the pegasi.
“They’re beautiful,” Hao says, brushing the mane of a pure white pegasus. Woongki’s no horse-speaker, but he thinks the pegasi look rather pleased by Hao’s praise. “Who takes care of them?”
“Cleaning the stables is one of the chores that rotates between cabins,” Woongki explains. “Usually Hanbin Sung takes care of the pegasi himself, though. They like him the most, since his dad, uh, made horses?”
Hao blinks. His countenance does a funny flicker at Hanbin’s name, but it smooths out too quickly for Woongki to further analyze it. “So Hanbin likes pegasi?”
“Yeah. That one’s his favorite, actually.” Woongki nods to the pegasus Hao is still brushing. “Bori.”
Bori whinnies at the sound of her name. Hao’s face does that flicker again. He leans closer to the pegasus, whispering something Woongki can’t hear, but judging from the way Bori nuzzles at him more affectionately than Woongki has seen her treat anyone besides Hanbin, Hao must’ve said the right thing.
“Wow,” Woongki says with a laugh. “You trying to steal Hanbin’s favorite, or something?”
Hao just smirks, and for a second Woongki wonders if this is how the Zeus kid-Poseidon kid rivalry is going to start: over a horse. “We’ll see,” he answers cryptically, giving Bori one last pat before setting the brush down. “What’s next?”
They run into some campers during the rest of Woongki’s tour. Most give them a wide berth and stare from a distance, because apparently most people don’t share Woongki’s opinion (or lack thereof) about Hao’s lineage, but some do approach Hao quite comfortably. Gyuvin and Yujin spot them in the middle of a basketball game and bound over, both very happy to see Hao on his feet again, and fluster Hao with their attention. Jay and Kamden also welcome Hao warmly, as well as Gunwook, who’d supposedly been there when Hao first arrived. Hao seems less and less tense with each good interaction, which Woongki will absolutely take as a win.
It’s only when they get to the cabins that everything seems to sour.
“You guys are divided based on who your godly parent is?”
Hao seems utterly confounded at the concept, glaring at the cabins surrounding the central green, as if personally offended by their existence. Woongki can’t understand why. He personally thinks most of the cabins look pretty cool.
“What’s wrong with that?” Woongki asks. “It’s nice to live with family, isn’t it?”
Hao’s glare only sharpens. “Aren’t all your divisions uneven, then? Some of the cabins literally look empty!”
“Well—they are empty. They’re honorary, you know? Hera and Artemis don’t have kids, but we can’t just not have cabins for them.”
“You could make shrines or temples to honor the gods, if that’s really what you’re worried about,” Hao says. “There’s no need to extend that to children’s living conditions.”
“Uh.” Woongki feels a little wrongfooted, and can’t help but glance at the sky nervously. Hao’s making a lot of sense, but he’s not sure what to do with that. “Well…”
“And what happens if someone doesn’t know who their godly parent is? Or if there’s no existing cabin for their parent?”
“Ah, they stay in the Hermes cabin.” Woongki points to Cabin Eleven. “That’s mine. It’s…it’s a little crowded, but it’s definitely nowhere near as bad as it was before Hanbin made the gods swear on the River Styx to be better about claiming their children. And we’ve been building more cabins! The eight on the wings that we walked by, those are new.”
“Uh huh.” Hao still doesn’t look impressed. “So based on this system, where would I live?”
“Zeus’s cabin is over there.” This time, he points across the green, to one of the big cabins at the end, white marble decorated with bronze.
“So I get a whole cabin to myself, and meanwhile there are other campers who have to live in overcrowded spaces while there are literally multiple empty cabins , and you don’t see anything wrong with that?”
Woongki raises his hands in a placating manner. “Look. I get it. A lot of demigods were upset about that, too. It became a big deal in the Titan War. We know it’s not the fairest, but change is always possible, and things can and will get better. Hanbin proved it, with his deal.” Woongki stops, considering. “His experience with the cabins is probably part of why he made the deal, actually.”
Hao has settled down a bit, with Woongki’s words (thankfully), but his eyes narrow slightly at Woongki’s last sentence. “What do you mean?”
The dinner conch horn blows, effectively ending their conversation, as Woongki has to lead his cabin to the pavilion. He offers to take Hao there, but Hao declines, saying there’s something he wanted to do first, so Woongki heads off alone.
Seowon wiggles his eyebrows upon seeing him. “So,” he says, as they all sit down at their table. They have to shuffle a bit, so that everyone in their cabin has room to sit, and it just reminds Woongki of the conversation with Hao. “I heard you had an eventful day.”
“Oh, did you?” Woongki wiggles his eyebrows back, and Seowon giggles. “I just showed Hao around camp. He’s nice. Definitely not as scary as everyone thinks he is.”
“Really?” Seowon, like Woongki, doesn’t care much for godly parentage, but for some reason there’s a teasing lilt in his voice. “So if I told you the new son of Zeus looks like he’s arguing with the old son of Poseidon, would that surprise you?”
What?
Woongki turns to face the entrance, where several campers have already started looking, to see that Seowon’s right. Hao and Hanbin are entering together, mid-conversation. Neither of them look particularly happy. The air is already beginning to crackle.
“Uh oh.” Woongki surveys the area, spotting many worried and unsettled faces. Hanbin’s never been a very aggressive person, and Hao doesn’t seem like one either, so surely they wouldn’t fight in the middle of the dining pavilion…right? “I’ll try to figure out what’s going on.”
“Let me know if you need backup.”
With a nod, Woongki sets off, doing his best to sneak in the shadows. He’d like to get an idea of what they’re talking about, before jumping in, and it’ll be easier to do that if they don’t notice him. He leaves the dining area, ducking behind columns from the outside, and fortunately his dad being the god of thieves makes him quite adept at sneaking unseen.
As he gets closer, he begins to hear more and more of their conversation. They’ve stopped in front of the Poseidon table, and speak in low voices, but Woongki’s position leaves him able to make out most of it.
“—both sit alone?” Hao is saying, crossing his arms, voice heated with the same ire as when he was complaining to Woongki about the cabin system earlier. “How does that make any sense?”
Hanbin winces. His eyes dart around, like he’s aware of the attention they’re attracting. “I don’t know. Those are just the rules. Sitting at a different god’s table can be seen as a sign of disrespect.”
Hao rolls his eyes. “You Greeks are so weird. What does the place I choose to eat have to do with respect? Why do they care? If I eat a sandwich in the bathroom does that suddenly mean I’m a worshipper of the god of toilets?”
“Hao.” Hanbin is pressing his lips very tightly together, but not in an angry way. No, up close, Woongki can tell that he’s actually…trying not to laugh. “We can keep talking after dinner. You should go eat—”
“Does this mean you have to eat alone every day?” Hao asks abruptly, causing Hanbin to freeze. “So for four years, you’ve lived alone and eaten alone and done all your activities alone? Including when you were only twelve?”
Thunder booms in the distance, causing several campers to jump. Woongki can feel the hairs on his arms stand straight up at the static electricity charging the air.
“Hao, it’s okay. Really,” Hanbin insists, looking surprisingly unfrightened by the thunder. “I’m sorry you have to sit alone, but we’ll see each other right after, and our tables are close to each other, too. The past is the past. Enjoy your dinner, okay?”
Hanbin sits, at the same spot he’s sat for four years. The rest of the long white table spreads to his right, elegant and clean and empty. He pointedly does not look at Hao, instead keeping his attention on the plate in front of him, like he’s waiting for Hao to leave.
Hao takes a deep breath. He shoots a glance at Chiron, who has been watching them with an impeccable poker face.
Then, he sits.
In mid-air.
Hanbin does look at Hao then, wide-eyed at the sight of Hao hovering cross-legged beside him, so stable it’s like he’s just sitting on an invisible extension of the table’s bench. “What are you—”
“I’m not sitting at your table,” Hao says pointedly. “I’m in the air, so that’s technically still Zeus’s domain, meaning I’m not disrespecting him, if we really are using that kind of logic here. And my food isn’t going to be on your table either.” He reaches a hand out, and the plate and goblet sitting on Zeus’s table fly over until they’re floating in front of him. “So? Are we going to eat now?”
Hanbin stares, absolutely gobsmacked. The rest of the pavilion is staring as well, at Hao’s casual use of a power he hasn’t been keen on showing off at all, at Hao’s defiance of the rules, at Hao’s look to Hanbin like he’s challenging him.
“Ah, Hao,” Hanbin says finally. His eyes are glistening, and his mouth is a little wobbly, like he’s not sure whether to smile or cry. “You’re so clingy, you know?”
Hao grins triumphantly. Chiron seems to take that as his cue to call the camp’s attention and direct them all to eat, and Woongki slinks away until he’s back at his own table.
“So? What happened?” Seowon pokes at him eagerly. “Did Hao really sit with Hanbin because he didn’t want to end their argument?”
Is that what everyone thinks? Woongki rubs his chin, replaying the memory in his head. The way Hao and Hanbin talked…there was no animosity at all. In fact, the familiarity, and Hao’s insistence on not leaving Hanbin alone after already experiencing four years of solitude, and Hanbin’s unmistakeable gratitude shining in his eyes…it’s almost like they’re…
“Woongki?”
Woongki just laughs.
“I’ll tell you later,” he says to a baffled Seowon. He looks across the pavilion, where Hanbin is attempting to steal Hao’s drink, and where everyone else is still stealing glances at like a ticking time bomb. “This is going to be super funny.”
---
(Seowon, as expected, finds it hilarious, and they both, as expected, are on the same page when it comes to scheming.)
(How long will it take for everyone else to realize how those two really feel?)
“There’s no way that’s right.”
“What do you mean? Who doesn’t—”
“I thought he was allergic—”
“Don’t just start making things up!”
Jeonghyeon resists the urge to facepalm, as everyone continues to argue. What was supposed to be a simple gesture of gratitude from the minor cabins has devolved into a chaotic mess within one day. With the Nike kids wanting to take the lead because they’re “the best,” and the Nemesis kids not wanting any leader for balance, and the Hecate kids threatening to curse them unless they stopped arguing, it’s a miracle no one’s started a physical fight yet. Well, unless you count someone slapping a Hypnos kid to wake them, but if they didn’t even wake up from it, does it even count?
“This is ridiculous,” he mutters to Jay, both of them staying a good distance away from the center of the Iris cabin, where the main argument is happening. “Why can’t we just ask Matthew? Or one of his other friends?”
“I think Matthew’s busy working in the infirmary,” Jay says with a sigh. “There was an…incident, at the lava wall.”
“Of course there was,” he mutters. Gods forbid they have a single normal lava wall game. “Hopefully Hanbin will like…whatever ends up being decided.”
After all the help Hanbin Sung has given them in building their new cabins, not to mention being the main advocate for letting even the former Titan army demigods into camp in the first place, they had all wanted to arrange a gift for him. It had seemed like a good idea at first, but now Jeonghyeon regrets ever agreeing. Next time something like this happens, the Tyche cabin will work alone—much less of a headache for sure.
Eventually, the group does manage to come to a consensus on the gift components: a personalized meal, a cabin decoration, and a useful magical item to carry around. Jeonghyeon hoped that would be the end of it…until everyone started arguing again, this time about what foods Hanbin likes.
“I’m just saying, everyone likes pizza—”
“We can’t just get him pizza!” One of the Nike kids has actually drawn a full diagram on one of the rainbow-colored walls, and it sways when she forcefully points to it. “Come on. How does no one know what his favorite foods are?”
“He eats alone,” someone points out. “And his table’s far from ours.”
“Why is there a drink category?” a girl calls out. “Can’t we just give him water?”
“You did not just ask that.”
“He’s a son of Poseidon!”
“What’s going on?”
All of them turn, to see a tall gangly figure ducking under the doorway to enter. Did they really leave the door open?
“Hey.” Gyuvin, son of Hebe, pouts. “Is this the Hanbin gift? Did you start planning without me?”
“Gyuvin!” One of the other Hebe kids jumps to greet him, the rest following like a pack of overexcited puppies. Jeonghyeon can’t help his amusement at the sight. “Where have you been?”
“Hey. Gyuvin.” A Nemesis girl points at him, cutting right to the chase. “You’re good friends with him. What’s his favorite food.”
“And his favorite color!”
“Have you been inside his cabin?”
Gyuvin blinks, looking slightly overwhelmed, as he scans the diagram, as well as the several blueprints and figures the Hecate and Iris kids had begun sketching out at some point. “Uh…wow, this is a lot. Have you thought about just buying him a pizza?”
“Oh, gods,” someone groans. “Not this again.”
Alright. That’s enough. As the conversation picks up again, Jeonghyeon slips out, sighing with relief once the door closes behind him and cuts off all the noise. One more minute of sitting in there and he thinks he would’ve screamed.
He’ll go back later. For now…a walk sounds pretty good.
It’s still early in the day. Jeonghyeon has to shade his eyes slightly from how bright the sun is. He hasn’t been in camp very long—he studied abroad for a while—so he’s not quite used to the constant sunshine and good weather. Many campers are out and about, so Jeonghyeon heads towards the woods, where the mouth of Zephyros Creek is; it’s usually quiet there.
Except, when he reaches it this time, there’s someone already present.
“—sure everything’s fine?”
“Yes.” There’s a boy with reddish-brown hair, speaking to a shimmering image embedded in the rainbow mist splashing from the creek rocks—an Iris-Message, no doubt. “You worry too much. I—” He pauses, gaze flicking to where Jeonghyeon is, and Jeonghyeon does a double take, as he meets the stormy eyes of Hao Zhang himself. “I have to go. I’ll call you back.”
“Stay safe!”
The call disconnects, and Jeonghyeon winces as Hao turns around. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I didn’t know someone else would be here, I didn’t mean to intrude, I—”
“Hey. It’s okay.” Hao seems puzzled by Jeonghyeon’s nervousness, although Jeonghyeon’s not sure why—how could he not be nervous around a literal son of Zeus?! “You’re…Jeonghyeon, right?”
The son of Zeus knows his name?!
“I’m Hao. What’s wrong?” Hao asks, completely oblivious to his mild inner breakdown. “You look a little stressed. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Oh, um…” Jeonghyeon shakes his head. “It’s nothing. The new cabin kids keep arguing, so I just left to get some space.”
“I see.” Hao nods, grimacing sympathetically. “Sorry. It must be draining, to deal with that.”
“Y-yeah. It is.” Hao is being…really kind. Is he always this kind, or is Jeonghyeon just lucky? “I mean, I want to help, but they just keep arguing in circles about what Hanbin likes—”
Oops. Jeonghyeon cuts himself off, and the nervousness that had been slowly dissipating at Hao’s kindness is returning full force. Shit. Why did he do that? His cabin members warned him about the innate rivalry of children of the Big Three, and he went and talked about Hanbin right in front of Hao.
“Oh?” Hao, unexpectedly, doesn’t seem upset, just raises a curious eyebrow. “So they were arguing about Hanbin?”
“Yeah, um, we—” Jeonghyeon wrings his hands, trying to brace himself for any reaction while speeding through the explanation as smoothly as possible. “We wanted to thank him for all he’s done for the new cabins by getting gifts, but we don’t know what he’d want. We don’t even know his favorite food, haha…”
He trails off, awkwardly, until the only sound is the rushing current of the creek. His heartbeat is loud in his eardrums. He does his best to slow it, to breathe evenly, keeping an eye on Hao but also trying to avoid direct eye contact as best as possible.
“That’s very sweet.” To his surprise, Hao smiles, so warmly it melts the rest of his icy features into something softer, friendlier. Somehow, it feels like he’s a completely different person, even though all he did was smile. It’s much easier, like this, to remember that Hao, too, is just a teenager. Just another one of them. “I’m sure he’ll love whatever you get him.”
Jeonghyeon has to take a second to restart his brain after it short-circuited from Hao’s smile. He doesn’t think he’s ever been proved wrong so many times in a single conversation. Does Hao… not hate Hanbin? “We just…we still want to get something he’ll really like…”
Hao hums, tapping his chin. A silver bracelet on his wrist glints at the movement, revealing a hint of iridescent light from the few pearls decorating it. “He’s been craving japchae lately,” Hao says. “I think he still likes sweet potatoes…oh, and if you get dessert, make sure it’s coffee-flavored. And he likes Coke Zero.”
“Whoa, how—” Oh, Hao sits with him at meals, doesn’t he? Jeonghyeon almost forgot. He used to think they did it just to argue, based on what everyone else claimed, but now he’s not so sure… “Okay. I’ll remember. What about, like, decorations? Or accessories?”
Hao rattles that off easily as well, listing dozens of options and Hanbin’s preferences, and even writing out a list when Jeonghyeon’s ADHD brain loses track of it all. The list, penned in blue ink and folded neatly in half, now sits in his hands, crinkling under his fingertips. If it weren’t for that, Jeonghyeon would almost believe everything that just happened was a dream.
“Thank you,” Jeonghyeon says, still stunned. “Thank you so much.”
“No problem. Good luck, and let me know if you need help with anything, okay?” Hao beams again, and walks away, leaving Jeonghyeon alone with nothing but a sheet of paper and a babbling creek.
How did Hao know so much about Hanbin? Didn’t Hao only get here a few days ago? Is that really enough time to know his preferences to such an extent? Was there more to their relationship, or is Hao just really good at lying?
Jeonghyeon looks down at the list, its contents scrawled with a quick hand, but with clear care in every stroke. He thinks of Hao's smile, and how it first appeared once Hanbin’s name was mentioned. He thinks.
Eventually, he can’t help but laugh, as he turns to head back to the Iris cabin.
Talk about good luck.
---
(Hanbin loves their gifts. He opens each one with wide eyes and a toothy smile, and thanks them over and over again, even though the gifts are supposed to be a thank you to him. When he asks how they knew exactly what he wanted, Jeonghyeon just tells him it was a lucky guess.)
(Later on, he sees Hanbin gushing about them to Hao, and pretends he doesn’t notice the secret smile that tugs at Hao’s lips when Hanbin isn’t looking.)
“You’re letting him go alone?”
Chiron called an emergency council meeting, but only with the more senior of the senior counselors, so it’s a smaller crowd at the rec room today than usual. With several campers’ accounts of monsters not staying dead, and nearby satyrs’ reports of something smelling “wrong” about the Door or Orpheus, a meeting like this was inevitable. It makes sense for an accomplished veteran like Hanbin to go investigate it, especially considering he’s explored the area before.
So Gunwook, like pretty much everyone else, is quite surprised when Hao raises an objection.
“Let me come along,” Hao says, hands curling into determined fists. “The Underworld is dangerous—”
“I’m afraid that would be unwise,” Chiron says. “A quick investigation mission like this should have as few people as possible. And, more importantly, you and Hanbin are both children of the most powerful gods. Your combined presences would attract too much attention.”
Hao huffs. He’s normally quite composed—Gunwook doesn’t think he’s seen Hao this worked up before. “I can—”
“Hao, it’s fine,” Hanbin interjects.
Hao jerks backwards, staring incredulously. “You’re okay with this?!”
“I can take care of it quickly.” Hanbin almost sounds indignant. “I can handle myself. Really. It’s not a big deal.”
It gives Gunwook whiplash, how quickly Hao’s expression shutters off, the fiery frustration freezing over until there’s nothing but cold stoniness.
“‘Not a big deal,’” Hao echoes flatly. “Right.”
Hanbin falters. “Wait, I didn’t mean—”
It’s too late. Hao has already stormed off, leaving nothing but the faint smell of ozone in his absence. Hanbin pushes his seat back, as if about to chase after him, but Chiron settles a hand on his shoulder.
“Give him time,” Chiron says. And to everyone else, “Why don’t we wrap up here?”
The meeting concludes quickly after reviewing a few other matters, and the room clears with only five lingering behind. Hanbin remains where he is, biting his lower lip repeatedly, conflict brewing in his sea-colored eyes. Matthew has to physically pry his hands apart, and Gunwook spots the crescent-shaped nail marks dug into his skin.
“I…” Hanbin is absently looking towards where Hao had been sitting, as if hoping for Hao to show up like the past twenty minutes didn’t happen. “I didn’t…”
“It’s okay,” Taerae says, rubbing between his shoulder blades. “Just give him time.”
“He probably wanted the chance to prove himself,” Jiwoong says. “He’ll cool down soon. He seems like a level-headed guy.”
Hanbin doesn’t respond, just lets the rest of them fill the empty air with consoling words. Gunwook tries his best to comfort him as well. He doesn’t know much about Hanbin and Hao’s story, besides the fact that they were childhood friends, and he also doesn’t know much about Hao himself. But they’re probably still close, right? If their friendship survived four years of absence, it can survive a little jealousy.
They have to split eventually, each of them with their own duties to attend to, and Gunwook does his best to move on from it all. He works on a few projects, and helps Gyuvin show Yujin how to climb the lava wall, and eats lunch with his cabin mates. The cabins don’t always eat lunch at the same time, not like dinner, so he tries not to think about why Hao isn’t there, and why Hanbin is sitting alone again, two days since Hao began joining him. It’s still soon. They’ll be fine.
When Gunwook does see Hao, it’s completely by accident.
He wasn’t actively looking for Hao—he hadn’t even been thinking about Hao at the time. He had just been on his way to the Half-Blood Hill to visit Peleus the dragon, only to see someone else already there, sitting calmly by Peleus’s side, sharpening the end of a rope dart.
Hao looks up as Gunwook approaches, and his hands pause. “Hi,” he greets, voice slightly rough around the edges, like he hasn’t talked for a while. “Gunwook, right?”
“Uh, yeah.” He’s a little surprised Hao remembered who he is. “Sorry to bother you. I was just here to say hi to this one.” Peleus perks up upon seeing him, and Gunwook pets his snout fondly. “You didn’t miss me too much, did you?”
Peleus bumps him with his nose, then closes his eyes in contentment as Gunwook strokes his head. The setting sun and Golden Fleece from above reflect off his coppery scales, creating a warm glow. When Gunwook looks back at Hao, he realizes his hair is almost the same color as Peleus’s scales.
“He likes you,” Hao notes. A smile, small but genuine, blooms on his lips, and the sight of it alone makes him ten times less intimidating. Gunwook hadn’t even realized how apprehensive he had been around him, around the potent power of his innate aura, until he feels the tension relaxing from his muscles.
“He likes everyone,” Gunwook says, grinning as the dragon rumbles like an incredibly big cat. Then, because he’s been thinking about this ever since he saw Hao’s weapon, he asks, “What’s your rope dart made of?”
Hao looks down at the dart in his hands. Upon closer inspection, it’s silvery, although probably not actual silver, and there’s no professional finish to it, like it was made by a non-blacksmith, but it still looks very sharp. The thing Hao’s sharpening it with actually looks the exact same, except it’s less polished and slightly curved.
“It’s a claw from the Nemean lion,” Hao says nonchalantly, as if that isn’t one of the coolest possible responses he could’ve said. “I’m not a…Hephaestus legacy, and I didn’t have proper equipment, so it’s not the best—”
“Wait, you forged it by yourself?!” Gunwook exclaims. “That’s so impressive!”
“Oh—” Hao’s ears redden. “It’s not—”
“No one besides the Hephaestus kids knows how to forge here. I can’t believe you were able to do that. If you want, I can help you fix it up.”
Hao jolts. “Really?”
“I mean, I’ve never worked with material like this,” Gunwook says with a shrug, “but you can trust me! I’m one of our best,” he adds with a proud grin. “You can ask around. I’ve fixed things like—oh! I fixed that!”
He points at Hao’s wrist, where a bracelet rests, double-wrapped and gleaming. Hao stills.
“Oh—” Right. Hanbin has the matching bracelet. He probably doesn’t want to hear about Hanbin right now. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“I trust you, then,” Hao says, cutting Gunwook off. He meets Gunwook’s eyes, resolute and sincere. “I’ll trust you and only you with this.”
Now it’s Gunwook’s turn to flounder. He wasn’t expecting a response this strong, this earnest. “I-I’m flattered—but you don’t have to say something like that—”
“I do.” Hao drops his sharpening tools, fingers instead spinning the silver chains around his left wrist. “Thank you for fixing things for him when I couldn’t.”
His last word catches at the end. One finger traces over the embedded ‘H’ charm, lightly, reverently. There’s something so deeply complex in the depths of his blue eyes, pain and love, sorrow and pride, stinging regret, desperate, desperate longing. And as Gunwook studies him, and sees not a single hint of jealousy or bitterness…he realizes they had all been mistaken about why Hao stormed out of the meeting.
“You’re worried about him.” Gunwook doesn’t phrase it like a question. He may not be as good at reading humans compared to machines, but he knows he’s right this time. “About being separated again.”
Hao closes his eyes. His grip tightens around the charm. Just like how Gunwook didn’t have to ask the question, Hao doesn’t have to answer. Not when both of them already know.
“He’ll be okay,” Gunwook says. Next to him, Peleus bobs his head up and down, as if agreeing. “It’s only for two days. And he’s strong. If he does run into any monsters, they won’t stand a chance against him.”
“I…I know.” Hao releases a shaky breath. “I know it’s stupid to worry. But…I already lost him once. What if it happens again? E-except this time…I’m not able to find him?”
He looks so small, huddled in half-darkness from the pine tree’s shadow, fear and worry burdening and shrinking him even further, so far from the powerful and untouchable image everyone else sees of the sole son of Zeus. It’s like Gunwook can see his heart, cracking and bleeding in his hands.
“And then he said it wasn’t a big deal.” Hao blinks very quickly, as if trying to hold tears back. “After everything that happened, this, us being apart…isn’t a big deal. Does he…” A quiet sniffle. “Does he really not care?”
“He does.” Gunwook may not know much, but he vividly remembers Hanbin running faster than he’s ever seen at the first hint of Hao’s identity, Hanbin not leaving Hao’s side for three entire days, and he knows Hanbin cares. “I don’t think he meant it that way. I think he just didn’t want you to worry.”
Peleus moves, until his tail is wrapped around Hao, who startles, but eventually reaches to lay a hand on his scales. With his other hand, he rubs at his eyes.
“I’m sorry to dump all this on you,” Hao mumbles.
“Don’t be. I’m happy to listen.” On a whim, Gunwook pats Hao’s knee. Hao stiffens at the contact, but doesn’t move away. “Hanbin leaves tomorrow morning. I think…if you’re up for it, it’s worth talking to him before he goes.” Then, at the way Hao’s face falls, he adds hastily, “B-but you don’t have to—”
“No…you’re right. I’ll try.” Hao smiles, and then, to Gunwook’s surprise, ruffles his hair. “Thank you, Gunwook. You’re very kind.”
Gunwook flushes, pleased. As the sun continues to set, and as Peleus curls around the two of them protectively, Gunwook sees the light return to Hao’s eyes, sees the strength return to his form, slowly but surely, and instead of the apprehension from before, Gunwook just feels…happy. Happy that he and Hanbin really will be fine.
---
(The next morning, Gunwook spots Hao rushing over to Cabin Three just as Hanbin exits, and the relief that breaks over Hanbin’s face like a new dawn, and when the two hug it feels like the world has righted itself once more.)
The good news is, Hanbin returns from his quest perfectly unharmed.
The bad news is, Hanbin returns from his quest just in time for Capture the Flag, and is not on Junhyeon’s team.
“Why is he with your team?!” he complains to his best friend, who is now being demoted to ex-best friend because of this horrendous betrayal, Taerae Kim. “Give him to us!”
Taerae rolls his eyes, barely looking up from his guitar. The soothing melody floating from the strings is not going to distract Junhyeon from his tirade, no matter how good Taerae is playing (he’s not even an Apollo kid, why is he so good at it?!). “He’s the one who chose to be on our team. You act like I can just make him go against his own will.”
Junheyon gives him his most deadpan look. “You literally can. You are literally one of the only Aphrodite kids who can.”
“Anyway,” Taerae says flippantly (rude!), “You’ve got the two biggest cabins on your side. Why are you complaining?”
“You have Hanbin and Hao!” Junhyeon protests. “Both of the Big Three kids! That’s illegal!”
Taerae snorts, strumming one long chord. “Illegal?”
“Fine. Whatever.” He turns his nose. “Good luck trying to handle them. Your team will implode from them arguing before you can even put a plan together.” No matter how powerful those two are, everyone knows Big Three children can’t work together, and based on what the campers say, those two are no exception. “Don’t come crying to me after your team loses!”
None of the campers surrounding them even bat an eye at Junhyeon’s yelling, probably already used to it after so many years. Taerae just laughs, and asks if he still wants to partner up for the next canoe race, and Junhyeon obviously says yes because they’re always on the same canoe team why does he even have to ask, and then they go to lunch. So just a typical Friday morning.
Unfortunately, he’s so caught up with thinking about lunch, that he misses the devious smirk flashing across Taerae’s face.
---
“Okay.” Jiwoong, in the middle of directing the red team’s forces, as the Ares head counselor, points to Junhyeon. Junhyeon does his best not to look too smug at the attention. “While teams A and B are taking the front, you’ll be leading the infiltration team around the sides to get the flag. Be fast, and be sneaky.”
Junhyeon puffs his chest out, just a bit. “You got it, boss.” He turns to the other two that Jiwoong assigned to him—a Nike kid and a Hermes (technically unclaimed) kid. “Let’s win this, yeah?”
“Remember,” Jiwoong calls their attention again, this time sounding very stern, “whatever happens, the flag is your goal. Do not get distracted. No matter what.”
Pfft. Who does Jiwoong think he is, a newbie? “Piece of cake!”
It’s with confidence that Junhyeon leads the three of them to the opposing side. The Nike girl follows him with just as much confidence (which is to be expected, given her parent), but the unclaimed kid trails behind, shuffling awkwardly in his heavy armor.
“Hey, kid.” Junhyeon glances back at him. “Yujin, right? You good?”
The kid—Yujin—jumps, spine stiffening straight. “S-sorry. I’m fine. Just…first game.”
“Ah, you mean first win,” he corrects. “Have some more confidence! And look forward to our inevitable celebration!”
Yujin cracks a smile—a nervous one, but a smile nonetheless—and the three of them reach the outskirts of a clearing, still hidden within the trees, a few meters away from the clearing itself. From Junhyeon’s position, he can see it—a flash of blue, fluttering in the breeze. The flag.
“One of us should try to get a closer look,” the Nike girl says. “New kid, you’re the smallest.”
“Me?” Yujin bites his lip. “Um…”
“—can’t believe how stupid you are!”
All of them freeze on the spot. From the clearing, there are…voices. Loud ones.
“I can obviously handle this myself,” the voice continues, and Junhyeon realizes it’s Hanbin. Holy shit. Has Hanbin ever yelled at any camper this angrily before?! “I don’t get why you feel the need to stick your nose in everything I do.”
“If you were better at your job, I wouldn’t need to ‘stick my nose in,’” another voice retorts. Hao. “What kind of positioning is this? You call this strategy?”
“You—”
Junhyeon can barely resist the urge to throw a fist pump. A quick peek from behind the tree trunk confirms his suspicions. Hao and Hanbin are arguing. Just like he predicted.
“This is our chance,” Junhyeon hisses to the other two. “They’re distracted. We can take them off guard, grab the flag, and run. Ready? On my signal—”
“W-wait!” Yujin looks panicked, gesturing frantically. “Don’t, there’s—”
“No time to waste, kid!” First game or no, they can’t let nervousness get the best of them! “Three, two, now!”
They all burst from the tree lines, rushing forward—
“AH!”
—and then, next thing Junhyeon knows, he’s being hoisted by thick webbings of rope straight up into the air.
“What the—” He grasps at the net entrapping him, seizing at it frantically. Beside him, he can see his two teammates in the same predicament. “What—how did—”
“Surprised?”
He looks down, and Hanbin and Hao are…laughing.
What?!
“I didn’t think Taerae’s idea would work this well,” Hanbin is saying between chuckles, leaning on Hao for support, without a single trace of the anger from before. Next to him, Hao is grinning ear to ear. “I guess the camp really does think we don’t like each other, Hao.”
“Wait—” Junhyeon sputters, “that—you were faking that? That’s not fair!”
“It’s not our fault you missed the traps,” Hao says with a casual shrug. “You saw what you wanted to see, and you let yourself get distracted. Maybe next time, you should listen to what your teammates have to say before acting, hm?”
Distracted.
Distracted.
That word bounces off the walls inside his skull. Even as yelling sounds from the east, and even as the opposing team brings his team’s flag across the border, Junhyeon is still thinking of that word. Why—?
Do not get distracted. No matter what.
Jiwoong’s voice, and stoic face, enters his mind.
Oh.
Junmyeon collapses against the netting, resigning himself to his fate.
Shit.
---
(Jiwoong, in the end, isn’t actually mad at him. Just disappointed.)
Losing Capture the Flag unfortunately means Jiwoong’s cabin owes a day of favors to the opposing team’s leading cabin, which was the Athena cabin. Which is why the day after the match, Jongwoo has decided to spend the entire day dragging Jiwoong around.
“I hate you,” Jiwoong groans, after they’re finally done cleaning the armory. Jongwoo had insisted on polishing the shields until they shone, even though one of Jiwoong’s arms is literally still in a sling. “Just wait for when you owe me a favor day.”
“Which will never happen,” Jongwoo says with a smirk. He’s already grabbing Jiwoong’s good hand again, leading him towards the central green, where dozens of campers are milling around. He can spot a few of his fellow half-siblings with long-suffering looks on their faces around Cabin Six. “Hurry up.”
“What is it now?”
“Nothing, you’re just slow.”
“Hey—!”
Laughing, Jongwoo just tugs him along until they’re walking side by side. There’s apparently nothing urgent that Jongwoo wants to do (or rather, that Jongwoo wants Jiwoong to do), so their stroll is leisurely, relaxed in the always-picturesque weather of Camp Half-Blood. The Apollo and Nike kids are competing in basketball (which they both steer very clear of—that’s a match up that will only end in a bloodbath). Outside of the Aphrodite cabin, Gunwook and Taerae look like they’re bickering, most likely about the two jackets Taerae is holding up, although they do both give an enthusiastic wave to them which they return gladly. There’s a loud cheering sound out of nowhere, as a group of campers led by Gyuvin come running from the direction of the lake, completely drenched in water but whooping joyfully.
He used to be so unhappy here…so close to making a decision he would never be able to atone for. If it hadn’t been for everyone else, would he be here today, able to enjoy the sight of such pure carefree happiness? Or would he be…
“Whoa.” Jongwoo’s voice pulls him out of his thoughts. Jiwoong follows his line of sight, to see the front of the Hecate cabin, where a few demigods are gathered around a cauldron emitting vivid green smoke. “What are they…”
“Jongwoo! Jiwoong!” One of them waves as they approach (but not too closely—that smoke is really worrying), and grins. “Look! Cool, right?”
The smell of the smoke reaches them just then, and Jiwoong takes a step back—the smell is so acidic it feels like his nose is burning. “What…is it?”
“It’s a potion that makes someone confuse friend with foe, and vice versa,” another explains from where they’re sitting on the ground, not looking up from the diagrams laid out in front of them. “We’re still workshopping a name. Maya just wants to call it the Confusion Potion, but that’s boring, so other people suggested, like, ‘The Backstabber,’ or ‘The Traitor-Maker,’ or ‘The Uno-Reverser’—”
“We’re not calling it that,” a girl says, still stirring the potion.
“Wait.” Jongwoo frowns. “I remember your cabin talking about this. I thought Jay said not to work on it unless he’s there to supervise.”
“He’s busy. And we know how to make potions, it’s not like—oh! Hanbin!”
Jiwoong turns, and sure enough, that’s Hanbin, jogging towards them with his ever-friendly smile.
“What’s all this?” He claps Jiwoong on the back, then regards the cauldron with wide eyes. Jiwoong can clock the exact moment he smells it, when his nose wrinkles. “Gods, what is that?”
“I really think you should stop,” Jongwoo says warningly. “From what Jay was saying—”
“Relax, it’s fine,” a boy says flippantly. “Look, you can stabilize it with metal, so you can apply it to a weapon, like this—”
He holds out a dagger, and pours a ladle of green potion onto it. All of it absorbs right into the dagger like a sponge.
“See? No prob— Ah!”
The dagger glows white-hot, so hot the air around it shimmers. The boy releases it with a yelp, but it stays, hovering, in the air. Green embers explode from its surface, and where it hits the ground, the grass withers with a hiss.
“What the—” The kid on the ground scrambles backwards as one ember burns up an entire diagram. “What’s going on?!”
“This shouldn’t be—” The girl who had been handling the cauldron is clutching the stirring rod tightly, terror clear in her bespectacled eyes. “Unless—was your knife contaminated? Did you clean it?”
The dagger rotates, slowly, menacingly, until it’s pointed right at its owner.
“Move!”
Hanbin reacts faster than any of them, shoving the boy out of the way just as the dagger rockets forward. With a sickening sound, the dagger stabs right into Hanbin’s forearm. Hanbin cries out, falling to his knees.
“Hanbin!” Jiwoong moves towards him, but for some reason, Jongwoo blocks him. “What are you—”
“Something’s not right.” Jongwoo’s gaze is still locked onto Hanbin. “His eyes…”
Hanbin’s eyes, normally a very pleasant sea green, have glazed over into the same unsettling hue as the potion. His chest heaves, each breath ragged and pained as if air is being forced out of his own lungs. As they watch, he staggers to his feet unsteadily, and then, to Jiwoong’s horror, wrenches the dagger out of his own arm.
“Hanbin—” Jiwoong can’t take it anymore, attempting to move forward again, but freezes when Hanbin points that dagger right at him.
“Don’t—” His eyes dart around, at all of them, head turning in jerky movements, not a single remnant of recognition on his face. He looks deathly afraid, and the hand with the dagger is trembling, and blood is streaming heavily down his left arm, but each time someone tries to step closer he brandishes the blade with a dangerous ferocity. “Who are you? St-stay away!”
His voice is so rough, so hostile—it barely sounds like his own. Nearby campers are looking their way due to the commotion. Some of them are coming to get a better look, which of course does nothing to help the situation, as Hanbin grows more and more frantic.
The potion, the one that makes friends seem like foes, is now coursing in his bloodstream. He must feel like he’s being cornered, and Jiwoong has seen Hanbin in battle enough times to know that a cornered Hanbin is a very dangerous Hanbin.
“Hanbin, calm down,” one of the Apollo cabin members says. “Your arm, we need to—”
“STOP!” Hanbin’s skin is blanching by the second, whether from terror or blood loss Jiwoong isn’t sure. “Go away! I’m—I’m warning you!”
The cauldron rumbles, before all the liquid inside bursts out, swirling around Hanbin in a big halo, and everyone backs away even more. From nearby, the Canoe Lake itself is growing turbulent, waves beginning to rise high from its normally calm waters. Jiwoong can hear the Hecate kids warning everyone about the potion, and the medics calling for backup, but he can only look at Hanbin.
This is bad. This is very bad. He didn’t realize Hanbin could control liquids outside of water, like potions, but with a potion like that bending to his will, it could spread even more chaos if more campers get exposed to it. In a state like this, there’s no predicting what Hanbin will do…
“How long does the potion last?” Jongwoo shouts.
“A-an hour!” the girl with glasses says. “If—if we all stay away until it wears off—”
“Are you joking?!” a medic exclaims. “If his radial artery got hit he could be dead by then!”
The blood from Hanbin’s wound is now creating a small puddle. Hanbin clenches his jaw, and the swirling potion is picking up speed. Jiwoong is about to warn everyone to run when—
“Hanbin!”
Most of the campers turn towards the familiar voice in alarm.
“Hao?!”
“Hao, wait, stay back—”
“Don’t let Hanbin see him!”
“Wait, no, it’s fine, right? If they already don’t like each other—”
“But it’s them we’re talking about, the potion might just make it worse anyway—”
Right. Most of them think Hanbin and Hao are enemies. Jiwoong had never believed it for a second—he was there when twelve-year-old Hanbin mourned Hao’s “death,” he knows how much Hanbin cares for him—but if anything that just makes this worse. If the potion reverses feelings, and if Hanbin’s bond with Hao runs deepest, it means Hanbin will hate Hao the most out of all of them now.
“Hao—” He tries to stop the son of Zeus, who has already dodged the rest of the crowd’s valiant efforts to hold him back. “Hao, that potion’s making him see all his friends as enemies, he could attack you—”
“He wouldn’t,” Hao declares, and Jiwoong can’t help but marvel at him— how can he say that so confidently?! “And I don’t care. He’s hurt.”
“But—”
Before Jiwoong can say anything else, Hao has already slipped past him, breaking past the entire crowd until he’s standing directly in front of Hanbin, separated by nothing but a few feet of open air and the blade of a dagger.
“Get back!” A jet of potion shoots at Hao, who ducks out of the way. Many campers run to get out of its trajectory. The rest of the potion begins to rise, spreading into a larger ring. “I won’t tell you again—”
“Hanbin.” Hao’s voice is gentle, soothing like a lullaby, the complete opposite of how he’d been talking to Jiwoong mere seconds ago. He doesn’t even have a weapon out—when he raises both of his hands in a placating gesture, they’re empty. “It’s okay.”
Hanbin visibly falters, before his grip on the weapon tightens again. “What are you doing? Why—”
“It’s just me.” Hao takes a careful step forward, and although Hanbin stiffens, he miraculously doesn’t attack. “I’m right here. See? You know me. I know you do.”
Another step. The glow in Hanbin’s eyes flickers. The Canoe Lake begins to still. “I…”
His voice breaks, and Hao steps again, this time close enough to lay his hand over Hanbin’s. Hanbin inhales sharply at the contact, his entire body shuddering, and the dagger clatters to the ground.
“I’m here, baobei,” Hao murmurs, cradling Hanbin’s face in his palms. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m here.”
“H…Hao…?”
The potion splatters around them, and the green glow dies, and Hanbin’s legs give out. Hao catches him before he can fall, and Hanbin slumps against him, pale and spent and trembling like a leaf.
“It’s okay, I’ve got him,” Hao says to the healers that have rushed forward, adjusting his hold until he’s carrying Hanbin in his arms. “Do you have ambrosia on you?” Then, to Hanbin, “Hold on, Bin, we’re taking you to the lake, okay? The water will heal you.”
“Hao…” Hanbin breathes weakly, burying his face into Hao’s neck. His voice is normal again, but he still sounds so heartbreakingly scared, and clutches at Hao desperately even with his injured arm. “Hao, please…what happened? It…it hurts…”
“I know, Bin-ah, I know, you’ll feel better soon, I promise.” Hao holds him closer, and with a nod, he sets off to the lake with a few of the Apollo kids.
When some kids move to follow them, probably out of curiosity, Jiwoong steps in to block them off.
“They’ll be fine,” Jiwoong says, in his best commander’s voice. “Give them space. You can go back to whatever you were doing before.”
“You heard him,” Taerae calls out from the crowd, words weighted with charmspeak. “You can leave now!”
They disperse without hesitation after that. Jiwoong nods gratefully at Taerae, who just winks before leaving as well. All that’s left of what happened is the rapidly drying stains on the ground, and an empty cauldron.
“I was wrong,” Jongwoo says, still at his side, and Jiwoong stares at him in disbelief. It’s a rare thing, for a child of Athena to admit they’re wrong. “I knew they didn’t hate each other, but I thought their lineages would catch up to them before long. Now, though…”
Jiwoong understands. He himself didn’t fully understand the depth of their relationship until now. He doubts that a single camper who witnessed what happened would be able to maintain the belief that Hao and Hanbin held any dislike for each other. Not when Hao so fearlessly approached Hanbin despite the danger just because Hanbin was hurt. Not when Hanbin returned to his right mind just from the sound of Hao’s voice.
What they have…it’s something even the gods can’t take away.
“They’ll be fine,” he says.
“Yeah.” Jongwoo smiles. “I know they will.”
“So,” Gyuvin says casually, from where he’s lounging on the Cabin Three couch. “How long have you and Hao been dating?”
Hanbin chokes on his Coke Zero.
It’s been roughly five or six hours since the whole Hecate potion mess. Hanbin is thankfully fine after a dip in the lake and a bite of ambrosia, with nothing to show from the incident besides a scar on his left forearm that will probably disappear in a day or two. He’s on strict orders from the Apollo cabin to rest in bed until tomorrow morning, so he’s spent this entire time cooped up in his cabin.
He passed out for the first few hours, and upon waking up was greeted with Gyuvin and Matthew saving him a dinner tray. The rest were still at dinner, and Hao was apparently called to a meeting with Chiron, although Matthew said more friends would probably drop by to visit after. Hanbin had been very touched by the fact that the two of them willingly left dinner early for him, thinking how lucky he was to have such caring friends.
Or, at least, he did, until Gyuvin asked that.
“Gyuvin,” Matthew chides teasingly, thumping Hanbin on the back as he coughs. “That’s a personal question.”
“I’m curious!”
“We’re not—” Hanbin splutters, looking between the two of them and trying to figure out what kind of prank they’re pulling. “We’re not dating?!”
“Huh? Really?” Now Gyuvin’s the one looking at him like he’s pulling a prank. “You don’t have to hide it from us, Hanbin. We’ll support you!”
“That’s—that’s incredibly sweet of you, but I swear, we’re just friends,” Hanbin insists.
“He’s telling the truth, Gyuvin,” Matthew says with a sigh, leaning back on his hands. He’s sitting on the edge of Hanbin’s bed, so his hands make a dip in the mattress as he leans. “Although Taerae’s betting they’ll get together soon.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Um?!” Hanbin stares, bewildered. “Just because Taerae said that doesn’t mean anything—”
“He’s literally a child of the love goddess, but go off I guess—”
“It’s really not like that! We’re really just friends!”
Hanbin’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire. Why are they talking about this?! Matthew is snickering, even as Hanbin bats at his side, and Gyuvin’s laughter rings in the background.
“Are you sure?” Gyuvin manages, still chortling. “Even Yujin was asking if you were together, and he’s literally twelve.”
“Guys,” Hanbin whines, ignoring how that just seems to set Matthew off even more. “Look, seriously…we were just kids, the last time we saw each other. He’s only been here for two weeks. I’ve only had him back for two weeks. So obviously nothing like that’s happened. We don’t…see each other like that.”
At this, Matthew and Gyuvin trade glances. Then they’re directing matching exasperated looks towards Hanbin.
“Are you just being stupid right now?” Matthew grabs him by one shoulder. “Are you really that in denial?”
“It’s not just Taerae, y’know,” Gyuvin adds, leaning over one of the couch’s arm rests. “The entire Aphrodite cabin already thinks something’s up between you.”
“You should see the way he looks at you—”
“You should see the way you look at him—”
“I couldn’t get you to leave the infirmary for an entire day, do you remember? You stayed at his bedside for three days!”
“Sparks literally flew when you reunited, dude.”
“Remember when you got back from your quest, and he was the first to greet you? I legitimately thought you were going to kiss, with the way you were staring at each other—”
“Jiwoong said he called you baobei—”
“Okay, stop!” Hanbin yells, covering his ears. “Stop! You’ve said enough!”
Gods. They’re so embarrassing. None of what they’re saying makes sense anyway. Hao is his friend. Hao has been his friend ever since elementary school. The only time he could’ve developed feelings for Hao would’ve been during these past two weeks, which is, again, obviously too short. All the things Matthew and Gyuvin mentioned are either nonsense or easily explainable by the fact that they’re friends. That’s it.
It doesn’t matter if he wants anything besides that. It doesn’t matter, even if his nerves light on fire every time Hao touches him, even if he knows he has already forgotten how to live without Hao, even if he burns with a want more intense than anything he’s ever felt. It doesn’t matter, because it makes no sense.
“Like I said, it’s only been two weeks. Not even a month,” Hanbin says, brushing his hair from his eyes with a sigh. “Of course I care about him, but…it’s been so long since we last saw each other. We’ve just been learning how to be friends again. Catching up. That’s it.”
“You don’t need to learn something you already know,” Gyuvin says, so simply and earnestly, as if he hasn’t just shut Hanbin’s brain down with that sentence alone. “Right?”
Something he already knows…?
“You’re acting like kids don’t know what love is,” Matthew says. “He was your best friend. Of course you loved him, even back then. Compared to then, and now, does it really feel that different?”
Hanbin thinks, looking down at his hands. At his arm, still scarred.
They’re both different. After four years apart, it’s only natural. He feels like he learns new things about Hao every day. Hao used to hate sports and physical activity, but now he sticks to a rigorous practice schedule for his fighting skills. Hao used to clam up around strangers, but now he navigates conversations quite easily by himself. Hao used to play in the sun all the time, but now he takes refuge in the shade and slathers on sunscreen and scolds Hanbin if he doesn’t do the same. He’s less timid, less wild during games, more disciplined, more assertive.
And yet, at the same time, there are still things about him that feel the same. There are still times where Hanbin looks at him and sees the same boy who loves music and pets, and pouts when Hanbin teases him, and startles easily at even the smallest things. He still fears the water, and still hates waking up early, and still laughs loudly and brightly and unapologetically.
Hanbin had been nervous before, that maybe they’ve grown apart, and maybe they wouldn’t click as easily anymore, but it didn’t take long to realize that wouldn’t be the case. No matter what has changed, it’s still so easy, to be Hao’s friend. To let their souls fall in-step with each other once more, to let the threads of their fates weave together in the same tapestry.
It’s so easy, to love Hao.
But…
“It is different,” Hanbin answers, quietly. The summer breeze flows in, fluttering his curtains and letting light skip across his room in shades of the sea. When Hanbin feels the breeze, he feels the ghost of Hao’s laughter, greeting his ears like a song he’s always known.
After all these years, he has Hao back. It’s a dream he never thought he could have. He should be happy. He should be more than satisfied. He should be.
“We’re not kids anymore.” Hanbin sets his drink down on his nightstand. The liquid sloshes around slightly, still fizzing. “Some things are still easy. But others…”
The two are silent. There’s nothing except the fizzing of his soda and the breeze of the summer.
“There are some things you have to fight for,” Hanbin says. “And there are some things that you shouldn’t, and just accept what you have. Otherwise, you…you get too selfish. Too greedy.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Gyuvin stands up, moving to sit at the foot of Hanbin’s bed. “If it doesn’t hurt anyone, and makes you happy, what’s wrong with being selfish?”
Hanbin chuckles, and feels like he’s about to cry. “You always make things sound so simple.”
“Sometimes they are.” Matthew loops an arm around him, and Gyuvin nudges his foot with his own. Hanbin feels warmth bubbling up in him like soda in a can, and for a moment he can forget about the burning threatening to devour him until he’s nothing but ash.
“It’s okay to be scared, Bin. But I think…the fear you have now? That’s something worth fighting. With everything you have.”
---
Hanbin dreams he is drowning.
He can’t drown, as a son of Poseidon. But he imagines this is what it feels like, sinking slowly, unable to breathe, struggling desperately against an unyielding current.
“Son of Poseidon.”
A woman’s voice, low and powerful, rumbling like an earthquake. In the dark of nothingness, he can almost see a face, with closed eyes and a terrifying smile.
“Remember your fate.” She speaks without moving her lips. Her voice reverberates inside his head. “Without the skies, the sea will fall. But as one, their fate is worst of all.”
He’s dying. His muscles burn, and his sight fades, and for some reason, hearing this woman speak makes him…tired. Exhausted. He hears her, and thinks of giving up, of just closing his eyes and letting himself sleep forever…
“Are you willing to let him make that choice for you? Will you let him doom himself just to save you?”
A hand closes around his wrist. A familiar hand. He looks up, and sees a flash of copper hair, and panics.
No, he wants to scream. Leave me! Save yourself!
He struggles, and water begins filling his lungs, all while the woman’s sleepy chuckles echo in his skull, and he’s drowning and there’s nothing he can do—
—and with a gasp, he bolts upright, and awakens in his bed once more.
He takes a long moment to just breathe, one hand bearing down over his rapidly beating heart, as he inhales lungfuls of cold sweet air and reminds himself that he can breathe, that he’s not drowning. He shifts backwards, and lets his head back hit the headboard with a dull thump, lets the solid wood ground him to the present. The cabin is dimly lit from the soft glow of the abalone walls, so his eyes adjust easily.
“Mm…”
A hint of movement. He turns his head and sees copper hair, just like in his dreams.
From his bedside, Hao stirs, lifting his head from where it was resting on Hanbin’s mattress. He must have moved one of Hanbin’s chairs to be next to Hanbin’s bed, although thinking about that too hard makes Hanbin’s heartbeat speed up all over again, so he tries not to. Hao blinks, rubbing at his eyes.
“Bin?” he mumbles groggily. “You okay?”
Hanbin’s heart melts.
“I’m fine,” he whispers. “Sorry to wake you. Go back to sleep.”
“Mm…no, ‘m awake.” Hao shakes his head, as if trying to physically shake off his drowsiness. He scoots the chair closer to Hanbin, feeling around until Hanbin puts his hand in Hao’s. Hao tugs at the bracelet there. “Should take this off when you sleep.”
Hanbin resists the urge to snort. As if he’d ever. “Why are you here?” he asks instead, moving closer to Hao’s side of the bed. “You shouldn’t sleep here. You should be in your cabin.”
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Hanbin can hear the pout in his voice. “Just wanted to check on you. Sorry I couldn’t keep you company before.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that. How was your meeting with Chiron?”
Hao’s entire face scrunches up. “I don’t want to think about it right now. Ask me tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Hanbin laughs, agreeing easily. “Thank you for checking on me. I’m okay. See?”
“I’m glad.” Hao rests his head on Hanbin’s lap, closing his eyes. “You were bleeding a lot…I was worried.”
Hanbin bites his lip, guilt gnawing at him until it hurts. He runs a hand through Hao’s hair, his fingertips combing through Hao’s fluffy locks repeatedly. Hao lets out a content sigh. It alleviates the guilt, just a little bit.
He doesn’t remember much about what happened. Trying to recall it feels like looking through thick smog. All he remembers is the pain in his forearm, and then feeling so, so scared. There were people everywhere, and that they were out to hurt him, and he could trust no one. It was this blinding haze that clouded his judgment, took over all his thoughts, until Hao’s voice broke through and he latched onto it like a lifeline. He’s informed later of the potion, and what really happened, and it all sounded so unbelievable. How did Hao do that? Why did Hao do that? How…
“How did you know?” Hanbin asks. “That I wouldn’t attack you? What…what if I had?”
Hao hums, lifting his head again. When Hanbin moves his hand away, Hao catches it, beginning to play with his fingers, like when they were kids.
“I didn’t know anything,” Hao admits, hushed. A secret that can only be told into the quiet of the night like this. His lips twist uncertainly, and Hanbin sees the lingering fear, hidden in the worry lines of his brow. “I just…I saw you bleeding. You were bleeding, and scared. That was all that mattered.”
Hanbin feels sick. He feels like he’s drowning again.
Without the skies the sea will fall, but as one their fate is worst of all.
“Hao,” he says, breathless, seconds away from breaking. “You shouldn’t save me.”
Hao frowns, confused. “What do you—”
“If it comes down to it,” Hanbin chokes out, still trapped in a nightmare, both of the past and the future, “between my life or yours, you should pick yours. Not mine. Not like when we were—” He swallows. “Not like when we were kids.”
The flash of metal claws. Hao’s lifeless body crumpling down the wall.
“Please,” Hanbin begs, reaching to clasp Hao’s hands in both of his own, bowing to lower his forehead to Hao’s knuckles. “Please…don’t doom yourself for me.”
Everything is utterly silent. Hanbin breathes, clinging to Hao, and it feels like he’s praying, but he’s not sure who he’s praying to anymore. All he knows is that there is a wish in his heart, and desperation in his prayer, and silence in response.
“I’m sorry, Bin,” he hears Hao say, finally, and his heart sinks. “I can’t promise you that.”
“Why?” he asks, and it sounds like a sob. “Why, Hao, please—”
“You already know why, don’t you?” Hao’s thumbs trace circles into the backs of his hands. “Don’t you have the same reason? Don’t you want the same thing?”
A laugh, bitter and broken, rips from his chest. “Want.” He lowers his forehead deeper, clings to Hao tighter. “There’s so much I want, Hao…there’s so much I want that I can’t have. Please let me have at least this.”
“Hanbin…” A light squeeze to his hands. “Scooch over.”
“Wh—” Hanbin looks up. Did he hear that right? “What?”
“You heard me.”
So Hanbin obliges, making room for Hao to sit on the bed with him, until they are leaning shoulder to shoulder. Hao tangles one leg with Hanbin’s, and it burns where Hao’s skin meets his, like the kiss of an open flame. It burns him from the inside out, to have Hao this close, and somehow not have him at all. It burns into him, scars him, and it still isn’t enough.
“Talk to me.” Hao keeps their hands held together, and that burns too, so warm it chases some of the chill of despair away. “Tell me more about what you want, and I’ll get it for you.”
Hanbin almost smiles at his bluntness. “You shouldn’t…you shouldn’t make promises like that.”
“You can’t stop me from doing it, though, can you?” A playful nudge. “Is it something to do with when we were younger?”
“No…” Hanbin shakes his head. “No. I didn’t want anything back then.”
“Really?”
“I had you.”
Before, when they were kids, Hanbin didn’t want for much at all. If he wanted to see Hao, he just had to wait for school to end. If he wanted a hug, he could just ask. If he wanted attention, Hao would give it to him, and they could pretend they were the only two people in the world.
“I had you,” Hanbin says again. “And then for four years, I didn’t. And now you’re back, and I have you again. But this time…why do I still want, this time?”
It’s so easy to love Hao, but it’s so hard when he wants, and wants, and wants. Because the truth is, he wants to be with Hao, every second of every day. He wants to hold Hao close until it’s impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins, he wants to let Hao hold his heart in his hands because it was only ever his to begin with, he wants to stay with Hao even after both their souls cross into the Underworld.
He wants so much that it scares him, scares him so much he pushes it away and locks it tightly within. Because how is it possible, to feel this intensely in such a short amount of time? He tries to be rational, to wait for something to pass or fade, but it’s so difficult, because loving Hao is so easy, and each day that passes leaves him wanting impossibly more.
“I’m selfish, Hao,” he says, voice hollow. “The Fates granted me a wish I never believed could come true, and here I am, still wishing for something I shouldn’t.”
Hao tilts his head. In the faint moonlight, streaming through seafoam curtains and scattering across abalone walls, he looks ethereal. “Why shouldn’t you?”
The Prophecy of Nine, that predicts a ruin that will only manifest if they are together. The rift between the Greeks and Romans, that Chiron only explained after swearing both of them to secrecy. The blood of their fathers running in their veins, that has created rivalries of disastrous levels in history. The Fates brought them together again, but everything else warns them to stay apart. He is your end, everything seems to scream. Stay far, far away.
“It will only bring pain.” Hanbin looks into the storm of Hao’s blue eyes, desperate for him to understand. “Pain that I’m…too afraid to inflict on anyone.”
On you.
“Do you know how it feels,” Hanbin can’t help asking, “to want something so badly it hurts, even when it’s right in front of you?
One tear slips down his cheek, followed by another. Mortified, Hanbin goes to wipe them away, but can’t, because Hao refuses to let go of his hands.
“Hao…?”
Slowly, gently, Hao raises one of Hanbin’s hands, still locked with his. His eyes shut, briefly, as he presses his lips to the back of Hanbin’s hand. Hanbin gasps at the contact, at the pinprick of warmth that spreads across his skin, that feeds into the flame that begins burning even more.
“I know exactly how it feels.”
When Hao opens his eyes again, it’s like looking into a mirror. Hanbin sees the desire, sees the fear, sees every emotion he knows is roiling in his own heart. Every single feeling, reciprocated just as strongly.
Hanbin cries.
“Hao—” His tears begin falling in earnest, and Hao wastes no time bringing him into a tight embrace. It feels even worse now, to suppress it all, to turn away from what he wants when he knows Hao wants the same thing too. “Hao, we—I can’t—”
“Hanbin,” Hao says, breath tickling his ear, holding him so tightly Hanbin can feel nothing but warmth, “I looked for you for four years. I thought of you even when it would’ve been less painful to forget. Being with you again is like being whole again.”
Being whole again. Yes. Yes, that’s exactly it.
“I know our circumstances were different. While I hung onto you, you were probably trying to move on. I understand. And when I finally found you, and got to thank you, I thought I would be satisfied, but instead…I wanted more.” Hao’s grip tightens, fingers digging slightly into his back. “I think after keeping it in for so long, being with you just made it all…explode. I didn’t want to scare you away with my feelings.”
“No.” Hanbin shakes his head, face still buried in Hao’s shoulder. “You could never.” I’d never leave you. “Never.”
“I know you’re scared. I know you worry about the prophecy even if you don’t tell anyone about it. But.” Hao pulls away, hands moving to cradle Hanbin’s face, and Hanbin thinks back to earlier, when Hao broke him from the potion’s haze just like this. “It doesn’t change anything.”
Hanbin blinks. “What do you…”
“We live in a cruel world.” Hao swipes his tears away with careful thumbs. “What if one of us dies in the next monster attack? What if you had never returned from the last quest? What if something separates us again and we never find our way back to each other? I worry, too. I worry all the time. But if we want the same thing, then why should we let that stop us? Isn’t it worse to regret for a long time, than love for a short time?”
Hanbin can’t speak. He’s thoroughly trapped in Hao’s gaze, in Hao’s hands, completely at his mercy. His blood feels like fire, simmering under his skin, and his entire chest seizes with how much, how desperately he yearns. He thinks maybe this is what it feels like to drown, as the blue of Hao’s eyes and the gentleness of Hao’s touch consumes him until he forgets how to breathe.
“Think of it this way.” Hao brushes his tears away once more. “If you knew the prophecy would come true tomorrow…if you knew our time together would end tomorrow …what would you do right now? What would you want?”
Want.
The last of his restraint shatters, and he surges forward and captures Hao’s lips with his own.
This is how it feels, to let it all burn freely until there’s an inferno raging within him and setting him ablaze. This is how it feels, to give in. Hanbin kisses him like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, and Hao responds just as fervently, deepening the kiss, hands still holding Hanbin’s head in place and searing his cheeks with warmth. Hanbin tangles his fingers into Hao’s hair, relishing the pleased noises he makes, drowning into the missing half of his soul.
A tingling electricity washes over him, as they intertwine closer, as Hanbin kisses greedily, selfishly, with an insatiable hunger. For the first time, ever since he heard the prophecy, ever since he realized his feelings, Hanbin is blissfully unafraid. The Fates have written a tragedy for them, but if he gets to be with Hao like this, to hold him and be held in return, Hanbin can face anything. He will fight one thousand wars if it means getting to kiss Hao like this just once. Nothing, not even the gods, not even his fears, is worth giving this up.
They part when they run out of air, their foreheads resting together, their arms still wrapped around each other. Hao’s skin is flushed a pretty pink, his hair ruffled and messy, his lips cherry red. Hanbin wonders what he looks like, how disheveled he must look right now, after falling apart under Hao’s touch the way he did.
Hanbin shivers. For once, the desire that burned in him so strongly has finally been satiated, at least for a bit, and it leaves him strangely cold. Hao rubs his arms up and down, smiling at him, cheeks still rosy. He looks so happy, happier than Hanbin’s ever seen him these past two weeks, so happy that his eyes shine even in the darkness, and it makes Hanbin wonder.
“How long have you known?” Hanbin whispers, fingers still playing with Hao’s hair. “How long have you been waiting?”
Hao laughs, breathless with joy.
“Hanbin,” Hao says, speaking his name so sweetly, so tenderly, fitting entire songs and stories’ worth of sentiment in just one utterance of his name, “I’ve loved you before I even knew what love was.”