Work Text:
Post-Battle of the Labyrinth, Montauk, Long Island:
“And oh my gods! Just go to the infirmary already!” Annabeth yells as she storms out of the arena in a huff.
Percy just got back to camp after celebrating his birthday with his mom and Paul. A nice, long weekend before classes start up again at NYU and they all got too busy with work and school. Plus, he always likes to be with his mom after a quest. But Percy still has another month before Goode’s first day, and gods know he’ll get bored in exactly two seconds if he’s stuck at home alone while his mom and step dad are out all day. Sure, he can go outside and visit old neighbors, but he doesn’t exactly have many friends to hang out with. So he came back to camp. When Annabeth asked him to spar, he happily said yes— it always feels good to get out some of his energy.
As he watches Annabeth angrily mutter under her breath, he can’t help but be confused. What did I do wrong? The infirmary? What? All he had done was ask for a break to catch his breath. Sure, he’s been coughing more than usual lately, but his asthma’s always worse during summers. He went to the infirmary right after crashing his funeral anyways. Lee said to look out for something Percy can’t remember the name of and sent him away with a bag full of medical equipment. But nothing was wrong, so he never looked through it.
He shrugs it off, figuring Annabeth is still mad at him for asking Rachel to help them earlier, and goes to ask Clarisse to spar. She agrees and they go for a few rounds. After an hour, Clarisse knocks the wind out of him and pins him down with the shaft of her electric spear. Percy taps out and she concedes, but Percy stays on the ground struggling to catch his breath.
“...You good Prissy? I know you got that whole son of Poseidon thing going, but you look like a fish outta water,” Clarisse hesitantly asks.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Percy pauses to cough, “I’d think you’re worried.”
“No! I just don’t wanna lose the only decent sparring partner around here. Wise Girl might’ve had a point about the infirmary,” Clarisse shoots back.
Percy shrugs, “I have asthma, it’s just acting up from the weather. But I’ll stop if you can’t handle fighting me,” he smirks at the end.
Clarisse shoves him, “In your dreams, Prissy. I gotta go deal with my cabin, see ya around.”
The son of Poseidon waves goodbye and sits on the ground for a few more minutes. Out of caution, he heads back to his cabin and digs through his junk drawers to fish out his old inhaler. It’s expired. But he hasn’t had an asthma attack since moving out of his old apartment, so why refill it? He takes a couple puffs and lays down on his bed. Sleep slowly takes over. He has a nightmare about the Battle of the Labyrinth, this time he sees a vision of Castor being killed.
He wakes up and looks over to his clock to see it’s just before dinnertime. With a groan, he gets up and takes a quick shower before heading to the Mess Hall. Percy smiles when he sees that there’s barbecue for dinner tonight. He digs in, enjoying the peace of his empty table. As he eats, he notices that he still feels off. Maybe I'm coming down with something, but I'm a demigod. Nothing ambrosia and an inhaler can’t fix, right?
Unfortunately, he has to go to a counselor meeting first. It’s the last meeting of the summer, meaning Percy says he’s going back to the city for school and then sits there for an hour while everybody else talks. Nevertheless, he sits down at the ping pong table in his assigned seat— Pollux and his father notably absent. A new face walks in with Beckendorf, a crabby looking archer with black hair named Michael Yew.
Percy reports out his plans while each of the other counselors discuss their cabin’s plans for the year and updates on reaching out to families of deceased campers. It’s my fault they’re dead, they should’ve made me do it. Pushing away that spiral of thoughts, he tries to refocus on the meeting.
When it’s the Apollo cabin’s turn, Beckendorf begins to speak instead of Michael. Suddenly, the teen pauses, “Percy, you feeling alright? You’re coughing an awful lot.”
“Hmm? Yeah. I think I’m coming down with something, asthma’s acting up,” Percy says.
Michael looks up and speaks for the first time during the meeting, “You have asthma? I didn’t see it on your file.”
“It’s controlled, hasn’t bothered me really since I was 12,” Percy shrugs, “Enough about me. Beck, keep going.”
The son of Hephaestus keeps talking, shooting a worried glance at Percy every once in a while as he reports out about his cabin too. He holds Silena’s hand as she speaks, gently rubbing his thumb on her hand. Travis Stoll is finishing up reporting about the last of the unclaimed campers when Percy starts coughing. And he can’t stop. It feels like his lungs are closing up and he can’t get in a good breath. Around him, he hears panicked voices.
“Percy? Come on, breathe!”
“He can’t breathe. That's the whole problem, dumbass!”
“Help him!”
“I don’t have healing powers! That was Lee!”
“Go get the respiratory crash cart in the infirmary!”
“Lord Poseidon, grant mercy…”
Suddenly, the smell of sea salt fills the room with a brilliant burst of deep blue and ocean spray. Before them stands none other than the God of the Sea, Poseidon. If Percy could, he would complain about the dramatics. He’s just a little sick, there’s no need to invoke his father’s name and cause a whole scene. He feels bad that his dad is so attentive, they just lost so many campers over the fact their parents are deadbeats. I don’t deserve the special treatment.
“I will handle this,” the god states, whisking Percy away to a white marble room with intricate gold detailing. Percy would admire its beauty if he wasn’t busy coughing still.
“Hey Po— Perseus?!” a voice says.
The demigod flinches as he feels warm hands touch his chest and back. Almost as abruptly as the fit started, his lungs open up and he feels like he can breathe again. He feels the hands guide him to a nearby exam table where he sits down, still panting.
“Why did you bring him here? Do you know how much trouble we could get in for interfering like this? What was happening?” Apollo whisper-yells.
“My son was dying, Apollo. I could not idly stand by,” Poseidon shoots back, “Please, figure out what ails him. I will owe you one.”
“You owe me like fifty different ones at this point,” Apollo rolls his eyes.
“Which you are yet to use!” refutes Poseidon.
“Fine, I’ll scan him,” Apollo agrees, “Perseus, lay down.”
Percy complies and feels the god’s warmth pulse through his body. It feels like Lee’s healing powers, except that it’s reaching his soul. Is Apollo grieving the way Mr. D is? Did Lee ever actually meet his dad? What about the other dead archers? Why do I get this all? I don't deserve—
“Kid, stop panicking. You’re making the read hard,” Apollo sternly says.
“I’m sorry, I’m trying. Don’t hurt me. I’ll try harder,” Percy rambles, his father glaring.
Apollo takes a deep breath, “You’re fine, I was being brash. You remind me of my kids.”
“Lee was a good guy. His gifts felt… you could tell he’s your son,” replies Percy.
“He was a good kid,” Apollo warmly smiles, “I’m finished, ready to hear?”
Poseidon furiously nods, while Percy flashes a thumbs up.
“Alright, you’ve had asthma most of your life from exposure to black mold and second hand smoke. Your triggers are smoke of any kind, mold, humidity, cold, sickness, dust or debris, and intense exercise. You have a lot of old injuries dating back to around when your asthma started, but they healed fine for the most part. Your back has a few degenerated discs from December. No acute illnesses, but I did feel a lot of damage and build up in your lungs and that your lung function’s at 68%. All that to say, you have a type of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, COPD, called chronic bronchitis.”
It dawns upon Percy: That’s the thing that Lee told him to look out for. That he gave him all that stuff for that he ignored. That Lee had essentially diagnosed him without Percy even knowing yet. Would he still be alive if I didn’t ignore him? Percy tries to shove that thought away and tune back into what Apollo is saying.
“You were more vulnerable to developing it because of your asthma, then your recent exposure to the volcano and the Labyrinth pushed it over the edge. You should expect that bad cough you have right now to not go away, wheezing, and shortness of breath. You’ll need a strict medication routine to manage it and ensure not too much builds up in your lungs.”
“I think Lee sensed it too. I saw him right before I went back into the Labyrinth. He warned me,” Percy says.
“His vitakinesis was always attuned to chronic conditions, but he didn’t like firmly diagnosing until mortal standards aligned too,” Apollo replies.
“I didn’t know you knew so much about him,” Percy thinks aloud, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to say that out loud. Please don’t smite me.”
“Most gods keep tabs on their kids. Lee was always in my domain, the infirmary, it’s hard to ignore that,” Apollo responds, Poseidon nodding in agreement.
The gods then go on to discuss Percy’s course of treatments. Poseidon is arguing for divine interventions, while Apollo keeps trying to reiterate that the godly treatments wouldn’t work long-term. Something about Percy spending the majority of his time in the mortal world meaning they need to comply with mortal standards. When Poseidon starts to propose taking Percy back to Atlantis, the demigod zones out in favor of laying back down to try to rest.
“Perseus? Perseus?” Poseidon worriedly asks when he realizes Percy’s eyes are closed.
“I’m fine, dad. Just tired,” Percy coughs, “My chest hurts.”
“Unfortunately, that's normal with your condition,” Apollo sympathetically replies before launching into another monologue about Percy's medications.
But Percy can only think one thing: Is this my life now?
Mid-Winter Break, Sophomore Year, Manhattan:
No words can describe how elated Percy is to have an entire week off and how grateful he is for whoever thought of Mid-Winter Break. Sophomore year's proven to be hard, to say the least. If he thought that ADHD made it hard to focus in school, layering brain fog on top of that didn’t help at all. Luckily, the final bell before the break just rang and now Percy gets to relax, visit camp, and hang out with friends. Percy’s waiting outside of Paul’s classroom, who’s insisted on driving him ever since the weather got colder and a bad attack landed him in the ER on the way to school one day.
Paul emerges from the room carrying a stack of binders and the two make their way to the parking garage. The cold air feels like it’s squeezing the oxygen out of Percy, but he tries his best to stay quiet and not complain. His mom and Paul already had to start paying for reserved spots at their apartment and the school this year, not to mention all the appointments. At the very least he gets great parking now after mortal doctors took one look at him and freaked out.
When Percy walks into his apartment, he’s met with a warm feeling of the oven running and the smell of chocolate chip cookies baking. Paul pulls Sally into a quick kiss before putting his armful of binders on the dining table. His mom smiles and gives Percy a hug while he sits down at the kitchen island to catch his breath.
Sally frowns, “Was the elevator out, dear?”
Percy shakes his head, “No, I just need a sec.”
“He missed his second, fourth, and seventh period today. I wish you’d let me take you home, Perce. You’ve been miserable all week,” Paul sympathetically adds.
“Can’t miss more. I missed half of the past week already. And two days the week before,” Percy replies between wheezes.
“You’ll have a week to relax now. Wanna go rest on the couch, sweetie?” Sally asks.
Percy nods and goes to lay down on the couch, quickly falling asleep. The married couple sigh and quietly chat about their days as they cook dinner together.
“I’m worried about him, Sally. He really can’t breathe. His teachers have been talking about how much he needs to leave class— it’s almost every period,” Paul whispers.
“I know, honey. They call me. I don’t know what more we can do, though. He won’t use the oxygen in school, it draws too much attention to him,” replies Sally.
“I just wish there was something anybody could do to help him. Maybe Apollo again?” suggests Paul.
“Percy hates getting the gods involved, we’ll only call on Apollo if it gets worse or he asks,” Sally decides, “Food's ready, want to set it up near him and wake him up?”
Paul nods and starts setting up some TV tables and bringing plates of food to the living room. He gently shakes Percy, inwardly wincing when the teen has a coughing fit as he wakes up, “Dinnertime, bud. Mostaccioli and Italian sausage, can you sit up?”
Percy slowly sits up and starts eating, still half asleep. He hums along to the conversation his mom and step dad are having, not exactly sure what they’re talking about. He thinks they’re talking about his health and teachers. He doesn’t need to pay attention, it’s all the same. His lungs are fucked and his teachers hate him because he’s dumb. Nothing new. He’s too exhausted to care right now.
“Perce? Sweetie? Did you hear what I said?” his mom warmly asks.
Percy shakes his head, “Sorry, what’s up?”
“It’s okay. I was saying that I’m not sure about going to camp this week. You’re really not doing well, you need to rest,” she gently repeats.
“They’re counting on me being there,” Percy weakly argues.
“You can’t be there for them if you can’t breathe, Perce. Stay home this time, and maybe spring break will be better,” Sally replies.
“Yeah, I guess,” Percy concedes, “I’m gonna go to bed, I feel like shit. I’ll do a treatment and sleep with oxygen tonight.”
The teen slinks away to his room. The adults hear machines start whirring and the teen’s coughing ramp up. They don’t sleep that night, listening through the thin walls to their son struggling to breathe.
Over the next couple days, Percy feels even worse. His mom helps him to the couch each morning, where he spends the day drifting in and out of consciousness in front of the TV with a constant stream of oxygen. Sally and Paul are nervously pacing around the apartment figuring out what to do. His mortal doctors said that they should take him to the ER immediately— which they usually avoid at all costs.
Sally sits down next to Percy and shakes him awake, “Sweetie, I think we need to talk to your father.”
Percy groans, “I know. It hurts a lot right now, when can I have more Advil?”
“Not yet, it’s only been 2 hours, Perce,” Sally replies, frustrated with the limits of mortal medications that aren’t opioids.
“Can I go back to sleep then?” he asks.
She nods and strokes his hair as he drifts back to sleep, she whispers to the air, “Poseidon, please. It’s Percy, he needs you.”
She sits there with her son, carefully listening to the sound of him wheezing. Suddenly, the smell of the ocean fills the room and her former lover appears in front of them. Before Sally can say hello, a golden flash follows and Apollo is standing in the cramped living room too.
“Please, nothing’s helping him,” Sally says as the two gods approach before gently shaking her son, “Percy, sweetie, wake up. Your father and Lord Apollo are here.”
“Hey dad, Apollo,” Percy starts coughing as he slowly sits up, earning sympathetic looks from the immortals, “I can't fuckin’ breathe.”
Poseidon starts talking to Sally and Paul, while Apollo approaches Percy. He places a warm hand on Percy's back and the boy immediately feels his lungs open up. The god of the sea speaks up, “How long have you felt like this?”
“Few days,” Percy replies.
“Three weeks,” Apollo and Paul correct in unison, Paul continuing to explain, “We thought it was the cold air.”
Apollo confirms their suspicions, “Your lung function worsened since I saw you. I want you to start doing breathing treatments every 4 hours in addition to what you're already doing. Relying on divine powers isn't a good idea, you should keep up with mortal medical standards for your doctors here. Also, sleep sitting up until you feel enough of a difference.”
“Is there anything for the pain you can give him?” Sally asks.
Apollo purses his lips, “I’d rather not for as long as he’s still involved with the mortal medical system. Divine homebrewed meds are a slippery slope if the wrong people catch wind of it.”
Percy nods disappointedly, then goes back to resting. Paul and Sally continue talking to the gods about him, but he isn’t really paying attention. He can’t get his brain to work enough to pay attention. The immortals leave almost as quickly as they appeared. Apollo leaves behind enough nebulizers to last the ages, while his dad leaves behind a dried starfish for “emergencies only,” whatever that means.
Over the next few days, Percy starts to get his energy back. His brain doesn't feel like its wires are crossed in all the wrong ways. He starts being able to walk about the apartment alone, and eventually around the block without any problems.
When school starts again, he feels like a new person. His Fs rise to low Cs now that he can actually process what's happening in class and doesn't have to step out every period to catch his breath. Sure, it's annoying to have to go to the nurse during lunch, but it's a price he's happy to pay to be able to breathe. Paul tells him that he's not the topic of every staff meeting anymore.
Percy also starts getting more comfortable with telling people he's sick— he has his mom and Paul to thank for that. They don't treat him like he's about to break, but also help him when he needs it. Most importantly, they tell him not to take people's bullshit. Paul and Sally basically become experts on disability law, and it shows. Before, he used to just tell teachers he got distracted in the bathroom when he'd step out of class or that he just had a cold when people would question his constant coughing. He had tried explaining everything in the past, but it usually just ended in him getting in trouble for lying. After submitting a ton of documents to the school and changing his IEP, it feels nice to finally be able to tell the truth and be believed. For once, things seem to be going Percy's way.
Late June, Summer Before the Last Olympian, Manhattan:
Maybe Percy spoke too soon. Things were going well for a couple of months until the winter abruptly changed to summer. His mortal pulmonologist had warned him that the New York humidity would hit him harder than it did in the past, but he still wasn't prepared for how much it would. He feels like it's winter again, but so much worse. The novelty of him being sick has worn off for most people. What used to be sympathy and understanding changed to annoyance and impatience when people at school realized he's never getting better. On top of all of that, he hasn't been able to get Annabeth to talk to him at all.
When finals week finally ends, Percy is exhausted. He was originally supposed to go to camp a couple days after school ended. That plan got killed almost immediately by his mom when the A/C at Goode going out continued to mess with him, even after being fixed. He doesn't mind being at home, though. At camp, he has to be an invulnerable hero. At home, he can just be Percy. There’s no world-ending prophecies in the comfort of his apartment.
Percy’s sitting against the lockers in the hallway outside of Paul’s classroom. All of his exams are done, but Paul has to proctor make-up finals and then go to a staff meeting. It’s times like these Percy wishes he could have a phone because gods is it boring to just sit and wait. His ADHD feels like it’s going haywire, and he can’t even pretend to enjoy reading or something. To pass the time, he counts floor tiles as he zones out.
As the final bell of the day rings, staff start filing towards Paul’s room. They glare at Percy as they walk by. Another downside of having to wait for Paul is that Percy is cutting it dangerously close to when he needs another round of meds, meaning his breathing is worse than it usually is when teachers see him. He still doesn’t love letting them see how sick he is, but maybe that’s the paranoia of having a monster teach him for half a year before attacking him.
Paul steps out of the room to give Percy his inhalers, a bottle of water, and a couple of comic books, “This should tide you over until we can get you home, yell if you need something. Hopefully we’ll be done within an hour and a half.”
Percy nods and starts flipping through the comic books. As he reads, he tries to ignore how hard it’s getting to breathe. Suddenly, he hears footsteps approaching and wheels gliding across the tile. Percy snaps his head up to see his only friend at Goode, then relaxes. It’s Reid, donning his signature blue rollator and matching respirator. Him and Percy have gym class together, they’re in a class for people with problems that the administration didn’t deem serious enough to get out of the PE requirement altogether. Even though both of them are certifiably disabled in the eyes of doctors, no amount of notes have been enough to convince the school.
Reid stops his rollator next to Percy and sits, “Hey Percy! What’s up?”
“Hey, man! Waiting for Paul, not breathing, boredom. The usual,” Percy shrugs, “You?”
“I had to finish up some finals from last semester and this semester, now I’m just waiting for the AAR Shuttle to come. Wanna ride? I’ll say you’re my caregiver so it's free,” Reid offers.
The two live in the same building, they would take the same bus or subway route if Reid was able to. As Reid puts it, he's immunocompromised, dizzy, and seizure-y as shit— public transit isn’t a good idea for him. Reid’s the only other chronically ill student at the school, or at least the only other one who misses a lot of school like Percy. They have completely different conditions, but it’s still nice to have somebody who gets it. Unfortunately, the two are like passing ships in the night as far as when they’re both well enough to be at school or hang out. Barring when one of them is too unwell to be alone and they need to stay with the other, but they don’t really count that. It’s more of happening to be in the same room, more or less conscious, than a hang out.
“You think they’d buy it when I sound like this and can barely walk myself?” Percy jokes, “I can’t really be out too long, I gotta go back to my place.”
“I’ll join you, I've felt pretty alright today. You up to stopping for some ice cream?” Reid asks with a smile, “It’s on me. For us miraculously finishing this year.”
Percy nods, “I think so, I might need to sit though. My lungs have been so shit lately. Completely murdered my endurance.”
“Your lungs are always shit, what’s new? I have a two-in-one rollator for a reason, I can just push you. I’ll go tell Mr. Blofis you’re leaving with me,” Reid says as he knocks on the classroom door and enters.
Paul sticks his head out the door, “You good bud? I can ditch if you need to go. I also have your meds from the nurse to bring home if you need something right now.”
“I’m fine, just wanna hang out. I’ll do a treatment when we get home,” Percy replies, Paul flashing a thumbs up and going back to the meeting.
The two boys make their way outside to the bus stop right outside of the school where the shuttle is scheduled to meet them. Percy never has to worry about being too slow or being too sensitive to triggers around Reid, he just gets it and paces himself appropriately to match Percy. As they wait at the stop, Percy leans on the handles of the rollator while his friend sits.
“You sound like you’ve been getting fucked by the air in all the worst ways,” Reid comments as the humidity keeps making Percy cough, “Gotta get your shit together so they believe you’re my caregiver.”
Percy laughs and takes a couple puffs of an inhaler, “Talk to me when you can stand up without getting dizzy and go a day without a seizure. Doesn’t the humidity fuck with you too? Hypocrite.”
“It doesn’t! I can’t believe you’re such a fake Reid fan. Doesn’t know the intricacies of my dysautonomia,” Reid fakes being offended, “And hey, my seizures have been way better now. I’m basically abled now!”
“Oh I’m sorry, it’s the heat that’s a given with the humidity! How could I be so wrong?” Percy quips back.
The shuttle comes and lowers the ramp to let Reid and Percy on. The ride back is uneventful, Percy does his best to keep it together. It’s not a good look to be hacking up a lung on the shuttle for disabled people too high-risk for public transit. Reid knows that Percy isn’t contagious and will happily reassure people, but Percy gets why it freaks people out to see some kid coughing like he’s a TB patient. The shuttle comes to a stop at their crossroads, right in front of a bodega, and the two disembark. Immediately, the outside air hits Percy like a truck.
“Here, sit. The support from pushing is enough for me,” Reid insists.
Percy obliges and the two make their way inside. A nice thing about this Bodega, unlike basically every other one, is that it’s pretty accessible because the two teens frequent it a lot. They even started to run a couple air purifiers after Reid offhandedly mentioned how neither of them can afford to get sick. When they enter, the owner waves and warmly greets them before they make their way to the ice cream freezer. Percy picks out a blue raspberry popsicle while Reid settles on Oreo Dippin’ Dots.
At the register, Percy pets the fat bodega cat while the other two chat. He’s not really feeling up to talking that much, but he tries to nod along to be polite. Reid mentions they’re celebrating both of them passing the school year, and the owner gives them a discount and some snacks too. They then make their way to the Jackson-Blofis apartment, where they’re met with Sally baking a loaf of banana bread.
“Hi ma’am! How are you?” Reid greets.
“Reid! It’s so good to see you! I’m doing great with the company of you both. And don’t forget, you can call me Sally, dear,” Sally excitedly responds before turning to her son, “Still not feeling great?”
Percy shrugs, “Can you put this in the freezer for me while I do a treatment?”
Sally nods, her son’s urgency answering her question, “Banana bread will be ready in an hour. How does bruschetta grilled chicken sound for dinner?”
The two teens nod and make their way to the couch. Percy sets up his breathing treatment while Reid takes off his mask and chats about what he’s been up to lately. Usually Reid can't safely be outside of his apartment without a good mask, but Sally and Paul have a bunch of air purifiers on 24/7 and are careful about not bringing home anything that could get their son sick. Percy can't wear a mask or risk catching anything that might settle in his lungs, so the two boys have a mutual understanding of how they take care of each other.
That’s another thing that Percy appreciates about Reid, he never gets sick of Percy being sick or annoyed with the constant coughing or need for breaks. He acts like it’s no big deal, just another fact of life. He trusts that Percy knows what he needs. Reid likes the same fact about Percy, that he's the perfect amount of concerned about Reid without hovering. Plus Percy never gets annoyed when Reid gets confused after a bad seizure or passing out, unlike most other people. The two trust each other.
“My doctors put me on these new anticonvulsants. It was hell to wean off of my old ones and start these, but holy shit they’ve been working. My seizures have almost all been aware and mostly just with my bad arm. And who knew that when you’re not constantly hungover from bad seizures, your POTS that’s triggered by epilepsy actually gets better. Too bad I had to miss so much school that they’re kicking me out now,” Reid casually says.
Percy’s eyes widen and he sits up, “I’m sorry what?”
“Oh shit, I didn’t tell you? After my last flare, Goode decided I’ve missed too much school and they’re ‘gently’ encouraging me to pursue other educational options. I’m gonna do the NYC Virtual Academy next year. My doctors say a lot of their patients rave about how good it is and that the teachers actually understand disability,” Reid explains.
“Ugh, I’m too dyslexic for that,” Percy flops back onto the couch.
“That’s the best part! Usually reading on screens messes with me too much, but they have screen readers and speech-to-text built into the program. So even with my hand, I can still get things done,” Reid eagerly elaborates, “You should think about it, dude. Maybe we could hang out and do school together. It’s a lot easier for me to get to places when I don’t need to go that far.”
“Maybe,” Percy responds noncommittally, “I think I’m gonna have to get an emergency appointment with one of my doctors soon. I’ve felt like shit for weeks now. And these treatments aren’t helping enough.”
“You should give him a call, yeah,” Reid agrees, “But anyways! This summer my family wants to go to Chicago to visit my grandparents. It should be fun. I’ll probably be hot and hella dizzy, but it’ll be fun. I’m worried about flying, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. I know I shouldn’t be so excited to see basically a smaller New York, but I hear their beaches are really nice there. Right in the city too!”
Percy smiles, “I love the beach. I can’t fly, but maybe one day I’ll try to make the drive. I turn 16 this summer, anyways.”
The two boys continue chatting, Reid talking more on account of Percy needing the help of an oxygen mask. Somehow, Percy never feels like he gets bored when he’s with Reid. They can’t turn on the TV for background noise because there’s usually unexpected flashing that messes with Reid, but he always knows how to fill the empty space. Whether it be with a game, stories, or something else. Even when Percy can’t do much more than sit on the couch and try to breathe, it’s never boring. Paul comes home and greets the three just as dinner is ready. They eat in the living room— they’ve been doing that more often than not these days.
“Mom?” Percy speaks up as Paul cleans up dinner.
“Yeah sweetie?” She warmly replies.
“Can you call my doctor tonight? My dad’s doctor,” Percy asks, “I feel awful. I’m already maxed on all my meds and Advil, it’s not helping.”
“Need me to leave?” Reid asks, knowing that he doesn't always like being around people when he feels bad.
Percy shakes his head, “Nah it’s cool. I’m just tired and wheezy. Your company is nice. Doesn't take a lot of energy.”
Reid smiles and nods, continuing to tell stories to Percy. He talks about something called Dungeons and Dragons, which would probably interest Percy more if his life wasn’t already a mythological mess. Percy manages to mention how he has a friend that would probably like it, since he was so into Mythomagic. Sally brings the two boys slices of banana bread, dyed blue of course. Reid’s talking more about a D&D show he’s excited about his dad pre-screening for him that’s looking hopeful when they hear a firm knock at the door.
“Are we expecting anybody else? I thought Erika and Luis weren’t coming over until tomorrow? Am I that foggy right now?” Percy anxiously asks.
“Not Erika and Luis. You’re right about the days. It might be your dad’s doctor,” Sally reassures her son. She stands up and looks through the peephole, “Correction, it is your doctor. I’ll talk to him real quick.”
Sally has a hushed, stern conversation in the hallway. Percy can only assume it’s a warning that there’s a mortal that doesn’t know about Percy’s heritage, so Apollo needs to be mortal-friendly this time. Sally and Percy have been talking about telling Reid about everything if the world doesn’t end and Percy survives his birthday, or maybe sooner, but for now they need to err on the side of caution.
“Hey Percy! I fel- I hea- your mom called me. Yeah, that,” Apollo stumbles through his words before turning to Reid, “And you are?”
“Reid, I'm Percy's friend from school. Nice to meet you, sir,” Reid sticks out his left hand for a handshake, “Sorry, my right hand’s seized up.”
Apollo shakes the mortal’s hand, “Nice to meet you. Want me to check that out for you?”
“Nah, it's usually like that. I'm epileptic. You're here for Percy,” Reid replies.
“Ah yes, of course! What's going on, Percy?” Apollo asks.
“Can't breathe. Treatments aren't doing enough anymore,” answers Percy.
“Sorry to hear, mind checking your lung function for me?” Apollo asks as he hands Percy a portable spirometer. He pulls out a stethoscope and listens to Percy's lungs, even though the demigod can feel that Apollo's using his powers. “Alright, your lung function's at 58% and I'm hearing more build up in your lungs. You've been needing more oxygen too, I assume?”
Percy replies, “That's worse than the first time, isn't it? And yeah. Not at school though. I don't like the attention.”
Reid knowingly nods, “Our school is shit about chronic illness, I just got kicked out. He’s also been needing to leave class or miss school more, has been more foggy and tired too. Pain’s worse too.”
Percy appreciates the support from Reid, sometimes it's easy for him to forget details like that when all that's on Percy's mind is how much he's not breathing and trying to fix that. Reid knows how scary being in a constant confused haze can be. That's another thing Percy appreciates about his friend: he doesn’t have to ask Reid for some things he needs help with. Reid is really smart, despite what his grades say, he just has a hard time having the cognition or attendance for school. The two are alike in that sense too.
“Alright Percy. I'm going to have you do CPT, chest percussion therapy, twice a day everyday in the morning and around dinnertime. I'll do it first to show you all, but after that it's up to you to get it done. It'll make you cough up a lot of crap, but it'll help you feel better and get your lung function back up. I'll also give you some medicine to help boost the effects this time,” Apollo explains.
Percy nods and turns to Reid, “You can go if you wanna. I have a feeling that this might be a lot. You don’t gotta watch.”
“If you're ok with me staying, I'm okay with staying. You've watched me piss myself during grand mal seizures, talk about being a lot,” Reid responds lightheartedly, “Want me to keep talking?”
The demigod flashes a smile to his friend while Apollo begins to explain what he's going to do. As Apollo starts, Percy can feel the god's healing powers pulse through him. He can tell it's more divinity than the immortal has ever used before, his lungs must've been really bad this time.
Between Apollo's short explanations to his mom and Paul, Reid fills the space with much needed aimless rambling. Even when Percy gets sick from coughing, he isn't fazed and just pauses to make sure his friend's okay before continuing. It feels nice for things to feel so normal. Percy's used to being this spectacle, whether it be because of his health or heritage.
“Have I ever told you about the last time I was on the subway? It was a couple years ago, right around the end of school. My dad couldn't drive me home, so I told him I'd take the subway. Hot as balls, crowded as fuck, and did you know that the lights flash? My POTS immediately started acting up and then I had a seizure. Also I threw up and pissed myself. MTA is like… afraid of me ever stepping foot onto it again, which is also objectively hilarious,” Reid laughs as he recalls, much to the horror of Apollo.
“I will never understand you kids. Reid, you sure you don't want me to check you out? A friend of Percy's is a friend of mine,” Apollo offers, glancing at Reid's clenched, shaking hand.
“Maybe another time. That's not a seizure right now, just a spasm from always being tight. I don't wanna hijack Percy's doctor, anyways,” Reid replies, “Perce, whatever connections your dad has for same-day at-home appointments is a goddamn miracle. I can barely even get into my neurologist I've had my whole life!”
The two teens move to Percy's room and keep lightheartedly chatting for the rest of the night. Another benefit of them living in the same building is that they can stay much later than either of the boys could usually tolerate since they’re so close to home. Meanwhile, Paul, Sally, and Apollo sit in the living room eating banana bread.
“I was planning to swing by after his friend left anyway, wasn't any problem. I've been sensing you talking about me more recently,” Apollo says, “I could tell you guys missed my beautiful face.”
“We’ve been trying to convince him to let us call you for weeks now, he'd been getting worse ever since it started getting hot out,” Paul says.
“But did you see how happy he was today? I haven't seen him that happy in so long,” Sally fondly smiles, “I wish Reid could come over more. Or any of his friends for that matter.”
Apollo raises an eyebrow, “Why can't they?”
“The stars that are Reid and Percy's health seldomly align so both of them are well enough to hang out, Percy doesn't have any other mortal friends his age, and it's too dangerous to have a ton of demigods here,” Sally explains, “Plus, it's hard for Percy to go out these days. People don’t understand him or are too overbearing. He'd rather be at home where he has everything he needs. He gets lonely, and it's easy to lose hope like that.”
“But Percy and Reid are good for each other. They get each other. When they're together, it’s like no time has passed— even if it’s been months. Plus Reid's dad is a good man, they come over for dinner sometimes. Reid stays over when his dad needs to work and he can’t be alone. He’s half of the reason we have all the air purifiers. All the seizures have wrecked his immune system,” Paul adds.
“It’s strange how their conditions are so completely different but they get along so well. It’s like they move as one,” Apollo comments.
“It’s not strange, it’s human. At the end of the day, Percy’s still half human. The Greek World tends to forget that about him,” Sally gently corrects.
Apollo thoughtfully nods. The three continue talking late into the night until Sally and Paul head to bed. As the couple lay down and the immortal leaves, the sound of laughter rings through the apartment. And for that fleeting moment, the stress of the weight of the world slips away. Sally and Paul don’t dare tell Percy to quiet down, for once he gets to just be a kid.