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Austin cracked his knuckles, a nervous tick of his, as he looked over to where his siblings were interacting with their father on one of the bench areas by the archery range, who was visiting from Olympus on one of his post-mortality whim trips as the Apollo kids called it.
He looked like Lester, as he usually did when appearing at Camp, but instead of his normal Lester clothes, he had a shirt that Austin and his siblings had custom made for him.
The shirt was a play on average tour tees—a bright sun behind a picture of Lester with an outline of Apollo’s godly form behind it—and on the back was all the dates of the major battles he faced. Austin had the idea as a way to immortalize Lester’s mortal experience (however ironic that is), and Apollo sobbed into their arms for hours.
He wore it every time he visited.
Now, watching his father and his siblings, Austin was filled with dread. He knew he wanted to tell his father, but he was still incredibly anxious about it.
“Hey, Aussie?”
Austin glanced up. His father had a concerned look on his face.
"Yeah, Dad?”
“Are you good?” Apollo slid out of the bench from his spot between Will and Gracie, and whispered something to them, before walking over to Austin.
“Come on,” Austin was guided away from the range with such speed, he was already half-way back to the cabin by the time his brain caught up.
“What?”
“I’m the god of prophecy,” Apollo said softly, “I know you want to tell me something.”
Austin stopped in his tracks. “Do you know?”
“What you want to tell me?” Apollo shook his head. “No, just that you want to tell me something.”
“Okay,” Austin breathed. He wasn’t sure if that was a relief or not—would it have been easier to tell him if he knew? Austin wasn’t sure. “Okay.”
Apollo lead him to the little swingy bench they head on the Cabin 7 porch—the one that always was perfectly in the sun no matter the time of day from sunrise to sunset.
Apollo sat first and patted the seat beside him. “Come on, Aussie.”
Austin sat down.
Apollo was like his older brother Will in a lot of ways, but most obviously was the way they listened. Apollo didn’t goad Austin, he didn’t push. He just let Austin sit there and sort out his feelings before he talked.
“You know I love you, right?”
Austin glanced at his father. “Yeah, I know.” That wasn’t what scared him, he knew his father would accept him as he accepted his twin sister’s chastity. It’s just, well, everyone else.
“Would it be easier to compose a song? Or a poem?” Apollo leaned back, basking in his domain. “I’ve been writing a few villanelles recently, maybe you want to try that?”
Austin wasn’t sure what a villanelle was, but decided against asking. “No, no, I can talk.” He took a deep breath, “Dad, I’m aromantic and asexual.”
“Thank you for telling me, Aussie,” Apollo said. He reached over and took Austin’s hand in his. Apollo’s skin was almost translucent against his own dark complection, it was hard to see they were related. “I’m very proud of you, it takes a lot of courage to come out. Especially these days.”
“I wasn’t scared of your reaction,” Austin squeezed his father’s hand once before moving it so he sat under Apollo’s arm. “I knew you’d accept me, but I’m scared of everyone else.”
“What?” Austin looked up and examined his father’s countenance; Apollo did seem genuinely confused. “Did anyone give you shit? Do I need to smite a city? I’ve taken a step back from smiting since my mortality stint, but I can make an exception.”
“No one needs to be smited, Dad,” Austin said. But, if he were being honest, Austin was incredibly grateful that he had a father who’d smite down a city for him, even if it were a bit excessive. It just felt nice to be loved. “It’s just—”
Apollo squeezed his arm to give him time to formulate a sentence.
“I’m aromantic and asexual, and definitely repulsed by both when it comes to me, and you’re, well, don’t take this the wrong way, Dad—”
“I’m a bit of a slut,” Apollo finished. “Yeah, I know.”
“I wasn’t going to say it like that.”
“It’s true all the same.”
“And, well, camp has this certain narrative about your children because of that. That we’re fuckboys and all, and well, it’s hard to be stereotyped as something since you started puberty and be the exact opposite of that to the point where people don’t really believe you, you know?”
Apollo unwrapped his arm around Austin and folded his hands. “I’m sorry I put my reputation on you guys.”
“It’s not your fault,” Austin quickly stumbled out. “You didn’t make the stereotype. And honestly, who are they to judge you for liking something?”
“Who are they to judge you for not liking something?”
Austin thought about that. “Yeah, judging harms everyone. Will’s mom told me once when I went to her concert that assuming makes an ass out of you and me.”
“Naomi told me the same,” Apollo said with a soft smile. “It’s a true statement. Now, do you wanna go back to your siblings, or stay here?”
“Can we go get them and go to the music room? Jerry, Yan, and I composed a song we want to show you.”
Apollo grinned, standing up and extending his hand to help Austin. “That sounds like a great idea.” The two started walking down the steps hand and hand. “And, really, if someone’s really bothering you, I will make an exception to my no smiting rule.”
Austin chuckled, swinging their hands. “I don’t need you to smite anyone, Dad.”
“Good, I didn’t really want to.”
And, just because his father was a dramatic deity, Apollo spun Austin under his arm like a dancer before they continued on their way.