Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

PART I -  however subtle it was

Jason’s head, as of late, had been stuck in the clouds. He stumbled through classes feeling heavy, tuning out the teacher to stare out the window and gaze at the sky.

Pasadena had good weather. Mild and calm, usually sunny skies even in December. Edgarton’s winter uniforms had a jacket, but most boys wore short sleeves and loose ties until they were caught and reprimanded.

Today, it was raining. A freak thunderstorm that the teachers warily glanced toward during lessons and a low rumble caused students to trail off mid-sentence. Jason loved this kind of weather, but he couldn’t quite figure out what was causing it. It had been all sunshine and cotton clouds the past week, and the weather predictions foretold lovely days.

“Oh boy,” the secretary gasped when the thunder boomed. She glanced at Jason and offered an apologetic smile as if she had caused it. “It’s raining cats and dogs out there. What a bad day to forget an umbrella.”

“Yeah,” Jason’s eyes slid past her to the grand windows at her side. They looked out toward the grand fountain at the front of the preparatory school, sitting behind the giant arched gates. The rain pounded against the cobblestone, as off-guard students and staff ran across holding books and bags over their heads. Every part of Jason was itching to run outside and soak in the rain, but the laundry and stares weren’t worth it.

Blend in, was what Hedge advised him. Then he immediately made a bet with Mellie that Jason couldn’t last a semester.

Neither of them have called Jason in the past two months. 

“Jason.”

Jason’s head snapped to the side, where a tall blonde with dark sunglasses and bright pearly whites beamed at him. He was tanned like he’d just come from the beach, the top two buttons on his blush pink shirt undone and tucked into tan chinos. If he had been anyone else, Jason wouldn’t have batted an eye— the man was merely another rich parent or older brother complaining about Edgarton's rules.

But this was different. In front of Jason stood the sun god, Apollo.

“What are you-”

“What’s up? No hello for your brother?” Apollo opened his arms wide for a hug, but Jason didn’t budge. It didn’t bother him; instead, he dropped his arms and grinned at the secretary, who blushed as her glasses fogged up.

Apollo collapsed with a single chair between them. He was hot. So frustratingly so, that Jason pushed his own steamed-up glasses up on his head, and rolled up his jacket sleeves.

“How’s the sister?” Apollo tossed at him. “Still all snarky and crashing cars?”

“...I don’t know,” Jason said, glancing at the mortal secretary. She was focusing more on her desktop monitor, but every so often, she’d peek over at Apollo and fan herself, blushing. “Um. Why are you here?”

“I remember you being more polite when talking to your elders.” Apollo’s grin went crooked.

“And you want me to use your full title,” Jason said slowly, “here?”

If he didn’t have those opaque designer shades, Jason would say that the god was scrutinizing him. Apollo laughed and folded his leg over his knee, dropping his arms along the back of the chairs, where his heated fingertip burned through Jason’s shoulder.

“I am on delivery duty,” Apollo told him. “There’s an important package and I wanted to change the destination.”

Jason couldn’t see any packages nearby. “And it needs to come… here?”

Apollo shrugged, smile growing wider. “Call it a gift, little brother.”

“Half-brother…”

“Family, nonetheless.” Apollo reached over to ruffle the top of Jason’s head, making Jason’s glasses drop down his face again. Jason sighed, folding them and stuffing them in his pocket.

“If you know I’m here, then you know why. I’m supposed to be done with that sort of stuff.”

“You’re just like Artie. Anyone ever tell you that? She’s so pissy. This is just like when—”

Jason tried not to groan aloud. He hadn’t encountered Apollo many times, and certainly not his Greek form, but the sun god did have a reputation. He hoped they were not at the poetry stage yet. His current English class had just finished a section on poetry, and Jason had gained a lot of respect for the masters of the craft. While Apollo might be the god of poetry and lyricism, not all of his works were great hits.

Percy was right. Apollo was annoying.

Jason glanced to the big round clock. Class had ended a few minutes ago, but Jason was still waiting in the school administration building.

“You know,” Apollo’s tone had dropped considerably after his anecdote, expression serious. He pushed up his sunglasses, bright blue eyes boring into Jason. “It was here or Long Island, and I thought I’d do you a favor by bringing this to you instead.”

“A favor?”

Gods do not owe demigods favors.

“Yes,” Apollo said. He leaned back, folding his arms behind his head. “I heard you defended me to our father. It was quite moving. When I heard, I was surprised you didn’t get zapped on the spot!”

Jason could barely remember the event, but he knew what Apollo was referring to. Back when they were fighting Gaea, Apollo had angered Zeus, and Jason snapped back. He remembered the fear he had, and the way his father had looked at him. Even now, Jason was feeling frozen, but a crack of thunder shook him out of it.

“I remember,” Jason murmured. “That was—”

“Ah ah ah!” Apollo cut in. “Do not take a gifthorse by the mouth! Or whatever the phrase is- who cares, I wrote it! Haha! But seriously, kid,” Apollo glanced at Jason. He looked nearly grateful. “This was nothing. I’ve never had a sibling defend me like that, so… don’t think too much about it. It’s an exchange. You give a little, I give a little.”

Jason didn’t love the word exchange. “Thank you,” he swallowed. “So what—”

“—Why do I get a roommate? You can’t be serious.”

Apollo smirked as Jason blinked. He knew that voice. He bolted out of his seat and moved toward the secretary’s desk to peek around the corner. It didn’t matter, a moment later, the dean sauntered round with files in hand, and gave Jason a warm smile.

Not that Jason paid much attention. He was focused on the boy next to him, dressed in a camouflage jacket and jeans. Thick eyebrows and crooked nose, thin limbs and long fingers. Unruly curly dark hair and deep brown eyes narrowed into a glare, with full lips pulled into a scowl.

“C’mon, I’ll take the smallest room you got,” the boy whined, and the dean shook his head, handing off the files to the secretary.

“Jason,” the dean greeted him. “Take our new student on a tour around campus, please. He’ll be moving into your dorm by the end of the day.”

“Leo,” Jason breathed, stunned. It couldn’t be— but Jason was sure it was him. The room's lights flickered, and Jason glanced back at Apollo, who grinned.

The boy, the Leo lookalike, raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Do I know you?”

Jason’s brow furrowed, a shiver going down his back. “What do you mean? It’s-”

“This is Jason,” a hand clasped on his shoulder, but the sheer heat of it told Jason who it was. “His father and I go back. I’ll see you soon, Leo. Be good.”

Apollo stepped to the dean's side to discuss something, and Leo knocked open the gate, separating him and Jason with his knee. On one shoulder, he hooked his fingers through the loop of his bag strap.

“Jason, right?” Leo waved in front of him. “Lead the way.”

Chapter Text

Jason was sure that it was Leo Valdez, because who else could it be? The boy looked like his best friend, moved like him, talked like him. Every glance out of the side view had Jason carving out the familiar features of his friend.

“Dude,” Leo stopped walking. “Why do you keep looking at me like that? Got something in my teeth?” A pink tongue slipped out, running over his incisors.

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s just-” Jason winced. “Do you really not remember me?”

“Um, no,” Leo peered at him with questioning eyes, before jerking away. “Wait, tell me you’re not that kid I almost ran over earlier.”

“What, no-” Jason realized they were in the middle of the hall, and pulled them to the side. At the giant window, the rain began to ease up. Jason grabbed Leo’s shoulders. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny.”

“Dude, get off.” Leo rolled his shoulders back, effectively letting Jason’s hands drop. “You’re kinda creeping me out here. Did you ever learn about personal space?”

“You seriously don’t remember,” Jason frowned. “If this is a joke, then haha, Leo, you win.”

“My jokes are pretty funny,” Leo said. “But I have nothing to do with your trip to crazy town right now. Lay off the drugs, man.”

He really doesn’t remember. Jason's stomach sunk as a familiar creeping sensation began to take over his nerves. If this was a joke, it was mean. But if it wasn’t…

Memory loss and Jason were old acquaintances, and not something he wanted to go through again. He always thought Leo and Piper’s Wilderness memories were silly to hear about, but couldn’t get too into them: as real as the memories were to his best friends, they were still fake memories.

But this was different. The last few months Jason had spent with Leo were very much real. Cruelly and ironically, they had switched spots from when they had first met— really met. Jason remembered Leo. Leo remembered…nothing?

Jason frowned, unsure where Leo’s memory loss started and ended. Maybe only Jason was cut out from Leo’s recollection? Or maybe Leo didn’t remember being a demigod? Or maybe Leo didn’t remember anything?

“Sorry,” Jason stepped back. If Leo really didn’t know him, then Jason was definitely being too close to a stranger. “You remind me of someone. It feels like we met before.”

“You definitely would remember if you met me before,” Leo snorted.

Jason couldn’t disagree. “Where’d you go to school before here?”

Leo shrugged. “What’s it matter to you?”

“Just making small talk,” Jason sighed. “Are you sure we haven’t met before?”

Leo peered up at him, scrutinizing Jason’s face. Then, Leo shook his head. “Nope. Nothing. Who do I remind you of? Like some friend or something?”

“My best friend,” Jason said. “You would like him.”

“You barely know me, dude,” Leo muttered with a sigh. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t be here.”

Jason knew it was Leo. Apollo wouldn’t have come if it was just a coincidence. A gift. Jason had unknowingly been in an exchange, and now Leo was in one too. Even the missing memory and familiar words were added like a bow on a present.

Fine, Jason thought. He didn’t enjoy playing to the tune of the gods, but he did it nonetheless. There were worse things. With the silence over the past few months, Leo could’ve died without even saying goodbye, and Jason wouldn’t have any clue. He clenched his fist.

This time he’d keep his friend safe. Jason wouldn’t take it any other way.

Chapter Text

Leo had joined Edgarton two days before winter break. They shared two classes: a creative writing class they both seemed to take to fill up schedule space, and a Government class. Jason would’ve figured he would see Leo in his Honors Physics class too, as he was in the only section offered, but it turned out that whatever preliminary test Leo had taken before arriving, his knowledge was too advanced to even teach.

In class, Leo barely acknowledged him. In their shared dormitory room, Leo would walk in and out at odd times in silence. They only exchanged soft Excuse Me’s to squeeze past each other in the room, but outside of that, there was nothing.

This was the weirdest experience Jason had ever had. The Leo he knew would be filling the space with whatever came to mind, and if they were in silence—like the nights Leo was working on the Argo and Jason stuck around too late—it was usually comfortable. But to Leo, Jason was a total stranger, and probably clingy at that.

What had Leo done to befriend him? Jason couldn’t remember much effort. He just liked Leo when they met. Sure, the guy was weird and annoying at times, but Jason and him had… clicked. Now, at ground zero, Jason was struggling to not slip into old topics Leo wouldn’t remember, and also recognize that Leo was going through his own mundane mortal thing.

It was exhausting. He suddenly had a new sense of appreciation for Leo and Piper when he’d been the amnesiac. He couldn’t exactly strike up a conversation with, Hey! No more swords, huh? Or Any thoughts about that article in Demigod Weekly?

Next to him, one of Jason’s teammates from lacrosse, Ben, slid across a pile of papers. Jason grabbed one and handed off to his other side. Leo took them without even a second glance.

Jason sighed. The teacher in the front droned on about proper dialogue rules and grammar conventions. A cursory glance around the classroom told anyone who walked in that not a single person was paying attention. It was too warm in the classroom to be comfortable and too close to winter break for anyone to care. Even Jason, who at least pretended to pay attention most times, kept catching his eyes wandering to the window, and then sliding to his best friend.

The Leo beside him wasn’t Leo. It was Leo, sure— this was obviously, unequivocally his best friend. But it wasn’t Leo. Not the one Jason had spent days building the Argo with, or the Leo he went to Zeus’ Fist with, or the Leo he argued about videogames with.

Jason dropped his cheek on his propped-up fist, peeking at Leo. He was too focused on chewing his pencil eraser, occasionally striking his pencil across the page. His tongue flicked out over his lips, and he mindlessly pulled at a piece of hair. All things that Jason has seen his best friend do plenty of times before dying.

It was too normal. Perhaps 'too abnormal' was more accurate—this classroom setting had never existed in Jason’s life. His life was, and always had been, fights, prayers, and death.

Jason’s seen a lot of bodies. He tried not to dwell on it, but there were enough memories in his mind coated in blood splatters and final breaths. Some of them he slew with his own hand.

He was never given the chance to mourn, however. He couldn’t mourn Leo with the guy sitting right next to him, but it just… wasn’t the same.

Leo’s pencil tapped the desk, and then spun in his fingers thrice, before he scribbled again.

Jason wanted to reach out to make sure he was still there. Maybe Jason would wake up in the Fifth Cohort again, shaking away a silly dream about Greeks, girls who can charmspeak, and fire boys who come back to life.

He didn’t want Leo to be a dream though, Jason decided. Neither did he want Piper to disappear either, he later added.

After class, Jason lingered, watching Leo pack up.

“I’ll see you later,” Jason told him, as the next group of students began to file in.

“Um, sure,” Leo looked at him like he was a freak. “We do live together.”

“Bye, Leo,” Jason said. “See you.”

“Um… Bye?” Leo furrowed his brows and rushed out the room.

Jason frowned. If he couldn’t get Leo’s memories back, then he’d become Leo’s friend some other way.

Part of his instructions to his resignation to Edgarton was to not contact anyone remotely related to the godly world. Jason didn’t fight it at the time, but he wished he did: everyone he knew was either a demigod or a monster. The only exceptions was supposed to be his protector, and Piper because it was hard to not talk to his girlfriend, plus she also wandered away from the other demigods.

After Piper and he broke up, the amount of friends Jason had his age dropped to a big fat zero. He transferred into the junior year of school, where everyone had either grown up with their friends, or were too ready to graduate next year to care to befriend a new one. Of course Jason had acquaintances— he was in too many clubs and teams to not have any. He was nice and smart, strong and dependable: the perfect Roman and thusly, perfect student.

But Jason also turned in every assignment late, relied on the bus system to get around, and only had a very weak allowance trickling in fron New Rome. Everyone around him had the newest sneakers, or the latest phones, but Jason could barely remember to rewash his 3 sets of uniforms on time.

It didn’t help that Jason never had to sit in a high school classroom before. New Rome taught children the typical curriculum until they were 13, and studies were pushed aside for training their bodies. While Jason might’ve occasionally kept up with some of the work other kids his age were doing, nobody ever required anything of Jason specifically: a son of Jupiter didn’t need to fill his brain with anything but battle plans.

By the time Jason helped overturn the system, he’d been conked in the head and dragged over to Camp Half-Blood by force of Hera. The next few months were a whirlwind, but Jason didn’t really make friends nor sat in school.

He also didn’t have a roommate since being in the Fifth Cohort.

His room with Leo was small and on the top floor. Two beds slapped on opposite sides of the room, with an ornate window showcasing Pasadena’s beautiful canyons and valleys. Their desks were against the wall, on their respective sides- Jason, right and Leo left- but if they were both sitting, there wasn’t enough room to move around. Jason’s bookshelf wasn’t filled with much, but the plastic models and books were a lot more than Leo’s empty shelf.

Jason was sitting on his bed, pretending to read a book, as Leo packed for break. Not that there was much to pack- it was essentially Leo’s toothbrush and dirty underwear since he’d only been here for two days.

“You like architecture?” Leo sat on his desk, typing into his phone.

“Huh?”

“Architecture. Like building shit,” he nodded at the models and book in Jason’s hand. Universal Principles of Design. “You’ve got a lot of stuff related to it. So I figured-” Leo sighed. “Nevermind, man.”

In all honesty, Leo hadn’t talked much to Jason lately, so his mind blanked. “No- no, yes!”

“No? Or yes?”

Jason closed his book. “It’s a project I’m working on.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “What class?”

“What?” Jason blinked. “No, it’s more of a hobby.”

“Oh,” Leo said, bored. Silence. He swiped lazily on his phone, while Jason blanched.

This was… weird. He didn’t realize it was harder to hold a conversation with Leo, when Leo wasn’t the one doing 80% of the talking. Jason also didn’t realize he’d become so bad at talking too.

“Sooo,” Leo started again, a twinkling noise of defeat ringing from his phone. “What are your plans for break?”

Jason almost sighed in relief. “Probably just homework. I don’t have anywhere to be.”

“And working on that hobby of yours, right?”

“Yeah, probably,” Jason eyed the half-assembled Temple Hill on his desk. “What about you? When’s your dad picking you up?”

“He’s not my dad,” Leo rolled his eyes. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago, but he said something about being free around sunset. Should be any time now.”

In the time he’s been here, Leo hasn’t mentioned Apollo… or anything about his life recently. Jason was eager to know, but it took a lot to keep himself from just blurting out, “So what the hell happened after I watched you die?”

“Do you need help carrying your stuff down?” Jason offered.

Leo shrugged. “Yeah, why not. Grab that one.”

By the time the sun was setting, Leo had waited at the curb, playing on his phone while Jason hovered nearby. He didn’t know what to do, but Leo did. He tossed Jason a thumbs up, and grinned, saying, “Thanks for the help. Happy holidays, dude. See you in January.”

Jason smiled. “Have a good break.”

Leo nodded and turned back to his phone, so Jason left back up to his room.

Jason’s in the middle of breaking into his third bag of Cheetos when his door blows open.

“Fucking ridiculous!” Leo snapped, throwing his bookbag onto his bed, and kicking off his shoes. “You have one job, and you can’t even-” He stormed back out, slamming the door behind him.

Ten minutes later, Leo came back, looking a lot calmer, and his arms filled with snacks from the vending machines downstairs. He dropped them on his desk, grabbed a honey bun, and sat on the floor, chewing hastily.

“Are you-”

“So,” Leo interrupted, swallowing. He looked Jason in the eyes, for the first time since they’d met at Edgarton, dropping his arms over his bent knees. “What are our plans for break?”

Chapter Text

“Leo, you’ve got to be joking.”

The boy just grinned back, jingling a key chain in front of Jason’s face. “Absolutely not.”

Jason glanced toward the security camera along the side of the wall. He knew that there weren’t too many people on campus for them to have any real problems, and he also knew that the current security on duty wouldn’t care to report the boys unless someone got seriously hurt.

Unfortunately, Leo knew that too, because Jason had mentioned it off-handedly last night. He disappeared in the morning, and the next thing Jason knew, he heard someone yelling his name from outside, and Jason came out to see Leo sitting in the driver’s seat of a golf cart.

“Come on, Jason,” Leo begged. “It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong. You’re just taking me on a tour because I’m new.” His lower lip dipped further down, and he clasped his hands together. “I’ll owe you one, for real.”

“I gave you a tour the first day you came here, Leo.”

“I forgot.”

Jason stared at him, and then sighed, grumbling under his breath as he climbed in. Leo whooped and slid in next to Jason, jabbing the keys into the ignition. “Jason! Jason! Jason! Jason!”

“Don’t crash us,” Jason warned.

“Obviously not,” Leo dropped his arm on the back of the seat as he whipped the cart out in reverse. “This only went, like, 12 mph when I first found it.” They zipped out of the courtyard onto the main campus road at a speed much faster than that.

Jason grabbed onto the handles at the top. “And what’s it at now?”

Leo laughed. “It’s better if you don’t know.”

Over the past few days, the two of them fell into a rhythm. Leo asked Jason questions about the school or their classmates, and Jason would answer the best he could. They kept to themselves on opposite sides of the room for the most part, until meal times when Jason would offer to go together.

There weren’t many people on campus, meaning there were plenty of tables to sit far from each other, but Leo plopped next to Jason each time. Jason found that the more he and Leo were together, the more Leo’s familiarity swept over him, and he nearly forgot about the amnesia.

“Is this your girlfriend?” Leo was looking at a picture of Piper that Jason had taped on the wall. She was slapping away at the camera, kissing Jason’s cheek. “She’s pretty hot.”

“Ex,” Jason stared at the image. It had been a while since he needed to say that outloud, and there was something disconcerting about Leo not knowing that information.

“Oh, shit, sorry, man,” Leo said like it was no big deal. “So… she’s single?”

“...Dude.”

“Kidding,” Leo laughed, and then wandered over to Jason at the desk. “What are you working on?”

“Homework,” Jason shoved away his self-Tic-Tac-Toe game under his textbook. “Are you bored or something?”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “Let’s do something cool.”

“We can go to the gym.”

Leo gave him a disgusted look. “Try again.”

Jason laughed, thinking. “We can go into the city. We’ll have to take the bus though.”

“We can take the golf cart,” Leo offered slyly.

“Yeah, no,” Jason closed his textbook and stood up. By the time he had his jacket on, Leo was already whistling halfway out the door.

Downtown, nearly every store was closed, so they ended up ordering Chinese food, but the place inside didn’t have seating, so they sat on the curb eating from their containers.

“We’re so stupid,” Leo snorted, biting on his straw. “Did you know it was Christmas Eve?”

Jason gave him a blank look, and Leo burst out laughing.

“Man, this fucking sucks.” Leo eventually said. “It’s not that bad, but it would’ve been cool to do something different today.”

“It could be worse— could’ve been Christmas.”

“Yeah, that would’ve been shitty too.”

Jason pushed around his rice, watching the decorated Christmas lights twinkle in the storefronts. Leo was right- it’s really not that bad. It wasn’t any colder than their jackets, and outside of the faint Christmas music in the distance, and the occasional car, the night was fairly peaceful. Jason tried his best to focus on the soundwaves in case a random monster decided to give them an early present.

“Hey,” Leo said suddenly. He looked pleased with himself and the food, rooting around for pieces of shrimp. “Where’s home for you? How come you didn’t head back?”

“Um,” Jason hesitated.

He could say San Fransisco where by Camp Jupiter, but the thought didn’t roll into his mind as quickly as he liked. He could even say Long Island with Camp Half-Blood, but that didn’t feel right either. Heck, he could say Pasadena for his mother, after all, that was why he was there, but that definitely wasn’t right either. “It’s complicated.”

Leo nodded without missing a beat. “Yeah, totally. I get that. You have a sister though, don’t you? I wanna say her name is… Thalia?”

Jason’s eyes widened, his heart stumbling. “You remembered?”

“What?” Leo looked at him, amusedly. “You talk in your sleep.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yeah,” Leo snorted. “You do.” He threw his box into their plastic bag of trash, and rubbed his hands on his thighs. Jason resumed eating, while Leo fiddled with his zipper.

“Sorry-” Leo winced. “Was that a sore subject or something? Bringing up your sister and home and shit?”

Jason waited for a car to pass by, blaring out a Katy Perry song. “... Not really. It’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” Leo mumbled. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jason said. “What about you? I thought you were going home.”

A gust of air pushed out of Leo’s nostrils, and he groaned, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, me too, buddy. Then Lester’s like, ‘No dude, you gotta stick around until you get better and also I’m fucking mad bitches so you can’t be around right now,’ - okay, maybe not in those words, but that’s what he meant.” Leo eyed Jason’s egg roll.

Jason passed it along, ignoring the admittedly pretty good Apollo (Lester?) impression to focus on something that caught his attention: “Get better?”

“Yeah,” Leo bit into the egg roll. “Oh my God, this shit is so good.” He wiped at his mouth, explaining while chewing. “I was in like, this accident a few weeks ago. Fucking crazy. Woke up and barely knew who I was, and Lester’s my foster brother explaining it all, and it- it sounded nuts, man.”

“Jeez.”

“No kidding,” Leo inhaled the rest of the eggroll, now reaching for the small clump of fortune cookies sitting on the streetside. “I think my dog died too. I would be more beat up about it if I even knew who Festus was. Lester keeps telling me it’s better to remember myself but…” Leo trailed off, a look of discomfort on his face. “Ah, forget it. It’s some heavy stuff.”

“I don’t mind listening,” Jason told him.

Leo glanced at him, questioningly. “... Yeah?”

It’s a rhetorical question, but with it comes a strange atmosphere. Jason’s motions still, and he was reminded of all those late nights in the bunker and Argo with Leo, when the two would talk about anything. Sometimes, they wouldn’t talk at all, the two operating in a comfortable silence.

He had yet to build up that rapport with Leo again, but still— Jason looked over at Leo’s face of genuine surprise clamming up into a practiced look of restful happiness as Leo ripped open his fortune cookie. Whatever had been built between them, fell apart, and Jason repressed a resigned sigh to open his own fortune cookie.

“Well this is dumb,” Leo chomped through the cookie, and held out his fortune:

Most heroes cannot escape their nature, even after a second chance.

Lucky Numbers: 7, 9, 16, 8, 1

Jason held out his own:

Good luck with that.

Lucky Numbers: 7, 1, 16, 12, 24

“Ha!” Leo peered at Jason’s. “Yours is even worse! Man, these rock!”

Jason very faintly remembers Leo being on the Argo, pacing back and forth, mumbling about a fortune cookie.

"Something wrong?" Jason would ask, and Leo always grinned at him saying some variation of, "Man, your concussion has you paranoid as fuck!"

Jason only got the full story about the fortune cookie and sacrifice from Hazel after Leo’s death.

Fucking Nemesis, Jason cursed in his head. He shoved the fortunes in his pocket.

“This one just says, Call your ex,” Leo had already moved on to working through the rest of the cookies. He shoved the message into Jason’s hand. “Think that’s for you,” he snickered.

The lucky numbers were the McLean’s landline.

Go figure.

Chapter Text

Christmas went by quietly— sort of. Jason headed out to the gym, and came back covered in ichor that Leo glanced over a comic book to quip, “had a good run?” He thought it was some weird holiday glitter that Jason deigned to mention that their class secretary, Peter, was no longer with them, and currently reanimating in Tartarus, fangs and all.

Outside of that blip, the rest of the year fizzled out quietly. There was a little bit where Leo wanted to rig all the speaker system to play Nicki Minaj through the halls, but Jason talked him down to only playing Nicki’s hits.

Jason’s in the middle of writing a letter to Reyna, when Leo sighed really loud. He only gets a sentence further when Leo exhaled pointedly again.

Jason turned in his chair, and Leo sighed again, slinking further in his bed until his head hits the pillow and his hands fall over his navel.

“Do you need something?”

“I’m bored.”

“I can see that.”

“Fix it.”

Jason shifted back in his chair, tapping his pen against his forehead. “I’m busy.”

“You’re really busy for someone with no friends.”

“I have friends. You don’t have any friends.”

“Well, duh. I’m new.” There’s some rustling behind Jason, and Leo’s voice came out again, this time more muffled: “Let’s play a game.”

Jason chuckled. “I don’t want to play a game with you. Read a book.”

“I hate reading,” More rustling, and suddenly Leo’s on his side of the room, browsing through Jason’s bookshelf. Jason left him for a few minutes, trying to remember his sentence, while Leo shuffled through some of Jason’s books, made a few grunts, and then reshelved them.

“Jason,” Leo said. “You’re so boring.”

“Okay, Leo.”

“I’m serious. If you get any more boring, I’ll die.”

“Okay, Leo.”

Leo only let the silence continue for what couldn’t have been more than 2 seconds. “I thought you had dyslexia. Why do you have so many books?”

“Dyslexia doesn’t mean I can’t like reading-” Jason frowned and looked up. “How do you know that?”

"Know what?"

"That I have dyslexia."

He was thumbing through a copy of Rosemary’s Baby, elbow resting on one of the shelves. “Hmm, can’t remember. I think you might’ve said it.”

That wasn’t something Jason would’ve said aloud. Maybe Leo’s memory was coming back. He wondered if something triggered it or if Leo was piecing things together.

“Nothing wrong with it,” Leo continued, pushing the book back. “I got dyslexia too. I think. Or maybe I’m just stupid.”

“You’re far from stupid.”

“Thanks?” Leo pivoted back to the shelf, drumming his fingers against the wood, as he searched the titles. “You keep doing that to me.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re like, you’re this, you’re that,” Leo picked up another book. “But we barely know each other. We only met, like, ten days ago. You don’t even know my favorite color.”

“Red.”

Leo jumped, pointing accusatory fingers at Jason. “See! How do you know that? You’re right, but also, it’s so weird.”

Jason swiveled back to his letter, jutting his thumb back to Leo’s side of the room behind him. “Half of your stuff is red. It doesn’t take a genius to guess.”

Leo grumbled and stomped back to collapse on his red plaid bed sheets with his head on his red pillow and, presumably, pulled out his red phone with its red case. Jason snickered while Leo muttered to himself about self-righteous know-it-all roommates, and he got back to work on his letter.

“What’s your favorite color?” Leo’s voice came out small behind him.

Jason didn’t really have one, but he leaned back in his chair to think about it. “... Black, I think.”

“Really? Wouldn’t have thought it.” Leo made an explosion noise. “Why black? Kinda depressing, dude.”

“It’s a simple color. My sister and cousins wear it a lot, so I’ve gotten used to it.”

“O-h,” Leo sounded out. “You got a lot of family?”

Jason clicked his pen, trying to decide how to answer. “I guess. One sister. A couple of cousins. It’s more extended family but that doesn’t really count.”

“That’s cool. I have…” Leo paused, and Jason’s brow furrowed. “I’m an only child, I think. I know there’s Aunt Rosa and Rafael, but that’s it. I don’t know. Sometimes I picture some kid calling me his brother, but it’s nothing solid.

“Yeah?”

“Memory stuff. It’s probably nothing.” He let out an exhausted gasp, and Jason finally got up to sit on his bed. Leo was lying perpendiular across his bed, his feet kicked up on the wall, and his hair hanging off the edge. Jason sat against his own wall, pulling one of his models into his hands. It fell the other day, smashing one of the faces on his Janus figure.

“Do you remember a lot?”

Leo was quiet. Then he rubbed his eyes and huffed. “Not much. Just flashes. Lester wasn’t kidding about that explosion. That’s all I can remember right now. Maybe some screaming. Dark stuff, dude. Seriously.”

Considering Jason’s lived it and then relived it many nights after through his nightmares, he didn’t disagree. He dug his thumb into Janus’ cranium. The clay cracked softly under pressure. “What brought you to Edgarton?”

“From what I remember, I was at some other school, and shit didn’t work out. Lester said something about needing a change and redo.” Leo craned his neck back, looking up at Jason. “You?”

“Something like that,” Jason said. “My guardians said I needed a change and break so they sent me here.”

“Huh,” Leo said. “You fit in here. Like a real Edgarton boy. I thought you were gonna be super stuck-up.”

“Sorry?”

“I mean, you’re way better than any of the other guys here. I’d run away if I had Matt as a roommate.” Leo’s legs swished against the wall like he was doing jumping jacks. “Fucking Matt. What a dick.”

“He’s rich.” Matt was some guy who lived down the hall. He was currently spending his winter break in the Bahamas.

“I can tell.” Leo rolled over onto his stomach, feet kicked up behind him. “Do you want to get dinner? Dining hall’s almost closed.”

“Yeah,” Jason pushed himself off the bed. “Let’s go.”

COACH:
HAPPY NEW YEARS. STARTED FROM THE BOTTOM, NOW WE’RE HERE! 🏆
DON’T FORGET TO SET A NEW YEARS RESOLUTION TO GET MORE IN SHAPE! 💪🏋️♂️
Text Mellie when you have the chance. Don’t be ungrateful kiddo! 😒

MELLIE:
Mellie attached an e-card.
Hey Jason. Long time no see. Hope you’re well. Love from Oklahoma. Chuck says hi.
Ignore whatever Gleeson sent you, he drank a little too much juice tonight.

PIPER:
i know we havent talked in a while, but happy new years
miss you
ive been having dreams about you and leo a lot recently. idk why but you’re still in my mind.
i keep getting this big feeling that something big is happening.
hopefully not another prophecy lol
call me whenever youre free
love ya
❤️🥂🎉🫂

YOU:
Hey Pipes
Missed you too. Happy New Years.
❤️

“You got any New Year's Resolutions?”

They were sitting on the bleachers of the football field, watching the fireworks in the distance. Leo had said he would go out and find a party, but then he took a nap after dinner and woke up twenty minutes before midnight. The two snuck into the dining hall to steal some ice cream and somehow wandered to the bleachers in the night.

“Not really,” Jason licked his spoon. “Maybe drink more water.”

Leo nodded. “That’s a good one. You’ve had a diet coke every day for the past week at dinner.”

“No, I haven’t.” Jason recounted his past dinners. “... Shut up.”

A crackle of red and green burst across the sky. Even though they were far away, the lights still lit up the sky, reflecting across Leo’s face with each explosion. He wasn’t aware of it, but each firework breaking through the night made Leo jerk.

“Ugh,” Leo leaned back against the bleachers, dropping his spoon in his empty bowl. “It would be sweet to travel the world. If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

“Someplace cool,” Jason said absent-mindedly. “I liked when we went to Chicago outside of the whole-trying-not-to-die thing.”

“Jason,” Leo said very slowly, lethargic grin on his face. “You’re so weird. What are you even talking about?”

A particularly loud boom shook the valley, as a firework blew up in a blinding orange and white. Leo jumped up, muttering about needing to leave, and how late it was getting, flinching as another firework exploded overhead. He didn’t stop muttering and glancing at the sky, until they were inside, and he asked where the nearest bathroom was.

Jason leaned against the lockers nearby. They were a rusted red color, the side doodled with crude Sharpie and carvings. Jason didn’t even know where Leo’s locker was. Since the campus mostly functioned with breezeways and open courtyards, Jason was still outside. From where they were, at least the fireworks were muffled.

Leo came out, more relaxed, his hands wet. “For such a richy-rich school, they can’t afford paper towels?”

Jason folded his arms. “Are you okay?”

Leo cracked his knuckles and walked ahead of Jason, without a second glance. “Obviously. You worry too much. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Chapter Text

The only reason why he knew he was dreaming was that somehow Jason, Piper, and Leo were sitting at the same cafeteria table together. Piper and Leo were arguing about a biology dissection, with Piper’s point was related to her vegetarianism values, and Leo’s point being, well we’re not eating the freaking dead pig fetus now, are we? and Jason had a ham and cheese sandwich in his hand that grew more nauseating by the second.

This moment never happened. Jason knew this because he never went to normal mortal school, but also there was never a time when he was sitting on a wobbly lunchtable with Piper and Leo, where some kid was sticking gum under the table to his left, Hedge was yelling at teenagers to walk not run, and he’s never met the girl a few tables over who was trying to bat her eyes at Jason, waving coyly.

“Jason,” Leo snapped in front of his face. “Helllooooo, anybody home? I swear his brain is made of swiss cheese.”

“Leave him alone,” Piper slapped away his hand. “He’s nervous about today’s exam.”

“I’m not nervous,” the words flowed out of Jason’s mouth. Beyond nauseating, the way his jaw moved without his brain telling it to. “I studied last night.”

“He did not study last night,” Leo said. “We were on Halo 'til two.”

Piper shook her head like a disappointed mother, “stop distracting him.”

“I’m not- IT WAS HIS IDEA!”

Jason doesn’t even know what Halo is. He found himself yawning, launching Piper and Leo into another bickering spiral about being a bad roommate encouraging poor habits (“Can’t you see he’s having FUN!” Leo snapped, gesturing at Jason sleep deprivation), and Jason looked onto a mural on the wall in multicolored tiles reading WILDERNESS SCHOOL FOR TROUBLED YOUTH underneath some brightly smiling troubled youth taking a hike through green tiling mimicking trees.

“What the hell is this place,” Jason said— his actual self-speaking. Piper and Leo didn’t notice. He sat there eating his ham and cheese sandwich and drinking from a warmed milk carton until the bell rang and he bolted up in his bed back in Edgarton.

It was hardly morning. Clumped up in his blankets, Leo was facing the wall and sleeping soundly. Jason stretched, and peeked through the blinds, sipping from his water bottle to watch the sun rise across California, the sky brightened by deep orange hues and breathtaking reds through the trees. He wished he had any artistic ability to capture it.

Behind him, Leo muttered something in his sleep. When Jason turned around to check, he almost walked right through the glimmering mist portraying Apollo.

“Hello, Jason. Excuse the appearance. It takes time to look as good as me, you know,” Apollo beamed. He was wearing a fur-lined cheetah-print robe, his face covered in some green goop, and his hair wrapped in a fluffy yellow towel while munching on sliced cucumbers.

“Um…”

“So! How’s the little pest?” Apollo leaned into the message. “Talk your ear off yet? Wow, that boy can talk, and that’s coming from me. He’s a little funny, but I know funnier. Have you ever met-”

“Leo?” Jason yawned. “He’s sleeping.”

“Sleeping, huh,” Apollo bit into a cucumber. “Yeah, he was doing a whole lot of that when he stayed with me. Those nightmares sound horrible,” Apollo nodded gravely. “Not that gods have nightmares. Or sleep. But I heard it’s bad.”

Jason glanced at the still lump on Leo's bed. “I don’t know anything about nightmares.”

Apollo waved his hand at Jason, “Yeah, yeah, he’s probably not saying anything. All demigods do is go through traumatizing horrors and then they complain and go wah-wah Dad didn’t come to my recital and Dad never blesses me and Dad sucks at poetry, and you know what, Jason? It’s not our fault that you guys don’t speak up! Quit complaining and start sharing! I’ve been told Camp Half-Blood’s therapy is at least 3 stars!”

Jason was beginning to believe that this had very little to do with himself and more to do with Apollo wanting someone to talk to. How that ended up being him was a question left unasked.

Apollo snapped, and his cucumbers melted into strawberries. “How’s the memory coming along? Have you had your happy little reunion yet?”

“He doesn’t remember anything at all,” Jason grumbled. “Sometimes it feels like he’s close to something, and then it falls apart.”

“It takes time, kid,” Apollo said, sounding thoughtful.

Apollo… really does look like Jason. He took a form that couldn’t have been much older than Jason, maybe in his mid-twenties, with clear blue eyes like water and sweeping shoulder-length golden hair. There was also something different about Apollo from when Jason last saw him. He was somehow less sparkly? Like his thousand-watt skin was now worth nine hundred and ninety-eight watts.

Apollo stroked his chin, humming. “I wonder… but it can’t be… no…”

“If you know anything to help-”

“Nope!” Apollo sent him a toothpaste commercial-worthy smile. “Don’t think too much about this!”

Jason distantly heard a door slam down the hall, signaling the beginning of the morning routine most of the guys on their floor had. Leo would wake up to bemoan about breakfast, and Jason wasn’t ready to explain the miracle of rainbow video calls.

“Why are you helping me? Why are you calling? We’re not-” friends, was the word, but even the thought of referring to a god, especially one like Apollo, as a friend went against everything he knew.

“-Close,” he settled with.

Apollo lifted an eyebrow, “You dare ask a god for his intentions?” He then shrugged, dropping the serious look. Even when covered with a face mask, Jason shivered.

“We’re brothers,” the god said simply, “and I’m not the only one interested. Even though I said I was super busy with you know- the sun, and about a million other things I’m in charge of and I’m about to start a band with Eros and the guys, yet somehow I’m the one who is taking care of Emilio even though I’m not the one written down for custody-”

“You’re not?” Jason frowned, brows pinching together. “I thought you were Lester.”

Disgust overtook the god’s features. “Yes, I suppose so. And do not interrupt me. It’s rude.” At the last word, his voice morphed into a whine.

Still, Jason wasn’t dumb enough to mess around with Apollo too much. “Sorry, but- if you’re not in charge of Leo, then who is? Does Hedge know?”

“That guy? Ha! Of course not. This has nothing to do with him. It’s- oh, you know,” Apollo grimaced. “The missus.”

“The mis-”

“Do you have a death wish, boy?” Apollo rubbed his temples. “I can barely say that without causing another war, but you certainly can’t. Even if it’s you.”

Conversations with gods were never Jason’s favorite thing. As a Roman, he was supposed to be a bit more dignified in Apollo’s presence, but Jason could’ve sworn he heard the reruns of a basketball game in the background of the god. He suppressed an annoyed sigh and went, “Who is it then?”

Apollo snorted. “Trust me, you know. If you think you don’t, you surely do. You of all people?” He laughed. “You know who she is.”

Jason had a mental glossary of dozens, maybe hundreds of goddesses. This had only expanded when he started digging into the smaller and minute ancient ones that no one’s ever heard of.

Then, Apollo snapped his fingers, and his clothes were replaced by an AC/DC shirt, face cleared with a pair of aviators sitting on his nose. “Listen, kid, I got to go. Eros is trying to convince me he’s the lead singer. Can you believe that? He’s got moody bassist written all over him. You met him, right? Who cares- I’ll know you’ll be on my side. I’ll tell him you said that, okay? Maybe he won’t curse you, but who knows? So moody. Bye-bye!”

“But-”

Apollo swiped through the Iris Message, leaving Jason with the melody of Wagner’s “Bridal March” stuck in his head, and the faint smell of sunscreen and fresh grass. Weird. Jason didn’t normally Iris Message gods—or anyone really, IM-ing was purely Greek demigod culture—but Apollo left an imprint.

Oh, Jason paused.

Bridal March.

The missus.

That was certainly a goddess Jason and Leo had in common—one who intervened a little too much for both of them.

He was merely lucky that Apollo stopped him before Juno sent a peacock to peck Jason to death.

Chapter Text

If he had to be honest, Leo thought Jason was clingy. When they first met, he had acted like Leo was the answer to his dreams and prayers. Then the next day, he acted as if Leo murdered his entire family and had the nerve to show up. But over the past few weeks, things have been pretty chill.

Jason was funnier than he looked. Leo was hilarious, but Jason was clever. He was more sardonic than people took him for, but he meshed well with Leo's flavor of sarcasm. Honestly, Leo didn’t really get the whole “no friends” thing Jason had going on, because the guy was a hoot. Dorky, sure, and impatient, sometimes, but Jason was actually cool most of the time.

There were a few things that were off, though.

Jason was always staring at him. Leo got that he was hot, but sometimes it was weird.

Then, Jason has a habit of vanishing. He’d say he was going to a club meeting, and he’d come back looking like he sprinted a marathon and fell over a couple of times on the way back.

… There was also the sword. Leo never brought it up, because he feared if he did, then Jason would like, crazy murder him or something. It sat in the corner of the room, next to a lacrosse stick and a tennis racket. Just a full, heavy-weighted, genuine Medieval sword! And sometimes it disappeared too!

Leo was convinced that if Jason wasn’t a secret Renaissance geek, then he had to be a serial killer. Neither option was good for Leo to associate with. So he kept quiet and tried not to stare at the glimmering bronze from across the room.

For some reason, that was pretty easy. It blended to the back of Leo’s mind like another item in the room’s catalog of items: Clean bedsheets? Check! Empty Monster cans? Check! Freaky sword? Check! Until it disappeared with Jason, and his speculations grew tenfold.

This guy was illogical, Leo decided.

“Jason,” Leo dropped his book in his lap, looking over to find that Jason was, unsurprisingly, already staring at him.

Jason had a truly stunning face. He was a pretty guy, Leo wasn’t blind. Adonis-like, strong features cut straight from marble, and these chilly blue eyes were so open and honest when his gaze fell onto Leo. But Leo was not used to such attention, nor did he do anything to deserve it. He shivered, as if there were spiders crawling inside him.

“Mm?”

“Have you done the reading yet?” Leo waved his copy of Macbeth. English and Swimming were the only classes they shared this semester. It was a bit of a bummer— Leo didn’t really know anyone else.

“Yeah, last night.”

“Okay, can you give me a recap? None of this stuff is English.”

Jason had been working on one of his little models again. Leo’s been watching piles of red plastic Monopoly houses build on the outer corner of Jason’s desk, and each time he’s passed by, he resisted the strong urge to knock them down.

Jason sighed, “I can’t do this every time.”

“I know,” Leo grinned. “I’ll read the next act, I promise, just help me out, yeah?”

Jason turned back to his model, and for a moment, Leo thought he would be ignored, but Jason began to speak, explaining whatever the hell was going on with Macbeth these days.

Three point seven minutes in, and Leo lost track of what Jason was saying. He did not care about Macbeth or the Woman Macbeth or Shakespeare or English class or school at all.

Jason had a pleasant voice. Very strong and balmy, deeper than Leo’s but still clinging to the fringe of boyishness. He articulated in a way that Leo found precise, and maybe if he were actually paying attention, Leo would easily ace this class.

But even with Jason’s help, Leo’s mind kept slipping away from Edgarton.

He wanted to go home so much it hurt. There was a stirring inside of him that had been coiling for who knows how long, a hunger building steadily with each day, delaying detonation. Leo had the indisputable sense that he should not be here.

The problem was, Leo didn’t know where home was. It couldn’t have been that pimped-out apartment in downtown LA with Lester. His foster brother was awesome for giving Leo one of his Amex cards and letting him drive that sweet car of his, but Leo knew there was a subliminal aversion between them—a hesitation, a barrier, an unspoken agreement that Leo did not remember.

Juno wasn’t any help either: anytime Leo had texted the woman, she left him on read. Leo had only seen her twice since he woke up from the accident. She had a scary face and a sobering presence.

Home wasn’t that super hot girl he’d woken up with. She had a name of something that reminded him of the Caribbean seas, and when he last saw her, she seemed apologetic and kissed his cheek, promising, This isn’t goodbye, Leo. He literally did not see her again, and whenever he asked, Lester rolled his eyes, so Leo had to assume that was very much a final goodbye.

He couldn’t go back to Texas, he was certain about that. While Leo didn’t remember how he ended up in California, he assumed his Aunt Rosa had something to do with that. She never liked him for a multitude of reasons. Leo couldn’t blame her, even if she had no reason at all. 

It was so frustrating. Some chunk of his life was stolen away, and Leo couldn’t do a thing about it. He missed who he assumed was his first girlfriend and whatever else happened over the past year and a half. Nightmares stabbed through his nights, Leo hit with an explosion his body could relive, yet he could not. He had scars on his body that had no story attached. Sometimes the hint of a name bubbled into his mind when he least expected it, but he grasped at air each time. He’d always been cursed, which was something Leo was forced to reconcile with, but this was a whole other level of damnation.

It pissed him off, mostly. Lately, Leo had been experiencing the world like a scared child wading through a marsh at night. He felt like he had lost something important and was drifting through the day. Hunger only appeared when his vision began to blur, and some days, he didn’t recognize his face in the mirror. His body was going through the motions, but if Leo didn’t focus, it was as if he would dissolve away.

He had lost something important, Leo was certain, but he didn’t know what.

“Jason,” Leo asked one night, with little expectation: “Are we friends?”

Jason rocked back in his chair, chin brushing over his shoulder to look at Leo. His eyes dropped to the floor. “Yeah. Why?”

They were doing homework, or at least Jason was. Leo had long forgone the facade and was lying on his bed, playing Angry Birds. He rolled to his side, head tilted towards his roommate, but still focused on the game.  

“‘Cuz I think I’m your only friend,” Leo snorted. 

“You’re not my only friend,” Jason said. There were enough pictures on his wall to prove him right, but Leo had never seen Jason call or invite a single one of them ever. Jason was well-known in their grade level, but that didn’t mean much.

Not like Leo had friends either. He had himself, the way he always had himself, and that was fine. 

“When we met, you said I reminded you of your best friend,” Leo absent-mindedly began pulling at one of his hoodie strings. “How come I never see him?”

“...He’s on a trip.”

“Yeah? Hope it’s somewhere nice. Where’d he go?”

Jason’s chair righted itself, and he fully turned to look at Leo. “Are you going somewhere with this?”

Leo glanced up, indifferent. “Just making conversation. What was he like?”

Surprisingly, Jason looked irritated that Leo asked. Leo had seen him annoyed, only a few times directed at Leo, but there was something different about it this time. A muscle quirked the wrong way, a bit of derision in his brow. Then Jason’s face shifted into a melancholic state. Uncomfortable, Leo rolled onto his stomach, resting his chin on his pillow, booting up another level. 

“He was-is…” Jason started, unsure. “Really weird.”

“That makes sense. So are you.”

Jason barely registered the comment. “He’s really smart too. If there was a problem, he could solve it. But he didn’t really think he could. He’s the smartest person I know, but he didn’t seem to realize that.”

There’s a reverence in Jason’s words that made Leo’s skin crawl. His phone shut off, face twitching into a frown. 

“And he was funny. Sometimes he wasn’t, but he always knew what to say when I didn’t. And he takes things seriously. People used to say he made a joke of everything, but that wasn’t true. He was always serious about what he did.” Jason said.

“He trusted me a lot,” Jason's words made Leo nauseous. “But I couldn’t help him when he really needed it. I told him I could handle it for him, and I couldn’t. I thought I showed him how much he mattered, but I don’t know anymore.”

Leo stayed silent. At most, he thought that Jason would say a few words, but this was turning into something he was not equipped to handle. Some part of him wanted to fix Jason’s problems. A bigger, more apathetic part did not care. 

He barely knew Jason. In a few months, or sooner, they would go their separate ways, and none of this will matter.

They were roommates, and that was all.

“Maybe you should call him,” Leo’s voice cracked out eventually. “And tell him how you feel.”

“It wouldn’t matter anymore.”

“Are you sure? Seems to mean a lot to you.” Leo pressed his lips together, curling away from him to face the wall. “Why are you telling me all this? We’re not that close. Tell it to the guy who matters, man.”

“You asked.”

“I wish I didn't,” fell out of Leo’s mouth before he could think it through. But he did feel that way. Jason’s words were gutting him. 

When Jason didn't speak, Leo glanced over his shoulder to find Jason staring at him. Not at him. Through him. Leo was an apparition, and he was far away.

If he had to be honest, Leo felt gross. He didn’t know how best friends worked—couldn’t remember having any. He hoped that one day he would find someone who talked about him in this way, but right now, he swallowed down stomach acid and gnawed on his chapped lip. 

Jason ran a hand through his hair, sighing and standing up. Meticulously put away his models and slipped on his sneakers, grabbing his water bottle and keys. Then he slipped out without a word.

Leo had a nightmare that night. Jason didn’t seem mad when he came back, only quiet. He told Leo goodnight as usual, so Leo knew things were fine.

But Leo dreamt he was sitting on the edge of a boat. It’s huge, and it’s significant, but he did not know how yet. Arms hooked over the bottom railing, feet kicking over the side, the familiar sun burned against his face. The sky was extraordinarily blue, and the waves were remarkably crisp.

He looked to his right, and someone was sitting next to him. Purple shirt with gold writing in a made-up language framed by a laurel wreath, snug blue jeans, and sneakers. He didn’t know who it was. Their face was angrily scratched out, as if someone had taken a big pencil and made a huge mistake.

Makes sense. Leo had identified as a mistake his entire life. 

The person said something, but Leo couldn’t comprehend it at all. Still, he felt relaxed and grinned.

They sat there forever. A day, a week, a month tick by, and Leo is being told things by this angry mistake, and he nods and laughs appropriately. Then they are quiet, and the sun sets.

Leo woke up, gasping for air and lightning in his throat, feeling like his body exploded, with only the word Argo in his head.

Chapter Text

Edgarton Prep had a beautiful indoor swimming pool. It was new, added last spring after a generous donation from an alumnus who was on the previous swim team. The old pool building was currently under construction to be reconfigured as another student space, but Jason heard that after they filled the pool with cement, it had become a place where students got high.

Jason did not like the idea of swimming in a confined space. He could deal with the lakes at Camp Half-Blood, and Leo made the Argo II extremely comfortable. But he wasn’t allowed to take weight training two semesters in a row, and by the time he had found that out, all the other gym classes during this period had been filled.

At least Leo was in the class. Sometimes. Jason learned quickly that Leo often skipped classes. There were days when Jason would leave their shared room and come back to find Leo still knocked out on his bed.

Leo, however, made it this time around. He took the locker a few steps away, grumbling about mandatory gym classes and failing grades. Jason quickly changed into his swimsuit, waiting with a towel in hand.

“You can’t wear a shirt in the pool,” the kid across from him told Leo, slamming his own locker closed.

“What kind of stupid rule is that?” Leo swung his head to Jason for confirmation, who only shrugged. “Seriously?”

Leo squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head on the locker. “This school sucks.”

“It’s not that bad,” Jason tried saying. “No one really cares what you look like-”

“It’s not about that,” Leo groaned. “This is so-” He took a deep breath, muttering under his breath, then yanked off his shirt and threw it into the locker.

Jason's seen Leo naked more times than what was probably normal. He knew Leo was somewhat comfortable in his body and therefore didn’t think that was the problem. Jason’s eyes fell onto the familiar moles and muscles of Leo’s shoulders and-

Oh. That was new.

Scars weren’t uncommon on demigods. Ambrosia and nectar alleviated the bulk of them, but sometimes a scar was deep enough, or a demigod didn’t notice their pain until it was too late. Jason had a good amount on his body, some of which he was proud of and others not, but for the most part, they weren’t very big. The only notable exception was a pale pink raised mark under his rib cage, marked in the front and back of his body, where Michael Varus had stabbed through him last summer.

Leo, on the other hand, had the most bizarre starburst mark lying on his sternum, lines branching out in smaller dividing tendrils like roots until blending into his skin. Jason frowned, almost wanting to touch it, but stopped himself. It wasn’t the biggest scar, and it looked like it was healing well, but it was still new to him.

“Jason,” Leo’s voice made him snap his eyes back up, and Leo folded his arms, glaring at the floor. “Are you just going to stand there?”

“Ah, I was surprised.” Jason’s face heated up. “I figured you would be less in shape from all the honey buns you eat. Are you secretly working out? Maybe you should join my runs.”

A smirk replaced Leo’s grimace, and he pushed past Jason. His eyes still looked unfocused, but it was better than nothing. “Yeah, yeah, watch out for these guns. You have no idea that I’m about to kick your ass in swimming. They don’t call me Leo the shark for nothing.”

“No one calls you that.”

“That you know,” Leo said, hooking his towel over his neck, conveniently covering his front.

Jason was avoiding the call. All of the calls, technically, Hedge, Mellie, and definitely Piper. He figured if they knew Leo was alive, they would’ve all swarmed up to his dorm weeks ago. At least, he hoped that would be the natural reaction. 

He doubted Camp Half-Blood knew. Apollo had mentioned that as Leo’s original destination, but brought him to Jason instead. Jason was grateful, obviously, but he couldn’t completely understand why Apollo did it.

Piper would know what to do. Or maybe not, but she would be someone to talk to. He always felt more sure when she was around. But whenever Jason dialed up her number, he couldn’t do it. He would write Piper a letter to send by eagle as he’d been doing with Reyna, but that felt like an even more cowardly thing to do.

He couldn’t keep Leo a secret forever. Someone would eventually figure out whether it was Nico, somehow miraculously knowing, or Apollo’s divine big mouth. But what did it matter anyway? Leo couldn’t remember anything. Any “Leo” that any of the demigods had known was gone.

Not that what was left wasn’t Leo. It was—a shade off maybe. Meaner, in a way, more playful, but distinctly guarded. Maybe not quite the Leo he knew, but not not that Leo either.

Jason didn’t know what to make of it yet. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Leo— Jason realized the moment he saw Leo at Edgarton that he’d always like Leo and that would never change.

But this was different, however subtle it was.

Chapter Text

The thought came to Jason during a basketball game. He was watching with some of his tennis teammates to support their team. Edgarton wasn’t very big on basketball, but it was huge on school spirit. Leo said he didn’t want to come because seeing sweaty guys in a sweaty gym wasn’t his ideal Friday night, but Jason expected as much.

Four minutes into the third quarter of the game, two guys collided into each other, slamming into the linoleum with a sickening SNAP, and a resounding KA-CLUNK. The ref’s whistle screamed while the coaches on both teams called for attention, and Edgarton’s team huddled around their fallen player, while the other team froze around their own. The giant Edgarton Eagle mascot kept fluttering about CPR.

“Shit,” Jason’s friend, Steve, hissed from beside him. “That was nasty as hell.”

“There’s blood,” murmured Jason’s other friend, Eric. “That concussion gotta hurt. Hopefully, he forgets that fall.”

Jason nodded dumbly. He’s seen worse injuries, but he could admit this was pretty gnarly.

“Shit,” Steve repeated, groaning. “We're fucked for regionals.”

“Nah, we still got Mendez on the bench.”

“Knock him in the head too, and maybe he'll gain some skill.” They laughed, Jason tilting his head in thought as he watched the blood glisten. 

When he got back to his room, Leo was lying with his back on the ground and fiddling under Jason’s bed. Jason stepped over him, peeling off his jacket. “Hi. Do I want to know-”

“I’m fixing it,” Leo mumbled. “I saw an ambulance earlier. Did you kill someone?”

“Accident,” Jason told them. “What are you fixing? Nothing was broken.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll sleep like a baby.”

“Babies aren’t known for sleeping well.”

“But you will.” Leo pushed himself from under the bed and brushed off the dust. He tucked away a Swiss Army knife and gestured to the bed, childish grin plastered. “See? Sit. I'm serious, man, for real, sit.”

Jason sat. Leo rolled his hand at him to keep going, so Jason lied down. It did feel better, actually. Cozier. Even though Jason didn’t say anything, Leo must’ve deciphered something from his face because he looked smug and started humming a theme song.

“How has your memory been?” Jason really was sinking into his bed, and he closed his eyes, arms behind his head.

“So-so. I think I’m remembering a few things.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing big,” he said. “Maybe a few names or places.”

Jason’s eyes popped open, and he shifted his head to Leo, who was messing with their window locks now. “Yeah? Who?”

“Mm, there was a… Frank, I think.” Leo shrugged. “I remember Frank in Rome. I’m pretty sure that’s gibberish, though. There are a few other things, but, y'know, nothing big.”

It was clear that Leo’s amnesia was magically induced to forget his death. Jason didn’t know if it was a side effect of the Physician's Curse (Apollo’s involvement) or other, more familiar means (Juno’s involvement). When he had memory loss, Jason would get a good amount of his memories through dreams or being knocked around. Sometimes, there were still gaps in his head, but that could easily be blamed on his many head injuries. He only really noticed when he was reminded of something, and the memory came rushing back to fit a slot Jason didn’t know was empty. 

“Hey,” Jason said, sitting up. “You want to do something?”

“Jason,” Leo said very deliberately. “Why are we going into a sewer?”

“It’ll be fun.”

“You’re going to murder me,” Leo stood at the tunnel's edge. He blinded Jason with the flashlight on his phone. “Tell the truth. Are you going to murder me?”

“I won’t.” Jason winced, turning away. “Quit it with the light.”

“You gotta promise, or I’ll start screaming. I’m fast too, you know.”

Jason definitely knew that. “I promise I won’t murder you?”

“You don’t sound very confident. Almost serial killer-like.”

“I promise, Leo!” Jason sighed. “We’re taking the shortcut to eat. I want something meaty.”

“Oh,” Leo paused. “So you’re a cannibal.”

“For Ceres' sake-” Jason shook his hands at Leo. “You’re doing this on purpose!”

“Heh. Yeah.”

Jason would’ve stormed out, but a moment later, he heard footsteps, and the light was out of his face, and instead, he pointed down at the graffiti on the rest of the tunnel. Leo zipped up his jacket next to Jason, elbowing him. “Well, come now.”

Jason sighed, a little relieved. “Watch your step.”

They walked silently along the tunnel, listening to the occasional rumble of a car above, or Leo sometimes pointing to a particular work spray-painted against the walls. It smelled damp and faintly like mold. Occasionally, Jason would mumble, puddle, and Leo would respond, wet. 

When he heard Leo yawn, Jason very pointedly remarked, “Ever slept in a tunnel like this before?”

Leo’s flashlight shook, but his voice came out a little soft. “Yeah, I guess. You?”

“Yeah,” with you. Jason was hoping that more would come for his friend, but Leo stopped to look at an image of someone’s drawing of a wizard peeing in a hole.

Leo snapped a picture. “They got some Da Vinci's running around.”

"Don't think Da Vinci was painting piss."

"You never know," Leo glanced up at him, smile twisting. “Jason, do you believe in magic?”

Obviously, he couldn’t just say yes. But denying his own existence filled with fire boys, lightning boys, and compelling girls was crazy, too. “Depends. What type?”

Leo shoved his hand in his pocket and began walking again. He watched the tunnel side, but didn't look interested in more pee art. “I don’t know… like dragons and goat people. Or something. I don’t know.” He did sound confused, but mostly unconfident. “Never mind, forget I said something.”

Jason bumped into Leo. “Why are you asking?”

“It’s silly.”

“It’s not.”

Leo went silent for a moment. “Do you believe in curses, then? Like, can someone be cursed?”

They have had this conversation before. In a tunnel like this, close like this, in whispers like this. 

Jason looked at Leo’s face, trying to see if any of that memory was coming across, but Leo was watching the ground, eyebrows knitted together. He tried not to feel disappointed, but Jason felt a little stung.

“I wouldn’t say cursed,” Jason spoke, “just some people are special but don’t realize it.”

“Maybe. Or maybe some people really are cursed.”

“Or they haven’t gotten to the good part yet.”

"If there's a good part. Life fucking sucks."

Jason hummed. "True. But there are ways to make it more bearable." 

"Like what?" Leo snorted bitterly. "Lifting weights? Therapy? Friendship?"

"Beating the shit out of something," Jason smirked when Leo's head whipped to him. Clothed in shadow, Jason observed the emotions flicker across Leo’s face: first, frustration, then a touch of sadness, followed by resignation. 

"But friendship is good too," Jason said, and Leo broke their gaze, as they kept walking until they hit the end of the tunnel.

The windows of the diner were all steamed up from the heat. They removed their jackets and slid into a booth overlooking the parking lot. The waitress recognized their uniforms and said her younger brother went to Edgarton, too; he graduated last year, but neither Jason nor Leo was around to see him.

Leo had asked for a kids' menu to color, but his hands lay limp in front of him, face turned out the window. Jason waited patiently for something, if anything were to happen. 

When the food clattered in front of them, Jason practically devoured his burger, but Leo stared at his food, baffled.

“What’s wrong?” Jason licked the ketchup from his thumb. “Not hungry?”

“I’m not a vegetarian, and earlier I was craving a BLT and Pepsi,” Leo cautiously examined his glass. He ordered lemonade. “So why’d I get tofu tacos?”

Chapter Text

Their dorm held around twenty boys, in varying double pairs or singles. Each door had their first names penned legibly by their dorm head, Nathan, who was supposed to live at the end of the hall, but he had moved over one dorm due to an issue with the room’s air conditioning. The issue was fixed, but Nathan didn’t bother moving back, and Jason moved into the original room in mid-October. Then Leo moved in two months later.

From what Jason knew, Leo and Nathan did not get along. There was some incident where Leo sloppily left his plates in the hall’s kitchen and Nathan was so pissed he ordered a hall meeting that no one went to.

Or at least Jason thought they weren’t friends, until he passed by Nathan’s room and he heard Leo’s laughter from inside. Jason unlocked his door, pausing, then stepping inside.

It felt silly to have thought that he was Leo’s only friend thus far. They were midway through January, and Leo had always been friendly when he wanted to be. Annoying as he was, Leo had a type of magnetism that Jason never understood.

It was nice to see that Leo was getting more comfortable, Jason figured. But still, whenever he glanced around the room, Jason couldn’t stop thinking about how bare Leo’s side of the room was, Leo’s tendency to keep his things close, and the way Leo’s suitcase always peeked out from under his bed.

Leo was always running. Jason was well aware of that. While he didn’t think Leo would run any time soon, Jason wished he was close enough with the guy to even bring it up.

They decide to make a timeline. Leo stole some posterboard from a class, and they sat across the floor to try to puzzle out what Leo could remember and what his gaps were. The sheet was completely blank, except for an arrow and Leo testing out some markers.

“Seriously? Nothing?”

Leo scowled. “Dude, if I knew we wouldn’t be here.”

Fair enough. Jason picked up a red marker. “You remember today-” he wrote down JAN 16: TODAY, “and when you came to Edgarton, right?”

“Uhh,” Leo was glancing down at his phone. “Like, December 18th or 19th.”

Jason also noted that down, as DEC 18-19: EDGARTON. “You mentioned waking up from an accident. Do you remember when you woke up then?”

Leo’s face scrunched up. “Er… sometime in November. The leaves were gone outside my window.”

“Anything more specific?”

“Listen, if I knew, I would know!” Leo groaned and fell back. “You think it’s easy having amnesia?” His hands were rubbing into his eyes, so he missed Jason’s look of amusement. Jason did understand, much more than Leo knew, but he also remembered the frustration. This would be a lot easier if Leo’s amnesia had a quest attached, but as far as either of them knew, Leo had bumped his head.

Leo sighed, mumbling: “...put November 24th. It was my mom’s birthday. I remember waking up and thinking that.”

Jason quietly wrote that down. He eyed the tick mark representing August, well aware of Leo’s death anniversary but unsure if Leo knew too. Four months. Leo had been missing for four full months before he woke up under Juno and Apollo’s custody.

Jason was forced to stop searching at three. He’d been enrolled at Edgarton by the last week of October. Funny how things appeared when you stop looking. 

“Were you told when your accident was?” Jason asked. While he knew the answer, he didn’t want to jot down August 1st without a reason.

“Um,” Leo’s hands fell to the side as he squinted at the ceiling. “I think Lester said it was like two weeks before I woke up. So maybe the beginning of November?”

"Huh?” Jason frowned. “Are you sure? That’s what he told you?”

“Pretty sure,” Leo drummed his fingers over his stomach. “Were you expecting years or something?”

“No,” Jason said. “And you’re sure? Nothing else rings a bell?”

“I mean, I can ask again, but I’m pretty sure that’s what he told me,” Leo rolled to his stomach to look at the paper, chin in hand. “Beginning of November sounds about right.”

Jason hesitantly wrote it down. Something here wasn’t looking good. Either Leo or Apollo was lying, and it sure didn’t sound like Leo. Unless Apollo really was telling the truth and Leo appeared in November, but then what happened after August 1st?

Leo hummed, tapping his chin. “This sucks. I can’t even remember turning 16 anymore.”

Jason reached for his Diet Coke. “When’s your birthday?”

“July 7th,” Leo grabbed a new marker to jot down the line.

“You never told me that,” Jason murmured, surprised, "Mine is the 1st. I didn't know it was so close.”

“Why would I tell you?” Leo laughed. “But now that you know, I’m expecting a new car.”

“Can you drive?”

“In some places, sure.” Leo scribbled down Jason’s birthday right next to his own. “There. Now we both remember, and I’ll bake you a cake, and you can get me a sick ass motorcycle.”

Jason really didn’t know Leo’s birthday had been so close. Was Leo’s 16th birthday memorable? He remembered Annabeth and Percy falling into Tartarus on his birthday, and that event overshadowed the next couple of weeks.

Had Leo remembered his birthday back then? Did he celebrate by himself? Jason might not have known his own birthday until recently, but he would’ve celebrated Leo’s if he had known. Frustratingly, Jason could picture it clearly too: Leo sitting alone in the engine room, with a blown out candle on a smushed cupcake, and a depressing party hat. 

Jason thought he knew Leo, at least prior to his death, but now he was realizing that maybe that wasn’t even accurate. How could he not know his best friend’s birthday?

Chest feeling tight, Jason pushed off his thoughts for later. Right now, he had other things to figure out. “Do you remember anything from the summer?”

“Dunno,” Leo shrugged. “It was hot? Maybe seeing the ocean?”

Both of these could easily explain their summer but also explained living in California in the first place. Jason sighed. “Anything else?”

Leo scanned the paper. “Here, pass it.” He drew along the timeline, adding more months, and then circled December of the previous year. “Around here, it gets all fuzzy. Like, Christmas time, yeah? It’s total blanks-ville. Anything before that is fine, but everything after that is gone. How many months is that- ah, eleven months of nothing? Yippee.”

Jason looks at the list:

DECEMBER 16-25th, MEMORY GONE

JULY 1st, JASON’S BDAY

JULY 7th, LEO’S BDAY

NOV 1-10th, ACCIDENT

NOV 24th, LEO WAKES UP

DEC 18-19th, EDGARTON

JAN 16th, TODAY

While he doesn’t know what happened in November this year, he does know what happened around the time Leo’s memory was gone. It was impossible for Jason not to know. And while looking at the similar December dates two years in a row, Jason’s stomach sank.

Last December, he first found Leo. This December Leo found him instead. Coincidence or not, Jason was confident that he was at least completely erased from Leo’s memory. It was a crushing blow, something that Jason had known for the past few weeks, but he didn’t know. There was always a chance that maybe Leo could remember something, maybe a conversation, or a joke, or something small, but this confirmed that Jason and Camp Half-Blood, and the Argo, and the Seven, and everything that they’ve been through was gone.

Jason drew out a staggered breath. He didn’t think it would hurt the way it did; dull in his chest, his body welling up with frustration.

“What about before then?” Jason said, his voice betraying him with a crack. “Anything else comes to mind?”

“Hmm,” Leo sat up. “I was in some school in the mountains.”

“Did you have any friends?” At Leo’s mistrusting stare, Jason carefully amended with: “Maybe they could help fill the gaps.”

“Friends?” For a moment, it was as if a switch had clicked in his head. But then, Leo's eyes glazed over, and he started frowning, scratching at his chin. “I… don’t remember?” He rubbed his temples, wincing. “Sounds pathetic, I know, but I could’ve sworn I just had it-” Leo’s focus bounced around the room from Jason to the wall behind him, and he winced again. “Weird.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Jason reached out. “We can try again later.”

“I’m fine,” Leo said. He gaped at the poster some more, and with each massaging roll of his fingers, his grimace grew deeper and deeper. “Pass me the marker. Damn, my head hurts.”

Jason tossed it over, and Leo snatched up the board. He quickly scribbled down some words, drawing lines and arrows, then picked up another spare paper to write more.

Jason, on the other hand, was feeling a little peeved. While he was sure Leo could remember Wilderness, he couldn’t seem to recall Piper. Jason had figured that much when Leo had pointed to a picture of her and asked. But the admission aloud still hurt. He knew it had to be godly intervention at this point. Jason's experienced it himself. He just didn't get why. 

He wasn't very fond of being at the mercy of the gods' whims once more. No demigod was, but Jason had been good. He'd done what they'd asked dutifully like what was expected of him. He thought, that maybe once, that would mean something here, but the gods remained quiet. 

“Okay, so I don’t know exactly what this means yet,” Leo put the papers down in front of Jason. “But I’ve been collecting some stuff in my head lately, and these days, words keep popping up. Maybe it means something?”

Some additions had altered their original timeline:

DECEMBER 16-25th, MEMORY GONE

MAY, ?

JUNE 3rd, ?

JULY 1st, JASON’S BDAY

JULY 7th, LEO’S BDAY

AUG 1st, ?

AUG 18th, ?

NOV 1-10th, ACCIDENT

NOV 24th, LEO WAKES UP

DEC 18-19th, EDGARTON

JAN 16th, TODAY

Jason eyed the second paper, which was less comprehensible, but he did get the gist:

Argo. Festus. Brownie. Door. Frank. Spes. Oranges. Jar. Gold. Tofu. Nissan. Snow.

“Oh,” Jason said. “What does this mean?” While something like Argo and Frank was easy, Jason had little clue what Oranges or Nissan could mean. 

“I just said- I don’t know yet,” Leo sighed. “But maybe it’ll be helpful to write it out.”

“Was it?”

“No.” Leo rolled back on his back. “This fucking blows. I’ll never figure this out.”

“You’re getting somewhere,” Jason ran over the dates with his thumb. He might not be a genius, but he had a pretty good idea of what most of them meant already. “I’m sure you’ll get it figured out.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you’ll worry about it then,” Jason assured him. “We’ll get your memory back, I promise.”

Leo didn’t look very reassured, but he gave Jason a thin-lipped smile that could be interpreted as either, Yeah, right buddy, there’s no way that’ll happen or Sure, Jason! I totally trust you! Jason had to tell himself it was the latter as Leo got up to take something for his splitting headache.

Leo was looking more tired nowadays. They were brushing their teeth in the bathroom, a sink apart, and while Leo was staring at the wall, Jason was watching him through the mirror. Dark circles hung under his best friend’s puffy eyes, and his skin was blotchy and irritated-looking.

Apollo had mentioned nightmares. But usually, Jason fell asleep first, and by the time he woke up, Leo was asleep too. He always seemed fine.

Leo spat, then locked eyes with him in the mirror. He raised a brow, daring Jason as he wiped his mouth.

Jason bent to spit, and when he straightened, the bathroom door was already closing.

Chapter Text

Technically, Jason wasn’t supposed to contact any of his friends if they didn’t contact him first. He tried to get around that by sending Reyna letters by eagle, only for his eagle friend to come back the next day with the letter and a message from Hedge to Leave it alone kid. Even then, Jason still wrote Reyna letters just in case it went through. Some did, some didn’t. He couldn’t figure out what made the standard but the 30% chance was better than nothing.

Before Hedge and Mellie left, they gave him a crystal to reflect rainbows in case he needed to Iris Message someone. IM-ing really was a Greek thing so he never got into it. Besides- the one time he tried to IM Nico, he just got a SORRY, THIS SERVICE IS UNAVAILABLE. TRY AGAIN NEXT MILLENIA? message regardless of what he did.

It was hard to understand the sway that the Hedges seem to have. If anything the situation was a little funny: if Jason was a normal teen, this was probably the equivalent to him being grounded and having his phone taken away.

But Jason wasn’t a normal teen. So he told Leo he was heading out for lunch today, and he called upon Tempest and hopped on the ventus.

Tempest had been more… friendly nowadays. He was still stubborn and always threatened to knock Jason off, but there were days when Jason would sit at his window, and a miniature stallion would shock his fingertips, and kick at his knuckles until they were blue. His sporadic appearances disappeared when Leo appeared.

In about two hours, Jason gets left off in front of a big brick building with a prison-like concrete courtyard. Across the weathered bricks, were stenciled rusting letters reading ALTERNATIVE HIGH SCHOOL.

It was snowing in New York. Tempest dispersed with the flurries, leaving Jason to wait under the overhang.

He liked snow. He still remembered when his mother told him, the storm means your father loves you. Now, after meeting his father, the rain was just rain, and snow was just snow. Still. He liked snow. New York City, especially Manhattan, was kind of ugly, but the sight of snow here surrounded Jason like an embrace.

Around 7 pm, the doors opened, and Percy Jackson stood in an oversized green knitted hat and a blue sweatshirt. Jason pressed off against the wall to face him.

“Dude,” Percy groaned, “what the hell are you doing here?”

Jason had only been in the Jackson apartment once before. Last time he came, was a few days after they burned the funeral pyres from the war, and he watched Percy and his mom hug each other for a rather long time, and then Sally Jackson had ushered over Nico and Annabeth to join, and then everyone else. Piper and Jason both declined politely.

Jason didn’t want to admit it, but when he met Sally Jackson, Jason felt angry. Then he was upset that he even felt angry in the first place. He kept picturing the ghost of his mother dissipating. It was an image that came up when he least expected, but by now the pain had dulled to a faint wanting.

Still, Jason couldn’t deny the relief that flew through him when Percy said his mom was out shopping. Percy kicked off his shoes at the door and immediately bee-lined to the fridge.

The Jackson apartment was small. The living room slash kitchen area was roughly the size of the student common rooms at Edgarton, but rather than filled with expensive seating and pool tables, the Jackson had filled their space with cozy armchairs and a lot of book piles and packaged baby furniture. Jason had to sit at a small breakfast table with only three chairs shoved into the space, the table itself being covered with what looked like graded essays from the last semester.

“And you’re sure it’s Leo?” Percy looked at him weirdly, leaning back against the countertop. “Um, I know it’s hard for you, but Leo died back then.”

“It’s him,” Jason said firmly. “He just has some memory gaps. You know?”

“Yeah,” Percy paused his mandarin peeling. “Well. Shit. That sucks.”

This was why Jason went to Percy first. Of all the people Jason knew, Percy would be the only one to understand his experience.

“So… what are you going to do about it?” Percy pointed a mandarin slice at Jason. “I went through a quest across the country to get my memories back, and you had to save a goddess. Can’t help you out there.”

“I don’t know,” Jason sighed, slumping over in his seat. “I thought maybe you’d know something. You don’t happen to have any god favors lying around, do you? Some Olympian who owes you?”

Percy rolled his eyes. “Sure, but that’s up for debate. Have you tried Nico?”

“You’re the first person to know.”

“Lucky me,” Percy said. He opened the fridge again, shuffling through it again. “I’m making a sandwich- you want one? Paul bought the good deli cheese this time.”

On the fridge door, colorful letters spelled out several girl names: BROOKE, ESTELLE, APRIL, and NINA, though the second N in Nina was actually a Z. There were also cut-outs of word magnets creating sentences that were mostly what Jason assumed to be inside jokes among the Jackson household. A paper was stuck to the fridge with a magnet of the Statue of Liberty warning Percy to save Paul some of the rootbeers.

“Come here,” Percy gestured Jason over. “Grab a knife.”

While Jason was left on tomato slicing duty, Percy began slathering on mayo onto pieces of bread. “If Leo’s alive, does that mean Octavian is too?” Percy’s nose wrinkled.

Jason paused, knife in the air. “It’s possible, but I don’t think so.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jason explained Leo’s time at Edgarton all over again, while Percy actually listened this time around. He mentioned Apollo and Juno- and Percy glared banning him from mentioning their names in his house- as well as Leo’s reluctance to say much of what he was possibly remembering. When Jason was done, the two of them were halfway done eating, and Jason was realizing how late it would be when he went back.

“Oh,” Percy finally said.

Jason waited for more, but all Percy did was crack open a can of orange soda. “Oh?”

“Doesn’t seem like there’s much to do but wait,” Percy shrugged. He pushed around one of the word magnets so the sentence went from [My] [friend] [eat][s] [can][s] [and] [my] [pants] to [My] [friend] [loves] [can][s] [and] [my] [pants]. “Unless there’s a quest you don’t know about, Leo will figure it out himself.”

Jason’s brows wrinkled as he frowned. “There’s no quest. Apollo would’ve mentioned it.”

“Man, what’d I say? None of those names here! They’re bad mojo.” Percy took a sip. “Do you know if he remembers anyone? ‘Cuz I remembered Annie, and that pretty much anchored me. Who’d you remember, again?”

Jason’s frown deepened. “...I didn’t remember anyone.”

Percy’s cheeks puffed up, and then he slowly exhaled. “Yikes. Maybe Leo’s different.”

“He didn’t mention anyone,” Jason brushed off. “Ap- Lester, said Leo might be having nightmares, and that’s how I got some of my memories too.”

“Or he could remember someone and not tell you,” Percy suggested. “You guys aren’t as close anymore.”

“There’s no one,” Jason lied again. Frank’s name came up once or twice, but he didn’t want to say out loud that Frank was remembered before him. Jason liked Frank, but Frank wasn’t Leo’s best friend. At least not how Jason remembered- his mind reminded him ever so gently of when Hazel and Frank came forward about the Physician's Cure secret that Leo never told him.

“Tough,” Percy mumbled. His elbow hit a line of magnets that says [She] [is] [my] [other] [half]. Percy lived in a romantic household.

[For] [us][,] [there] [is] [only] [the] [try][ing], lay underneath. Jason reached out to straighten it. Under that was just an Elton John lyric.

“So,” Percy said. “What are you going to do now?”

“I guess, wait,” Jason said. “Not much else.”

“Have you tried telling Leo?”

“And have him think I was crazy?”

Percy shrugged. “I don’t know, bro, but it sort of feels like you just… gave up. I mean, why’d you wait until now to tell anyone?”

Jason stiffened. “I’m not supposed to talk to anyone.”

“And you listened?” Percy looked unimpressed, glancing at him while he put the dishes in the sink. “Not even Piper? So not cool of you.”

“Piper and I broke up,” Jason winced. He could admit it freely, but he wasn’t sure if Percy knew or not. Jason really hadn’t been in contact with anyone once he was sent away. He doubted Piper told people too, but he coudn’t be too sure. Where was he even going to bring it up: Hey, my best friend, who we all saw die and held a funeral for is alive, and also, by the way, I’m no longer dating my girlfriend.

“Yeah, I know,” Percy snorted. “Annabeth told me. No offense, but you messed up on that one.”

Jason gritted his teeth. “Mhm.”

“Which is why- ohhh, wait a second,” Percy smirked at Jason. “Now I get it. I thought Frank was crazy when he said it, plus I didn’t even care, but now I get it. You’re one crazy dude.”

“What?” Jason said, exasperated. “Frank said what?”

“Nothing. Just a rumor on the Argo. Frank had a theory about you guys, and now Annabeth owes Nico some money.”

“And this theory…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Percy grinned. “Just don’t tell anyone else what you told me.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you're an asshole?”

“Every day, man, every day,” Percy pointed to Jason’s plate. “You gonna wash that or get yelled at by my mom?”

Jason arrived back in California a few hours later, wearing one of Percy’s CHB hoodies and a Yankee's scarf to keep him warm from the snow plaguing the Northeast. Leo was already asleep in bed, muttering to himself in the dark. He left Jason’s desk light on, at least.

Jason took a shower and came back, ready to go to bed. He turned off the light, pausing when he heard Leo’s sheets moving.

“Jason?” Leo’s sleepy voice whispered. “That you?”

“Yeah?” Jason climbed into bed. “It’s late. Go back to sleep.”

“Yeahhh,” Leo drawled. “Someone came to drop off your…” More rustling from his side of the room, “work. You… skipped school without me?”

“I was visiting a cousin,” Jason lied on his back.

“Oh,” Leo mumbled.

“Good night, Leo,” Jason told him.

“G’night,” he must’ve rolled onto his pillow. “M’sorry.”

Jason turned to look at him, but it was too dark and blurry.

“…Sorry for what?” he croaked out, but by then, Leo already sounded like he drifted off, and Jason had to reluctantly fall asleep too.

Chapter Text

“Do you believe in God?”

“Capital-G?”

“Whatever you believe in,” Leo said, placing his block on the top. “I know you don’t celebrate Christmas, but you could be into something else.”

“Something else,” Jason muttered. He pushed on a block, but it refused to budge. “Why are you asking?”

“Just wondering,” Leo said, then: “I’ve been reading about mythology recently, and there’s a whole ton of gods. Then I realized I didn’t know what you believed in.”

“Mythology?” Jason pulled out a Jenga block, and the whole thing collapsed. Leo sighed and began assembling the structure again silently.

“Like the Greeks and Egyptians and shit,” Leo mumbled, eyebrows screwed in concentration. “You owe me, like, three pizzas, by the way. You’re really bad at this.”

Jason just tapped his knee, drinking from his bottle with a smirk.

Leo wanted to push the Jenga tower down on him, but instead, he pulled out a block and put it on top.

They only got through a few more rounds before Jason asked: “So, Greek mythology?”

“And Egyptian,” Leo added. “They’re really crazy.”

“What’s got you interested?”

“Dunno. Just felt like it.”

“Just felt like it?”

“Yeah. Just felt like it,” Leo pushed on another block with his finger until it wiggled through. “The gods are dicks.”

Jason laughed at that, “Maybe.”

Leo waited for Jason to move, slumped over with boredom. He didn’t usually have the urge to go running, but his body was begging for him to move around and do something. Instead, the two were stuck indoors, with nothing to do and nowhere to go. He should’ve joined some clubs or something.

“If you had to be the god of something, what would you be?” Leo asked.

“Hmm,” Jason glared at a particularly stubborn block on the bottom. “Can’t say. You?”

“Board games.” Leo groaned and lay on his back. “This sucks.” He accidentally kicked the stack of books they had been playing on top of, sending the whole pile of blocks to the ground. The crash made him flinch. “Shit. Sorry, man.”

“It’s fine.” Jason sighed and lay down too. “We’ll clean it up later.”

“Okay,” Leo said. He turned his head to look at his roommate, who was staring at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head.

Leo could say it a million times, but Jason was really attractive. His girlfriend in the pictures on Jason’s side of the room was really hot too. Leo supposed he should’ve felt that jealousy he usually did when guys like Jason looked like Jason, but really, it was merely a fact that was added to his mental list of Jason-things. He didn’t know the guy for long, but Leo just felt comfortable with Jason’s presence, like they’d known each other forever. Sometimes there were moments like these where Leo wanted to keep talking about anything because he knew Jason would listen. And other times, again, with moments like these, Leo just wanted to sit there forever with the guy.

Disturbed by this train of thought, Leo sat up a little, anchoring his cheek on a propped fist. “You ever hear about Narcissus?”

Jason hummed for a moment. “Once or twice. Is that the one who was obsessed with his looks?”

“Yeah,” Leo said. “And there was this girl, um, Echo, I think, who was obsessed with him. Crazy story. She kept repeating everything he said. That must’ve drove him crazy.”

“Crazy,” Jason said.

“Dude.”

“Dude.”

Leo sighed loudly. “Anyway, it was this whole thing, you feel? Chasing each other, and then this revenge goddess came in and cursed him or something, and now this guy’s just stuck involved with himself forever, and Echo’s like trying to reach for him, but he doesn’t even notice.”

“Nemesis.”

“What?”

“The goddess of revenge,” Jason turned his head to look at Leo, cheek to the floor. “That’s her name.”

Leo shivered. “Yeah, probably. So you know the story?”

“More or less,” Jason said. “Someone told me about it a while back. He said he felt bad for Echo.”

“No way,” Leo fell onto his back again. “She’s the crazy chick here. I get the guy’s sex on legs, but after the first time he said no, she should’ve backed off. She sounds annoying as hell too.”

“I don’t know, Leo,” Jason murmured. “It’s a little sad.”

“Sad.” Leo echoed, lowering his voice. “Sad, sad, sad.”

“Her echoing was a curse too. She couldn’t help it.”

“Help it,” Leo repeated.

“And there’s versions of the story where he’s chasing her too.”

“Her too.”

Jason sighed. “How long are you gonna keep doing that?”

“Keep doing that,” Leo said.

“I’ll stop talking.”

“Stop talking.”

Jason did, face looking so miffed and upset that Leo burst out laughing. He sat up, holding his stomach, resting his back against his bed, and reaching to clean the fallen Jenga blocks. Jason folded his arms over his chest, pointedly not helping.

When Leo was done, he sat there, unsure what to do next. He threw a block at Jason’s stomach, but it wasn’t very satisfying; plus, Leo was sure that if Jason threw it back, it’ll go through his head.

“Did you read any other myths?” Jason asked. He slowly began to rise, stretching out his limbs.

Leo watched, staying seated. “Yeah, I guess. They just stuck out to me.”

“Hm,” Jason mumbled. “She probably felt lonely.”

Lonely, Leo would’ve repeated, but it felt wrong to at the moment. The more they talked about them, the more an image for Narcissus began to appear: the strong jaw and nose, the dark hair and deep eyes. Echo, on the other hand, just felt like a flurry of features, like a streak he might’ve seen running in the woods, and even that image was fading as soon as it came.

“He was probably lonely too,” Jason said, cracking his back with a hiss. “Ugh. Remind me not to lie on this floor again. I’ll be back.”

Leo saluted at him as he headed to the bathroom, presumably. He didn’t know why Narcissus and Echo were stuck in his head. They felt familiar to him, as weird as it sounded. He could nearly picture the lake where Narcissus brooded and hear Echo’s whispery tone breeding on the edge of tears.

Maybe he was too harsh in judging the girl from the myth. He closed his eyes, trying to picture himself in her shoes, chasing someone who ignored him. A hollow feeling reverberated in his chest, and for some reason, Leo wanted to cry.

Then he opened his eyes, calling himself stupid because it was just a story and there was no Echo to feel this way for.

“I hate high school,” Leo groaned when he opened the door to the room. “School sucks. I’m going to drop out.”

“That’s the third time you’ve said that this week,” Jason remarked from his desk. His last class was closer to their dorm, but Leo had detoured past one of the farther arts buildings because the Ceramics teacher was super hot.

“I’m serious, and I’ll drop out this time.”

He sat on his bed, looking out the window. It had been hot today, the kind of day where the students all hopped into their convertibles and took a short drive out to the beaches to soak. But neither Jason nor Leo had a car, and Leo didn’t want to go to the beach with just one other guy, even if it was Jason.

He wished there were more girls on campus- at least more age-appropriate ones. From what he understood, Edgarton had a sister school where the girls bussed over once in a while for shared dances or events. But Leo missed the winter formal, and he didn’t even know any girls.

Well, there was one.

Something Caribbean, he remembered. This isn’t goodbye, Leo, she said. Hair like the waves, eyes like honey. Her face drifted to him at night.

She must’ve made him nervous at some point, he would think. Mad, even. They would bicker a lot. Leo couldn’t remember about what when he woke up, and her name always left him, but the feeling still persisted.

She might’ve really loved him. He kept picturing him sweeping her up on a beach, collapsing in kisses and tears into the sand. He thought he loved her too, but maybe that didn’t matter. Leo wished he knew where she was right now. He didn’t think it would help him figure anything out, but it felt good being loved.

Leo knew someone loved him. He doesn’t know how or where they were, but he knew someone loved him. Not this girl- someone else. When he lay in bed, he felt their skin against his, the knowing sense that he mattered. He knew he was loved. He just doesn’t know how.

It would be good to feel that again. Or at least understand it some more. Something that was more than an instinct, something palpable that he could name.

Again, Leo got the strangest impulse to go on a boat and sail away.

“Are you okay?” Jason asked.

Leo cleared his throat, surprised by its dryness. “Yeah. Why?”

“You’ve been staring at the wall for,” Jason took off his glasses and looked at his watch. He’d been doing… Leo couldn’t even remember, but Jason had been doing it for a while. “Four hours. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Huh. Must’ve spaced out.”

“What were you thinking about?”

He was thinking about the ocean and the wind. Tasting the salt in the air and the sunlight against his face. A buzz in the breeze, a thrill down his shoulder.

“Can’t remember,” Leo says. “It’s probably nothing.”

“You can talk to me if something’s bugging you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Outside the window, the sun had long set, and the room was dark outside of Jason’s desk lamp. He really did space out.

Leo's always been bad with time. But lately, it was like he was slipping between the cracks. His mind was going someplace. He didn’t know if he wanted to follow.

“Let’s go to the beach,” Leo found himself saying. “Tomorrow’s Friday. The weather’s good for it.”

Jason glanced at him. “We have a pool.”

“Yeah, but this is different.” Leo realized he didn’t even take off his bag earlier. He wrangled off the straps, dropping it to the ground with a thud. “Whatever, I’m going whether you come or not.”

Jason winced, turning back to his… whatever he was doing. “I’ll come. Just don’t expect me to get in the water.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Leo said, and that was that. He felt oddly nauseous despite it being his idea.

Beaches. He couldn’t even remember going to the beach. Maybe once when he was a kid. He didn’t know why he kept picturing the ocean. The image just kept coming to him.

Leo didn’t even know what to hope for tomorrow. That’s how he knew it was a bad idea.

Chapter Text

It’s chillier than he expected. The breeze just cuts right into him, through his thin t-shirt and wrapping around his limbs.

In the distance of the shimmering ocean lay a hazy island stacked with blue hills and steep cliffs. It took Leo a second to realize the island was drifting closer, he leaned forward, squinting at its shores. There, a girl sat in the sand in a silvery shirt, a bow tied to her back, arms wrapped around her knees. Next to her, a boy with curly hair in a t-shirt and jeans sat, jaw moving rapidly. In his arms, he struck a ukulele, and even though it was impossible for Leo to hear from so far away, a mournful tune made its way into Leo’s ears.

Then the boy stopped abruptly, head looking straight at Leo. It was hard to discern either of their features, but Leo knew the girl was looking at him too as the island drew near. The boy stood, shielding his eyes from the sun, and began pointing at Leo, starting to yell, but his voice was caught in the waves.

“-Leo.”

Leo glanced up at Jason, who was holding out a bottle of sunscreen to him.

“What’re you looking at?” Jason squinted at the ocean, and when Leo followed his glance, there was nothing but the ocean and a few surfers. No island in sight, no girl with a bow, no boy with a ukulele, but there was a grieving melody lingering in Leo’s head. His chest began to boil underneath.

“The surfers,” Leo said, letting go of his white-knuckled grip on the sand. “Thanks. That kid just wiped out.”

“Can you surf?” Jason sat in the sand next to him. He was at least smart enough to wear a sweatshirt, though it was an ugly bright orange that didn’t match his blue-Edgarton branded basketball shorts.

“No way,” Leo rubbed the sunscreen between his hands. “Can you?”

“No,” Jason said. “But my girlfriend tried to teach me once or twice. She said I was the worst student she ever had.”

“Wish I was there,” Leo scrubbed sunscreen on his face. “I’m getting in the water, but I can stay if you want to go in.”

Jason shook his head, pulling out a notebook from his bag. “Nope. Have fun.”

The Pacific Ocean was miserably cold. It really wasn’t a good day for the beach, but Leo had insisted. It wasn’t very fun by himself, but Jason had insisted on staying out of the ocean. Leo didn't know why the guy even came out with him. Leo floated on his back, closing his eyes.

He found himself surrounded by kelp. Floating through thick greens and colorful coral and these odd pearl columns, like he was traveling through Atlantis. He came to a girl with thick dark hair and big brown eyes. In the waters, green and dark, she murmured to him, “Leo! Isn’t this place amazing?”

He didn’t really catch whatever she said next, too shocked at being able to speak underwater.

“Hazel,” he managed to say. He didn’t know where the name came from, but it felt right. “Where’s Frank?”

“He should be coming,” Hazel paddled closer. “Are you two fighting again?”

Something grabbed at Leo’s left foot. He looked down, where there was seaweed knotted around his ankle.

“Leo,” Hazel frowned, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” Leo kicked away, but the seaweed squeezed tighter. “We need to leave.”

“But the mermaids said Percy is-”

Leo yelped as the seaweed painfully bit into him. “Hazel-”

“Leo?”

He tried grabbing the seaweed, but it kept slithering out of his grasp, constricting around his leg. Then he was yanked through the water, the air flooding out of his lungs, with Hazel screaming his name.

His cousin, Rafael, nearly drowned once when they were kids.

In the bathtub, and his Aunt Rosa ripped her child from the soapy waters, Rafael’s shuddering chest pulled against her own. His wet bony ribs stuck to her shirt like sap. She had screamed at Leo why he didn’t do anything, why the door was locked, and Leo had pointed to the toilet where he had been talking to Tía Callida about swimming in a river called Sticks.

He vaguely remembered being angry that Tia had disappeared, but that was quickly overshadowed by the bone-shattering grip Aunt Rosa had, yanking him out the room in nothing but a towel as she yelled about his stupid mother and her even more fucked up hellspawn.

The memory bubbled up to him as his lungs burned from the salt. It was a crystal clear memory, really, Aunt Rosa's snarled lips that contorted into pain, and she began shrieking and dropped Leo's arm. A thick, heady stench assaulted Leo's nose, a disgusting taste settling into his tongue, as his arm smoked, and Aunt Rosa rushed to the sink in tears, her fingers raw and bubbling from melting. Rafael, Leo's only friend in the whole world, gasped in stuttering breaths, eyes wide and red staring at Leo.

It had been a good day at first. Leo's mom was working late, so Aunt Rosa reluctantly said she'd watch him. He was only five, and Rafael hadn't seen him since the holidays. It was a good idea, Leo thought. When his mom came to pick him up, Leo was still standing there in his towel and hadn't moved an inch until his mom pressed her hands to his cheeks.

“Leo,” she murmured, kissing his forehead. Esperanza squatted, clasping his small hands. She was still in her work clothes, smelling faintly of fast food and a fuzzy citrus. “Are you okay?”

Leo nodded slowly, and Esperanza's shoulders shook with relief, hugging him close. Leo's knees collapsed, and the tears bubbled out of him, muttering how sorry he was, he promised he wouldn't do that anymore, he didn't mean to do it, he was really really sorry, as his mom's hands finger combed through his hair.

“Come on,” Esperanza whispered into his ear. “Let's go home.”

When the memory ended, back in his current body, Leo’s arms stopped clawing for the surface, and a comforting wave of peace rushed over him. Leo thought: No fair. I’ve already died, though.

Then he died again.

.

.

.

“Leo!” His eyes snap open, and Jason’s swimming before him, sighing in relief. They were still underwater, but Leo felt like he could breathe. Jason’s arms grabbed around his waist, Leo limply clinging to his neck, as Jason swam up.

Superman saves the day again, Leo thought.

The water vomited them out, gasping on the sand. Leo spat out so much seawater the sand stained pink. Then the shock of his ankle struck him with enough pain for his vision to bleed white. Jason scrambled away, reappearing a few moments later in front of Leo with a small square of amber-colored chocolate.

“Chew on this,” Jason pushed it insistingly to his lips, and Leo had no choice but to do so.

It tasted like mozzarella sticks. His ankle’s pain dulled slowly. Once, on the Argo, he had been challenged by Percy to a mozzarella stick-eating championship. Hazel won with a stomach-aching 24 sticks. The waves licked at his soles.

Leo’s throat began to burn.

END PART I

Chapter Text

PART II - there's something wrong

He must’ve been close to Frank last year.

Leo figured that out when Jason was in the bathroom, as Leo waited at their table. The restaurant opened out to the boardwalk, smelling of delicious charcoal grills and sizzling meats. The bathroom was just a row of porta potties out further on the beach.

Frank was lactose intolerant. He liked animals. He drank orange juice with every breakfast but didn’t like oranges. He was tall, much bigger than Leo, maybe even bigger than Jason. He slept in boxers and a giant purple hoodie with socks on. His favorite color was red, like blood, Leo remembered taunting, and then Frank paled and said he liked green too.

Leo was certain that he and Frank were close. He knew there was a Hazel involved, there was a Percy involved and there were more, but he couldn’t quite get a hold of that. The more he thought about Hazel or Percy, the more they slithered out of his grasp like fish. But Frank? Leo knew more about that guy than anyone else in his life. Which was pathetic since he barely knew Frank in the first place.

Leo Valdez didn’t make friends. Sure, there were a few kids he might’ve had fun with. A buddy here and there, a confidante elsewhere, but he was always moving. There wasn’t time to have a friend, not a real one, and the ones he might’ve had in this memory gap were slowly falling together. It was terrifying. Maybe he could smile too. But then he had to ask, where were they? If he and Frank really were close, then where was the guy now?

Besides, the Frank in his head was barely a picture. He knew Frank was strong, and they hung out, but what they did or what Frank looked like was still unclear.

But Leo took comfort in knowing that there was someone out there who was his friend. Frank, or Hazel, or Percy, or whoever was left for him to rediscover: he wished they would appear at his door and tell him what the hell happened. A tingle began to itch under his skin, but it frightened Leo so much, that he dropped his thought process immediately. 

“Your food looks good,” Jason sat across from him, the wooden chair creating under his weight.

“Yeah,” Leo said. He wasn’t that hungry. If he wasn’t thinking about Frank, he was thinking about drowning. Or he wasn’t thinking at all. “You can have some if you want.”

“Really? Thanks.”

Leo bit his straw, watching Jason chow down. At his right, was a speaker playing a mellow Sam Cooke ballad. One of the waiters moved to a nearby table to refill the salt.

“I don’t get it,” said Leo.

“Hm?”

“I was drowning,” Leo mumbled. “Something attacked me.”

“Oh,” Jason put down his fork. “Are you sure?”

“I know what I felt,” Leo’s knee began to bounce. “Something was trying to pull me down.”

Jason looked thoughtful, eyes running over Leo’s face. He knew he probably looked paranoid, but Leo also knew something weird had happened. First, he was floating, dreaming maybe, and then something grabbed his ankle. When he’d been retching out the salt water, he saw the angry tension marks around his ankle.

But now, he felt better than ever. He grounded the ball of his left foot into the wood.

“What did you see?” Jason asked.

“My soul going to heaven,” Leo groaned, balling his fists into his eyes. “Fuck! I feel so fucking crazy. I know there was something there. Holy shit!”

“Leo,” Jason said slowly. “I believe you.”

“No, I sound crazy,” Leo licked his lips, folding his arms on the table. “ He sighed, head turning away from the ocean back to Jason. “You don’t have to believe me. I know it sounds dumb.”

“I believe you, man,” Jason said. “Whatever you saw, you saw.”

Leo stared at him. He didn’t deserve this trust from his roommate, yet he was given it with no hesitation, without any parameters.

He did not understand Jason at all. He didn’t know what Jason wanted from him. Jason kept looking at him with this much too sympathetic look that Leo wanted to shove him away. It wasn’t right, and it wasn’t appropriate: Leo had done nothing to deserve this.

He didn’t want it. For once, in the short time they’ve known each other, Leo truly did despise Jason.

Pasadena was too inland to have a beach, so they had taken a 2-hour train ride because neither had a car. Leo wished he stole Lester’s but he wasn’t ready to sabotage that relationship yet.

The train they managed to clamber onto was somewhat empty, but the two boys sat together, a few inches apart in silence. Jason seemed to have a lot on his mind, and Leo didn’t want to talk to him anyway. It was hard to have a good time at the beach after Leo drowned, and Jason was muttering to himself about ocean territory. Leo decided he was tired of the ocean anyway.

The salt clung to his clothes, making him nauseous. He was a little woozy, gaining a semblance of relief from the cold metal against the back of his neck when he tossed his head back.

Leo was certain of four things.

One, he had died. He was sure he died in those waters. Drowning was easy, Leo knew that, but that wasn’t bothering him. It was the fact that he was aware that deep down, it was not the first time he had died. Which lead to:

Two, he had died before. This went against everything he knew, but Leo kept replaying that explosion in his head and there was not a single way he could survive, at least not intact. But he did.

Three, he was a freak. This he had always known. But now he thought harder about it, and all of his freakiness of his life was all pushing to a giant ball of even more fucked up freakness.

“You’re shivering,” Jason nudged him. “Are you cold?”

“No-”

“You say that, but I know you’re cold. Here,” Jason peeled off his sweatshirt anyway, and the giant ugly orange cloth was pushed into his lap. Leo glared at him, but Jason looked out the window, his hand covering his mouth.

Leo tugged it on, stretching out the front to read the weathered words of CAMP HALF-BLOOD over a worn-out stenciled pegasus.

What the hell was a half-blood? His breath hitched in anticipation before his mind could process it, but the memory he’d expected didn’t come.

Weird. He hoped that maybe… he didn’t really know what he was hoping for, did he?

Jason was right: he was warmer now. Leo’s eyes slowly fluttered closed until he jerked back up. Jason glanced at him and smiled.

“It’s okay,” Jason reassured him. “A lot happened. Catch a few Z’s. I’ll take first watch.”

Jason said that before, Leo’s mind whispered to him. It didn’t make much sense.

He wished he could remember. As soon as he wanted that, an itch unfurled through his body. He had this earlier in the day in the restaurant. But now he could investigate it. He trusted Jason would help him somehow if something went wrong. Almost like a string in his brain, he tugged on the thought of “memory”, and his eyes began to droop.

“All right,” Leo murmured. “But no funny business...”

Jason’s laugh was the last thing he heard before his eyes fluttered close, and he was violently extracted onto a ship.

It would be wrong to say he was living this memory. Leo knew it was a memory this time around, not a dream or a mash-up, but Leo knew for sure that this had happened. He was standing in front of Hazel, this he knew for certain was a Hazel, though he was not sure if this was the Hazel in his thoughts, but she was certainly a Hazel.

In his hand was a fortune cookie. His arms were streaked with HOT STUFF and BAD BOY SUPREME. The breeze felt real enough, and the smell of the ocean returned. Leo really was starting to get sick of it. 

“I’ve been thinking…” Hazel said, “I might be able to show you.”

“You mean like a photo?” Leo was merely a viewer of his own body’s motions. The words came out well-rehearsed: this is what had happened, Leo knew.

“No. There’s a sort of flashback that happens to me. I haven’t had one in a long time, and I’ve never tried to make one happen on purpose,” Hazel said. She looked ill, and Leo knew instinctually that she was still seasick, but perhaps there was something else. “But I shared one with Frank once, so I thought…”

“When you say flashback…” Leo swallowed. “What exactly are we talking about? Is it safe?”

Hazel’s hand wavered in front of him. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this, but I’m sure it’s important. It can’t be a coincidence we met. If this works, maybe we can finally understand how we’re connected.”

He glanced at the offered hand. Then, Leo’s own arm moved, and he said, “Okay. Show me,” and he grabbed her hand.

Rather than being blasted into another memory of a memory, he was shaken awake by Jason.

“We’re almost at the stop to get off,” Jason told him, standing. “I’ve been trying to wake you for a while, but you’ve been sleeping like a rock. There was a delay, so we’ll have to run to catch the last bus back home.”

Leo blinked, jolting up. They were in a new train cart- Jason must’ve carried him over during the midway switch without somehow waking him, despite Leo being a light sleeper. Jason’s grip on his shoulders loosened, and he grabbed Leo’s hand, pulling him off the train and running through the subway.

“Jason-” Leo’s voice caught in his throat, body shaking from exhaustion. Jason’s fingers were like a circuit board, sending Leo’s neurons into overdrive, action potential firing. He was also too strong, nearly pulling Leo’s arm out of the socket. “We’re not going to make it. Let’s get the next bus-”

“We can- trust me!” Jason yelled back at him. Despite the fact that Leo wanted to pass out, he began to run faster.

It can’t be a coincidence we met;Hazel’s words came to Leo’s head. After everything, Leo somehow ended up at this stupid school, and with Jason as his roommate. Ever since he met Jason, Leo’s mind had been thrashing itself up in confusion.

The two stumbled onto the final bus to their campus, heaving. They clung to the steel bar to catch their breaths.

“Man, fuck you,” Leo wheezed, causing Jason to grin.

“Told you we’d make it.”

“I need to-” Leo coughed. “God. I need to get back in shape. I feel like I’m going to puke.”

“Were you ever in shape?”

“Screw you!”

Jason’s smile was so familiar to Leo. He knew Jason’s laughter like he knew anything else.

This was the fourth thing Leo was certain about. Leo understood this fact like he knew his own heartbeat: Jason was different too. Maybe not in the same freakish way as Leo was. He wasn’t sure if Jason knew everything or even just a sliver, but there had to be a reason why Leo had been left here. Most of Edgarton was bizarre, but Jason was stranger.

It couldn’t have been a coincidence.

Leo simply needed to figure out how they were connected.

Chapter Text

At first he was flying. His quivering thighs clung to metal, his mantra of I LOVE YOU, I’M SORRY, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, I’M SORRY pressing in his head. Then, there is a shriek, a slam of a million buses into his body, and a shuddering moment of hesitation, until Leo burst into flamexs. He had never experienced fire the way most people did, but for a few blodd-curdling moments his blood boiled into air and he burst. Agonizing horrible pain, that kills him. Then there’s a sharp pinprick into his right arm, hardly noticeable, and then… nothing.

Leo floated in the dark quietly. If he hadn’t died before, he was certainly dead now. There wasn’t anything, just mind-numbing pitchblack.

Until he was hit with a shock of electricity that could’ve lit up a city block, and every sense floods back to him at once, as his heart burst to life, and Leo gasped and sat up.

Across the room, Jason was still asleep. Leo pushed back his sweaty hair, reaching under his shirt. His heart was reliving the incident, pounding a mile a minute. Chest aching, Leo rubbed his scar, counting down slowly.

This was the nightmare he had every night for the past few weeks, ever since the beach. Gone were the too-real images of a boat, sometimes a flying ship, and the faceless friends, and the ocean mist. Instead, without fail, if Leo were to fall asleep, he’d relive this explosion. Maybe once if he was lucky. Twice if he was repentant. Most nights after the seventh explosion, Leo would lie in bed twitching, completely out of it until Jason woke up and murmured a drowsy, “Mornin,” and his body would return to Earth as if nothing happened.

Leo didn’t know why he was being punished like this. Whatever he did must’ve been so horrible that maybe he shouldn’t bother remembering.

He sat up, elbows resting on knees. It was only 4:32 AM.

When he entered the bathroom, the window was open. Their bathroom looked out onto a small pathway leading to the community garden. Most of the boys only used the path because of its leafy trees and tall bushes providing enough space and coverage to hide smoking. Leo brushed his teeth, watching someone jog by.

“Can I turn off the lights? It’s fucking bright, bro.” Leo nodded, dropping his attention across the bathroom where someone stumbled in, eyes shielded by the crook of his elbow.

The lights flickered off, and Leo shifted his toothbrush to the left side of his mouth. The boy who entered, was tall enough to need to duck under the doorframe, with big bulky shoulders fit for an athlete. Wearing a Vegeta shirt, and boxers printed with the American Flag, he took two steps in before saying, “You’re Leo, right? Room next to the narc?”

Narc was what the boys on the floor called their head, Nathan. He was just a senior who they were supposed to come to if there was a problem, but with his predilection to call a hall meeting for every little complaint, most of them didn’t like Nathan. Leo knew that the guy’s parents were video game developers, so he always hung out with him to test glitchy concept games. Plus, Nathan had a contraband pet boa named Homer.

“That’s me,” Leo rinsed his mouth. “Do I know you?”

“Yeah. I’m Tristan,” the boy said.

“Tristan?”

“Tristan.”

Leo shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Tristan moved closer, leaning against one of the sinks. Didn’t he have to use the bathroom or something? Leo’s nose picked up a peculiar scent: underneath Tristan’s soap was something not unlike outside before it rained, though more acrid and compact of a whiff. If anything, it reminded him of Jason, though Leo could admit to himself that Jason’s breezy smell was much more pleasing.

“We’re both new this year,” Tristan explained. “I was the guy who handed you Jason’s homework the other week?”

“Oh, right, yeah, I got you.” That did happen, but it was so unimportant to Leo’s life that there’s no way he would’ve remembered. “Well, have a good-”

“You’re the one who’s really good with math, yeah? Some guys were talking about it.” Tristan turned to the mirror, fixing his hair. “I just got into this school and I’m about to flunk out. You ever tutor?”

“Not really-”

“I’ll pay you.” Tristan had insanely bright teeth, all lined up like the perfect dental commercial. “We can talk about it later.”

“Sure,” Leo sighed, determined to leave. “Whatever, man.”

“Perfect!” Tristan sing-songed, heading into a bathroom stall. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you!”

Valentine’s Day blasted through Edgarton the way an ambulance does in a quiet suburb. Most of the guys Leo knew were suddenly obsessed with ordering flowers for girlfriends they never mentioned before, and the most obnoxious boys grew even more obnoxious.

Jason, however, didn’t make much fuss. Leo was trying to figure out if the guy was hung up on his ex-girlfriend, but Jason didn’t even seem to notice what day had been fastly approaching.

The day before it arrived, Jason asked Leo if he had plans.

“You’re not asking me out, are you?” Leo squinted at him suspiciously from across the dining hall table. “You’re not my type.”

“Not really,” Jason put down his fork. “You… don’t seem like someone who likes Valentine’s Day.”

That was very astute of him. Leo had too many cringe-filled rejections and crushed candy hearts to make it a joyous occasion. “You know, greeting card companies made this up to sell more shit.”

“So I’ve been told,” Jason said. “Last year, my friends and I gave away laxative-filled chocolates.”

“What the hell? That sounds awesome.”

“It was pretty funny,” Jason’s smile suddenly dropped. “Until it wasn’t. The smell wasn’t worth it. We forgot the bathrooms were communal. It took a week to even walk near the Big House.”

Leo reached for his cup. “Was this with the girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “It wasn’t her idea, but she doesn’t like Valentine’s Day. Her siblings love the day, and she kept getting dragged around for things they wanted to do.”

“I see,” Leo nodded. “Must be nice to have siblings, though. You have a sister, right? Thalia?”

“Mhm,” Jason picked up a piece of bread.

“Older or younger?”

“Older.”

“By how much?”

Jason shrugged. Leo didn’t have any siblings, so he didn’t know if it was normal or not to know your sister’s age.

“No worries,” Leo said coolly. “What’s she doing now?”

Jason took a moment to stop chewing. “...She travels a lot. We’re not that close.”

“Oh,” Leo said, then a moment later, followed with: “That sucks. Sorry.”

“It’s not that bad.” Jason didn’t look particularly upset. “We didn’t grow up together, and it’s hard to keep in touch.” Jason shrugged again and resumed eating.

Leo thought that sounded pretty awful, but it wasn’t his place to say anything.

“So,” he sipped his drink. “Valentine's Day?”

Jason nodded. “Yup. Only if you’re free.”

“I’ll have to check my calendar,” Leo told him. “You’re still not my type.”

“Whatever, man.”

They ended up hiking. Leo had no idea how Jason tricked him into hiking up a trail, but all of a sudden, he was climbing up a cliffside and cursing out whatever god could hear him.

His body appreciated the fresh air. Like a bear stretching out of hibernation, his limbs moved with familiarity, and Leo couldn’t bring it in himself to ruin the moment. He and Jason donned matching navy Edgarton windbreakers, Jason with a baseball cap and Leo with a backpack of snacks.

“Watch your step,” Jason pointed to a hole in the ground. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Leo stated truthfully. “This isn’t that bad.”

“You should come with me on my runs.”

“Absolutely not.”

The trail they followed was relatively barren, aside from a few joggers or speed-walking couples. But as much as there were couples, there were people moving on their own, dipping past Leo’s view and into the wild. Leo wasn’t one for this type of thing, but he could respect the simplicity of a hike. His brain typically felt like an overloaded machine, but out here, he could at least peer down on the city in the distance and realize how small things were in his life.

“I miss my girlfriend,” Leo spoke aloud into Jason’s back.

Jason glanced back at him. “Oh.”

“I mean, I think she was my girlfriend,” Leo blabbed. “She was cute, and I definitely remember us dating, but I don’t know anymore. It’s stupid.”

Leo didn’t even notice Jason stopped walking until he walked into him. He looked up, and Jason sighed.

“Do… do you want to talk about it?” Jason coughed, looking away.

“There’s not much to say,” said Leo, face burning. He tucked his hair behind his ears, mortified. “I barely remember this girl.”

“Then talk about what you do know,” Jason stated like it was that uncomplicated and began walking again.

Leo gaped at him in bewilderment before running to catch up. But then he realized it was that simple when he was talking to Jason because Leo couldn’t stop himself from chattering about this girl in his dreams.

Leo told him about what the girl looked like, how he remembered her singing, he remembered the arguing, the white sands and the green sea. There was an image of a wooden rowboat that he couldn’t get rid of, a beautiful garden he couldn’t name the flora of.

Jason listened well. He didn’t laugh when Leo admitted to his first kiss, and he asked for details (though Leo didn’t have many).

They came across the bottom of a waterfall, settling across the rocks to take a break. Leo had just finished telling Jason about his last memory of the girl: her final goodbye declaring This isn’t goodbye, but pitifully very much was. Jason stayed silent, leaving Leo’s answer to the babbling water.

“Sounds,” Jason eventually began. Leo perked up. “...complicated.”

“It probably was.”

“Hm,” Jason took a swig from his water bottle. “And you can’t remember her name?”

“Nope,” Leo said. He considered his next words carefully, following with a: “Got any ideas? It was ocean related, I think.”

Jason raised a brow. “No. I didn’t know her. Sorry, man.”

Leo had been expecting this answer. He still wasn’t sure what Jason knew or was willing to reveal. What he hadn’t been expecting was how he knew Jason was lying. It was unmistakable in Jason’s gestures and practiced articulation, but Leo didn’t know when he became the Jason expert.

“It’s alright.” Leo shrugged. “Worth a try. I’ve been calling her Island Girl in my head, but I’ve never even left the States. Maybe I’m confusing something.”

“Maybe,” Jason’s eyes left him and trained on something across the water. Leo tried to follow his gaze but got lost in the trees. “Did you love her?”

Caught off guard, Leo stammered out a “W-whoa what? Repeat that? No comprende.”

“Did you love her,” Jason enunciated without missing a beat. He stood, stretching his arms. “This Island Girl. You’re thinking about her on Valentine’s Day, but you haven’t mentioned her before.” He looked over his shoulder, locking eyes with Leo.

The answer was hesitatingly but reassuringly, yes. However, with Jason looking at him like that, Leo’s tongue was too fat in his mouth, and he couldn’t give an answer.

A shiver rolled down his spine, and Jason straightened. His eyes were too cold anyway, that blue chilling Leo to the bone. A twig snapped in the distance, and Jason’s head swiveled.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom,” Jason said suddenly, reaching into his pocket. Leo nodded dumbly. “Stay here, okay? There’s a lot of dangerous things in the forest. I’m serious.”

“G-Got it,” Leo waited until Jason’s footsteps retreated before he exhaled, and the steam rolled off of him.

Just the thought of the girl made him nearly combust. It really did suck that Leo forgot his first girlfriend. Guys like Jason wouldn’t understand that- for Leo, someone like this Island Girl remained unrelentingly ephemeral. The more he thought about her and tried to picture her face, the more his mind wandered, a familiar itch burrowing through.

Where was she now? Did she still think of him? How did they meet? Leo’s mind ravaged through the bits of what he could recall, as his vision grew spotty.

Fuck, Leo thought, as he blacked out.

Chapter Text

It triggered like the other nightmares. The flying, the apologies, the mourning and then, the pain. This time, his heart burned, and he woke up on a dragon.

“Thanks, buddy,” Leo groaned, back then in this memory. “Man, being dead sucked. But that physician’s cure? That stuff is worse.”

The version of Leo that was reliving this moment ached as his body went through the motions. He reveled in the joy of knowing what a Festus was but the pain in his body overshadowed that glee. His fingers twitched, and his heart threatened to burst with its new life.

His hands rubbed at the center of his chest, where the burning sensation began to spread. The cure did its work alright, but he realized it would leave its mark. It hurt like nothing he’d felt before, but Leo was grateful to be alive.

Festus swooped down through the clouds at Leo’s orders, and he couldn’t resist cheering. That’s what the old Leo did anyway, screaming about returning to life. This Leo instead cheered along about how fucking crazy he must’ve been to be on a gigantic robot dragon. The clouds parted ways to reveal a pale dot surrounded by shimmering seas.

Bingo. As they drew closer, Leo’s eyes lit up at the lonely girl standing on the beach. Snug blue jeans and a billowing white blouse, with two plain suitcases at her feet.

Leo slammed into the sand face-first. When he looked up, the girl stood over him, Festus whining across the shore.

“You’re late,” she said. Current-Leo felt the rush of endorphins before he understood the context.

He was excited- this really was his girlfriend. She pulled him up, and they stood close as she examined him.

THIS WAS HIS GIRLFRIEND! Maybe not officially yet, but Current-Leo didn’t need to live the rest of the memory to know. He was glad he had a name now.

Calypso was unforgivingly gorgeous. He wanted to wrap his arms around this girl and inhaled her until she melded into him.

Calypso’s nose wrinkled. “You smell-”

“I know. Like I’ve been dead. Probably because I have been. Oath to keep with a final breath and all,” he prattled on, “but I’m better now-”

She kissed him, and Leo almost exploded again.

Calypso rubbed his cheek, sighing out his name. Leo nearly melted, but he held it together, fumbling to say, “You want to get off this island?”

“I don’t plan to return,” Calypso murmured, kissing his upper lip again. “Where will you take me?”

“Well-” Festus whinnied, stomping around to show off a broken wing. “First, I gotta take care of that crybaby there. I HEAR YOU BUDDY! And then, it’s wherever you want. Missed me?”

Calypso’s hands moved up to his hair, pulling through the curls. “I’m surprised you came back.”

“I told you I would.”

“I’ve heard a lot of promises, Leo Valdez,” Calypso’s eyes softened, and her hands crossed over his shoulders. “But I never thought it would be you who fulfilled it.”

“How long was I gone?”

Calypso closed her eyes, pulling him into a hug. “Doesn’t matter. It felt like forever.”

Leo’s thumbs pressed at the jut of her hips. “I’m here now.”

“Yeah,” Calypso kissed him again. “You came back.”

Leo plunged out of the memory the way one did when splashed with freezing water: violently and thrashing. Jason was gripping his shoulders.

“You didn’t get attacked, did you?” Jason kept shaking him. “Leo, wake up!”

“Ugggghhhh,” Leo babbled, body feeling weary. Jason immediately dropped him, and Leo’s body collided with the ground. “Ow.”

“You weren’t responding- I thought maybe you were-” Jason took a breath, and held out a hand. “What the fuck is going on, Leo?”

Leo sat up on his own, rubbing his head. He was a little dizzy but ridiculously pleased. He knew Calypso. He knew Festus. Sort of. There were definitely key parts missing, but Leo had clearly been happy at some point. Something about a cure and an oath. The details didn’t matter.

He needed to find her again. Clearly, he’d done it before: Leo was confident he could do it again. A grin slid onto his face before he knew it, and Leo clambered to his feet.

Calypso. It really was a beautiful name, only more enunciated by a lovelier girl.

Jason looked like shit. His baseball cap and glasses were missing, his jacket skewed and shirt torn. Blood dotted across a scratch on Jason’s cheek while mud peeked out the rips in his sweatpants.

“Whoa,” Leo said, stunned. “You look like you got mauled by a bear. What is going on with you?”

Jason wiped his cheek with the back of his hand. “I’m fine. You were the one who passed out. Did something happen?” His eyes darted over the scene, his hand reaching into his jacket pockets.

The hairs rose on Leo’s neck at the worry on Jason’s face. “Nothing happened!” Leo yelped. “Just fell asleep. And you are not okay. Come here, I have a first aid kit in my bag.”

“I don’t need…” Jason rubbed his temple, annoyed. “Fine. Sure. Whatever you want, Leo.” He kicked at a rock at his side, then slumped on a bigger rock closer to Leo. Leo shook off his backpack, reaching in for the kit.

It wasn’t a big cut. Leo was still buzzing from learning about Calypso, as he pressed disinfectant to Jason’s face.

Jason was frustrated; Leo got that much. He didn’t grasp what set off the guy, but at the very least, Jason sat like a statue, not flinching when Leo mumbled about scarring, letting Leo move his face however he pleased.

“I remember her name now,” Leo murmured to fill the silence.

“Her?” Jason grumbled.

“My girlfriend,” Leo said. “Calypso.”

“Great.”

This development in Jason was intriguing. Moody and bitter at something Leo must’ve done, but still indulging in whatever Leo asked of him. He was a spoiled dog who knew he did wrong but still wanted to be welcomed with praise.

“You’ll live,” Leo slapped Jason’s gauze-covered cheek. “Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

Jason stepped away, folding his arms. “I fell.”

“Big fall.”

“And you just fell unconscious in the middle of the forest?” Jason shot back.

He couldn’t help it, Leo wanted to say, but he held his tongue. He wasn’t sure if he should tell Jason what had been happening. It wasn’t like Leo could understand it entirely too.

“It’s-”

“Complicated?” Jason hissed. “Everything’s complicated with you! I’m your friend!”

“You’re not that easy either,” Leo snapped. “Don’t put this on me. What kind of person falls like that?”

Jason paused. “It’s-”

“Complicated?” Leo rolled his eyes.

Jason scowled at him. Leo felt ridiculous looking up to him, so he tugged on his bag and started walking back onto the path. At first, he thought Jason was going to let him get lost in the woods by himself, but then, a few paces later, he heard Jason’s feet follow. Leo sighed in relief, knowing that Jason wasn’t that angry with him.

The rest of the night was quiet. Someone left out two boxes of chocolates with their names on them. Someone else opened them and ate all the good ones. Though Jason wasn’t talking to him, Jason wordlessly offered Leo his box.

Part of this was comical: Jason was sulking like a toddler. Sometimes Leo forgot they were the same age because Jason always seemed so put together. But now Jason went to bed, pointedly facing the wall, with his arms crossed.

Leo could tell they weren’t really angry at each other. He, after all, was still reveling in the delight of knowing Calypso and trying to figure out how to find her again. He wished he knew her last name or what island she’d been from. Anything he looked up on the internet either brought up the musical style, or a story about some Odysseus guy.

He couldn’t sleep. His body vibrated with desire, so he stared at the ceiling, trying and failing to will in some shreds of exhaustion. Instead, Leo kept shifting his head to look at Jason.

“Are you mad at me?” He found himself asking to Jason's back.

The only visible sign that Jason was awake was the smallest shift in his broad trapezius muscles.

“No,” Jason eventually mumbled. “Are you?”

“Not really,” Leo admitted. “You’re, like, one of the only people I trust here.”

Jason whispered something, but Leo couldn’t catch it. He didn’t ask, instead, rolling onto his side toward the center of the room.

A few minutes, and Jason rolled over too, facing him from his side of the room. Even though it was dark, there was enough light from the window that Leo could piece together Jason’s frown. His eyes slid up from his lips to Jason’s furrowed brows.

“I want to tell you something,” Jason said. “But I don’t know how or when.”

“Tell me when you’re ready.”

“And will you? Tell me what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing’s going on.”

“Leo.”

He didn’t like looking at Jason anymore. Leo dropped his face into his pillow, groaning.“... when I’m ready. I need to figure something out.”

Jason’s side of the room rustled until Jason settled down. Leo peeked over, and Jason was facing the wall again.

Leo was afraid he ruined everything. He picked at the dead skin at the corner of his nails, moving to face his wall because it was better than watching Jason and imagining a number of possible swarming emotions.

“It’s getting harder,” Jason murmured.

“Harder?”

“To protect you,” Jason said. “I want to help you but I don’t know how to.”

“Protect me from what?” Leo said. “You’re just my-”

Roommate wasn’t the word. Yet, friend wasn’t right either.

“I’m not in danger,” Leo settled. “Don’t be weird.”

Jason chuckled. “You’re the only one who ever calls me weird.”

“‘Cuz you are.”

Leo figured this conversation was insane. He wasn’t in danger, nor did Jason need to protect him from anything, but Jason was probably sleep-delirious. He didn’t know what Jason actually meant, but… the words didn’t stop Leo from smiling to himself.

“I’m sorry about Calypso,” Jason said.

“She’s not, like, dead, you know,” Leo said, but he really didn’t know.

“I know,” Leo could hear him carefully choosing his words. “But I’m still sorry she left. That sucks.”

“She didn’t leave,” Leo protested. “She didn’t even say goodbye. She’ll be back.”

If Jason had a response, Leo either didn’t hear it, or Jason fell asleep before it could be articulated.

Leo waited for something, but then he was confused as to what Jason could possibly say to answer his mind when Jason didn’t know what Leo was feeling. He wrestled around in the sheets, trying to figure out how to nudge Jason out of his brain, failing to do so, when it hits him.

The realization that Calypso had left him struck faintly, as Leo thought, she didn’t leave, and then crashed as a wave, She would be back if she wanted to be back.

He was facing his first returned love and heartbreak within the same day. He wished there was a way that he could remember loving Calypso again, and perhaps, things would be different. Maybe she would be here right now, in his arms, her lips against his skin, her hair curled between his fingertips. He wished he knew what he did to make her run.

Whatever love he gave to this girl, he wanted back. Leo thought it would be hard to cry for a love he couldn’t remember nor hold, but found it harder to hold back the tears.

Saying he was going through a breakup would be silly.

Leo really didn’t know much about Calypso, but he knew about running away. If Calypso was determined to get away, then she was already gone.

But even if she was gone, that didn’t mean Leo’s feelings vanished too. With the emergence of his memory came the rollercoaster of love. Talk about a bumpy ride.

Leo watched Jason from the corner of his eye. They were sitting in class, supposed to be reading a passage about who-gives-a-fuck. Jason’s eyebrows screwed up as he underlined a word on his sheet. His cheek cut from a few days ago was like it never existed. Leo’s leg bounced as he tried to pay attention to his own desk, but he couldn’t focus on anything longer than the word Calypso.

He wondered, briefly, if he asked Jason, would Jason understand this?

A note flew on top of his desk, folded into a perfect paper plane. He glanced at his roommate, but Jason only uncapped his highlighter, shifting forward in his seat.

You’re looking at me. It’s distracting.

Leo threw it back, writing, i’m looking at the clock, narcissist.

A few moments later and then:

The clock that doesn’t work?

it’s right twice a day.

It’s not right now. Leo balled this one up and dropped it in his bag. He tapped his pencil on the desk, trying to focus on the words, but everything swam in front of him, and Leo kept picturing himself flying on Festus the Dragon, with slender arms wrapped around his waist, a face pressed against his back, and the world under his feet-

A new airplane appeared on a small pink Post-it reading: Do you want to get out?

Jason was watching him this time, head nodding to the classroom door. Leo waited maybe twelve seconds, maybe quicker, before he sent back, why not.

Instantly, Jason’s hand shot up in the air.

“Yes, Jason? Do you need something?”

“Leo doesn’t look so well,” Jason said with the solemnity only required at funerals. “Can we go to the nurse?”

Leo let out a fake groan, doubling over.

“Both of you?” Their teacher asked skeptically.

“It might be an allergic reaction,” Jason continued. “I was going to get his meds from our room.”

Leo groaned again, and someone behind him snickered.

“I think I’m going to be-” Leo stumbled out of his desk, holding his mouth, gagging. “Oh noooo, here it comes!” He rushed to the door, hearing Jason toss aside papers and yell back a: “Sorry! I’ll grab the homework from someone!”

Leo at least had the decency to pretend to be sick down the hall until he turned the corner, and waited at one of the breezeway doorways. Jason followed a few steps behind, Leo’s bag slung over his shoulder, uniform tie askew.

“Thanks,” Leo leaned against the wall. Being outside did make him feel better, soothing away some internal queasiness. “What’d you do that for?”

“I figured you needed it,” Jason said.

“My hero,” Leo mumbled. A breeze flew through and caressed Leo’s face. Jason just knew what he needed- it was nearly unsettling. Still, Leo couldn’t say anything bad, looking at his taller friend's unconcerned face in the sunlight.

In a way, Leo was certain that if Jason weren’t at Edgarton, Leo would’ve dipped a long time ago. Jason wasn’t that special, but there was something that Leo couldn’t place, nor could he ignore. Things were just slightly more bearable when the guy was around. Even with all that was swimming in Leo’s head, he felt secure.

But he couldn’t say that aloud, so Leo ignored the heat crawling up his neck and said nothing at all.

He was an idiot.

Leo hadn’t been attached to his room much, but he spent so much time in his dorm that it was humiliating that he never realized it when it was there all along.

Jason’s side of the room had always been an organized mess that Leo walked past daily. Whether he was working on his little project or Jason was staying up to read, Leo didn’t pay much mind unless he was bored. He was sure he had stared at Jason’s wall enough times, but maybe he hadn’t.

Leo reached out to tug down one of the pictures.

It was definitely Hazel. His finger rubbed the ink, hoping maybe a memory would trigger of the girl, but nothing happened. Hazel grinned back at him, her arms looped in the brown arms of the really hot girl Leo associated as Jason’s ex, who quirked an eyebrow at the camera.

It was possible that this was all subconscious. Maybe he was forcing himself to fill blanks, and Leo was making his confusion worse. But it felt too real: the Hazel Leo could remember was, somehow, in this image.

He pressed the tape back on the wall, flickering through the images. Maybe he should’ve done this earlier: but when Leo had first entered the room, Leo had rolled his eyes thinking about Jason and his perfect life and his perfect friends and didn’t care any further than that.

But now his eyes were scavenging hungrily for any detail he could get. Hazel appeared a couple of times, sometimes with the ex-girlfriend, sometimes with this other girl who looked intimidating as hell. There was an emo-looking kid who either was unaware of the camera or stared blankly. Some athletic boy with unrivaled intense green eyes was usually caught with food. This big guy that Leo wasn’t sure if he could crush Leo’s head in a hug or a chokehold. Some Latina girl looked too amused until she looked too serious.

From what Leo could gather, most of these pictures were taken around the same age. Possibly the same month or summer. There were a few with the Latina and some skinny blonde creep that showed Jason at a younger age, but the bulk of them had to be recent.

Maybe a summer camp? An orange shirt popped up occasionally, but it wasn’t always there. Most of the pictures were candid but optimistic. Leo couldn’t help but feel jealous. If there was a key to happiness, these kids must’ve found it.

There was no Calypso, though. He would’ve figured that if Jason knew anyone from Leo’ forgotten life, it would be her.

He reached for a picture with Jason and his ex-girlfriend. Jason had been asleep on a couch, doodles on his face, with the girl holding her finger to her lips in silent frozen glee. Because she was taking the picture, Leo couldn’t see who the other arm in the picture belonged to.

His stomach sunk. He didn’t need a clearer picture. The mole pattern on the wrist, and the left-handed hold was evidence enough. The handwriting on Jason's forehead, reading SUPERMAN, was something Leo had seen for years. 

Leo quietly placed the picture back, feeling like he’d been stabbed. It was one thing to sort out his feelings about Jason, good and bad. It was another thing to see his own body documented so clearly, and not remember it at all. It was even worse that this had been sitting in front of him for months, and he didn’t notice.

Leo wiped at his mouth, his usually overworking brain pausing completely. Before he knew it, he was snatching up a couple of images, and tossing them under his pillow. He doubted Jason would notice, but to Leo this was a key to something.

His hands wrung together, and he rubbed his face, pacing the room.

It wasn’t a coincidence. Couldn’t have been: everything aligned too perfectly. And it was Leo in that picture: it was nearly irrefutable. 

From what he knew, Jason was perfect. Attractive, friendly, smart. He played sports, seemed to have friends, but also knew to keep to himself. He always seemed interested in Leo when no one else was. He knew Leo’s favorite colors and foods, always knew when Leo was in the mood to talk or when Leo was upset. It was like Jason had known Leo for a long time, and Leo… couldn’t even remember his roommate’s last name.

Leo had been too busy keeping Jason at a distance, trying to figure out everything alone, that he missed the most obvious signs. Hadn’t Jason looked at him strangely when they first met? Lester said something weird too: something about knowing Jason prior?

And the other factors: Jason’s constant avoidance of talking about himself, the gold dust he seemed to always come back with, the strange bruises and that disappeared the next day if Leo didn’t pay closer attention, the fucking sword that Leo barely registered as strange anymore.

He was so stupid.

Chapter Text

“Jason.”

“Hmm?”

After no response, Jason turned around in his chair to where Leo sat behind him at his own desk, arms folded over the back of the chair. They were often both at their desks, but back to back like this, Jason could smell the gum that Leo had been chewing and see the fallen eyelash on his cheek. “Yeah?”

Leo chewed slowly. “We’re friends, right?”

“Of course,” Jason answered. “Why?”

Leo’s gaze fell behind him. “What does that mean to you?”

“Duh. It means we’re friends. Where are you going with this?”

“Just… how did we become friends? I don’t know anything about you.”

Jason didn’t have an answer. He thought he’d always been friends with Leo, and he’d always stay friends. It was innate and never deserved a reason.

When he’d first met Leo, back at the Grand Canyon, he had asked Leo the same question. Leo didn’t have an answer, and now, over a year later, Jason didn’t have one either. They were roommates, sure, but that didn't mean they needed to be friends. Maybe that was their relationship: there was no how, or why. They just were.

“Hit me then. What do you want to know?”

Leo sat for a few moments before his eyes lifted up. “What’s… your favorite food?”

“Brownies, probably.”

Leo cracked a smile, but Jason could tell his heart wasn’t in it. “Brownies aren’t a favorite food. Pick something else.”

“Can’t. I love brownies,” Jason turned back around to his desk. He hadn’t been doing work before Leo interrupted, instead filling in squares of his graph paper, but there was something in Leo’s expression that made him hard to look at.

“Not a real food to pick, but whatever man.” Leo said from behind him. His chair creaked, but Jason refused to turn around. “What’s your favorite number?”

“No one has a favorite number.”

“I do. Mine is one.”

“Okay… sure…then I choose nine.”

“You can’t just choose your favorite number. It has to have meaning.”

Jason’s pencil scratched through another box. “It has meaning.”

“Then what does it mean?”

“It’s the first thing I could think of.”

Jason could practically hear Leo’s eye-roll. “What’s your middle name?”

“Don’t have one.”

“What? I thought I saw something on your ID.”

Jason swore under his breath. Edgarton listed first and last names, with a middle initial. Jason really didn’t have a middle name, but the name Jason Grace had been too suspicious: any search would bring up his mother and his disappearance from this very city too many years ago. But even if Jason had only recently found out his last name last winter from Thalia, it felt wrong to throw it away so easily.

“Grace,” Jason mumbled.

“Repeat that? Didn’t hear ya.”

“Grace.” Jason sighed, speaking up, “Jason Grace Hedge.”

He glanced behind him, but Leo was looking straight at him.

“Your parents must’ve hated you,” Leo said, face still complicated. “Is that your grandma’s name or something?”

“It’s a family name,” Jason said. “From my mother’s side.”

“Jason Grace,” Leo repeated. “Jason Grace Hedge.” His eyes rolled behind Jason. “Hmph.”

He made the noise like it wasn’t a satisfying enough answer. It wasn’t like Jason could give him any better. It really did sound like an awful name, but it wasn't as suspicious. More coincidental.

"What do you do when you're not in school?" Leo asked. "Like, over the summers and breaks?"

"Camp," Jason put it simply.

Leo rolled his hand as if to say, Go On, but Jason didn't have much to say. He couldn't say what they did at Camp Half-Blood, and he definitely couldn't say anything about Camp Jupiter. Leo glanced at the window, then the wall, then back to Jason.

He stood abruptly. “Brownies, huh? I can fuck with some brownies right now.”

“You have brownie mix?”

“Nah,” Leo grabbed his hoodie from his bed. “But the kid I’m tutoring has some we can steal. He won’t even notice it’s gone. Come on, dude.”

Jason can’t cook, or bake, or use any kitchen appliance, really. He never had the time to learn between Latin and fighting for his life, and since he was three, he was usually sitting at a camp table with food already prepared for him. Even on the Argo, Jason didn’t need to cook, and at Edgarton, he used the dining hall religiously or hoped he could round up enough spare change for a vending machine trip.

When Leo joined him, Leo started paying for the vending machine runs with a sleek black debit card. Jason never needed to step foot into the kitchen.

Leo started pulling out items like he’d grown up in the dorms. He shoved a bowl in Jason’s hands to stir, brow knitted, deep in thought. Anytime Jason thought about asking, he thought better of it.

Leo liked keeping to himself. Jason knew this. Didn’t like it. But he knew it.

“My mom said if you meet a girl whose cooking can rival your own ma’s cooking, then you gotta marry her on the spot,” Leo said. “Then she’d tell me that I need to learn to cook because no one could beat her at cooking.”

“Ah,” Jason nodded. “Smart woman.”

“My mom was a fucking genius, man,” Leo said like he was proving a point to Jason. “But she was a terrible cook. We had to order out, like every other day or rely on mac n’ cheese. She could do anything but fry an egg.”

Laughing, Jason placed his bowl in the sink. “So, where’d you learn how to cook?”

Leo’s face contorted. “Can’t remember.”

There was this one time.

Leo would not remember this, but Jason did, sort of. He remembered sitting at the kitchen island at the Argo, and Leo was humming at the stove. Despite the Argo’s brilliant air conditioning system, the kitchen boiled from the fires of what Leo was cooking. Jason contemplated sweeping a wind through the room, but the last time he did so, Leo immediately shivered and blinked at him with a slack jaw and ruddy cheeks. But now, at least, it was just the two of them sinking in the heat.

Leo heaped out the food onto a single plate. The rest weren’t clean, but they’ve shared stuff before. Food was nothing fancy. Fish, rice, tomatoes, hell of a lot of other things. He stood opposite of Jason and pushed the plate in front of him saying, “Try it.”

Jason remembered hesitating. He doesn’t have a tolerance for spice, and Leo liked exploiting that. He remembered Leo leaning against the counter, chin on palm, fingers tapping along his cheek.

It was a dare, Jason knew. He didn’t know what the dare was, didn’t really get what was happening, nor did he even know who started it, but he kept his eyes locked with Leo and slowly took a bite.

Leo was a fantastic chef. Jason’s known this fact almost as long as he’s known Leo.

“It’s okay,” Jason said. He feigned confusion, sucking his teeth. “Could use more salt.”

“What?” Leo’s eyes bulged, and he scooped up his own fork and tried it. “Jason, what are you talking about-”

“It’s good, Leo,” Jason laughed. “Really good. The best even.”

Pleased, Leo’s ears began to steam, and he shoved more food in his mouth, mumbling, “Damn straight,” but he was obviously reveling in the praise.

Jason didn’t remember what else was said, but he remembered seeing Leo. He had sat there for nearly an hour just watching Leo cook, but he remembered most was seeing Leo and feeling an immense wave of sorrow.

“What are you doing for spring break?”

He had asked, not expecting much of an answer. It wasn’t that Leo was ignoring him, but whatever relationship they had built had crumbled suddenly over the past few weeks. At times, Leo would joke around. Other times, it was as if Leo were gone, staring through Jason like a stranger. They were back to where Leo first came to Edgarton: hushed words and distant glances.

Leo didn’t look up from what he was writing at his desk. “Going home. Are you?”

“No,” Jason said. “I was thinking about getting a new rug for the room. Any thoughts?”

“It’s March,” Leo said. “And the school year ends in May.”

“Is that a maybe?”

Leo sighed, dropping his head to the table. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Jason thought they had been getting along just fine, but then Leo had pulled away just when Jason thought he wouldn’t. It was, ultimately, the most Leo-thing that happened. Running before things got too personal.

A weight settled in his chest, and an incessant need to scramble to Leo bubbled up. He didn’t even know what home Leo was referring to. Was he being lied to? Did Leo remember everything? Did Apollo do something?

Jason’s pencil tip broke. He reached for a sharpener. “Are you mad at me?”

“Should I be?”

“No,” Jason wavered. “But your-”

“Then leave it alone, Jason,” Leo said. “I just have a lot on my mind.” Then he sat up, staring at the ceiling. “Is the light busted?”

It flickered over them, but when Jason exhaled, the light sputtered out pathetically, dousing them in shadows. Jason irritation grew steadily.

“Great,” Leo got up. “I’ll tell the RA.”

“I can-”

“I’ll tell the RA,” Leo snapped and slammed the door behind him.

Without Leo as a good friend, the days went back to a horrible normal. It was difficult knowing your best friend was mad at you, but not knowing why. Jason’s meals were filled with silence, too uncomfortable to swallow, and his side felt colder than normal.

When it came to Spring Break, having a week off of class would’ve been perfect for Jason to spend with Leo. Instead, Leo said, Have a good break and left before Jason could say goodbye.

This time around, Leo didn’t seem to come back. Apollo must’ve really picked him up, but where home was, Jason didn’t know.

He didn’t want to know.

There were more people around campus this time, but Jason didn’t want to be around those people- he wanted to be with Leo. He exercised around the room, did laps around the fields, and worked on late assignments, but it didn’t matter when he was alone. He thought about calling Piper, and even worked up to it, but the one call lasted four seconds because Piper was in the mountains. Jason thought about breaking the rules again and heading out to see some of his friends, but what was the point? They weren’t reaching out to him in response. The last postcard he’d received was from Thalia in New Zealand, that had been ‘lost’ in the godly postal system for months.

For the first couple of days, Jason was abandoned. He had a dream about Calypso sitting alone at her beach. For the next few days, he was lonely. He had a dream about Leo working alone in the engine room. For the final few days, Jason realized he should’ve known better and that maybe Leo was a dream. Jason hadn’t dreamed at all by then.

Leo had packed up enough of his stuff to look like he moved out. Maybe he did.

Not that it mattered.

The first week after break, Leo didn’t show up. Jason didn’t notice the first day: he missed classes, forgetting his break was over. On the second day, Jason had been wrapped up in a tennis game. The third and fourth days, he started to get worried and tried seeing if Tempest could find him, but Tempest neither liked being a bloodhound nor did he like Leo (much).

By the time Jason had convinced himself that Leo had run away, and he should take his stuff to find him, he began to think, would Leo do the same for me? Hasn’t he been chasing long enough? Jason was safe where he was.

Then he thought, it didn’t matter if Leo would care; Jason’s love was enough.

And then, Jason realized, Leo would. Leo would drop everything for him, in the nastiest way. Leo was cruel enough to die for him. Didn’t that forgive everything? Didn’t the mere act of being best friends mean anything? Even if they weren't friends, hadn't they been through enough together to mean something? If the two of them had become two different individuals on opposite sides of the world and forgotten all that had happened, wouldn't they still have been intrinsically tied somehow?

It was silly to think about it in that way. It was silly to think otherwise. Jason and Leo were tied the moment the Great Prophecy had been uttered, and the very week they took their first breaths together. Jason had tried enough times to run from fate, but Leo's webbing was still clinging to him. 

Then, a few days passed, and again, Jason was convincing himself that the last few months never happened, or maybe he was stuck in an illusion, or maybe he really did die in Rome, or maybe Leo never existed in the first place, when Leo pushed through their dorm door.

“Jason Grace,” Leo Valdez pointed at him. His dark eyes were bloodshot, deepset bags underneath, skin pale and his body trembling. He was wearing Jason’s- Percy’s- orange Camp Half-Blood sweatshirt, still stained with blood. Under the fixed ceiling light, he nearly sparkled. Jason knew that shine. Ichor. “What the fuck is a demigod?”

Chapter Text

Lester’s apartment- and, to some extent, Leo’s- was clean and sparse. The rugs were a perfect white cloud, and the appliances sparkled as if new. Lester lived in a penthouse in downtown LA with wide floor-to-ceiling windows and sleek marble staircases. To say his foster brother was rich was beyond an understatement, but Leo acted cool, like he belonged in the ridiculously swanky apartment.

“What do you even do?” Leo said. “Like for work?”

“You don’t remember?” Lester beamed. “‘Course you don’t, kid.” He ruffled Leo’s hair until Leo slapped him away. “Text me if you need anything. And do not leave this apartment unless it's an emergency. LA’s a dangerous place. You should be safe here.”

“You’re leaving? But we just got-”

“And I missed nine meetings and a band practice to pick you up,” Lester glanced at his Rolex. “There should be food in the fridge. Don’t break my shit. Just watch TV or play video games or something. Don’t leave this apartment.”

He left Leo alone in the apartment without another word. Leo eyed the giant flat screen, and the shelves of video games at its side. If he remembered correctly, Lester had every game system known to man. He grabbed a remote and sat into one of the sofas, not expecting to sink into feathery heaven and warmed butt rests. A new upgrade?

Screw leaving the house. Leo was about to have the best break of his life.

It took one day for Leo to grow bored. He ordered a pizza despite Lester having any food that could possibly come to mind. He tried moving around the house to see if there was anything more to do, but he couldn’t find anything interesting. Mostly notebooks of bad poems. Lester was really dramatic.

The last time he’d been here was right before Edgarton. He could only stay for a few days, but Lester had followed him around like a dog with a sunny smile. From what Leo could discern, Lester loved music, based on the autographs and records hung on the walls. But he might’ve also been a doctor, considering the weird medical files Leo found digging into Lester’s locked desk. He couldn’t read the language, so he decided that maybe Lester was a secret spy.

This game of discovering the house became boring in approximately 2381.32 seconds. The only weird thing was Lester having one of those Zoltar fortune-telling machines from a carnival stuffed away. Leo kept putting in quarters, but the message was the same every time: Please insert a drachma. Please insert a drachma. Please insert a drachma. This became boring quickly, so Leo left it alone.

He texted his foster mom, Juno, but she didn’t respond like always. Then he texted Lester, who just sent back the middle finger emoji and ignored the rest of his messages. Every few minutes, he would glance at the front door, antsy. He didn’t really know what he was waiting for, but Leo couldn’t help the odd feeling. Leo collapsed on his giant bed. He had no idea what he did to get such a rich family interested in him. The past foster parents he could remember were typically a mixed bag. He rolled over to look out the giant windows, where the Los Angeles cityscape winked at him. This was much better than being stuck with his Aunt Rosa.

He yawned, stretching high, before hitting the jacuzzi again. Time to boil alive.

Leo had been having the oddest nightmares. For a few days, he saw a younger Jason jogging past. It was a quick moment, but his mind replayed it over and over again: Leo’s mother holding his hand, Jason rushing past with two other kids in matching shirts running past him. Each time, Jason stumbles into Leo and yells, “SORRY!” and Leo always finds himself turning to watch him go.

He didn’t get much sleep despite being in this moment so many times. The bags under his eyes darkened, and he could hardly concentrate on anything. Leo sunk into the bubbles, trying to fall asleep once more.

When he finally got the courage to sneak out, he knew he was being watched. Leo had this feeling constantly, but whenever he turned his head, he couldn’t find the correct answer.

LA sucked. It was hot, and everyone was too self-obsessed with themselves to watch where they were going. Luckily, Lester had left some extra debit cards lying around. This was a tactic Leo’s done before: max out the foster’s cards, then run when he’s caught. But he’d never had Lester’s level of wealth.

Leo snuck through some stores, idly window shopping. Sometimes, he’d turn around and see someone staring at him. Then, a car would pass by, and whoever was there would be gone.

It truly got to Leo when he was in a sneaker store, trying on some new shoes. He was bent over, tying the laces, when a portly man came over with a big grin. In his arms, he held a shaking chihuahua.

“Ah,” the man said. “It’s you, isn’t it? I can feel the heat already.”

“Excuse me?” Leo stood. “Do you need something-?”

The chihuahua yapped at him, snapping absurdly large teeth. The man scratched the dog’s head and nodded.

“Yes, yes, I know. In time, Snuffy. Yes, he does smell delicious. I think he’s one of them.”

Gross. Leo quickly kicked off his shoes and hightailed out of there.

It took him a day or so to sneak out again. He knew Lester was around because Leo would always wake up to a breakfast set aside for him, but he never saw the man.

This time, when he snuck out, he brought a pocket knife to nail down whichever pervert would try to get him next. Again, he wandered through the streets, trying to find something interesting.

It helped clear his thoughts. Leo felt so far away from Edgarton and Jason, that it almost felt like a dream. Maybe it was. That’s what Leo was thinking as he peered at the streetside group playing a Bon Jovi song on violins. They were pretty good. Leo looked up at just the right moment to see a flash of silver and wide eyes.

It's impossible. The moment he leaves that stupid school, he can finally get answers. Leo shoved a bunch of hundred-dollar bills into the troupe’s hat and began running. He shivered as he ran, though it wasn’t very cold, but he resisted the urge to draw his eyes away from the shiny jacket.

He ran into the street, yelling apologies, as the cars swerved away, honking angrily. Leo didn’t really care. If this was what he thought it was-

He grabbed her arm, and she stopped running.

“It’s you,” Leo said, breathing hard. He doubled over but held his grip, afraid that if he let go, she would disappear once more.

“Hi, Leo,” Calypso smiled. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Let’s talk.”

They ended up sitting inside a Starbucks. A muffin sat before Leo, and an iced coffee was in front of Calypso. Neither touched their food, but Leo paid for it.

“How are you?” Calypso started first. “You look better.”

“Fine. You?”

“Good.” Calypso nodded with a smile. “I’m good. Great.”

Leo eyed her sparkling silver parka. The weather wasn’t too cold, but he didn’t know the girl well enough to tell what was appropriate or not. Calypso’s hair was cut shorter than Leo last remembered, snipped at the chin with the remnants of purple dye. Her ears had a stack of hoops and stars lined along them, her skin sparkling like she’d found the goldmine of lotions.

Well, that wasn’t fair. How come Leo got all the emotional baggage from the breakup, but Calypso got the makeover?

“What do you remember?” Calypso said. She didn’t seem hopeful, as if she was itching for Leo to remember her- this was just the natural progression of the conversation.

“Not much,” Leo said. He told her about the beach and Festus, then the memory of waking up in the hospital. He began to falter when he remembered Calypso’s final promise to come back to him.

When he stopped talking, they stared at each other, a stifling tension palpable.

“I wanted to stay with you at first,” Calypso started, twisting a thin silver ring around her index finger. “But when you couldn’t remember everything, I didn’t know what else to do. We weren’t getting along, and you were impacted from the island and-”

“The island? Like the one from my dream?”

“...I don’t think so,” Calypso’s eyes fell on her coffee. “You mentioned other people. My island was just me and the helpers.”

Leo racked his brain for solitary islands. Did he screw up a relationship with not only a hottie but a loaded one? How could he forget something like that? “What’s the island called?”

Calypso’s lips pursed. “Leo…”

“What?”

Despite the question, Calypso took a long sip from her coffee. She glanced out the window, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I should go. You’ve been through a lot.”

“Wait-” Leo’s hand grabbed hers on the table. She couldn’t leave. Leo had too much to ask, too much to say. The moment he did, his stomach began to flip as Calypso stared at their joined hands with apathy.

Then, Leo’s world spun, and he found himself splitting into--

A luxurious living room filled with statues. A chandelier swinging above in the darkness. Leo nearly jumped out of his skin when he brushed past one of the statues. Current-Leo swept his eyes around the room for Calypso, hoping that maybe this was her home and maybe she would be nearby.

Instead, to his frustration, stood Jason. He was rougher than the Jason at Edgarton like he’d been dragged through the mud and kicked around a few times. Unlike with Hazel, Leo didn’t have to question if this was a Jason, because he knew. This was the Jason, his Jason. It’s undeniable at this point.

Current-Leo wanted to kill his roommate.

Funnily enough, Memory-Leo was thinking about saying a few choice words to the guy as well. How can one boy make his life so infuriatingly complicated? Leo felt Jason Hedge was weird, but this was beyond words. Leo, both now and then, could only feel the sharp sting of resentment.

“Where’s the light switch?” Stupid Jason asked.

Bitter, Leo’s mouth moved automatically: “I don’t see one.”

“Fire?”

Current-Leo had been so caught up with Jason that he completely missed the girl. She was remarkably pretty but was just as beat-up as Jason looked, perhaps even worse. But the Past-Leo only felt a fondness for her.

Piper, came to mind. 

“It’s not working,” he said.

“Your fire is out? Why?”

“Well, if I knew that-”

“Okay, okay,” the girl, Piper, sighed. Leo bristled inside at the revelation. She- They, he side-glanced at Jason, who looked away when he caught him staring- knew about his fire curse. She had said it like it was normal.

“What do we do- explore?” Piper continued.

“After all those traps outside? Bad idea.” Leo found himself saying. Traps?

“Leo’s right. We’re not separating again,” Jason finally said. When Leo looked at him, Jason averted his gaze with shame. Current-Leo still felt the prickle of anger within, but tucked underneath was a touch of sadness. His head hurt. This was too confusing and stupid. But when Jason agreed with him, Current-Leo couldn’t help but flush at the smug satisfaction that boiled within, a fluttering in his body.

He missed what was said but found himself eating cold beans and then working on some freaky giant cage. He didn’t even want to touch whatever that goat thing was, but Current-Leo was at least, happy to have a moment to himself.

He enjoyed working with his hands, but at least the Past-Leo worked robotically. Current-Leo felt the blush of his past thoughts, but it was like poking through a thin sheet. He had an idea of what he felt back then, but it was hardly the whole truth, as memories often fade.

He knew something else, though: there was (the) Jason, there was (a) Piper, and then there was him.

Jason was…. Current-Leo didn’t even want to think about it. Whenever he did, his current frustration mingled with the remnants of whatever past frustration he had, creating a nasty concoction of bubbling anxiety. The words that came to mind were embarrassing, and Jason, currently trying to sleep, was different. The same. But different.

He wished this wasn’t so complicated, and he could bonk his head with a hammer and get all these memories back. Instead, Leo felt his lips move to say, “Get some sleep. It’s your turn.”

At first, he thought maybe Jason had fallen asleep, but then the boy sighed. “Leo, I’m sorry about the stuff I said in Chicago. That wasn’t me.”

Leo’s hand trembled. What Past-Leo was thinking made his nostrils flare, and he wanted to yell at himself, but he couldn’t. This had already happened.

“You’re not annoying, and you take stuff seriously, especially your work.” Jason breathed. “I wish I could do half the things you can do.”

It was ridiculously earnest. It was the Jason who had never done his readings before class, Jason who waited for him to leave the pool, Jason who would pick up an extra sticky bun, Jason who took whatever Leo threw at him with a tired smile.

For a moment, they weren’t in their ratty coats in a cold giant mansion but sitting next to each other in class, quietly working, as Leo bit his pencil eraser and looked over to find Jason glowing from the sunshine through the window.

Leo hated him.

“I try very hard to be annoying,” Leo said. “Don’t insult my ability to annoy. And how am I supposed to resent you if you go apologizing? I’m just me, and you’re, well, you. I’m supposed to resent you.”

I’m supposed to resent you. I’m supposed to resent you. I’m supposed to resent you.

Both Leo’s, past and present, felt super fucking exhausted. Current-Leo shoved away the feelings he had felt back then. I’m supposed to resent you. The words ring around his head like a ping-pong ball.

Then, Leo’s vision began to blur as the goat thing started to howl about push-ups. 

Chapter Text

And he was looking up at a familiar high ceiling. He sat up, wincing and rubbing his temple. He was gone from the mansion and back into Lester’s penthouse, sitting in the comfortable guest room. He threw his legs over the side, almost knocking into the nightstand where a glass of water, a pouch, and a note were left.

Leo,

I wish we could talk more. But I don’t think I’m the right person to ask. We should talk when you remember everything. I really am sorry. If I had known, I wouldn’t have let you make that promise. I want to say thank you properly. IM me later, okay?

Cals

The pouch, a woven fabric, felt light in his hand. Inside, however, was a rainbow prism and some gold coins that looked like they were either worth a lot or absolutely useless. Leo reread the letter as much as his mind could, and none of it made any sense.

He wanted to rip it up and pretend it never existed, but this was the only proof of Calypso that he had.

There was a knock on the door. Before Leo could even open his mouth, Lester waltzed in.

“A little birdie told me you bumped your head,” Lester hummed. “Do you know what I was in the middle of? You’re lucky that I owed that girl a favor.”

“Calypso?” Leo closed the note before his foster brother could see it. Lester looked amused at the action but didn’t say anything about it.

Instead, the blond man stepped in front of Leo and tilted Leo’s chin upward with his finger. “Hm. Nothing too serious. You kids always get into the worst situations…” he started to mumble to himself about stupid, ungrateful children.

Leo didn’t care. He was hooked on something else: “Calypso called you? She knows you?”

“You talk too much, Valdez. Your mom ever told you to shut up?”

Leo pressed his lips together and slapped away Lester’s hands.

“How’s your diet?” Lester asked, not affected. “Feelings of harming yourself or others?”

“What are you, a doctor?” Leo snapped. “When are you going to answer my questions? Did you know that Calypso was here? Did you know-”

“Valdez,” Lester snapped, and Leo’s jaw immediately clamped together, his eyes shutting closed.

A warm hand relaxed over his forehead. It grew warmer, the shadows moving differently through Leo’s eyelids, but when he opened his eyes, Lester pulled away his hand and slapped his cheek.

Leo’s mouth opened, but nothing would come out.

“You seem fine. A couple of knocks to the head won’t kill you. Maybe get some Vitamin C into you and watch out for that weak ankle.” Lester pulled out a phone and began typing furiously. “What the hell- Eros, I swear to-” then he glanced down at Leo. “I’m busy. You stop being annoying. Stay here. You don’t know what trouble you caused running around the city. I can’t keep cleaning up this mess.”

The door slammed behind him.

Leo crumbled. He’d ruined it all. He thought about all the times he’d had a moment like this with his past foster families. Lester would return with CPS, telling Leo that he just wasn’t a right fit and that maybe there’s a perfect family for him somewhere else in the world.

Then, Leo did the only thing he could think of doing whenever that happened: he ran.

Los Angeles at night wasn’t… the prettiest. Leo didn’t know the city well enough, so he wandered the streets where he could. He knew if he used Lester’s cards it would create a trail, so he kept some bills on him. He raided Lester’s pantry before leaving, but he wasn’t very hungry in the first place. Leo kept an eye out for any cop cars or one of Lester’s many fancy cars, but he was left alone.

When it grew dark at night, Leo stumbled through any stores that he could find open. Then he found a nice little stoop under a bridge that has the remnants of some other homeless person left behind with an overturned shopping cart and some torn gloves. He found a newspaper and tucked it under his head, zipping up his jacket. He tried blowing out some fire, but nothing came out.

Unable to do much more, Leo drifted into a deep sleep.

By the time his eyebrows had been waxed and he’d been shoved into a hairdressing seat, pumped taller and taller, Leo realized he was dreaming. The air had a stuffy pressure to it and a wispy sort of smoke like Leo was shifting through clouds. Leo peered over to his hair stylist, whose features seemed a little off, like an artist had made a mistake and smudged away her features, her body tapering off into a wisp-like ghost.

“Be sure not to cut too much,” Juno stood at his side, flickering through a magazine. He had only seen her enough times to count on one hand, but Leo instantly recognized her. She held out the magazine for the stylist to see, and the woman glanced at Leo with a puzzled look.

“More, like this, but without the coloring,” Juno pointed to a magazine page. In the mirror, the most Leo could read was OLYMPUS as the title, with a picture of a familiar boy with green eyes, his arms looped around a taller dark-skinned girl focused on a pile of blueprints. Both donned orange shirts and shorts, hair pinned back with bandanas in a construction scene.

Leo was sprayed with water in the face.

“Hey, hey, HEY LADY-”

“Emilio,” Juno said gently, moving to sit in the chair next to him. “Be quiet.”

Leo stopped moving, and the thin ghost woman pressed back his hair.

He didn’t understand why he was in a salon, nor did it look like any salon he’d been to before. The room was fairly still, with the exception of some foreign retro pop playing in the speakers and a woman with bright blue wings shuffling through shampoo bottles by the sinks. It was like he was out of place and out of time—some aspects had to be a dream, while others looked too real not to be.

Leo wasn’t even sure he was with Juno either, but everything in his body told him he was. Juno, though they’d met prior, he thought her to be taller. Maybe firmer. This was Juno, sitting with him in blue jeans and sandals, but it wasn’t exactly Juno.

Despite the differences, Leo was faintly reminded of his mother.

That gave him the confidence, or perhaps idiocy, to speak again. “What are we doing?”

“You’re getting a haircut,” Juno turned the page. She sat very prim, one leg over the other, and her foot turned down at the perfect angle—precise, intentional.

“Why am I getting a haircut?”

“Because your hair is long.”

Leo’s ear tickled from the ghost woman’s ministrations. “If this is a dream, can’t you just- I don’t know- dream me up a new hairstyle? Why are we doing this?”

Juno managed to look at least apologetic. “I think you know the answer to that, Emilio-”

“I don’t,” he scowled. “And it’s Leo.” 

“Leo Valdez,” Juno said carefully, dropping her magazine onto the counter, “Why are demigods always fighting?”

That caught him off guard. The word tasted strange in his mouth: “Demigod?”

“Yes, you’ve heard me,” Juno clasped her hands before her. “Do you understand how tough of a position you’ve put me in? I tried my best, but you and that stupid man-child have interfered.”

“Man-child?”

Juno huffed and dropped her chin into her palm. Her manicured nails were immaculate, from what Leo saw before his hair fell into his face. “The musical brat. Lester, was it? It leaves a bad taste, but I would’ve went with Paris.”

“Huh-” he got splashed in the face again.

“Leo,” Juno said. “Do not mistake my kindness to you as more than a favor. You are testing my limits and drawing unnecessary attention.”

“I am?” he shivered when the ghost woman went through him to look at his face, then pulled out of him to resume snipping.

Juno picked up another magazine, this time the cover reading CHARITES WEEKLY: APOLLO’S SECRET AFFAIR? AGAIN?! PART 312! Juno looked distastefully at the cover and put it down as well.

“How do I put this simply?” she hummed. “There is no ending where you are truly happy, Leo Valdez. That is how it was written, and that was how it would be. I have already messed with this web, and you’re in plenty enough trouble to get us in this situation.”

Leo’s blood chilled. There is no ending where you are truly happy. An image of a fortune cookie comes to mind, and he swallows a large glob of saliva.

“It’s not your fault,” Juno glanced towards him. “Oh, Cirro, a little off the sides there- perfect.” Her eyes met Leo’s, their intensity forcing him to avert away. “I should’ve never listened to Apollo when he said he wanted to help. All he needed to do was keep you two apart, but then I’m told he dropped you right into my champion’s lap! I cannot protect him from my husband since he broke our deal.”

Leo gets sprayed with a cotton-candy-smelling mist, and a gust of wind brushes off his shoulders, the protective covering lifted away. He was turned towards a floating mirror, with Cirro, the ghost woman, nodding appreciatively. Juno stepped behind him, hands on Leo’s shoulder.

“It suits your face well,” Juno tucked his hair behind his ears, bending to his level. Leo didn’t see much of a difference, but his hair did feel lighter and cleaner. He was mostly concerned with the beautiful face next to his, his face warming up with the compliment.

It wasn’t an attraction sort of thing. While Juno was certainly beautiful, the way Leo felt was different. Like a duck following a brave swan. He tucked his hands under his thighs.

“This was lovely,” Juno commented to the hairdresser. “I shall see what I can do with that, Mellie, to soothe her anger. Though I agree—it is distasteful to skip your sister’s wedding.”

Then Juno patted Leo’s cheek. “I fear this is where we part. If you can, try to stay away from my child. He is a handful as well, but I fear the two of you are like Pyramus and-” she paused, tilting her head. “Hm. I don’t think I’m allowed to say that. Very well. It seems my husband might be catching along to this faster than expected. I have tried my best to hide you two, but you both make it difficult. It is getting harder to pull you apart.”

She kissed Leo on the cheek. The kiss burned so hot that Leo woke up on top of a pile of flaming coals.

“Oh man!” A large hulking figure whined. “Dinner’s ready!”

So, from what Leo could gather, he had previously—at some point of his forgotten life—messed with these really horrible creatures that chased him around the city for days. They were big, smelly, and nasty—and worst of all, they were strong. Leo couldn’t even call the police or Lester to help.

After a few days of playing chase with one-eyed freaks, Leo remembered what Lester said: he shouldn’t have left the apartment.

“Ma! I can still smell him! Yummy!”

Leo kept running, gripping his knife. It had been at least three days that he'd been trying to escape. He didn’t have enough confidence to fight, and whenever he thought he lost the monsters, they’d appear in the middle of the crowd. And the times they did catch him…

He was going insane. One of them, Ma Gasket, as he learned, had a serious vendetta against Leo. At first, Leo thought he was hallucinating- whenever he ran into the street, it was as if no one could see the large beasts clambering down with a giant club. But Leo winced, recalling the heated breath against his face and the moment his arm was nearly ripped off before he could kick away, they were very real.

Finally, Leo was able to find the apartment complex. The doorman waved at him but frowned at what was outside. The doorman reached into his pocket, but Leo didn’t stick around to see what happened next.

“Slippery, slippery demigod!” One of the monsters sang out to him. “We’ve played this game before!”

There was that word again. It felt so dirty, he wanted to claw at his body.

His lungs burned as he ran up several flights of stairs. He prayed to anything out there that Lester had been right, that it was a safe place, and he wished he wasn’t stupid enough to doubt that. If he survived, he would be nice to his brother for the rest of his life.

“A workout before dinner?” The voice cackled. “Ma would be proud of you!”

He finally reached the door to the end of the stairs, yanking it open as he ran down the hall. He didn’t think he had ever ryn this much in his life, but he could keep up, sort of. His heart was burning, and every inch of his body wanted to collapse, but Leo knew if he quit, he would regret it.

Calm down, Leo heard a voice in his head. You’re always running. Calm down.

Fuck you, Leo thought. He didn’t know when Jason became his conscience, and it pissed him off, but that anger brought up a new burst of energy. He groped around the door, shoving the key in and slamming it shut behind him. Leo fell to his knees, panting as sweat burned his eyes.

A few heart-pounding moments, and then there was an angry shriek as something heavy slammed against the door. Leo squeezed his eyes shut, knowing it was over, as he heard the repeated bang, bang, bang. He could still smell the monsters, feel their hands squeezing his legs, talking about seasoning and revenge.

Then the noise stopped. The walls stopped shaking, and Leo opened his eyes. Quiet.

He moved towards the door, pressing his ear against it. Through the cracks of the door, he could hear heavy breathing. Then, a familiar voice:

“Leo, open the door. I forgot my key. Is everything okay?” Lester’s voice rang through. Leo grabbed the doorknob and tried to peek through the peephole, but it was covered.

“Leo,” Lester begged. “Open it. I have to pee. Come on, kid. Don’t let me get angry now.”

The worst chill he had ever felt slid down his back. Leo’s hand on the knob wavered, and the furious banging returned.

“Leo? Are you there? Let me in.” a sweet voice pleaded from the other side of the door. “Please?”

It was Piper, the girl from his dream. Leo’s instinct was to open the door immediately and run into her arms. Instead, he snapped the secondary lock on the door and slid down to the ground and back to the door. But the door kept banging. It refused to knock down, even though the ground rumbled, and each knock scared him more than its predecessor.

“Leo, please…” came Piper’s melodic voice. “I’m getting hungry. We’re best friends, remember? Why did you leave me?”

Leo fumbled with his phone, dialing Lester, then Juno. Neither picked up. Leo would’ve called the police but he had a feeling that was worse. None of his neighbors seemed to care. He didn’t know who else to call outside of his roommate.

Did he even remember Jason’s number? Leo wanted to cry. His sweat caused the phone to slip out of his hand, the screen shattering. The glass crunching broke through the noise, and Piper grew quiet.

Leo held his breath, hoping the creature would go away and leave him alone. Instead, he heard furious scratching.

“Leo,” Jason’s voice begged. “Come on. Aren’t we best friends?”

“Stop it,” Leo yelled. “Go away!”

The moment he responded, he knew he messed up. The scratching turned into a fever of pounding and crying, and a burst of mind-melting heat wafted through the door.

Jason grew more desperate. “Leo, please, I miss you. I want to see you again.”

“Go away,” Leo slapped his hands over his ears. “Go away!”

He wanted his mom. Maybe Lester. Anyone. It was his first monster nightmare come to life. A demonic evil ready to chew him up.

“You’re not being fair, demigod.” Jason thundered. “Why are you ignoring me? Did I do something wrong? Let’s talk about it. It’s okay. I forgive you. Let’s talk.”

Leo squeezed his eyes tighter.

“I miss you,” Jason moaned. “Leo, please. The danger is gone. I have you. Don’t you trust me?”

More than anything, Leo wished Jason was here. He seemed to be the only persistent annoyance in his life. He wanted Jason across the door to be real, wanted to ball out his eyes and have someone else take care of it.

He didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t want a hero either. He just wanted his life back.

“I love you,” Jason whimpered. “I forgive you.”

Leo didn’t know what else to do but sob.

At some point, he cried himself to sleep. This time around, he didn’t have a dream—just the slow opening of his eyes and a nasty taste of rubber in his mouth.

The apartment was dark outside, the glow of the city glimmering inside. Leo crawled to his feet, stumbling around the darkness to the kitchen. He devoured a water bottle, then another, then another, tossing them into the sink. Shivering, Leo staggered towards the bedroom, his exhaustion taking over. He tugged on a random sweatshirt and stuffed his backpack with light items.  Then, after a second thought, he shuffled through his backpack for his lighter and snatched up a kitchen knife from the block.

Oddly, the glint of metal from the moonlight was comforting. Leo wavered outside the door, chest heaving. There wasn’t any noise, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything there.

He glanced at the pile of luxury keys in a bowl. He picked up a random one and hoped to God that he remembered where the parking garage was.

Leo closed his eyes and counted down. Then he yanked open the door and launched himself, knife flying.

He stole Lester’s motorcycle—it wasn’t like the guy was using it. Leo had no clue how to drive one, but it was his only key. It didn’t seem to matter—the vehicle worked exactly how Leo wanted it to, purring to life.

That didn’t mean he was any good at it. Leo skidded off the road and was nearly thrown into a tree several times. An oddly placed branch could kill him in seconds. His entire body hurt, but his mind was going off like an emergency siren, filled with danger. He knew how this went. If he stopped running, he would not like who would catch him.

He didn’t know where he was going. Leo didn’t understand how California was built, but he trusted a tugging in his gut to lead him. Blind faith, really, as he coasted through Beverly Hills and onto a freeway. Every few minutes, he would look behind him and swear there were a pair of LED headlights following every turn.

Then, things began to look familiar, and Leo knew where he was and why he had come here. He hopped off the motorcycle and started sprinting across the quad. Tripping over the stairs, he pushed to the end of the hall and banged open the door.

There, Jason was sitting on Leo’s plain bed, immediately standing up at Leo’s entrance.

“Jason Grace,” Leo scowled, trembling. “What the fuck is a demigod?”

The stairs creaked from down the hall. Leo must've made a face because Jason immediately crossed the room, reaching into his pocket. He pushed Leo behind him, further into the room.

Leo gaped at Jason’s large frame standing in front of him. This was a familiar feeling, a fluttering sense scaring him, but also such strong relief rushing through his body that he could cry.

They held their breath as one. Jason peered out the door. Then, he slackened and let out a sigh of relief.

“It’s just Elliot brushing his teeth,” Jason closed the door behind him, locking it. He turned to look at Leo. “What happened-”

Leo dropped to his knees, shaking. It couldn’t just be some kid from their hall. He knew there was something out there. He couldn’t be imagining it. He had felt the heat of the monster’s breath on his skin, felt the burn of his legs pumping, and the sweat curling into his wounds. Demigod. The word was sharp. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling in front of him, and Leo had the overwhelming urge to puke. Jason had to believe him- he was the only one who could understand what was happening.

Something grabbed his shoulder, causing him to jump. It was just Jason, Leo could realize this, by the smell of the soap. His lip quivered, and he fell into Jason’s chest. Exhaustion slammed into him the moment his face touched Jason.

“There’s something wrong with me,” Leo coughed out, tears stinging his eyes. “There’s something wrong- I’m going fucking crazy, and there were all these, fuck-”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Jason’s chest reverberated against his face. “Leo, listen to me. You have to trust me on this.”

Whatever Jason said afterwards, Leo missed. His ears were ringing, and he had exhausted himself so much that his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he passed out. The last thing Leo could think of was the slowing of his breath as his body slipped into an all too familiar position with Jason.

Chapter Text

Leo slept for three days. Jason told Leo’s teachers that he had the flu, and then the next day, he told his own teachers that he also caught the flu. As he paced the room, he could only turn back to look at Leo, expecting the boy to be up and chattering, only for Leo to stay on the bed unmoved.

Because Leo had stripped his mattress before leaving, and suddenly collapsed, Jason had to put Leo in his own bed. It was a little strange at first, as Leo was covered in blood, and honestly, Jason hadn’t washed the sheets in a while, but Jason could live with one less bed set. He sat at the desk chair, unable to do anything but watch Leo’s slow breathing.

On the third day, Jason returned from his night shower, and Leo sat up, tense with wide eyes. When he saw it was Jason in a towel, he sighed and rubbed his face.

“Jesus,” Leo's voice croaked out. He fell back into the bed. “What the fuck.”

The room was quiet as Jason changed into a clean shirt and boxers. Leo audibly exhaled into his bed and rolled around for a moment.

“It smells like you,” he muttered, tugging the sheets closer.

“It’s my bed.”

“Yeah…” Leo sat up. “I feel so disgusting.”

Jason didn’t want to mention that Leo smelled pretty bad and that the dried blood on his face was crusting, so he just nodded and sent a subtle wind through the cracked open window to brush through Leo. Leo shivered, wrapping the blankets around him further.

“Is-” Leo bit his lip. “Is…? Hm.”

Jason waited patiently, but it never came. Instead, Leo wiped at his eyes and gazed at Jason’s wall of pictures. Jason felt oddly shy as he shifted around the room, trying to give Leo space and resisting the desire to dive into everything.

He had so many questions. What happened? What was chasing him? Where was Apollo? Jason tried to ignore the sharp stench of monster lingering on Leo. A mixture of soot and wet dog.

Jason grew antsy enough that he finally threw a towel at Leo’s head. “Take a shower. You smell like shit.”

Leo flinched but caught the towel. He stared at it and then at his glittering hands, as if only now realizing what he was covered in.

“It was real,” Leo’s fists grew white from how hard he clenched the towel. “It was real.”

He pulled his legs over the bed and attempted to stand, but stumbled forward. Jason was quick enough to catch him, and Leo slapped him away, falling to the ground.

He gaped up at Jason, who was equally as surprised.

“Sorry,” Leo muttered, taking Jason’s hand to stand up. “I don’t know what that was.”

“It’s okay,” Jason frowned. “I’ll just… I’ll clean up while you shower.”

Leo nodded, stared at Jason a few seconds more, then silently headed out.

There was a Leo-shaped print of blood left on his bed. It smelled like Leo’s preferred deodorant but also like blood, sweat, and dirt. Worst of all, the monster stench clung to the sheets, and Jason scowled, opening the window. He pushed as much of the smell outside as he could, taking apart the sheets.

The blood stained the actual mattress. Jason didn’t know what to do with that. He wasn’t really a clean freak, but it was still gross, even if it was just Leo. He was in the middle of flipping the mattress when the door to his room opened.

Leo stood, wavering with his hand on the knob. He couldn’t look Jason in the eye. “Can you- Do you mind waiting for me while I shower?”

“Huh?” The mattress fell out of his hands with a loud POOF! that made Leo falter. “I am waiting for you…?”

“No, I mean,” Leo shifted awkwardly, sucking his teeth. “Like. In the bathroom. With me. You know.”

“Oh,” said Jason.

“I’m just-” Leo’s head fell. “It’s fine. Sorry. That was silly-”

“No, it’s okay,” Jason said, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t expect it, is all. But, uh, yeah. I get it.”

“... Yeah.” Leo’s eyes flickered to the hall, and Jason quickly replaced the bedding so he could follow Leo to the bathroom.

Their dorm had several bathroom stalls, solitary showers with curtains and a tiny ledge, but the farthest stall had a tub for accessibility. Leo wandered over there, holding onto the wall. The water was already rushing, and when Jason leaned against the sink, Leo held the stall door open for him, eyes at the ground.

Jason has seen Leo naked before- Camp Half-Blood’s communal showers were often pranked enough to see Leo running around chasing the Stolls in his birthday suit. There have been enough times where they’ve shoved each other out the way in the bathroom, or Leo pees while Jason brushes his teeth in the Argo. They’ve skinny-dipped with naiads, drunkenly streaked with Piper across Half-Blood Hill, and sometimes they were so exhausted after a camp game that they shuffled into a tiny stall together, washing at what the other could not, staring at each other’s pupils and asking questions for a concussion check.

But Leo wouldn’t remember any of that. This made this invitation a normal occurrence for Jason, but it was a heavy offer for Leo.

Jason shut the stall as Leo stripped, dropping his clothes to the ground. There was a seat at the side of the tub that Jason sat at. Leo sunk into the tub, knees bobbing out, and the water instantly turned brown.

They sat silently, Leo occasionally sniffling as he began scrubbing his body raw. Jason tried to give Leo some privacy, but he caught the various scratches and wounds Leo had gotten over the break. Some of them could easily be healed with ambrosia, but others would be more permanent.

Notably, Leo was quiet. Not that Jason expected much, no Hey pal! How was your break? Kill any good monsters? But Leo was silent. Considering what Jason guessed happened, it makes sense, but it was a twisted good quiet.

From what Jason’s heard, people often misunderstand something about Leo: he’s never silent. This was true to some extent. Leo was usually fidgeting with something, or humming, or muttering to himself, and Jason’s favorite thing to say is Shut up. However, when Leo was comfortable, very rarely so, when Leo was in his element or studying, brainstorming, thinking, or analyzing, whenever Leo was being himself without restraint, he was undoubtedly quiet in form.

Frank once asked about it: “What do you guys even talk about?” he had asked as they were patrolling together on the Argo.

Jason shrugged, “We don’t need to talk,” to which Frank quickly responded, “Leo’s scary when he’s quiet. That’s how I know something awful is going to happen. Have you seen my missing laundry?”

But Jason never minded it. He liked Leo when he couldn’t stop talking, he liked Leo when he talked about nothing, and he liked Leo when he wasn’t talking at all. If he could relive the small moments, listening to Leo hum as he cooked or scratch his chin at a baffling pipe burst, Jason would do so.

Regardless, the quiet from Leo that he had been getting before Leo left was the bad kind. Before Spring Break, the silence was choking and burning with malice. Now, in some twisted way, Leo had unconsciously opened himself up to Jason in a way that only Jason would ever care about.

Leo was quick and harsh about his shower. He was all pink and red when he stepped out, wrapping his towel tightly under his arms. He sniffed and glanced at Jason, offering a small smile.

“...Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

Back in the room, Leo’s only clothes were the ones he’d forgotten to wash before leaving. Leo had some serious B-O rotting in that corner, so Jason offered a t-shirt and shorts. When he put them on, Leo stared blankly at the purple SPQR shirt dwarfing him.

He sat on his own bed, and Jason watched one of the cuts on his thighs open again. He dug under his bed and pulled out a massive first-aid kit. Leo muttered another “thanks” when Jason knelt beside him to work away silently.

This was an unusual place. Normally, it was Leo wiping away his injuries from fighting too aggressively or being careless in a spar. Leo used to babble about gods know what until Jason told him to shut up. Then, Leo would just laugh and keep talking as he patted Jason’s bruised lip.

Here, Jason had no clue what to say. He didn’t know if he should talk at all. So he kept quiet, easing up whenever Leo hissed but dutifully going through every inch of skin to the next mark or bruise.

Eventually, when Jason moved up to his thigh, Leo cleared his throat. “...Why didn’t you tell me? You knew this whole time, didn’t you?”

“Hm?”

Leo deadpanned, looking at Jason as if to say, don’t play dumb now. Jason dropped his eyes to the gauze he was wrapping around Leo’s knee.

“I tried to, but you didn’t believe me. So I waited.”

Leo’s swallow was loud. “I hate you. We should've never met again.”

“...Alright,” Jason’s swallow was even louder. The sting in his chest was unbearable. He wished he could say how he felt: being with Leo was the same as enduring a stomachache, but being without Leo was unthinkable. Instead, he sat on the bed beside Leo and moved up to check his arms. “What do you remember?”

“Not enough. Barely anything that matters.” Leo lifted up his sleeve to his shoulder for Jason. “Calypso. Piper. Fucking Frank. Working alone on the Argo? The Doors… the ocean… I don’t know,” Leo frowned. “You.”

“What about camp?”

Leo shook his head. “Why are you asking me? Shouldn’t I be asking you? Fuck off.”

Despite saying that, he did not move away when Jason tilted his head towards him. His fingers ran over Leo’s cheeks, his thumb brushing over a scar across Leo’s lips. Leo’s eyes flickered up to his, and Jason stared back.

Then Leo slapped away his hand. He pushed himself back on the bed so his back was against the wall, far from Jason. “Start from the beginning.”

“Which beginning?” Jason asked. He stood and went over to his desk, shuffling around until he found what he was looking for. Offering Leo a piece of ambrosia, Leo hesitantly plucked it from his fingers and nibbled on it.

“The beginning,” Leo said, licking his lips. “Not- Not all at once. Just … tell me what you can.”

That was a complex request. Would the beginning be when the Fates strung them together through prophecy? When Jason was given up to Juno while Leo was playing around with Gaea? Jason’s first kill? Leo’s first monster? Their first real conversation, huddled together in the sewers?

He started at the most complicated part: when they met—both times. Jason started off with Wilderness and explained what he was told about it, as well as when they really met on that bus. He leaned into talking about Piper and Hedge, hoping the names would spark something in Leo, but Leo took each detail carefully, with a subtle frown as he concentrated. The only expression change he had was a small smile at the mention of Festus.

When Jason reached the point when Nico joined their crew, a shrill alarm rang, startling them both. Outside, the night had turned to day, with birds chirping in the trees. Jason didn’t need to get up to turn off the alarm- since Leo knew about his father, Jason just cut the power on it himself. Leo didn’t look surprised, but he did yawn.

“This was… a lot,” Leo’s voice finally cracked.

“You get used to it. Just have to roll with the punches.” Jason wondered at what point they were going to talk about it. The big event. August 1st.

“I bet.”

Jason eyed the half-nibbled ambrosia piece. “Not in the mood?”

“It tastes like shit.” Leo made a face. “Like burnt food.”

“What did it taste like before?” Jason asked. At some point through the night, Jason had ended up sitting next to Leo, a pillow width apart. His legs dangled off the other side of the bed, his big toe poking out through a hole. “At the beach?”

“Hm,” Leo folded his arms. “I think… mozzarella sticks?”

“Ah,” Jason nodded. “The Great Mozzarella Contest. You threw up for two hours. You have a bad choice in favorite foods.”

Leo’s fists curled up in his lap. “You’re telling me my favorite food is burnt grilled cheese?”

Jason shrugs. “It reminds you of home. Maybe you remembered something.”

Leo let out a long, heavy sigh. Only because Jason was watching him did he know Leo had closed his eyes, his head hitting the wall. “I don’t get it. None of this sounds like me, but it’s all me. I don’t think I’m that person anymore.”

“You’re you.”

“I don’t know what that means anymore,” Leo snapped. “Am I the foster kid? The troubled kid? The fire kid? The prophecy kid?” Leo started picking at one of his band-aids. “If all that shit happened, then why am I here? Where the fuck is my dad? My siblings? My friends? I’m laying my life down for all of them, and what? No cards? No flowers? No, Hey Leo, where’ve you been?”

Jason couldn’t answer that. He knew these questions because he had asked them himself twice. Once, when he started remembering Camp Jupiter. Then a month after he was placed in Edgarton, and everyone he knew went silent.

“You say I’m your best friend, but I don’t get it. We barely like each other!” Leo slid off the bed. He paced for a moment, then began pulling at Jason’s pictures. “Sometimes you guys feel like family. Okay. But how can you be family if you’re not here? Where’s Piper? Hazel? Where’s Hedge? How can I be your best friend when you have that Reyna chick, or Perky, or fucking Frank!”

As he talked, the photos fluttered to the ground. Leo’s words were heating up the room, and Jason was trying to move the warmth outside to avoid causing a literal meltdown. With each of Leo’s dangerous pushes came Jason’s subtle relief.

“I don’t know, Leo,” Jason said. “You’re always going to be my best friend.”

“Yeah, but I don’t-” Leo stopped his photo pulling and shook his hands at Jason. “I can’t just- what if that’s not enough? Like, what if I never get my memories back, or things are different, or one of us dies tomorrow, or it’s a dream, or--”

“All those things could happen, and you’d still be my best friend.”

Leo glared vehemently at him. “You’re not listening to me. What if I hated you? What if I’m not what you remember? What if we're not supposed to have met? Then would you still be here? Then would you have done this shit again?”

Jason watched the heat roll off of Leo. It had been a while since he had seen that. “I don’t know what you want, Leo. I’ve already told you. You’re my best friend.”

“No, you’re not. Then you would’ve told me instead of playing pretend.”

“I tried-”

“Well, try harder!” Leo yelled. Jason blinked, Leo’s desk lamp blinking on and off, and Leo closed his eyes, pushing his hair back.

"Okay,” Leo said, his voice lowered. He sighed with his entire body. "Say the prophecy line again.”

“Which part?”

“You know. The big one.” Leo sat on the edge of the bed. “I want to hear you say it.”

Jason crossed his arms. He didn't want to talk about it, but it was tangible in the room. He needed to talk about it at some point. “To storm or fire, the world must fall.”

“And that’s us? You and me? Hera or Juno or whatever only pushed us together to get the prophecy rolling?”

Jason didn’t need to say it. Leo’s expression morphed slowly into one of disgust. “So you’re telling me the reason why I’m a freak, and I’m being attacked, and my mom died, was for this? Some stupid ass prophecy with you and me? That’s what it’s all for?”

“Leo.”

“Maldito,” Leo said. “My aunt called me that for years because of some prophecy I never asked for. My dad’s been here the whole time and is just watching me struggle. What a great family this is.”

Jason’s hand fell on Leo’s knee. Leo stiffened like a board as he turned to Jason.

“You say you’re my best friend,” Leo said cruelly. “But looking at you makes me sick.”

Now Jason’s own temper started to spill over. “I get that you’re mad, but you’re not the only one who went through this. I tried to find you. I was the only one left!”

Leo stood up, shoving away Jason’s hand. “I can’t leave this place without thinking I’ll die. You should’ve just let me die!”

“I’m here BECAUSE of you!” Jason blurted. “Stop yelling at me! You’re being childish.”

“CHILDISH?” Leo cried, hands waving. “I never asked for this, for any of this, for- for you! You should’ve ran the moment you saw me in the principal’s office!”

Jason grabbed his arm, nostrils flaring. “Do you even hear yourself? I know, it’s a lot, but-”

“It’s not a lot,” Leo tried to pull his arm away, but Jason’s grip tightened. His arm began to heat up. “You and I should have never met. Then, none of this would’ve happened. We would’ve been normal and-”

The window began to crack, lamps flickering. “What are you not getting? It was inevitable. This was ALWAYS going to happen!”

“Me, losing everything?” Leo swatted his flying hair. “I sounded miserable on that boat. I can’t believe it! My life was shit, but ever since I met you, it keeps getting worse! Why can’t you leave me alone?”

“I’m not the reason your life is shit! Everyone’s life sucks!” Jason’s hand began to steam, and Leo’s body convulsed. The hair on their arms began to rise as Jason’s voice rose. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“Let go-”

“We went through this together. This is just like you!” Jason argued. “You did it then, and you’re doing it now. I am with you. You’re supposed to be this genius, and you can’t figure that out?”

“Shut up! You did it all the time,” Leo began shaking. “From what I remember, you’re always saying you got it, and you can handle it, but you CAN’T! You don’t fucking know me.”

“How fucking dense are you?”

“Fuck you! I could take care of myself just fine before you came along. Just admit it. ”

“It’s not about that, Leo, and you know it!”

“Then WHAT, Jason?” Leo screamed. “What is this about?”

Jason stopped. He couldn’t word it yet, not yet. He needed Leo to understand, but maybe Leo didn’t get it. The wind stopped screaming in his ears, and Leo was finally able to shake Jason off. The sharp smell of burnt flesh poisoned the air, Jason’s hand burned raw, and Leo’s arm with a giant hand shape gripped his forearm. An odd coiling bubbled in his stomach, his vision going hazy.

“Right,” Leo folded his arms. “That’s what I thought. Fuck off.”

Then, Leo repeated the most damning words, “I wish we never met.”

It happened the moment the words left Leo’s lips. The window burst, shattering glass into the room. Jason grabbed Leo to pull away, and Leo yelped, trying to shove him away. Then they fell through the floor.

Jason’s head hit grimy tile, and he saw stars. He groaned a heavy weight on his chest that, by instinct, he shoved off. Leo moaned in pain, grumbling to himself. Jason scrambled to his feet, looking around. Leo cursed at him, but Jason held out his hand.

“Stop bitching,” Jason snapped. “Where are we?”

They were in a convenience store. Cramped and smelling of nicotine, Jason couldn’t see anyone but the bored worker flipping through a Playboy and the huddled heads by the beer fridge. Leo looked as confused as Jason did.

Leo clambered to his feet, ignoring Jason's hand. “From the way I want to vomit, a memory probably.”

“Yours?”

Leo’s knees buckled. “Oh my god. You shocked me. You tried to kill me!”

“Leo!” Jason said. “What is happening?”

“Stop yelling at me! I don’t know! I don’t remember any of this!”

“It’s your memory-”

The group by the beer suddenly burst out laughing.

“Guysssss,” the worker at the front said. “If you’re going to steal, don’t do it where I work.”

“Come on, man,” one of the girls stepped forward. She wore a green jacket over a scruffy black Led Zeppelin shirt, with cutoff shorts and thick combat boots. Smudged dark mascara highlighted razor-sharp brown eyes. “We were just looking.”

Leo completely froze next to Jason.

“Espie,” the only boy in the group, whimpered. He was taller than the two girls, his tee tucked into his jeans, and his hand shaky on a red backpack filled with stolen, low-quality beer. “Come on, we’re caught. Let’s just go-”

“Wait,” the unassuming voice of the final girl came through. She was blonde and chubby, fumbling with her thick glasses as she leaned past the aisle where the cashier couldn’t see. “I have an idea but you have to work with me…” She looked up, right through Jason and Leo. Jason instantly recoiled, recognizing those features.

Jason didn’t know who said it first, but they both said it:

“What the fuck?”

END PART II

Chapter Text

PART III - keep it between us

The first time Beryl Grace had been made aware of Esperanza Valdez was when Esperanza introduced herself to the class. Her only thought when she saw the girl was that Esperanza’s ripped stockings and slept-in mascara were signs of a girl trying too hard. And she would know, as Beryl Grace was the definition of tryhard, something everyone knew, and she was quite proud of herself.

The second time Beryl noted Esperanza was when her best (only) friend in the world decided abruptly that he was finally in love. Beryl, growing red and stuttering, asked with who? Was she cute? Did she have blonde hair? Was she someone she knew? Was it someone whose name started with the name Beryl? Instead, Tristan McLean, in all his dorky sweet glory, spends a minute describing how the new girl was very cute, strange, and interesting, and all the other words he knew to describe any girl that wasn’t Beryl, it seemed. Her only thought was irritation at a girl who ate lunch alone like a loser (“a mysterious loner,” Tristan had sighed) and stared at everyone like they were dolls while Beryl needed to pick at tomatoes for a new diet. 

The third time Beryl was graced by the girl known as Esperanza, was when she and Tristan show up at the movie theatres, and of-fucking-course, the only person to be chewing popcorn in the lobby was Esper-fucking-ranza. It was a ridiculous coincidence: their town was so small that the only movie theater was a 30-minute drive away in the middle of nowhere, and they only received new movies at whim. Just ten more minutes, and you’d be in Oakland, where there were definitely better places and people to find than Beryl’s dumpy, miserable town.

Tristan, who had been Beryl’s best (only) friend for nearly a decade now, lit up immediately and suddenly, for the first time in that near-decade, grew balls big enough to talk to Esperanza, much to Beryl’s dismay.

Beryl wanted to cry. She had done a lot even to have this time free, and she'd be coming home to a father who ... Beryl's mouth quivered. With his family, Tristan could disappear whenever he wanted to. Beryl did not have such a luxury allowed to her. 

Proving just as much, Tristan rushed off to the bathroom, leaving the two girls, who didn’t know each other at all, to stand and eye each other.

It was really more Beryl eyeing Esperanza. Beryl fixed her sweater, sucked in her stomach, and puffed out her chest the way her mother taught her to.

“Y-you’re new, right?” Beryl tried, then flushed. Despite her assembled confidence, she fell apart instantly when it came to talking to people, especially ones she found intimidating. She'd been working on her stutter through acting classes for the past few years, but she still slipped up.

“...Yeah.”

“Did you just move here or change schools?”

“I move a lot.”

“Wow,” Beryl said plainly. “...Do you like it?”

Esperanza turned a little to roll her eyes, but Beryl caught it regardless. “It?”

“Here,” she clarified.

“It’s cold,” Esperanza shrugged. “Grody, I guess.”

“Not here,” Beryl stuttered, gesturing to the empty lobby. “I mean town.”

Esperanza just stared at her until Tristan came back with a jovial smile. Beryl stepped to the side, rubbing clean her glasses to help disguise her embarrassment and frustration.

She couldn’t say she didn’t like Esperanza yet. No, Beryl was fair, and even if she had stolen the heart of Beryl’s future husband, it’s not like that was the new girl’s fault. She was a total betty, with big warm eyes, pouty lips, and a small frame hiding under a tight Black Sabbath shirt. She could see the appeal if one was into that (and Tristan was, somehow).

Beryl wasn’t too ugly herself, which she knew from her various toddler modeling in department store magazines. She undoubtedly had her flaws, though: big, glaring, bulging, and loud. But Esperanza was what Beryl was not and continuously failed to be: thin and nonchalant, cool and naturally confident. Edgy, where Beryl was soft; black, where she was pink. Beryl gritted her teeth, tugging on her sweater.

What was worse was that Tristan used to be as awkward as Beryl was. If you had asked any kid around what they knew about Tristan McLean, they would tell you that he had a lot of siblings, and he cried more than all of them combined. Beryl didn’t mind it because Tristan was sweet. He listened to her, helped her with auditions, and always knew when she was upset. Sure, he was a little scrawny and moved with the grace of a bull, and perhaps he didn’t have the best grades or much money, but Beryl still thought he was the best person in this stupid town.

Over the summer, Tristan had grown taller and learned how to dress. His voice leveled out, and Beryl would wake up in the middle of the night embarrassed. The once-Tristan-McBaby’s gentle voice and love for guitar were suddenly a bit more attractive to the girls around him. Not that he noticed any of them— Beryl sniffed at how Tristan laughed with Esperanza— until now.

“We can sit together if you’d like,” she overheard Tristan offer. “Are you cold? I can give you my jacket. Aw, don’t give me that look, it’s fine! I insist. I insist!”

That was the thing about Tristan McLean. He was way too fucking nice. Even if he hadn't been crushing, he would've asked anyway. That was the difference between their self-imposed ostracization. Beryl was alone because she was too neurotic to talk to people, and when she did, she was unpleasant regardless. Meanwhile, Tristan was quiet to strangers and didn't think he fit in, even when he did. 

Beryl shoved a handful of Raisinets into her mouth to give her anything else to think about.

The movie was empty, as expected. It was a replaying of Rosemary’s Baby, advertised as if it hasn’t been out for more than a decade now, with sticky seats and stiff cushions galore. A faint smell of grape and nacho cheese lingered in the air. Outside of the three of them, some couple was making out in the back row already, and a gawky kid Beryl recognized from her orchestra class, a relatively adequate clarinet player. He waved at her,  nerd recognizing nerd, knocking his drink onto his plaid shirt. 

She had wanted Tristan to sit in the middle, but naturally, Beryl ended as the butt end of the Esperanza sandwich. She could tell whenever they whispered (Tristan was doing the most talking, nervously at that), but she couldn’t distinguish anything. In fact, if she even bothered to look, Beryl would face Esperanza’s profile and be reminded that her own skin wasn’t as clear.

She sunk lower in her seat. The only sign that Esperanza even remembered she was there was when the girl flinched when one of the doors slammed open a few minutes into the movie. The guy, extremely tall and bulky, yelled a deep SORRY! that deserved shushing, and he quickly settled into a row, found it unsuitable, and moved next to the wet shirt kid. The clarinet player moves a seat over, no doubt thinking, You can't seriously sit next to me in an empty theater.

Esperanza leaned in, heated breath against Beryl’s cheek. “Did I elbow you? Sorry.”

Beryl flushed and waved it off. “It’s okay. Accidents happen.”

She received a small smile in return, but then Tristan bent over to Esperanza, so Beryl’s mood soured as the titular Rosemary gasped at seeing her neighbor’s suicide, one of her favorite scenes. As an aspiring actress, she didn't know who she connected with more at the moment: the corpse or the girl who was to be next.

When they finally get out of the theatre, there are two cars left. While one was Tristan’s boxy sedan, the other Beryl assumed was Esperanza’s until the girl asked what time the next bus would come. There was no next bus, so of course, Tristan offered the long ride home.

Because of the storm that was raging, he said he’d run out and get the car heated up and move closer so they didn’t have to get rained on. Neither girl seemed to care about being in the rain, but he had already started jogging and slipping across the pavement.

Tristan’s car usually took a few tries to start up, so Beryl told Esperanza she could probably run to the bathroom if she needed to before the drive. Yet, when Tristan pulled up, the girl wasn’t in sight, no matter how many times he honked.

Beryl sat down in the seat, sighing into the heat, toes curling in her wet boots. 

“Uhhh,” Tristan laughed, head tilting in confusion. “Where’s Espie?”

Beryl blinked. Espie. They’ve known each other for the length of a movie, and it’s already Espie.“...I’m sorry? What?”

“Esperanza…? The girl you sat next to for the past hour?”

“Oh," Beryl said like it was possible to forget, "...bathroom.”

Tristan fiddled with the radio, tapping his fingers on the wheel. Every so often, he changed the station, hummed along to a song, then changed it again.

After twenty minutes of radio shuffling and Beryl trying to recall lines for an audition, Tristan spoke up.

“Did you say something to her or-”

“Why would you ask me that?” Beryl cried, incredulous. “Honest to God, Tristan!”

“Sorry, sorry!” He held his hands up, pouting already. “I just… I don’t know, I thought we were having fun, is all. Maybe she’s lost? I’ll go check-”

“I can check,” Beryl assured him, hand resting over his. She didn't want to have those two alone. “It’s probably nothing..." Beryl pretended to think. "Or maybe...a lady issue?”

“Oh!” Tristan said as if that was the first time this occurred to him. It probably was: he has seven brothers and one teeny tot sister. He was so agreeable and unassuming that he hadn't realized that Beryl used "lady issue" as an excuse nearly every other day. 

Beryl rushed back out into the rain and into the frigid lobby. She didn’t scare easily, but the thunderstorms, middle-of-nowhere atmosphere, and the empty building weren’t exactly Sixteen Candles. The clock told her that she was way past her curfew and she would have to face her father. Her nails dug into her fleshy palms.

She passed by the only worker who was locking up, and the teen worker told her not to steal anything and close the door. As if there was anything to steal, and Beryl would even consider such a thing. 

The lights were off in the bathroom, and when she called out, no one answered outside of the sound of water. One of the back windows was shattered, rain pouring in with the wind. Beryl would’ve immediately bounced out of there if it hadn’t been for the small groan she heard outside, Tristan’s favorite jacket peeking through glass shards.

“Oh my God,” Beryl rushed out through the front, running past Tristan, honking at her, shouting through the rain.

Beryl hollered, “THE BACK! THE BACK!” but thunder rippled just as it left her lips.

She wasn’t familiar with the back of the building, but the wind tore through her, carrying Esperanza's agony through the air, leading Beryl to her groaning body. Hissing as her knees fell into the broken glass, Beryl pushed the girl up against the wall. The girl’s head lolled, her fist holding tightly onto a dark fabric.

Dirty and muddy, a giant welt bled from her right temple, blood and rain dripping into her eye.

“What- Oh my God,” Beryl winced, trying to help her up. They kept slipping in the mud, Esperanza’s long hair hanging over her face. They trip, and Beryl looks down to find a random discarded shoe. This place was a dump. 

Esperanza grabbed her shoulders, eyes unfocused, as she begged over again: “Is he safe? Did he get away?”

“Who? Who?” Beryl yelled. Lightning flashed across the sky, thunder rolling a second later.

“There was a-” Esperanza trailed off, looking behind Beryl. Like an ice finger down her back, Beryl shuddered, whipping around.

At first, she didn’t see anything but the rain. Her glasses were useless, and her vision was awful. But then, she sees the hint of a figure stalking near and a flame flicker. Wind swept her hair back as he approached. 

Beryl’s not an idiot. She knew her horror movies. She grabbed Esperanza’s hand and ran.

Esperanza kept tripping and glancing back until she was the one who was pulling Beryl along at her slow pace. Her lungs burned. 

The wind shrieked, and Esperanza screamed back. Beryl couldn’t see anything, relying purely on the tight hand grip guiding her. Then she slipped, bringing them both down, like every godawful horror movie Beryl had ever seen. The person who had been following them was bigger than Beryl expected. His form was foggy on the edges but achingly dominating, and Esperanza shouted something at her, clawing at Beryl’s sweater to get up.

She's a child hiding from punishment. Her fingers tremble with dread. 

What made Beryl run was this: the figure began running first. Sprinting.

The glint of something sharp reflected lightning. A knife? A gun? She didn’t want to know. She pumped her legs as much as they could handle. Clambering onto the road, nearly missing where Tristan was waiting with the headlights off.

They hollered as much as they could, limping past the car, but Tristan couldn’t hear them.

A large gust of wind barreled them over, sending the girls across the street and onto the grass. Only a few feet away, Tristan looked up, headlights flickering on.

Beryl saw it in slow motion, in a way that dazzled her. Tristan had squinted through the dashboard and skated his car up to move the extra few feet. He was looking at the girls, so he didn’t see it. Tristan’s car moved up; the figure, attacker, creature— whatever, hit the car hoo with a meaty thump, an animal whining in pain as the wind halted.

For a moment, all Beryl could hear was her heartbeat, and she felt Esperanza’s grip on her hand. Then she realized it was the sound of the rain smacking into the ground, into her, into the body. She trembled to her feet, watching the limp bulge, shading the headlights with red.

She stood there, not sure what to do with the world paused like this. Then Esperanza pressed her lips against Beryl’s ears, yelling, “WE NEED TO MAKE SURE.”

Sure of what? Sure of WHAT? Esperanza shakes out the fabric she’d been holding, opening up to large shards of glass, showing Beryl expectantly.

Beryl stared, body going slack. Whatever this girl wanted from her was not going to happen. It didn’t matter, though, because Esperanza dragged her along and began thrashing against the body with the glass pieces.

Even though they weren’t holding hands anymore, Beryl was rooted at her side. Through Esperanza’s screams and aggressive jabbing, Tristan was still frozen at the wheel, jaw gaping.

There was a part of Beryl that seeped out of her with each hit. She pictured her own hands smashing and screaming, and the body in her imagination began to morph into someone she was scared to say. 

When Esperanza was done, guts spewed across the road like confetti. 

Beryl had seen many crime scenes on TV. She used to picture herself as the detective or the seductress, sleuthing out the cause and nailing the right guy. Instead, she had watched one friend hit someone with his car and stood by as another stabbed him to death. Her body felt aflame.

When Esperanza calmed down, she stepped back, dropping what Beryl now recognizes to be a shirt. Its pattern was familiar, sickeningly so.

Clarinet player. Movies.

Her age. Her classmate.

Her stutter is so bad it takes a full minute for her to gasp out: “W-we killed him.”

Even with the battered fleshy bits under the tires, there was something grotesquely enthralling at the sight. Esperanza's one eye was pink from blood, squeezing close, her mouth pulled into an ugly, horrible anguish.  She had something dark on her cheek, Beryl brushing away a piece of … fur? 

“A monster,” Esperanza breathed. They shuddered together, clasping hands in the cold.

“He was in my class,” Beryl’s hand shook. “Oh my God. It was so fast- and Tristan-” her eyes flickered past the headlights where Tristan was still frozen.

“Espie,” Beryl pulled her closer. “We killed someone.” Her eyes bubbled with tears, bawling loudly.

Esperanza faced her. Her eyes were reassuring as she caught her breath. Frightened but impossibly grounding. Beryl wanted to dig herself into this girl's skin to understand. 

Beryl barely knew this girl. She didn’t know a single thing about this girl. Not a single fucking thing. She felt light-headed.

“Shhh,” Esperanza’s wet forehead pressed against Beryl’s. Trembling as much as Beryl was. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“But we-”

“I know.”

“That was us. That was us.” Beryl’s body shook, and she dropped to her knees. Her stuttering sobs were eclipsed by thunder rolling over them, the rain pouring harder with them. Pain echoed through her body, glass shards still embedded into her, a bit of bone sticking into her thigh.

Here’s where she knew she had officially lost it, and she would never forget that feeling: when she looked up, there was nothing but a dent in the car. No angry red meat, no spilled blood, no torn open entrails. Nothing but rain. Esperanza rubbed at her fingers, some type of body glitter lingering.

She only knew it was real from the blood on her legs and the death clutch she had on Esperanza’s hand. Tristan's head was rolled back, fainted against his window.

If she were any more poetic, she’d say this was what it felt like to die. This was death, and this was how Beryl Grace really met Esperanza Valdez: wailing into a storm, clinging to a stranger matted with blood and glass, and knowing she could never take this back.

Chapter Text

Up until now, Esperanza could never say her life was filled with love. She didn’t have friends outside of the imaginary ones, her parents were no longer here, and her sister was… a lot.

She had never liked her sister, whether it was for the nagging or incessant hairspray, so they kept out of each other’s spaces for the most part. Rosa was a skinny stick of a girl, obsessed with jeans, turtlenecks, and whichever poor boy was deemed the hottest in the school for the month. Inarguably, Rosa was always right, even when she wasn’t, and her opinion mattered a smidge more because the two girls lived with Rosa’s father, not Esperanza’s.

Esperanza, on the other hand, was a sniveling little girl with big hair and a nasty attitude. She was too short and out of place; she liked horror movies more than Tom Cruise, bit her nails until they bled, and spoke only when she had something to say, which was never anything good. When her mom was alive, Esperanza liked to think that one day, her mother would take her, and they’d run away together without annoying Rosa to live anywhere but home. Instead, when she was ten, her mother collapsed with her fingers curled around her heart medicine and the morning cartoons still playing.

Regardless, whatever pretense the sisters had of pretending to get along eroded with each passing year. Esperanza didn’t have a dad, and though she remembered liking her grandfather, she hadn’t seen him since she was crawling. Rosa was a permanent fixture in Esperanza’s life, whether she liked it or not.

The trouble was that Esperanza was different in ways that no one could define. In her movements, thoughts, and feelings, she was scared she was missing something that everyone else inherently understood. She thought that maybe her sister would understand, but Rosa didn’t understand her at all. She barely liked Esperanza.

Beryl Grace wasn't like a sister, though. That word had little meaning, but Esperanza could understand Beryl was not it. She was… not what Esperanza was used to. Esperanza never had friends, or at least real friends, so she didn’t know what to do. She was bad luck. Anyone who hung around her or her family was cursed.

Yet, Beryl kept sticking to her like a string bound them up. It was unprecedented. Nobody stuck by a Valdez, and lived to enjoy it.

“Ever since you,” Beryl hummed. “Well, things are different now? I’m different. We’re all different.”

Which was true.

Esperanza had never had anyone believe her like this. She didn’t know what was to be explained. Esperanza knew monsters were flickering in the shadows, but nothing more. They were all unique, some angrier than others. They were hazy, as if Esperanza had a thin film over her irises, concealing but pathethically failing to conceal much.

Sometimes, monsters appeared in her peripheral for a few days before disappearing altogether. Usually- that meant some other kid had disappeared too. Esperanza had lived in about ten cities, and four different states because of this. 

“Different doesn’t mean good.”

“Of course not,” Beryl scoffed. “It’s just different.”

But Esperanza had never liked being different, so she doesn’t say anything at all.

Normalcy was beyond enticing. The girl spent her days dreaming about chores and group projects, having friends or a cute boyfriend, going to parties or sneaking out; even riding a school bus was a fantasy that never lasted.

Thus, she was grateful for Beryl and Tristan. They were exhaustingly and wonderfully boring. Beryl’s only problems were her looks, not if she would wake up the next day. Tristan was amazing, and his friendship was genuine because he liked her, not wondering if she tasted good. Exceedingly, beautifully mundane in every way.

It had taken seventeen years, but Esperanza Valdez was finally normal, and she loved it.

… Except things weren’t that easy. Nearly two months since Esperanza showed up, since it happened, and Tristan McLean still had panic attacks in class. The first time was terrifying, and she immediately thought it was going to happen eventually. The second time she heard the people in one of her classes whispering about. After a while, it was the monotony of life: Tristan McLean was a skittish and very anxious person.

According to Beryl, Tristan was typically a nervous guy in the first place. He’s shy, Beryl would explain, and Esperanza had to trust her because Beryl had known him all their life. She could appreciate long-winded friendships like that. Esperanza was merely an intruder in their peace—devestation pretending to be an inconvenience.

It wasn’t a surprise when Tristan stopped coming to school. Sometimes, Esperanza would call him on the landline, but he always sounded exhausted, so she didn’t bother.

"I can help you," Esperanza mumbled into the phone, voice lowering when Rosa came through.

"Help me with what?" Tristan sighed, laughing awkwardly. "It's okay."

"Hurry up," Rosa snapped, foot tapping. 

Esperanza turned away from her. "I don't know yet. But I'll fix it."

"There's nothing to fix," Tristan hesitated. "It'll get better."

"You don't know that."

"It usually works out."

"Not this time," the phone jerked in her hand, Rosa pulling on the cord. Esperanza tried kicking her away. "If you need anything, tell me. I'll do it. I already told administration that I'd bring your assignments to you."

Tristan huffed. "Please, don't. This is like vacation."

They both knew it wasn't. Esperanza mumured, "I'm really sorry, Tristan. I didn't mean to-"

"GET OFF THE PHONE," Rosa shrieked at her, batting at side. "Come on, Simon's calling me in two minutes, this is important!"

"You don't have to apologize for anything," Tristan said. "You didn't do anything wrong." 

Esperanza wasn't good at saying goodbye, so she hung up, and Rosa sighed in relief, pushing her out the kitchen, just as the phone rang.

"Sorry," Rosa giggled, sitting on the counter, twirling her finger. "My sister gets two friends, and suddenly, she's Ms. Popularity- Simon! Don't say that, you're so-"

Esperanza slammed the door. 

It was left unsaid, but Tristan would not have been like this if Esperanza hadn’t tried to befriend him. She was at fault, and the three of them tiptoed around reality to a frustrating degree.

Beryl, on the other hand, was sparkling.

Something had shifted in her- whatever was keeping her timid had fallen apart, and she practically glowed. Whenever Esperanza was in her view, Beryl’s eyes brightened, and she’d rush over to talking, which honestly freaked Esperanza out because no one had done that with her before. Even with all the bad that happened, she was at least grateful that someone was okay.

If Esperanza desired the ordinary, then Beryl craved misfortune. If there were a new student, she’d pull Esperanza into the bathroom with glee, explaining why she thought the new kid was a monster. The few times Beryl was able to spend time with her, her blue eyes were always peeled for something that hinted at excitement.

Esperanza held her tongue, but it was starting to irk her.

“In all the movies I know, when there’s a monster, there’s a hero.”

“We’re not in a movie.”

“I'm aware,” Beryl rolled her eyes. “But you know. If there’s evil, then there’s good. The balance of things.”

“Not entirely.”

“Just let me have this, alright?” Beryl snapped. Despite the attitude, she immediately flushed, flustered at being loud in a library. Beryl ducked her head, adjusting her glasses. “I need to believe there’s something bigger than this shit. You just haven’t reached the good parts yet.”

Esperanza put her head down. Tristan’s math homework would have to wait- it was the least she could do before dropping the rest of his assignmentsat his house. “There’s nothing good.”

“Sure there is. If you weren’t so fucking weird, we wouldn’t have met. That's not good enough for you?”

Flipping her off, Esperanza adjusted so her chin was rested against the textbook. Beryl sat with her hand on her palm, scratching at the table. 

Esperanza liked watching Beryl. She wanted to be friends long enough that she could understand what the wrinkle in Beryl's cheek meant. Even when she knew she shouldn't stick around, Esperanza couldn't deny the desperation huddled inside her. 

Beryl sighed, biting her nail. “My entire life has been here, okay? It couldn’t have been a coincidence we met. Every shitty thing has culminated into this.”

“What’s this?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Let me know when you do.”

"I won't," Beryl pouted. "You have to figure it out yourself."

"Got it, boss," Esperanza saluted. 

The unquantifiable “this” was Esperanza’s thinning exhaustion. A few other monsters cropped up, some with Beryl nearby, some without. There was one time when she thought she saw someone else fighting them, but she was too busy running to really look. 

Beryl never had a problem with blood. Or lack of really- monsters were made of dust. But the blood in Esperanza's busted lip, or Beryl's skinned knee was real. Every incident was proof that Esperanza should not be here. 

On some days, she looked at Beryl and Tristan and felt such an immense wave of joy that could translate to bliss. On other days, she looked at them and resented all they stood for: a life that she could only peek into, a life that was better without her. 

When she couldn’t bear the guilt at all, Esperanza would cut school, wandering around aimlessly until she somehow found herself back at her own house. There wasn't anywhere else to go. Stumbling in, she’d passed out on the plastic-wrapped sofa.

When Esperanza jolted up, sweaty and hungry, the room was typically cloaked in shadows. The kitchen light was on over a wrapped plate of food. Her sister would be on the phone like always, and Esperanza could smell the cigarettes to know her stepfather was on the balconey.

The routine was nice, though. Good. Expected. She enjoyed that quality the most. 

A little after New Year's, Beryl invited Esperanza to her house.

The Grace house was tiny, and it didn’t look like anyone lived there. The front yard was overgrown with weeds, the shutters on the roof looked like they were a few seconds from sliding away, and the blue panels of the exterior was more of a mistake than intention. Inside, there were only touches of Beryl: a picture frame, a child's cup, and some mail scattered on the couch. 

Esperanza hadn't realized Beryl smelled like cigarettes. She had been so used to her own clothes smelling of smoke, which wasn't something she minded too much, but she never noticed the lingering stench on her collar.

It was the first time Esperanza was invited to someone’s house, so she was giddy. Nervous even, that somehow she’ll mess this up. What do you do when you have friends? How do you act? What do you say? It didn’t matter because Beryl advised her not to say anything at all as they snuck into her bedroom.

“I’ll be back,” Beryl watched Esperanza peel off her coat. “Need to check on my dad.”

Esperanza nodded, more intrigued with the world she’d stepped into.

Beryl Grace was a fanatic. Her room was covered in posters and school playbills, things that were familiar and others Esperanza only heard in passing. Her closet doors were covered with magazine cutouts and stickers, and everywhere she looked, there was some secret celebrity crush or random drawing tucked away. She even had a rug in a very ugly greyed pink that indicated that it had been used for years and years. A faint hint of vanilla and girlish perfume made this place like a bubble, secluded from anything else Esperanza had known. It was silly to be excited, but Esperanza had always lived in erratic increments. This was the most glamorous room she had ever seen.

The door peeked open, and Beryl slipped in with a big bowl of chips sitting on a library book as thick as her arm. There wasn't a desk, so it went onto her paint-chipped dresser. 

“We should be good for a while,” Beryl explained, falling onto her bed and throttling a stuffed animal in the air. Then, Beryl rolled to her side to look at Esperanza, still gawking in the middle of the room and started giggling.

"What?" Esperanza folded her arms.

"Nothing," Beryl waved her off. Then she sat up, head tilting. "I've never had a girl in here before, actually. Usually, it's Tristan."

Esperanza peered at Beryl's pink lava lamp. "My room had a bed, three boxes, and a clock."

"That's one of the most depressing things I've heard in my life. You're kidding, right?"

"I don't kid," Esperanza deadpanned. Beryl gaped at her before scrambling off her bed. She adjusted her skirt, then pulled the other girl around the tight space.

"T-Then let me introduce you to, uh, the world of Beryl Grace." 

She showed Esperanza her music, then some old photos, and some of her clothes. Beryl liked pop and disco but didn't like the sound of a trumpet. She used to have braces, and she didn't smile much as a kid. Her clothes were meticulously taken care of, she mended it all herself, and she had a skirt she wanted to get rid of, but Esperanza said it was ugly.

Esperanza didn't comment much because she rarely had a lot to say, but it was nice. She felt good. When Beryl laughed, she could laugh, and when Beryl explained something she found banal, Esperanza was enraptured. 

At a certain point, Beryl had started reading an audition monologue, to which Esperanza barely paid attention. It was strange, glancing behind the blonde girl, to find herself sitting on someone else's bed with someone else's stuffed bunny in her lap, looking entirely out of place. Even stranger was that she couldn't stop smiling.

Beryl snapped her fingers in Esperanza's face. "You're not listening, Espie."

"I was."

"I know you weren't. Friends can tell these sorts of things." Beryl huffed, walking by her dresser and taking her hair out of its braids. "What were your friends like at your last school?"

"She was cool. She always saved me the last cookie," Esperanza smiled faintly at the fond memory.

Beryl's eyes bugged out of her head. "Are you talking about a lunch lady? Your only friend was a lunch lady?"

"You only have one friend," Esperanza pointed out, and Beryl's face went aflame. 

"T-That's different! I'm me, and you're-" Beryl tugged at her hair, spitting out indecipherable noises. When she finally got a hold of her speech, Beryl sighed through her nose. "Am I... am I your first friend? A normal one, I mean."

Esperanza shook her head. 

"Oh," Beryl's bottom lip quivered, and she tossed her hair behind her. "Well, that's okay. I'm still happy to be your friend now."

She peeled off her sweater and stockings. "I think we'll be friends for a long time," Beryl said, though it seemed more to herself than anyone else. "I always wanted a sister." 

Esperanza's eyes flickered away from Beryl and toward the giant poster of the Beatles. 

“Here, I want to show you something,” Beryl reached for the book she brought in, flipping through it as she sat next to Esperanza. Opening a folded page and pushing it to Esperanza, her light eyes went from page to face expectantly. “Does it look familiar? I thought it did, but I want to make sure.”

Esperanza’s stomach sank as the images bled through. Yes, actually. Even if it was months ago, it was pretty clear. How could she forget any monster? If they were in her day-to-day, they were always creeping into her dreams. Her silence must’ve been enough because Beryl started moving through pages.

“What about this one?” She asked, biting her lip and moving closer. "Or this one? There's a lot here. I can borrow some other myth books from the library too."

Esperanza skimmed the name and then moved through the pages. “All of these. Or some. I don’t know.”

“Okay! You know your monsters! I was going to show you The Thing, but this book seemed educational,” Beryl tsked. “So now we just need to find a good monster.”

The other girl frowned. “There’s no such thing.”

“Well, these monsters came from gods,” Beryl pointed to a paragraph on the page, but Esperanza refused to read along. “Which means gods are real, too. But they all seem to suck. You don’t think there are good monsters out there? Someone else has to know about this.”

Esperanza played with the worn stuffed bunny in her lap. “I don’t think there’s good anywhere.”

“Oh my God, you’re so fucking-” Beryl huffed. “Okay. Well. What about Tristan? We need to help him. If there’s a good monster, then they can do some good monster stuff and fix him. Like a wizard or a fairy.”

“You can’t fix…” Esperanza faltered. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“No, not really,” Beryl grinned, discarding the book to the side. “But it’s worth a try. You guys are my best friends and my way out.” She reached over to hug Esperanza, squeezing her gently. “It’s been really good getting to be friends. I didn’t like you at first, but I’m really happy we’re friends now.”

Weak spot hit like a bullet. This girl was unbelievable. Esperanza couldn’t stop the warmth curling in her stomach, and she sighed, saying, “Fine. Good monsters. If they exist.”

“Okay, good,” Beryl jumped up and crossed the room to her school bag. She pulled out a notebook, clicking a pen with gusto. “I’ve prepared a list of every freak in the city that we can investigate. Not the perverts. But I can put those freaky-deakies, if you want?”

There were about two full pages of names. Most of them seemed to be people she remembered Beryl complaining about, but a few other names were unexpected. 

Esperanza's finger slid to one of the options. “... Why is your name here?”

“Maybe you know something I don’t.”

“Yeah. Your breath smells.”

“Shut up.” Beryl sat back down, playing with her hair and adjusting her tank top with a few glances in the mirror. Esperanza never understood why Beryl acted like she was ugly. She wasn’t at all, not that Esperanza could see, and in the moments of quiet like this, where Beryl was thinking hard, she loved her friend the most. “Do, d-do you think monsters can have kids?”

“I don’t know. It's never come up.”

“But you would be able to tell, right? If you were related to a monster?”

Esperanza hesitated. She glanced behind Beryl’s expectant look at the posters covering every inch of the wall. It was only now that she realized Beryl didn't have any pictures of her family hanging up. Schoolmates Tristan and an alarming amount of David Bowie, but there weren't faces that hinted towards Beryl's smile or soft features. 

Beryl Grace was a fanatic, she thought. Beryl Grace was obsessive. 

“I can tell Rosa’s a bitch," Esperanza settled with, "but that’s not monster material.”

“Right,” Beryl nodded. “But there are evil people everywhere.”

Their eyes hooked on to each other, Beryl refusing to let go.

“I don’t think you’re an evil person,” Esperanza told her. "Or bad."

“Thank you,” she said with wonder, as if it was the first time anyone had told her that. Maybe it was. Esperanza couldn’t judge. Beryl’s smile grew small, but it felt genuine. “I don’t think you’re evil either—quite the opposite. You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. I keep thinking you’re a dream, but you’re not, and it’s fucking amazing.”

“I’m not…” Good? She wasn’t. But it seemed like Beryl needed something else to believe in, so she relented. Beryl’s gaze was so intense that she felt nauseous. “... Let’s look at the list, okay?”

She had to give it to Beryl. Gleeson Hedge was a weirdo. They found him at the end of the school year, but the moment they tried to find him again, he vanished. Then, one day, Beryl called the house five times before Rosa could yell at her to shut up, so Beryl called five more times, for Esperanza to finally pick up and hear Beryl’s breathless: “He’s fucking back. He's back! It's time!”

Esperanza wanted nothing to do with any of it. She let Beryl handle whatever the girl wanted, helping her occasionally, but she stayed with Tristan most days.

Over the past few months, Tristan had grown a bit more introspective. He started writing extremely awful poetry, but it seemed to help him. He went back to school, but most days, Esperanza caught him gazing out the window. It was unsettling to find his eyes so distant, and Esperanza felt responsible.

He was still kind to her through everything, assuring her it wasn’t her fault back then. There had been a few other monster hiccups, and Tristan was aware that he didn’t actually kill someone, but Esperanza’s dread only bubbled when she recognized how off he’d been. Her selfish glee at having friends overshadowed her true problem: Esperanza should have no one. 

She hadn’t really known him too well before ruining him. But he could read her easily. If she ever looked too dismayed, Tristan would always turn to her and say, “You’re being unfair. It’s not your fault.” Sometimes, it wasn't related to anything. He assured her because he could. He was perfect. Lately, her time with Tristan had made her perfect, too: he was simple and wanted to do things like bake or watch TV—a breath of fresh air.

In a way, because of this, Esperanza appreciated him more than Beryl. Beryl’s intensity and evident desire for something more was overwhelming. Gluttonous and consuming. Tristan once told her that his only goal was to make his family happy (as well as break a world record), and Esperanza was so surprised by those words being strung together that she sobbed.

The week before school began, Beryl finally passed her driving test and drove them to a little shack of an apartment on the edge of town. Beyond decrepit, with flora crawling through the cracks, Gleeson Hedge stood in the doorway, wearing a baseball cap and gnawing through a HotPocket. 

“Yo,” he waved, and Beryl rushed ahead. Tristan and Esperanza looked at each other wearily before following.

Beryl had explained to them several times what a protector was, what a good monster was, and what Gleeson could help them with. Tristan never really seemed receptive, and Esperanza listened only when her name was called. 

When Beryl first mentioned the memory-wiping idea, Tristan was intrigued and was willing to try it. It wasn't a bad idea. Beryl herself seems to have some disdain for it. Esperanza chewed on the thought for nights, wondering. 

Assumingly, Gleeson didn’t have parents. His apartment was one room filled with enough plants and colors to make Esperanza’s head hurt, and blankets and tapestries were covering every corner. All the furniture looked worn and hastily put together, but he directed them to a giant bed that reeked vaguely like grass and marijuana. It was partitioned off with a thin sheet for a mimicry of privacy. He lit a candle, and in a few minutes, Esperanza found herself yawning.

“Oh, like Chuck Norris in-”

“Who?”

“Get out,” Beryl gasped. “You don’t know-”

Esperanza stopped paying attention and wandered off. Gleeson didn’t have many pictures, but he had a lot of stuff piled up. Mostly gardening tools and an odd collection of cans. Crystals and glittering currency she'd never seen. Anytime she saw something peculiar, Esperanza resisted the urge to grab it, but there was something that lifted in her chest. Maybe he was a witch? Could men be witches? She peeked into his fridge, and there were only sports drinks lining the shelves, so she decided he definitely wasn't anything but a teenage boy.

Seeing Gleeson made her realize she'd been on the outskirts of a world that she’d never liked. If she wanted to, she had everything she needed to understand that world and what made her the way she was. Yet, looking at the various weapons tossed around like they were brooms, Esperanza didn't want anything to do with it either. 

She came back to the side of the bed, where Tristan was dozing. When she sat, he was immediately startled but calmed down when he realized it was just her.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he mumbled, patting his side for her to sit.

“Good morning, handsome,” she echoed, and they watched each other.

“I’m kind of scared,” Tristan confessed with an awkward laugh. “Have you ever done something like this?”

“No.”

He sighed, lying back down. “Didn’t think so. Been learning a lot of new things since you came here.”

Esperanza winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Tristan consoled. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

But she did. She was sorry she had been born the way that she was, sorry that her problems affected everyone else, sorry that she wasn’t trying hard enough for him, sorry for nearly anything and everything. Rather than saying that, she laid down next to him, flinching when Tristan’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her head to his chest. 

Through the partition, they listened to Beryl and Gleeson talk about traveling around the country and the tiny whispers of windchimes somewhere nearby. Now that she was sitting in one place, she could appreciate the way the sun filtered through the apartment, colors spiraling across the walls, the heat of the summer playing around like a sedative. Tristan's heartbeat was soft against her ears but comforting. 

“Why did you like me?”

Tristan glanced at her, and she was equally as surprised despite being the one to ask.

“Do I need a reason?”

"Yes."

“You’re different,” Tristan sat up, and she did too, “I like that.”

“But-”

“Stop,” Tristan covered her mouth. “You think too much. Has anyone told you that?”

“My sister.”

“She doesn’t count; that’s how siblings are. I like you and all your weirdness,” he chuckled. Then, his gaze dropped, and he sighed. “Can I kiss you?”

Tristan had beautiful eyes. Brown, deep, and concerned, unlike her own. Esperanza's cold eyes skit over to Beryl’s shadow through the partition.

“Sure.” Esperanza kissed him until he had enough, and they laid down once more. He pushed the covers over them both, listening to Beryl’s murmurings with Gleeson. They were talking about gods, much to her displeasure.

Esperanza knew monsters existed, but gods were a fantasy. If they existed, why weren't they helping her? Why couldn't they make it all go away? 

“Would forgetting make you happier?”

Tristan was silent, then, “I don’t know yet.”

Esperanza's finger traced shapes on his chest. “I’m sorry for fucking you up.”

“Ha. You don’t have to apologize.” Tristan murmured. “I like you. Can’t erase that.”

“Would you want to?” spilled out of her mouth before she could think. They lay on their sides, facing each other so that Esperanza could see the honesty in his face.

“Want to what?” Tristan’s eyebrows screwed together.

“Erase me. I’m okay if you said-”

“Never. Why would I ever want to lose my friends?”

She didn’t have anything to say after that. Eventually, the partition moved aside, with Gleeson and Beryl standing at the edge. Beryl’s eyes flicked between the two, and her lips pressed together, but it was Gleeson who talked first.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Gleeson shook up a plastic water bottle. It was disgusting, filled with water like from a dirty fish tank and leaves and twigs swirling around. “Drink it, and magic goes bye-bye. You have a responsible driver, right?”

“Super,” Beryl said as Esperanza shrugged.

“Have you ever done this before?” Esperanza jabbed.

“Nope!” Gleeson beamed.

“Does it hurt?” Tristan stared at the mixture. From her side, she can catch a whiff of raspberries and a sharp sting of bleach.

“No clue! But it can’t be that bad. Down the hatch.” Gleeson shoved it down Tristan’s throat before anyone could protest. “You’ll get a little sleepy but magic-free! Sweet dreams, pretty boy.”

Tristan coughed, wiping his mouth. “What is that?”

Beryl sat on the bed. “I saw cinnamon go into it.”

“I can tell,” Tristan wheezed, then, all at once, his muscles relaxed, head dropping, and Esperanza caught him before he fell off the bed. He rested on the pillow, snoring softly.

Esperanza watched his eyes move under his eyelids, a little mumble creeping from his mouth. “... It’s only the magic? The monster stuff. He’ll remember everything else, right?”

She turned to Beryl, who was staring in thought at Tristan. Behind her, Gleeson shot her a thumbs up. “Should be!”

“You’re not confident.”

Gleeson shrugged. “I’m still new at this thing; give me a break here.”

Esperanza’s anxiety was palpable in the air. “So what are you doing here? What are you new at?”

“Protecting.”

Beryl mentioned it, but Esperanza hadn't paid attention. The blue eyes of the other girl roll over to her. “What is that?”

“Dunno,” Hedge tossed the bottle in the air, catching it. “My mentor said I had some big responsibility transporting some big prophecy kids, but I haven’t seen any half-bloods. Who knows. Might not even be my time. Those old geezers suck at anything that isn’t eating grass or backgammon.”

“Half-blood?” Beryl perked up. She gingerly took the bottle from him, rolling it in her hands. “Isn’t that offensive?”

“Not like that,” Gleeson grimaced. “It’s like... Half god. Half mortal.”

The concept was so ridiculously simple, Esperanza scoffed. 

“Is that what Esperazna is?” Beryl looked hopeful, and Esperanza was so surprised by the question that she was nearly mad that Beryl had even suggested it.

“Nah. Nowadays, ichor runs in everyone. Some people got it bigger, and they can see through the mist. Some have great, great, great relatives they don’t even know. But a real half-blood is different. They’re made of different stuff. They smell different and monsters like them more. I'd be able to tell if you were one,” Gleeson moved by his couch, bending to grab something from under the coffee table. “Do you guys smoke? Aw, man, where the heck is my bong? Do you guys have one?”

“So there’s God in everyone?” Beryl focused on, instead. She frowned. “Like in church.”

“Aw, pssh. Different god, different guy,” Gleeson wiggled his eyebrows at her. “All satyrs can tell if you're a half-blood or something else. If you got a real good sniffer like me, then you can get a whiff of who the god can be.”

“Can you smell the god in me?” Beryl giggled. “There’s some in me too, right?”

“Let me see,” Gleeson leaned in and sniffed up her arm until she started laughing. “Hmm… I smell some Helen of Troy in you. Now she’s stunning. Made the goddess of beauty jealous. I can tell you’re somethin’ special.”

Esperanza rolled her eyes, rubbing her thumb against Tristan’s hand. Helen wasn’t a goddess, not even close. But she let him keep flirting.

“And Esperanza?” Beryl laughed, glancing back at her like she remembered Esperanza was in the room. “What’s she got?”

Gleeson’s eyes glanced over her, gaze picking her to pieces. Then he frowned, adjusting his baseball cap, Esperanza blinking at the tiny hint of horns amongst his hair. “Ah. No, can do with that one, missy! That’s secret.”

“Please?” Beryl begged, batting her eyes like the actress she was. 

“Jeez, woman. You’re a lot of trouble, aren’t ya?”

“I am not!”

Eventually, they grew quiet. Esperanza realized she had fallen asleep until a murmured curse overshadowed her. Her eyes opened to see Beryl sliding into the bed next to Tristan.

“How come you didn’t take it?” Esperanza asked, finally. It had been on her mind when she was watching Beryl interact with Gleeson. The bottle sat on the kitchen counter, no satyr in sight.

Beryl was having fun with it all. Every sentence was a new miracle; every suggestion was a cute fairy tale for her.

Esperanza never had fun when it came to this thing. How was that fair?

“I don’t want to forget.” Beryl breathed. “Don’t think I can. Why would anyone?”

“’Cause it fucking sucks.”

“It’s not all bad.”

You would think that, Esperanza nearly snapped, suddenly remembering how fucking annoying everyone told her this girl was. 

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Beryl hummed. She crawled over Tristan, kneeing Esperanza in the stomach until they fell together into giggles. Luckily, Tristan was unbothered. Esperanza pushed them over to avoid waking him up.

“Esperanza,” Beryl said softly, tucking the girl’s curly dark hair back. “You’re the best thing in the world, okay? My life was shit and boring, and nothing before you. I love you so much.”

Esperanza’s mouth went dry. “... you’re supposed to be normal.”

“Have you met me? I’m supposed to be a star.”

“Yes, but not like… this,” Esperanza muttered. Beryl was still playing with her hair. “My grandfather used to say we were cursed.”

Beryl's hand paused. “Cursed?”

“Yeah. A girl he loved who left him. Then his wife leaves him. Then my mom left me. And I…” Esperanza sighed. “Nothing good for the Valdezes. We’re cursed. Everything good leaves.”

“At least you have something to blame it on.”

“I don’t want something to blame it on. I want-” her eyes fall on Beryl’s pursed lips. “You’re lucky.”

“Am not,” Beryl snorted.

“You are.” Esperanza pressed, anger seeping into her voice. “You have a future—people who like you. Somewhere to go home to.”

Beryl’s face slackened. She sat up, and before Esperanza could too, Beryl launched herself on top of her, pinning her to the bed. Her blonde hair showered Esperanza’s face until she pushed it behind her ears. Her knees grinded into her side. 

“I don’t have that shit,” Beryl’s voice tickled Esperanza’s nose. “I have me. And I have Tristan. And now I have you. Isn’t that enough?”

“No,” Esperanza’s heart nearly burst. “It’s not what I want.”

"It's what I want."

Esperanza turned her head away. "You shouldn't."

Beryl was silent. Then, she sniffled. She hung her head into the pillow at the side of Esperanza’s ear. “You’re fucking horrible.”

It worked. A little too well. Esperanza was nearly shocked at what Tristan remembered, which was next to nothing. The past year for Tristan McLean had been a blur of a fever dream, months filled with wanting and hurting, but the details weren’t sharp enough to pick out. Maybe a face or two. A car crash. He said his head would hurt if he tried to think any further.

When Tristan got up to order something else at the food court, Beryl’s wide eyes turn to Esperanza. 

“Holy shit,” the blonde blinked, and a laugh spilled out of her with surprise. Her fingers reach across the sticky table, grabbing Esperanza’s. “Do we bring it up again? I feel bad. He’s missing this entire world under his nose.”

Esperanza’s eyes wandered from his back to Beryl. Her glee was truly nauseating, but Esperanza couldn’t pinpoint what about it made her heart curl away.

“I can’t tell if it’s better like this,” Esperanza said honestly. “He could still remember later. Forgetting doesn't make it go away.”

“Maybe,” Beryl dropped her hands. Her eyes skimmed the food court, ravenously taking in the mall bustle and chatter. “It’s crazy to think there’s a whole world out there. Gods are real. I can’t imagine going back to the regular crap.”

“Right.”

“It’s like our secret,” Beryl’s eyes glistened. “A secret just for us. It was made for us. Like fate. Don't you feel it, Espie?”

Exasperated, Esperanza leaned back in her chair, fingers fiddling with the edge of her jacket. “Sure.”

“I’ve never had a secret,” Beryl blabbed, then blushed. “Well, me and Tristan had a few, but those don’t count. This one’s a real secret. Let’s keep it between us, okay? No one else can know.”

Esperanza couldn’t imagine telling anyone. She didn’t have any other friends, and as each day passed, she regretted letting things get this far. In the back of her mind, that sickly green water bottle spun. An easy cure-all. Easy forgetting.

Tristan was lucky; Esperanza gave Beryl a weak smile. If she could forget, she would in a heartbeat. Maybe she could.

She doubted the world would allow her to give up so easily.

Chapter Text

On her 24th birthday, Beryl won an award for one of her worst roles yet. She didn’t care, though; the recognition was enough to make her scream in the bathroom when her manager called. The party being thrown only raged harder to celebrate the win, but Beryl could only think of running to her room and calling Esperanza.

“Beryl, it’s-”

“I won, I fucking won, I told you I would. You and everyone else doubted me, but look who’s laughing now!” She squealed into the phone, kicking off her heels to collapse on her bed. “We should go on a binger. I’ll reserve a club or something. You have to come here right now.”

Esperanza yawned. “I never doubted you.”

“Fine, maybe you didn’t, but, oh my GOD!” She screamed again, feet flailing on the mattress. She rolled onto her stomach, tugging at a blonde strand. “You have to come visit. I’ll handle everything, don’t worry. I think I’m going to die.”

“Try not to.”

“I will if I don’t see you at LAX tomorrow.” Beryl sat up, brushing glitter off her thighs. “I’ll save you cake, too, okay? So you better be here. Oh my god, I need to call Stephanie. And Cameron. Holy shit!”

“I don’t know who those people are.”

“That’s okay, I’ll introduce you,” she paused. “And if I don’t see you wearing the jacket I got you, I’ll be mad! Do you know how much it costs, EV?”

Esperanza laughed into the phone. “Goodnight.”

She hung up on Beryl, who stared at the phone before tossing it to the side.

Beryl won. She sighed happily. She’d been working for a moment like this, and now that it came, she didn’t want to let it go.

It took a week to drag Esperanza from whatever hell pit she lived in Texas, but when she arrived wearily at the airport in sweats, Beryl nearly tackled her to the ground. Beryl breathed her in, the faint yet comforting aroma she had associated with her best friend. Esperanza wasn't wearing the jacket like Beryl told her to; instead, it was just Tristan's old army jacket, but she didn't mind. How could she? She was practically levitating.

“Evie, Evie, Evie,” she kissed her cheek. “It’s been forever. You look so good.”

“Evie?” Esperanza’s eyebrow quirked up.

“Yes, E and V. It’s cute. I’m B and G, but that’s not as sexy.”

“Sure,” Esperanza said in her Esperanza voice that Beryl missed so much. On the drive to Beryl’s apartment, she blabbed about her movie, all the coworkers she hated, the director she hated, and her short-lived fling with one of the makeup artists, who she also hated. Esperanza took it in silently, but Beryl was warm at the fact that her friend was even here.

It had been hard being in the limelight and keeping genuine friends. Beryl certainly had other circles to dip into, but at the end of the night, she went home to an empty apartment and a gory movie. She tried dating a couple of times, but they never ended well. Public, but never well. She even tried joining some yoga classes until she realized that there had never been a time when she had ever liked yoga.

“Your place is nice,” Esperanza commented, eyes glancing through the crystals and mirrors decorating the lobby.

Beryl waved to the doorman, hitting the golden elevator button. “It’s quaint.”

“Extremely,” Esperanza muttered, shifting her bags to the other shoulder. Beryl could only smirk in response.

At the door, Beryl punched in the code 1124. If Esperanza recognized it, she didn’t say anything. Opening up to a wide foyer, Beryl waved her arms vaguely around to gesture to where everything was.

Not that the other woman was paying attention. Esperanza simply dropped her stuff, and promptly fell asleep in one of the lounge chairs. She was snoring in seconds, face smushed into the leather, arms all crooked and loose.

Beryl squatted at her side, head tilting. The last time she saw Esperanza had to be a year ago. Not much had changed outside the deepening worry lines, and the longer hair. Both women were busy after high school, which was to be expected. Besides, Beryl was content.

She moved out to LA the moment she could. Her hard work paid off, and gratuitously so- landing Beryl in a beautiful penthouse with more money slipping through her fingers than she’d ever seen in her life. She didn’t have anything anywhere else, but she was building her legacy. Leaving her hometown was the best thing she’d ever done, and she’d do it again in a heartbeat.

Still, she missed Esperanza. She doubted the other woman was as enthusiastic in missing Beryl- most people didn’t notice Beryl was missing until they saw her on their TVs- but, Beryl didn’t have many friends. Esperanza, whatever they were, was a familiar face.

Excitement sparkled up and down her spine. Beryl’s life was definitely fun, but now she had the chance to… she didn’t know yet, but things happened when she was with Esperanza. Thrilling things.

Esperanza was fucking boring. She didn’t want to go out clubbing or run off and do something spontaneous. Her idea of fun was sitting on the couch watching movies and eating cheap takeout. Beryl didn't mind that, but she also wanted to do something. At least, Esperanza was still a fan of horror movies like her though. It was good to fall back into their natural rhythm.

“Boo,” Beryl threw popcorn at the screen. “She’s a shitty actress. Come on.”

“You talk too much,” Esperanza said with little malice. She shifted under the blanket, stealing the popcorn bowl back.

“I know good cinema when I see it.”

“Like your latest role?”

“Don’t remind me,” Beryl groaned, tossing her head back. “Of everything I’ve done so far, they chose that movie? It’s satire. No one got the satire.”

Esperanza hummed, “Haven’t seen it.”

“Don’t. It’s bad,” Beryl turned to her, shifting closer. “You’ve seen the rest of my stuff, right? Tell me that one waitress role wasn’t a million times better. I'd take a musical role before another comedy again.”

“Actually,” Esperanza’s eyes stayed trained on the screen, lights flashing across her face. “I haven’t seen anything you’re in.”

“WHAT?” Beryl immediately reached to grab the remote. “We’re changing that right now.”

Her wrist was grabbed. “It’s fine. I’ll watch them eventually.”

“So, all those times you told me it was good, were you lying?”

Esperanza at least had the decency to be embarrassed. She scratched at her neck, shrugging, “I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Busy.” She sighed and got up, the blanket falling from her lap. “I’m going to head to bed then-”

“Wait,” Beryl blurted. While she still wanted to investigate further, the sun had only set an hour ago, and she had the energy to burn. “Let’s go out.”

Immediately: “No.”

“Why not? I’ll give you some of my clothes to wear.”

Esperanza fixed her gaze on her, frowning. “It’s not my scene.”

“Okay…” she thought. “We can hit the hot tub. You look like you need it.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Beryl began twisting the blanket lying over her. “I want to talk more. Like we used to. You came all this way…”

Esperanza’s eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Acting,” Esperanza’s hands covered her face. “Fine. But you have to lend me a swimsuit.”

Beryl cheered, hopping off the couch. “Yep, yep! And you drink, right?”

“No-”

“Oh, don’t worry, I have something good,” Beryl hummed happily, kicking away the mess in the living room. “Let me check the walk-in.”

“The walk-in,” Esperanza repeated.

“The walk-in!” Beryl sung.

The night finds them out on the terrace, huddled together in a small hot tub facing the city. It was a little chilly, making it the perfect weather to warm up. It’s not like Beryl used it much anyway, so at least she had an excuse.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Beryl said a bottle later. “You’re doing what?”

“He’s sick,” Esperanza sighed, adjusting her strap. Beryl was still, horrifyingly, bigger than the other woman, to the point where she needed to double-knot her bikini top. It wasn't the black, she'd known her friend to always wear, but white looked equally as good on her. White made Beryl look pale and sickly. “No one else wanted to do it.”

“What about Rosa?” Beryl sipped. “He’s her grandfather, too.”

“She’s with him now. But typically, she’s at work.”

“What does she do?”

Esperanza snorted. “Teach.”

“You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke.”

“Ha!” Beryl howled, sinking further into the water. “Your sister’s insane, though. I can’t imagine her dealing with snot-nosed brats all day.”

Esperanza clumsily sat up, reaching for her glass. “She does okay. She’s not that bad nowadays.”

“Hmm,” Beryl nodded. “Growing up does mellow you out.”

“Sometimes, yeah. People change.”

Beryl’s eyes flickered over Esperanza’s face. “I wish I had siblings. Always thought it would be nice.”

The dark-haired woman laughed. “Said like an only child.”

“What? No. I just think,” Beryl’s forehead creased. “Things are different when you have a sibling. They’re always with you.”

“Sometimes.”

Beryl chewed on her lip, picking at her eyelashes. “I would’ve loved it. If I had a brother or sister growing up with me, I mean. It sounds nice. I have no one to call these days.”

“It’s not worth it,” Esperanza remarked. “I don’t talk to her unless I have to.”

“But you still have the option,” Beryl pressed. “I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

Esperanza rolled her eyes. “You’re free to call Rosa Valdez as much as you want. Be my guest.”

They locked gazes, Beryl scanning Esperanza’s flushed face. A flare of jealousy zipped through her, watching Esperanza’s lips take another sip.

It was ridiculous. How could Beryl get everything she wanted yet still fall short when it came to this girl? Sure, she didn’t understand what it was like to have a sibling, but she still imagined her life would be better if she had someone with her.

After a moment, Esperanza hesitated. “What about Tristan? You two were close, and he lives nearby.”

Beryl blinked. “Tristan talks to you?”

“Occasionally. It’s been a while.”

Again, stinging jealousy ruptured within her. “We’re in the same city, and he doesn’t talk to me!”

“He said something about getting into modeling.”

“I can help with that!”

Esperanza laughed. “He seems to be under the impression that you do, hm, a different kind of acting.”

“But I hate theatre,” Beryl scowled, and Esperanza shook her head, raising eyebrows at her drink.

“Acting that's not for kids.”

Beryl’s eyes blew wide. “He thinks I’m a porn star!?”

“I told him Beryl’s not very moanable as a name.”

“Oh my God,” the actress grumbled, running her hands through her hair. “You've been friends with a guy most of your life, and he thinks you’re running around the Playboy mansion. Stop laughing, it’s not funny.”

Esperanza’s hand came to her mouth. “It is, sorry.”

Scowling, Beryl fiddled with the hot tub controls, making a mental note to track Tristan McLean down and fix him straight. Last she heard from him, he was working at some bar on the beach, but that had to have been nearly two years ago. They'd both been busy, and it's easy to lose your childhood friend when you're not with them all the time anymore.

Of course, he’d talk to Esperanza, though. Beryl’s eyes are slit, watching the girl across her as Esperanza gazed at the moon. The bitterness that courses through her is so familiar that it makes Beryl’s tension fall away. She had missed the feeling. Was that twisted?

Esperanza gave her a challenge to work towards, whether she noticed Beryl’s efforts or not. She wanted her to look at Beryl and be impressed. To have something that she can be better at.

When you’re raised hating most parts of yourself, it’s relentless trying to find that love again. No matter what Beryl would do, she’d always feel behind.

“Are you dating anyone?” Beryl asked. “How are you doing love-wise? Is there a cowboy there for you?”

“Hmm,” Esperanza took a long drink. “No.”

Glee surfed through her.

“Whattt?” Beryl said slyly. “But you’re so perfect.”

“Far from it. You can’t be serious when you live here.”

“Come on.” Beryl stood, moving over the tiny space to sit next to Esperanza. She grabbed her face, moving this way and that. “It’s not fair. You’re not even wearing make-up anymore. I can’t stand you. I like your face too much.”

“Uh-huh.” Beryl squeezed her cheeks. “You’re breaking the face you like.”

“If only,” she let go, leaning back. She reached over, pulling a strand of curly hair from Esperanza’s bun, tucking her feet up beside her. “Has anything interesting happened?”

Esperanza watched Beryl’s fingers curl. “Interesting?”

“Like, y’know,” Beryl whispered as if anyone could hear them. “Monsters and stuff.”

Immediately, Esperanza frowned, back stiffening. Beryl could watch that a million times.

“No.”

“Aw, that’s a shame,” Beryl sighed, dropping her hand to Esperanza’s shoulder. Her fingers walked their way to fiddle with the double knots holding up the other’s top. “I keep thinking about it. Life has been boring since you went away.”

“I’m sure,” Esperanza grabbed her wrist to pull away. “It’s late, and you’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not,” Beryl accused. “I’m fine.”

A laugh bubbled into the air. “You’ve been stuttering non-stop for the last ten minutes. Half of what you’re saying is nonsense.”

“Nooo,” Beryl scowled. She was certain she was quite coherent, but Esperanza kept laughing at her. Full-body laughing too, shoulders shaking, tears in her eyes. Beryl smiled, giggling a little too. “Why are we laughing?”

“No reason,” Esperanza smiled with all her teeth. “Come on, silly, let’s get out.”

It had to have been a sign. Esperanza only had a few more days left with her, but the timing was immaculate. Beryl’s finger tapped the counter as she flipped the pamphlet over and over. It came the same day Esperanza did, like a sign from the heavens that something in her life was going in the right direction. Beryl chose to ignore it, as she did most things she didn’t like, but now, something itched in her belly.

“Evie,” Beryl continued, tossing more fruits into a blender. “Do you have anything black to wear?”

Esperanza’s head popped out of the fridge. “You know who you’re talking to, right?”

“Thought as much,” Beryl smiled. “After this, go put on something to get shit-faced to. You can’t say no.”

“It’s,” Esperanza glanced at the microwave clock, “Eleven AM.”

“We’ll have to take a detour,” Beryl assured her. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. You trust me, right?”

“When you say it like that, no,” Esperanza closed the door, holding out the juice. “I’m in your hands for the rest of the week, so it's whatever you want.”

“Perfect.”

In hindsight, she probably should’ve told Esperanza where that detour was, but it hadn’t been very big to Beryl herself. She knew that the other was trying for her, which warmed Beryl from head to toe. She didn’t know where Esperanza got it, but she found a slippery, tight black dress that made Beryl blink and huff. Back again was that dark mascara and eyeliner Beryl saw through their time in high school together, but Esperanza remained firm on wearing her combat boots.

“Beryl,” she faltered carefully when the sleek SUV pulled up to its location. A few people walked by, heads hanging low, all dressed in black. “Tell me we’re not at a funeral.”

Beryl glanced behind her, backing into a spot. “We’re not at a funeral.”

She killed the engine and grabbed her bag, unlocking the door.

Esperanza stayed in the passenger seat, gaping. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I don’t kid,” Beryl rolled her eyes. “Grab the sunglasses in the glove compartment. It’ll be quick. We already drove for two hours.”

“Yes, but-”

“Esperanza,” Beryl scowled. “It’ll be fine. You can sit in the car if you want but I'm not opening the window.”

Their eyes dissected each other, pulling out parts of the other to understand where to go from here. Beryl didn't like how Esperanza could look at her like that: like she could see something that Beryl would never be able to decipher within herself. Normally, it made her squirm, but right now, Beryl was too annoyed to do anythingbut purse her lips. Then, Esperanza sighed and clicked open the glove compartment.

The funeral parlor was fairly small, the lobby smelling a bit like old people and mildew. Beryl left her sunglasses on, and kept her head held high, while Esperanza slipped to her side, steps less confident.

She felt a little bad: Esperanza was far from dressing appropriately for the event outside of the grim color, but Beryl wasn’t dressed much better in her party dress either. She tossed her hair back and looped her arm through Esperanza’s, leaning in to say, “We won’t be long.”

Brown eyes flickered to her with concern. “Sure. Who passed?”

“Mm,” Beryl smacked her lips. “My father.”

That made Esperanza stop walking, jerking Beryl back in the middle of the hall. The girl paled more than Beryl had ever seen her before. “Why didn’t you tell me? I’m so sorry.”

Beryl shrugged. “It’s fine. It happens. I didn’t want to ruin anything.”

“You wouldn’t have ruined anything if you told me,” Esperanza’s voice lowered. “I didn’t know-”

“I didn’t want you to know.” Beryl’s foot began tapping. “You’re drawing this out.”

“It’s your father,” Esperanza said as if that answered everything.

“He’s just a man.”

“How can you-” Esperanza pulled her arm away. “How can you say something like that? I begged for parents my whole life. It’s not that simple.”

Beryl glanced down the hall towards the remaining people in the lobby. “I begged for parents too. It’s not that simple.”

She sighed and strode forward without her friend, looking for the right sign to point her to the right room. A few moments later, heavy boots hurried down the hall to hug her from behind. Esperanza’s heated breath whispered something into her neck, but Beryl couldn’t hear it. They parted, and Esperanza relinked their arms together, down with their fingers laced together.

The wake wasn’t much. Beryl knew her father, and her father hadn’t been a very friendly man. Outside of herself and Esperanza, only about ten other people were loitering around. The only person who spoke was a teary aunt that Beryl forgot she had. Limp flowers lay on the ground, and Beryl peeked into the casket, thinking about what an ugly shirt they chose to dress him in.

From what she heard, it was a heart attack. This fact hardly mattered, but Beryl watched his face. For a moment, she thought it would be fucked up if he got up right now. It might've been possible. It's not like Beryl didn't know that this world had secrets hidden in its corners. He didn’t get up, of course, but Beryl sighed and walked back to where Esperanza was waiting.

The whole affair took a little less than twenty minutes. They were offered to return to follow the procession to the cemetery, but Beryl said she was only a coworker, and wanted to pay her respects. In and out, like Beryl promised, except she stayed outside of the funeral parlor for a moment to smoke. When she got back in the car, she threw the program in the back of the car, and pulled out in silence.

Esperanza kept glancing at her until Beryl snapped, “What.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yep,” Beryl merged lanes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Your dad died.”

“Dads die every day.”

Esperanza faltered. “...You were at the airport picking me up when he passed. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“But you’re crying.”

“I’m not fucking crying,” Beryl reached under her sunglasses to find out she was indeed crying. She sighed, focusing on the road instead and sinking back into her chair. “Okay. Tell me about your dad.”

Beryl was lucky that Esperanza wasn’t dumb enough to push the topic further. They weren’t always on the same page: hell, they weren’t even on the same book most of the time, but the girl got it when Beryl most needed it.

“I never met him,” Esperanza said after a moment. “I lived with Rosa and her dad, but he wasn’t around much, at least not for me. I have this picture in my head of what a father should be, but there was a point where I realized I was fine on my own. I used to carry around a picture of Tin-Tan saying he was my dad, until I realized how stupid that was.”

“Sorry,”

“Don’t be. It's funny looking back. No one believed me no matter how much I swore it was true,” Esperanza hesitated. “My mom was the best, though. She’s someone you would’ve loved. I’ve been alive more years without her than with at this point, but I think of her every day.”

“That’s nice. You never talk about her.”

“You don’t talk about yours either.”

The disquieting atmosphere that settled between them sat, neither woman knowing nor desiring how to continue forward. Eventually, Beryl turned into an exit and glanced at Esperanza’s thoughtful face. “You’re basically my best friend, but we know nothing about each other.”

Esperanza inhaled. “Funny. You’re right.”

“I can’t even say you’re my best friend,” Beryl continued, glaring at the sun. “You’re my only friend. Real friend, at least. We’ve been through some serious shit together.”

“Mhm.”

“Honestly, I thought you would tire of me by now,” Beryl admitted. “Most people do.”

“I do-” Esperanza laughed at the glare Beryl shot her. “But you’re my best friend whether I hate you or not.”

Pleased, Beryl tried carefully not to drive into another car when she saw the way Esperanza was looking at her with such intention and care, stirring up a clutter fuck of restlessness within her.

“Your mom must’ve been beautiful,” Beryl found herself saying.

“She was. Your mom must’ve been pretty, too.”

Beryl’s heart shuffled against her sternum. “She was.”

She fucking despised Esperanza Valdez. Glaring at the girl on the other side of the upscale lounge talking with a random guy, Beryl seethed in her heels. She only went to the bathroom, and already Esperanza left her for some fucking blonde new reporter smile. Worse, Beryl knew this jackass too- she’d slept with him a few weeks ago, in fact. He wasn’t very good in bed, but he also wasn’t as all over her the way he was all over Esperanza.

A familiar flare of jealousy rose her spine. She stormed off, one part not caring if Esperanza got ruined, and the other part bored, until she landed on the balcony smoking. If she really wanted to, she could storm back in and weep about her dead father to make her feel bad. Just the thought made her grin.

It was pathetic the way Beryl could only cling to her side. The woman was a disease plaguing her.

When Beryl got lost in thought, she often pictured that first night when she met Esperanza. Esperanza had been listening to her, trusting her decisions and leadership. Though it was years ago, she craved that feeling of her nails sticky with flesh. Recalled that memory of Esperanza afraid, eyes large and chest shuddering. A beautiful sight of the girl tearing into a monster, then hugging Beryl tight as if she’d done it all for her.

“Fucking bitch,” she sighed, debating throwing her cigarette down below.

“You’re stunning.”

“Holy shit-” she jumped and found herself looking at the most handsome man she could ever imagine. Dark hair and rich blue eyes tracing her body. Her mind nearly ached to look at him, eyes unsure what part to memorize forever.

“Who are you?” she scowled. “The fuck do you want.”

“A fan,” the man’s voice was pure sex; Beryl was nearly impressed. A model? An actor? God, did it even matter? “I’ve been watching you for a while.”

“Creepy,” Beryl said, faint. “I don’t talk to fanboys.”

He laughed, and it was like being swept away. “I imagine you have many. Do you want a drink?”

Despite her thoughts swirling down a dangerous path, she wanted to say no. But then her eyes slipped past his broad shoulders, and she saw Esperanza toying with her drink. She looked this man up again. There was something she couldn’t put her finger on. He exuded an intimidation that made her squirm, and his eyes swirled with a passionate ambition she’d only seen in her reflection. He was, for lack of better words, fucking magical. Impossible, really, Beryl’s skin goosebumped at the thought.

Fuck it. She didn’t care what his name was and mentally already had him undressed.

“Sure,” she grinned. “Tell me more about what made you a fan.”

Beryl woke up alone and naked. Her knees slid up under the covers, her hair tangled and wild, and her entire body trembled like she was living the after-effects of being shocked. The side of her bed was cold, a faint, unplaceable scent lifting through the sheets, until she realized that she left her windows open, and the thunder in her head was partially the rain.

She leaned out the window, inhaling. Her body was somehow both wired and melting, similar to the glow of camera flashes against her skin during an exhausting PR event. Beryl kept the windows open, collapsing into the bed, moaning. Holy fuck. Just the thought of last night shot fire through her neurons.

The alarm clock told her she slept well into the afternoon. Which made sense, she blushed, she didn’t remember going to sleep until early in the morning. Then, she sat up, woozy.

Fuck. She forgot Esperanza.

Beryl stumbled out of her room, only to find the other woman had made it home and was sleeping against the wall soundly. Considering she was still dressed from last night, Beryl assumed the woman would wake up with a gnarly headache. She expected herself to have one, too, but was pleasantly surprised to find her body and mind like liquid gold.

Tiptoeing to the kitchen, she hummed a song she didn’t know, skipping to a beat that didn’t exist as she pulled together ingredients. Intense. An intense feeling of confidence and bliss and… Beryl couldn’t name the final emotion.

Empowered, perhaps? She had looked upon Esperanza not with jealousy, but pity when she first saw her this morning. It was a strange turn. One she very much revered.

Her friend woke up to the smell of coffee. Sleep marks stretched across her face, eyes squeezed tight and grimacing.

“You’re happy,” Esperanza commented, sitting at the kitchen island, caging her head away from the light.

“Am I?”

“Extremely,” Esperanza grunted. “You left me.”

“Hmm,” Beryl flipped a pancake. “You handled it yourself.”

The other girl didn’t say anything until Beryl placed a plate in front of her. Esperanza murmured a tiny thank you, taking a fork to stab through a strawberry.

“Was it that good?” she asked.

“Fucking magical.”

“Is that why you’re still naked?”

Beryl blinked, looking down. She hardly even noticed. That’s how good she was feeling. Normally, she’d blush or stumble out, especially since it was Esperanza she was in front of. Esperanza had the body that Beryl could only glimpse at. Instead, she surprised herself by shrugging and returning to the pancakes.

“You look different,” Esperanza murmured.

“I lost a lot of weight.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

Beryl turned questioningly, but Esperanza didn’t continue except to say, “Cute butt,” to which Beryl told her to get the fuck out of her kitchen.

Chapter Text

Beryl hardly noticed when Esperanza went back home. She was bubbling with joy and energy every day, dancing in the rain and singing as she woke up. It was remarkable. She’d think she was doing cocaine lines if it wasn’t for the fact that she knew why she was so giddy.

Beryl Grace was head over heels in love.

Her paramour was a man made of fantasies. He listened to her, advised her, celebrated her, venerated her. She was a muse, and he was the painter; all Beryl needed to do was smile, and this man was at her side and compliant.

She knew in the past few years, since she grew more sure of her body, that she wasn’t ugly and she was worth being desired over. But he looked at her like she was a god, and she’d never experienced anything like that. That glee tumbled through her system and shifted into power.

If he weren’t in her bed or whisking her away on a trip, he’d be in her dreams. Beryl was a queen, high in the sky, looking down gleefully at all the tiny people. Things feel much smaller when you’re living the dream. The little insecurities she’d honed in on, the little self-pity parties, and inarguable frustrations ceased to exist.

Addicting, was her lover. He appeared at a thought, and he often left her with no thoughts when he was done.

The change enveloped her life. All of a sudden, Beryl was getting more auditions, more interviews, more photoshoots. She’d been asked if she’d gotten a nose job a few times and was complimented on anything and everything. It was like the world had finally set right where it belonged, with Beryl Grace lazily whirling the globe to her whims.

The next time she saw Esperanza was in Texas. It was humid and miserable, and Esperanza didn’t have a spare bedroom, but Beryl couldn’t find herself complaining. How could she? There was nothing to be upset about.

“I think I’m in love,” she told her best friend. “It’s so bad. I told Monica, and she just laughed at me, so I’m telling you.”

“I don’t know much about love.” Esperanza was fixing the broken air conditioner while Beryl sat against the wall, fanning her face. “Or who Monica is.”

“I’ve seen you date! Trust me, I’ve skimmed your Facebook.”

“You’re keeping tabs on me?”

“No.”

“You’re obsessed.”

She wasn’t, she was… curious. She enjoyed knowing things. Besides, Beryl hadn’t thought about Esperanza much lately. She didn’t realize it until the woman called her over for once.

“I need to know what my soulmate is doing,” Beryl said.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m an actress.”

“Yes, I’ve heard.”

Beryl sighed, falling onto the ground. “I’ve been looking at wedding venues. Can I tell you a secret?”

Esperanza cursed as her screwdriver flew out of her hand. She glared down at Beryl. “What?”

Beryl felt like a teenager again, bringing her hands to her lips.

“He’s married,” she confided, then squealed, clapping her hands to her mouth. “Oh my God!”

Exasperated, Esperanza frowned. “He’s married?”

“Yes,” Beryl said dreamily. “But I’m who he chose.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Not at all.”

Esperanza wiped the sweat on her brow. “What’s his name again? Does his wife know?”

Beryl’s eyes lit up, finger to her lips. “I can’t say. It’s a secret.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No, you should be thinking about what you’re wearing to my wedding.”

Esperanza shook her head and banged on the air conditioner, which spat back to life, much to their relief. They both sat in front of it, peeling off shirts and sighing.

“Is he hot?” Esperanza tried asking, only for Beryl to fall back onto the floor, spreading her arms wide.

“Oh my god, girl, let me tell you,” Beryl blabbed. It was new, being the one who was experiencing excitement. She was in love with the feeling, in love with love.

Beryl met his wife as she was walking to the bathroom to pee after sex. She nearly flew out of her skin to find a tall woman standing in the hallway, but she quickly realized that this woman was like him and sighed. They had a certain sort of presence to them, ethereal and imposing.

“Can I piss first?” she asked, already walking away.

When she came back, now clothed in a bathrobe, she closed her bedroom door, noticing it was empty, and went into the grand living space area where the wife sat on her couch, looking out the window at the rain. When she noticed Beryl, her head turned, pink lips curling into a pleasant smile.

“Beryl, am I correct?” The woman said clinically, as if they were two ordinary women talking about her blood test results. “Do you know who I am?”

Beryl’s eyes skated to the impossibly shiny dark hair, rich brown eyes, and straight posture. Neat and perfect. Casually dressed in jeans, a white blouse and a simple golden headband, the goddess didn’t need to be in a toga for Beryl to know.

“I can take a guess,” she settled, standing with her arms folded. “Are you going to kill me?”

Hera seemed amused. “What could I gain from doing that?”

Beryl scowled. “Do you all talk like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like we’re children and toys for you.”

Hera seemed genuinely baffled by this, considering it. Maybe no one had ever told her that she was condescending. Or maybe they have: Beryl wasn’t sure what exactly was protecting her from being struck down on the spot, but she thanked the heavens for it.

“You really are unpleasant,” Hera sighed, folding one leg over the other, hands clasping her knees. “I can’t say I’m surprised. He has quite an eye for women of your ilk.”

“Like yourself?”

Hera turned to examine the apartment before pinning Beryl to the ground with only her eyes. “Are you happy like this, Beryl? Are you satisfied in life?”

The actress sniffed in response. Hera sighed again, drumming her fingers on her thigh.

“I don’t have to like you,” the goddess declared, “but you play a certain role that I can’t ignore. Even if that has to do with… my husband.” My husband was said with such violent dissatisfaction and revulsion that Beryl nearly fell over.

She sat on the arm of a different couch, pulling her robe tighter. “A role?”

“Yes. You seem to like those,” Hera tossed at her.

Beryl stared blankly. Hera’s eyebrow rose, returning the gaze with as much indifference. An uncomfortably thick wedge of time slipped by, Beryl’s nerves growing antsy.

Over the past few months, she’d been able to discern more of that magical side of the world. The more time she spent with him, the more she was able to recognize other things. The Mist is what he called it, and it was like Beryl had been given a flashlight to look inside. Even now, she can see a faint glow around Hera, the glow feeling like a physical pressure was moving against Beryl. It was as if gods had their own gravitational pulls, mandating attention with the power they exuded.

Beryl was glued to the concept. She needed that. Carnally prayed for even a smidge of what they all took so lightly.

“How’s work?” Hera split the silence, utterly disorienting Beryl.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m asking about your career in entertainment,” Hera repeated as if Beryl were stupid. “You have a steady income, yes?”

“I didn’t know you needed money on Olympus.”

Hera’s lip hinted at a smile. “I do not, but you will need some. Despite you... being intimate with my husband, I am on your side.”

Beryl’s face scrunched up. “What?”

“Did he tell you about the pact?” Hera sighed. Her eyes moved past Beryl in thought. “Of course, he didn’t. I swear- Beryl, come here.”

Despite not wanting to, she was pulled to the side of the Queen of the gods. Hera patted the cushion next to her, offering it like Beryl was the guest and an extremely familiar one at that.

When she sat, Hera let out a breath of relief. Her fingers carded through long, inky strands, and for a moment, Beryl felt as if she were on set with her coworkers, getting ready for the next scene. Hera felt rather human- that was how Beryl knew she didn’t like her. Despite being an actor, or perhaps because she’s an actor, Beryl knew well never to trust someone who seemed like they’d excel onstage.

“I am not your enemy,” Hera stated as if reading her mind. “You can relax. I have no desire to hurt someone in your position.”

“My position?” Beryl scoffed. “Most wives would love to hurt the other woman.”

Hera chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure, I’ve seen it often. I am the goddess of marriage, if you’re aware.”

“I’m not.” Beryl knew everything she could. After meeting Esperanza, she dove into as much lore and mythos as she could get her hands on. When getting with him, he’d show her memories so vivid that Beryl would think they were her own. She was well acquainted with Hera- and her jealousy.

“For an actor, you’re a terrible liar,” Hera mused. She turned her head toward Beryl, lips spread thin. “Think of your life like this: you were born to play a role, and the script has been written for you to play specifically. You’ve already sped through the first few acts.”

Then the goddess slouched with a sigh, elbow resting on her knee, jaw against her fist. “I don’t envy your position, but I do watch it carefully. You want so much of the world, and yet, you’re still a child.”

Beryl’s nostrils flared, and she bit her tongue.

“What do you think your purpose is? What keeps you alive here?” Hera questioned. She bowed her head, smiling conspiratorily like they were best friends swapping casual gossip. “Don’t lie. I’ve made sure no one else can listen.”

Beryl’s lip trembled with anger. She was stubborn enough to hold back a remark, but her mouth began moving before she could stop it: “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Beryl’s head shook, ashamed. “I want… I deserve better.”

“Better than what?” Hera pressed. Her eyes flickered with intrigue, pulling Beryl into a stupor. For once, the woman didn’t have anything to say. Beryl’s hands felt slick in her tenseness.

Hera produced an affirmative noise at the back of her throat, guttural yet light. She stood, towering over Beryl, and bent over to kiss her forehead. “You and the child should be safe for a year or two now. I assume you already know what you’re playing around with since you continue to do so greedily. You’re very lucky- in the future, I’ll need something from you that no one else can provide, but I do not need you to be alive and well to receive it.”

Heat flooded through Beryl’s body from her temple down to tingling to her tiniest toe. Exhaustion she didn’t know she had spilled out of her pores, and her stomach thrummed like a guitar string. A lazy smile floated upon her face, and Hera returned the smile, though it lacked any of the warmth she provided.

“I am delivering you with a favor, and I hope to see it returned,” Hera straightened. She brushed off her jeans and clasped her arms in front of her. “I like strong women, Beryl, do not get me wrong. You’re enjoyable to watch and have been dealt an unfortunate hand, for which you have my deepest sympathies,” her eyes glimmered with gold. “But that does not mean you can continue to go around as sloppily as you do. Stick within your realms, mortal, and you won’t have to fear me leaving my own.”

It was only after she disappeared that Beryl released a gasp she didn’t know she had been feeling. A flash of lightning flickered through the sky, and she screamed as the power shut off. Her fingers trembled, feeling the pit of her stomach lurch. She pressed her palms against her tummy, frowning when blood swiped across. Four tiny indents were carved into her palms, and her nails were gummy with blood. There wasn’t any pain, and the blood was more incredulous than disturbing. She picked at the skin, fascinated at how she could barely feel it. A blessing of some sort, then. Beryl’s lips puckered when thinking about the goddess.

What the fuck did Hera mean by child?

After his wife’s little visit, he didn’t see her, but Beryl knew he was still eyeing her. Somedays, she’d see a bird flying a little lower than normal, watching her carefully. On other days, she’d open her apartment door to find a gift basket of something she needed.

He was sweet. Each time, her heart fluttered, but it wasn’t the same as touching his skin or hearing him gasp her name. Beryl sighed as she stepped into the hot tub in the middle of the day, watching the grey sky above her.

Could he see her now? Was he watching her now? Listening and waiting? In her mind, she thought, send me a sign if you care, but when nothing happened, she couldn’t pretend she expected anything less.

“Are you listening?” Esperanza’s voice crackled through the phone. “Hello?”

“Yes, yes,” Beryl snapped. “Something about a customer.”

Esperanza made a noise between disbelief and amusement. “Close. I was talking about Tristan.”

“No more boys,” Beryl sunk lower into the heated waters. “I’m tired of men. When can you fly back here? I’m bored.”

“Some of us have jobs, Beryl.”

“I have a job. I’m…” Beryl winced. “Taking a break.”

“How unlike you. Who’s the guy?”

“There’s no guy.”

On Esperanza’s end, someone was speaking Spanish, so she had to wait. Beryl traced the lines in her palms under the water, glancing up when she felt a little drizzle. It didn’t normally rain as much in LA, but lately, Beryl couldn’t say her life had been exactly normal.

“I’m back,” Esperanza breathed. “What were we talking about?”

“Who cares?” she dipped even lower into the hot tub until her head could lean on the rim, knees bobbing out of the water. “Maybe I should get a dog. I’ve never had one before, but it can’t be that hard.”

This made the other woman laugh. “You should not get a dog. I can’t picture you taking care of anything else.”

Beryl’s eyes closed, feeling the drizzle on her face, careful to avoid dropping the phone in the water. “Maybe. What are you doing right now?”

“Right now? Cooking.”

“Cooking what?”

“Hm,” a timer went off on the other end. “Fried rice.”

“Yummy.”

“It’s leftovers.”

Beryl hummed. “Still sounds delicious. I haven’t had anyone cook for me in a long time.”

Esperanza paused. “... I see. I’ll cook for you the next time I see you, then.”

“Would you?”

“You know, most people would say You don’t have to.”

Beryl laughed. “But I want you to. Last time I tried your food, it was shit. You’ve improved, right? Oh my God, that was insane.”

Esperanza grew silent, and Beryl laughed harder.

“I’m only cooking for myself,” she huffed into the phone. “It’s edible, and that’s what food is supposed to be.”

“No way,” Beryl sat up, her cheeks hurting. “Next time, I’ll cook for you. Your stomach will be relieved from all the shit you’ve been forcing down your throat.”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Tristan threw up!” Beryl cackled. “He thought we were killing him!”

Esperanza grumbled something Beryl thought would never come out of that girl’s mouth, causing her to lose it entirely. She’d missed this. She couldn’t find herself laughing with anyone else like this.

“Okay,” Beryl came back, wiping at her eyes. “What are you going to do if you have kids? You’ll have to cook for them eventually.”

Esperanza snorted. “I don’t want kids.”

This made Beryl sober up. She sat up fully, tucking her wet hair back. “What, why not?”

“Never cared for it.”

“Never cared for it,” Beryl echoed.

A sigh peeled through the receiver. “If kids happen, then they happen, but I’m not planning for them. I’d love them all the same, wanted or not. Honestly, I can’t imagine you with kids either.”

Beryl pressed her lips together. “Why not.”

“I don’t know,” there was a sizzle that rose from Esperanza’s side. “Hold on, give me a second.”

Beryl waited, feeling taut. What was she supposed to say to that? How could she even respond to that?

Granted, Beryl herself had never wanted kids. They seemed like a hassle, and it wasn’t as if she knew how to raise them right. If anything, she was certain she’d fuck them up even more. Her stomach stirred with doubt.

“I think I’ll mess it up,” Esperanza came back a few moments later. “They’re complicated, and I can’t always watch them.”

“But you’ll be a great mom, Evie,” Beryl said.

“Hm,” Esperanza shuffled around. “Thanks, I guess?”

Beryl waited for her to say it back, but Esperanza didn’t. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that, cutting her slightly. Beryl hesitated. “I’m pregnant.”

“Why?”

“What the fuck do you mean why?”

Esperanza laughed. “It slipped out. I didn’t mean that. Congrats.”

“Thank you.”

“I thought you said there was no guy,” Esperanza pondered. Beryl heard the clink of silverware, so she assumed the girl was done cooking.

“There is no guy,” Beryl said, watching the rain hit the terrace flooring.

“It’ll be hard to get pregnant otherwise. You won’t tell me the father?”

Beryl wondered if it was worth saying. “Does it matter?”

“A little, yes.”

“Just a man.”

“I would assume so.”

“It doesn’t matter. What do you think about baby names?”

Esperanza was silent, then: “Beryl….”

She hated her; she really did. Beryl pouted. “You’re pushing me. I’ll hang up.”

Beryl could nearly hear the eye roll. “Go ahead.”

“Fuck off.” Then Beryl sighed, glancing up at the sky, feeling a breeze tickle her chin, “You can’t freak out.”

“Don’t tell me it’s Tristan-”

“No, no, it’s,” Beryl scowled, whispering the name as thunder rolled across the city. For a moment, she felt relieved, thinking Esperanza had missed it, hoping that she would be given the decency of not needing to say it again.

Esperanza let out a deep sigh. “I can’t believe you sometimes. You’re hopeless.” She hung up.

Beryl stared at the phone, then screamed without opening her mouth.

The phone rang again, and she picked up, spitting out a venomous “What.”

“Nothing. I don’t agree with it, but I’m still your friend.”

When did best get taken off of there? Beryl grabbed at her bikini top.

“Good,” Beryl said. “You don’t have to like it. It’s not yours.”

“It’s not,” the line went quiet. Then, softly: “Was the sex good?”

“Amazing,” Beryl said without batting an eye. “Three times a day for the past year.”

“You’re joking.”

“I don’t joke,” Beryl teased, feeling some of the heavy weight falling off her back. “No, but it was good. I liked it. I think he likes me.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t start with me,” Beryl snapped. “Even if he doesn’t, it doesn’t matter. I’m still having his kid. What the fuck were they called? Half-gods?”

“I don’t know, who cares,” Esperanza chewed for a good minute. “Have you told anyone else?”

Beryl drew her knees up. “Just you,” she murmured, “I have no one else to tell.”

“In that case, I’m happy for you. I’m serious.”

“Thank you,” Beryl’s heart lightened. “Do you… want to be the godmother?”

The laughter coming from Texas was light-hearted as well, thankfully. “You’re not even religious.” Esperanza paused. “Can you have one of those if you’re with… him?”

“Fuck if I know. He didn’t leave me a guidebook.”

“You know, what if it came out of your head?”

“WHAT?”

“I read about it once. He had a kid who was born straight out of his skull. That wouldn’t work with you.”

“You’re so disgusting,” Beryl said. It would look amazing on screen. She could already picture herself draped in gore and wiping the blood from her eyes. “Why would you say that?”

Esperanza snickered. “Let me wash my dishes first.”

Beryl nodded, forgetting she couldn’t be seen, absently twirling her hair. She shouldn’t be out in the rain like this, but she couldn’t help it. It was like a caress, a downpour sent for her.

Beryl wasn’t as dumb to believe that was true, but for a second, she liked to pretend that she was.

“You really want it, huh?” asserted Esperanza when she was back. Beryl heard the sound of doors closing, and the creak of, assumingly a bed.

“I want a boy. Girls are so evil.”

“You should tell her that when she’s born.”

“He.”

“What’s his name?”

That stumped her. “I don’t know. Ozu. Orson. Tarantino.”

“I see,” Esperanza said, clearly unenthused. “Let’s start simple. Adam.”

“No.”

“Bob.”

“Hmm, no.”

“Carl.”

“Stop giving me ugly names! I want something with culture.”

“Name her Beryl Number Two.”

“Goodbye!” She ended the call and sunk into the bubbles.

Watching her body change was horrific. Whatever mental bonds she thought she had broken through came back in full force, flooding her mind. If it hadn't been for her manager checking in, Beryl was sure the little monster inside of her would resort to gnawing at her intestines if she didn't eat more.

For the most part, she didn’t feel pain. None of the aches she'd heard about, none of the restrictions. Giving birth to some baby god had its advantages.

Yet. Beryl had nightmares each night. Nightmares of mundanity, what her life would be like if she stayed where she was and never proceeded. She might've married Tristan McLean, maybe had his kid, worked at a grocery store. She'd go to PTA meetings, get to know everyone on the block, run the carpool route, and bake for the fundraisers. She'd be braiding little pigtails and washing off baseball uniforms. If she were truly ambitious, she might even run for local government and lose in a close race to someone who didn't deserve it more than she did. 

She'd thrown up more from these dreams than any morning sickness. Whenever Beryl would wake up, she'd stare outside if it were raining. If it weren't, which was most nights, she’d devour horror movies, the unnecessarily bloody squelching kind, imagining herself dying in whatever gruesome display folded out in front of her. That was a better ending she would happily embrace. 

She'd rather be tragic than nothing at all.

Esperanza was right, like always. It was a girl. She came early.

“What do you want to put on the birth certificate?”

“Um. Thalia.” it came to her in a dream a few days ago. Suggested maybe. She hoped it was his suggestion. She knew it was probably from the wife instead.

“Beautiful. Do you mind spelling it out?”

When she was done, the nurse left Beryl alone, promising to be back in a few minutes.

Beryl stared at the baby. Newborns were ugly. Her baby was fat, too. Was this normal fat or something different? She’d acted a birthing scene before, and it was nothing like this. Thalia slipped out of her like the quiet mistake she was, and Beryl was sure it was a record.

It’s strange to think the bundle had once been inside of her. She felt no attachment to her child. Was it right to call it hers? There was undeniably a ripple under Thalia’s skin, energy crackling through her blood. That was all him. If anything, she could be pleased with that: she didn’t know how many of these little fucked up half-breeds were out there, but she knew hers was the only one from him. Hers was special. Unique. Only something she could do, if Beryl remembered Hera correctly.

Her hospital room, private, was only soft hums and muffled chattering from the hall. Due to the blessing, Beryl didn’t feel a thing. She had the perfect delivery, created the perfect child, and had a promise of getting her perfect body back. But she wished someone was here with her. Beryl would even take a little pain right now. Something.

Even the stupid baby didn’t seem interested in her. She was quiet, something Beryl had never been.

Everything was quiet these days, and she hated it.

Chapter Text

“Move it, idiot,” Esperanza’s hand was slapped away by her sister. “The stove’s still hot. You’ll burn yourself and then what? Who will take care of you? It sure won’t be me.”

“Couldn’t imagine a world where you did,” Esperanza snapped, then they looked at each other, before simultaneously sighing into the heat. Rosa turned off the knobs, pushing her sleeves back up with her back against the counter.

“It’s too hot to argue with you,” came Rosa’s whine.

“But you’re so good at it,” Esperanza rolled her eyes. She reached to grab the plates from the shelves, fingers pulsing around cheap ceramic. Three plates. Rosa grabbed a fourth one, and handed off a spoon. They silently dished out food together, setting three plates on the table. Rosa covered one with a napkin, while Esperanza’s thumb rubbed into the fourth plate’s chipped rim.

Her chin jutted towards the covered plate on the table. “Tony coming?”

“Yes,” Rosa’s head tilted towards the ceiling fan, casually dropping, “he asked me to marry him.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. I think I love him.”

“You think?”

Rosa’s lips curled into its comfortable scowl whenever she was faced with Esperanza. “He’s different.”

“Tony,” Esperanza tasted the name. “The ugly one, no?”

“No,” Rosa snarled. “Get the fuck out of my face.”

Esperanza suppressed her laugh, moving out the kitchen and towards the dark hallway. Her bare soles pushed away misplaced items, gingerly stepping past brown packaging and discarded medical instruments.

Her abuelo stayed in his room, or on his porch most days. Esperanza never asked what he did, and he never indulged further in her past pleasantries. But they had a rhythm to each others days, a dance that the two could navigate instinctually.

When she’d first heard Sammy Valdez was ill, she’d been confused. She didn’t know how the letter found her, and most of the time, she threw it all out, but one afternoon she ripped open a letter from his nurse and thought, what does this have to do with me?

She liked her grandfather, at least, when she had been a child. Now, buried in her twenties, Esperanza barely knew what she liked or who she wanted to be, though she knew she didn’t want to be a caretaker. But… the free rent was beyond enticing to a woman who couldn’t gather a meager wage together.

The funny thing was that he wasn’t sick at all. He was doing remarkably well for a man his age, he could probably outrun Esperanza in a race, and he had an unfortunate penchant of befriending everyone he met. Getting her out there was one of his tricks, which was something Esperanza learned really quickly. Sammy Valdez was filled with tricks and performances.

His door had been left ajar, which she nudged open with her foot. Sammy had given Esperanza the master bedroom when she moved in, but he never bothered moving his stuff out, nor did Esperanza have any stuff to keep around either. As a result, his current bedroom looked like it was in transition: half-painted canvases, discarded clothes, a lot of plastic water bottles, and bare walls.

When she entered, Sammy turned around on the porch, with a blank look on his face.

“Dinner,” she gestured.

“Bah,” Sammy shook his head at her. “Come here.”

Awkwardly waddling outside, heat slapping her like a wall, Esperanza put down the plate on the small table. Sammy waved her over to his side, looking out at the setting sun dipping behind city buildings and sparse trees.

“Magnolia’s being sold soon,” Sammy told her gravely. He closed his eyes, like he was feeling an invisible breeze across his nose.

Magnolia, was a horse that Sammy took interest in. The few times he left the house, he would head to a nearby riding club to gaze at the mares. When she’d asked, he said it was something he enjoyed as a kid, and Esperanza nodded, unsure what to say, because frankly there was nothing she had loved for years enduring like that.

“Oh,” Esperanza nodded. “Do we have a final date?”

“It’ll take some conchas to get information out of that woman,” despite his age, Sammy pouted like he was fifteen. “But in a month or so, I believe. She’s running me dry here.”

“I’ll tell Rosa to run for ingredients.”

“Don’t. Lotte doesn’t know the difference between store-bought and homemade,” he cracked a grin at her. “Twenty years and that woman still can’t tell. It’s all in the presentation, I tell ya’. Make it seem like she wants it before she can figure out what it is.” He side-glanced at her. “When am I having great-grandkids? I’m not getting any younger here.”

“...Alright, abuelo,” Esperanza patted his back, dryly. “This was fun. We should do it again. Goodbye.”

He laughed at her, until it burst into coughs, but he waved his hand at her to signal he was fine. Esperanza lingered, watching as the man sat back down, picking up his plate and fork, and mumuring to something she couldn’t see.

When she returned to the kitchen, Rosa’s boyfriend, Tony, was sitting at the table, the couple with their heads knitted together and feeding each other like sickening babies. From one tricky relative to the other. Esperanza promptly got rid of the idea of eating dinner at all, heading back to her room, praying for sanity.

Due to moving around and being a little standoffish (“bitchy,” as Rosa put it) Esperanza didn’t have many friends. It was something she could never click the way everyone around her did, like she had been missing a piece of hardware that made relationships work.

She also didn’t like Houston much. It was too hot for her, the insects made her miserable, and the people nearby were either overly endearing or obtusely disaffected towards her. Within the first few months, she quickly understood why her mother wanted to leave Texas. Within the first year, Esperanza had bought nearly ten train tickets to go as far as possible, stood at platforms, and chickened out the moment she could hear the train engine.

But Texas had an extremely unexpected promise to it: whether it was the heat, or the bugs, or the people, something in Houston made it monster-free. She had no idea why, nor did the reasoning matter much, but it made her wipe away sweat and think, maybe things aren’t so bad here.

Then Beryl Grace visited her wearing cowboy boots and a fur coat.

“Holy shit,” fell out the blonde actress’ mouth. “You're telling me, your favorite things to do are go home and sleep? But there’s so much to do here!”

Esperanza shrugged, chewing on her straw. “I have a real job.”

“So do I!”

“How much do they tax Playboy bunnies-”

“Evie,” Beryl threatened. “I’m in a production of Cinderella, for your information. But don’t tell people that, I have an NDA.”

Who was she gonna tell? Rosa? Tony? Sammy? Esperanza wanted to laugh. She didn’t have any friends.

Beryl pulled out a couple of pamphlets from the airport, shoving their plates to the side and spreading them across the restaurant counter. She pointed a manicured finger along attractions and locations Esperanza didn’t care about, oohing-and-ahhing about nothing that was important.

After years of knowing the woman, Beryl Grace was still as baffling as she was when they were seventeen. Watching this animated woman at her side, with big gestures and pursed lips, Esperanza felt both strained and comforted.

She wasn’t used to familiarity, but the woman had forced herself into being extremely familiar with Esperanza.

“Let’s go to a bar,” Beryl said, grabbing her arm. “Look, they even have bingo nights. You love bingo!”

“I have never loved bingo.”

“You’ll love it, trust me, I know you.” Beryl’s finger jutted towards a different printed page. “And look, here’s a club- I’ve been trapped in my house all these months, I’m dying to find something fun.”

“Aren’t I fun?” Esperanza hummed.

“Yes, yes, lots of fun,” Beryl quickly amended. “But you’re not drunk, and so that’s something we can fix.”

“We’re getting too old for that. Look, you can hear my knees crack.”

Beryl scoffed. “We aren’t even close to being old. You’re a homebody making excuses.”

Esperanza smiled. “My best friend knows me so well.”

When she said it, Esperanza didn’t mean much by it. It was an extremely tossable statement. Beryl gaped at her, causing the woman to turn away, face burning with embarrassment.

“N-no, no, no-” Beryl grabbed her shoulders, hugging her close. She smelled like coffee and sweat, with a tinge of something flowery underneath. “I know I’ve said it, but when you say it-” she giggled to herself, petting Esperanza’s hair like she were a child. “Yes, Evie. We are best friends.”

Her eyebrows rose. Sure, Esperanza might not say it out loud, but it was clear to her that Beryl was her best friend. They disagreed on many things —most things, really —and they led separate lives, but even in moments when Beryl frustrated her, the actress had never stopped being her friend.

Feeling Beryl’s heartbeat against her ear, Esperanza’s eyelids fluttered, and she pushed away.

“I haven’t been to a bar,” she said, fixing her hair, watching Beryl’s blue eyes light up the restaurant. “It’s also,” Esperanza glanced at her bare wrist. “11 in the morning.”

“That’s perfect!” Beryl chirped. She pushed back one of Esperanza’s hairs, nails scratching her skin slightly. “But we’re going to have to dress you up.”

Beryl Grace and Sammy Valdez were an odd couple. Esperanza was so used to her grandfather’s old man mischief that she doesn’t think to warn Beryl, until Beryl’s slackjawed and gripping her arm.

“He’s so cool,” Beryl gasped, staring at the splayed out cards on the table. “You’re so lucky.”

“Please don’t say that in front of him,” Esperanza pinched her nose bridge. Sammy had went to argue with his old friend, Lotte. “And please don’t fuck my grandpa. He’s got a bad hip.”

“WHAT?” Beryl slapped her shoulder. “I hate you- now I have the image in my head, oh my god. Why would you even say that?”

Esperanza eyed her warily, “you do strange things.”

“That is Esperanza Senior, I’m not going to touch him,” Beryl rolled her eyes, linking her arms with Esperanza. “He’s not even as cute as you anyway. You’re the only Valdez I need.”

Esperanza’s embarrassment seeped through her ears, and she twisted her lips to the side to keep the smile from emerging. From afar, her gaze caught onto her grandfather going back and forth with an older woman, the two both shaking wrinkles and wagging fingers at each other.

They were at a horse ranch, for Sammy to say goodbye to Magnolia, and Beryl invited herself, the way she normally did.

“I’ve never ridden a horse,” Beryl’s curiosity and hesitance read on her face like a lighthouse. “You didn’t tell me you could ride.”

“I can’t,” Esperanza told her. “I moved around too much.”

“So if you didn’t, you’d be a horse champion?”

Esperanza deadpanned. “Yes. That sounds like me. How did you know?”

“Well, horses like me,” Beryl flipped her hair, and pulled on her arm. “Let’s ride together, okay?”

The horse Esperanza is given is gigantic and thickly muscled, a dark stallion mutt with a spotted back, and an unsure disposition. Naturally, Beryl is given a beautifully creamy pony that she rides with surprising ease and looks like a Barbie doing so. Neither Esperanza nor the horse looked particularly pleased with each other, both adamantly keeping to the ground and at an awkward distance like two children who were forced to play together.

“I’m not good with animals,” Esperanza told the horse. Then she felt nearly stupid for expecting it to talk back to her. The horse's head picked at the ground, and she stepped back.

When she asked Sammy what the horse’s name was, Sammy gave her a noncommittal answer, but Beryl was persistent enough to track down the name Argo, which had the two going back and forth about animal names in the car, while Esperanza mulled on the name Argo for a horse that like her, didn’t seem to know what it wanted, nor where it was wanted.

Rosa and Tony do not get married. They break up, and Rosa comes to Esperanza with bitter eyes and a crumbling face. They hug, until Rosa murmured, “why does everything bad happen to me?”

Esperanza stiffened. Sure, bad things have happened to Rosa. Esperanza lived through every heartache, death, and injury with her. But Rosa wasn’t… well, she was normal, wasn’t she? Why wasn’t that enough for her?

“It’s the curse,” Esperanze patted her back. “Bad luck Valdezes.”

A little joke between her family, but it only made Rosa blow her nose into Esperanza’s shoulder.

“That’s not funny,” Rosa snapped. “I’m tired of this shit. Why do I have to suffer because everyone’s cursed?”

“Because we’re family.”

Rosa pulled away, eyes red. “I know. I hate it.”

She knew he was a god the moment she saw him, so she doesn’t know why he started playing games with her.

At first, he appeared as a man, one who can be easily overlooked. Scrawny figure, thick nose, and an unfortunate curve in his back. He had a plumber’s uniform on, still smelling like some sharp toilet cleaner. But, he had a glow around him, and an uncanny sense of self. Though she hadn’t met many, she could easily pinpoint someone as powerful as him.

And who did he think he was? Wandering into her store, pretending to be normal, pretending to be a mortal shopping around for power drills?

“What do you want?” She stood at the end of the aisle, hands folded over her chest.

“Batteries,” he said, nodding towards the shelf. Esperanza stared back at him, and the man eventually moved to grab a pack. Then, as simple as that, he left.

He appeared as a child on crutches next, curious, looking around. He stumbled towards where Esperanza was bent over the counter, sketching in her notebook, biting at her pencil eraser.

“What are you doing?” the boy-god peered over, on his tippy toes, eyes devouring what she was drawing. His shirt suggested he was coming from some kind of summer camp, despite it being the winter time.

“Working.”

“On what?” She stared at him, not sure how to continue.

Was she to play his games too? Was that how you dealt with these types of beings? It was unfair, Esperanza thought, that she had been born in such an awkward approximation to these gods and their world, but no one had ever taught her how to handle it.

“You’re a little too young,” she tried, and the boy whined, pressing his cheek on the counter.

“Aww, but please?” He pouted. “It looks super duper cool.”

Her eyebrow rose, and for a moment, she felt ticked. But then she began explaining it as best she could, and he nodded, as if he understood, which she had to accept.

“You’re very nice,” he told her, when they both realized how much time had passed. “You’re not babying me.”

“Why would I?” Esperanza said, carefully. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re playing at, but what else can I do?”

“I dunno,” the boy’s cheeks flushed. “You’re very nice,” he mumbled into his shirt, scratching at the brace on his knee.

Not many people had called her nice. Strange, weird, odd, but never really nice. Esperanza’s body tensed. “... What are you doing here?”

“I-” the boy blushed harder. “Uhh…” he trailed off, and it was so awkward that Esperanza nearly laughed.

While some part of her knew he was not mortal, she couldn’t be certain it was the same god who had appeared last week. If anything, she couldn’t even be certain that this was a god in the first place: monsters were ridiculously good at pretending to be human.

She dropped her head down, temple pulsing. “Please go away,” she muttered. When she lifted her head, the boy was gone.

But the god remained persistent. The next time he (she?) came as a woman. Big weepy blue eyes, and frizzy red hair with a horrible sunburn across her shoulders. The woman’s nose was bandaged up, and her wide gait has an unfortunate limp. A mechanic this time, Esperanza thought with amusement, at first excited to find another woman with the same interests, but the heat was the same of the gods.

“What are you doing?” the woman asked Esperanza, a bit of oil rubbed into her cheek.

“I’m not sure yet. And when I do, it’ll be a secret.”

“Oh,” the ginger god frowned. Then, she lit up like the smartest thing had come to mind: “The best things come from uncertainty.”

Esperanza raised a brow. “You’re very wise. Maybe older than you look.”

The god grumbled. “Isn’t it rude to ask for a woman’s age?”

“Mhm,” Esperanza closed her notebook. “What can I help you with this time?”

“I have a list,” she grunted.

“Let me see.”

The woman grumbled to herself, then began pulling out crumpled pieces of papers from her pockets, clearly stalling. Esperanza stood, bemused, wondering faintly if she should be more wary. But the god was warm, frighteningly so, cozy in a way that made her lips twitch, and her face sweat.

“This is it,” she finally pulled out a long receipt. Esperanza glanced at it, seeing nothing on it, but when the paper was handed over, the list was suddenly filled with incredibly specific items from all around the store.

“I see,” Esperanza blanched.

“Yes,” the god shifted awkwardly on her feet. “Am I bothering you?”

That made her pause. She didn’t think anyone, especially not a god, would care to ask.

“No,” Esperanza murmured. “Not yet.”

They went on like that. The god cycled through forms as if testing her, taking smaller features and pasting them together. If Esperanza expressed interest in a taller character, the next one would be tall as well. If Esperanza said a mole was peculiar, she’d find it has a permanent place going forward.

This was beyond disturbing. She didn’t like that the god could pick a form at whim, one to her specific liking: it was insidious, and something that the god didn’t even consider as anything more than superficial. Esperanza’s wariness grew, but nothing bad happened, and Houston was still, beautifully monster-free, and so she assumed that maybe this was the type of magical thing that she was supposed to like.

Finally, she asked, “Do you need something?”

It was late at night, a few minutes before closing, and Esperanza was supposed to go home to record an awards show that Beryl was supposed to be at. Neither woman seemed particularly invested nor had faith in Esperanza actually doing so, but it was the kind of thing you did for a friend you hadn’t seen in a long time, and frankly, Esperanza was still rather lonely.

“I want to get to know you better.” The god said. He had chosen a form after weeks of knitting together Esperanza’s ideal, with a few other peculiarities thrown in there that Esperanza can only assume was from the god himself: thick brows and a permanent contemplative frown, with his limp and beefier figure.

Esperanza bit her lip. “You know me. I don’t know who you are.”

He mumbled something that she had to ask to be repeated. He sighed and opened his mouth: “Said, if you knew, you wouldn’t like me.”

“Let me guess then,” she tried. She remembered briefly that gods liked games.

“Okay,” he brightened. So that was true. “Three tries, and if I win, you tell me what you’re working on.”

“You want to steal my work?”

“I’m interested in your ingenuity.” His head tilted. “How it works.”

Esperanza paused. At some point, their conversations had strayed from the topic of drill bit costs to more trivial matters. The way she liked her steak cooked. The sunsets he wanted to see. How she had a sister she didn’t like, and he had many siblings who didn’t like him back.

Harmless things, really. But telling him about what she was working on was… she pulled her notebook to her chest.

“You know I’m not something you can play with,” she scowled.

“I know,” he nodded, abashed. “I…” His frustration was evident in grunts and muttered curses.

Esperanza’s lips pressed together. “...Fine.”

The god’s eyes lit up. He leaned against the counter, nearing her face. “Any thoughts?”

“I’ll have to do research,” she said, fixing a glare. “It could take years.”

In truth, since he’d been coming into her life, she’d spent hours sequestered in the library trying to figure out who exactly was going to ruin her life, and just how much power they had. She had a confident guess, but even if she were right, what was she supposed to do with it? Esperanza still didn’t know what he wanted from her either. It couldn’t be anything good.

As if he knew about her many hours of studying him- and he likely did- the god sighed, “I love your brain.”

Annoyed, Esperanza pursed her lips. She walked him towards the door, carefully leaning on the doorframe. The god waited outside, expectant, so she said, “Go home, Lord Apollo.”

He flinched, his lower lip dipping into a frown. “That’s your first guess. Wrong. Why him?”

“Irritatingly persistent.” Sunny. The god in front of her gave off such warmth that it rivaled the sun. Esperanza folded her arms, dropping her head onto framing.

He grumbled. “That is true. We agree on many things.”

Something heavy stirred within her. She tugged at her hair, avoiding his heated gaze, and pretended to think.

“If not him, then you must be the trickster god.” Esperanza scowled. “Will I see what you actually look like, or is it a new disguise each time?”

He crossed his index fingers to make an, a nasty thick noise of disgust in his throat. “This doesn’t please you?” he gestured to his body, drawing her eyes downward, because, well, the body was crafted for her, so she liked it very, very much. But his concern was less about arrogance that he made her a walking wet dream, and more about pondering. The type of thoughtful tone of someone who had worked hard at something, and was reevaluating after critical feedback.

Esperanza felt the urge to cover her face and kick him out of her shop. Instead, she dug her non-slip shoes into the gravel, casually dropping, “if you’re not them, then my final hypothesis is thinking that maybe you’re the goddess of love-”

He looked so disappointed she almost laughed. She continued: “-But no, perhaps her husband?”

Hephaestus grinned at her, setting a flame within her. He drew an arm from behind him, pulling out something shiny that he held in front of her.

She refused to move, so he only chuckled and said, “That was old history. My marriage, I mean.”

“Sure.”

“We don’t work that way. Not like you…” Hephaestus moved his hand closer. “We didn’t say what you would get if you won. This is for you. I was thinking about it for a while now.”

Esperanza held out her hands, and whatever was dropped in her palms was heavier than expected, rugged around some edges, smoother in other parts. Her fingers felt out four legs and maybe even a tail.

But rather than give him the satisfaction of intriguing her, she carefully dropped it in her cargo pants pocket like it was nothing. Hephaestus’ hands wrung themselves together, eyes burning a hole into her.

“Is there something you want from me?” he offered when she refused to speak. “I can give you anything.”

Esperanza straightened. “Actually, yes.”

“Tell me then,” he demanded with reddening ears, and Esperanza thinks off-handedly, cute.

“Yes,” Esperanza nodded. “I want you to leave me alone.” She closed the door and locked it, leaving him outside, as she waved goodbye. Her heart thundered in her chest when Hephaestus paused, and she thought, this is where the Valdez curse comes.

Rather than blasting her into smithereens, Hephaestus tilted his head, stroking his chin, before nodding and waving her off as well.

Only when he disappeared did she dare to breathe again. Esperanza’s fingers trembled, pulling out the object. It was a metallic donkey, no bigger than a tennis ball, glittering in the low lights of the shop. Perfectly weighted, perfectly shined- it was probably worth enough for her not to worry about bills for a while.

Esperanza sighed, tracing the animal. As soon as the thought to sell it came, it left her mind immediately. She groaned, covering her face, thinking over her night.

What an ass.

“So did your sister get fired, or are you seeing a guy?” Beryl asked.

Esperanza blinked, the conversation having been about old people from high school they missed. It wasn’t many- neither really went outside of their little trio when Esperanza came into Beryl and Tristan’s life. She has to update Beryl on Tristan because the woman was always busy with who knows what.

“What do you mean?” she stares suspiciously at her phone receiver.

A laugh. “You look happy.”

“You can’t see me through a phone.”

“No,” Beryl admitted. “But you sound happier. Like, I don’t know…” she giggled. “I just have this feeling that something is going on with you.”

“Nothing is going on with me,” Esperanza collapsed onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her chest warmed, and her mind skipped over an image of some god who liked to play around with her. “How’s Thalia?”

“Boo,” Beryl whined. “Stop changing the subject.”

“I’m not. I can hear her crying on your end.”

“She’ll cry out of it.”

“If you say so,” Esperanza bit her fingernail. She wasn’t lying: she could hear the faint screams of Beryl’s baby in the background, but the noise grew muffled, so she could only assume that Beryl moved locations. She had no clue whether the woman was joking about letting Thalia cry it out or not.

“Oookay,” Beryl finally spoke again, clearing her throat. “When can you come over again? I miss you.”

Coughing erupts through the wall, Esperanza pulling the phone to her chest, listening carefully to Sammy’s wheezes. “I don’t know. I’m busy.”

“Too busy for me?”

“Stop pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” Beryl exclaimed. “You can’t see me through a phone!”

“Hmm, I wonder,” Esperanza snorted. “I just have this feeling-”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Beryl laughed, “Fine, we won’t talk about it, but don’t think I will forget!”

There was nothing to forget: as far as Esperanza allowed, nothing was happening, and nothing would. She knew well that nothing good could ever come from that world, and she had no intention of stepping further into it.

Chapter Text

It slipped out accidentally. No one should’ve known, because there was nothing to know, except Esperanza seemed to be an expert at lying to herself these days.

Still scowling at the guy who had been hitting on Esperanza, Beryl whirled around, red with anger, and she grabbed Esperanza’s arm to drag her out of the club. They tripped over their own heels, until Beryl pushed her against the chain-link fence, her hot breath saying, “And who the fuck are you dating?”

Esperanza turned her face away, wincing. “Your breath smells.”

“Tell me,” Beryl pressed in closer. “I will lock you out of my apartment if you don’t. You’ll have nowhere to go. I’m serious.”

This made Esperanza’s head loll back. She squinted at the night sky that peeked between buildings and palm trees, her skin still sweaty, and the adrenaline in her blood slowly sweeping into embarrassment.

Some man had danced his way into her space, murmuring sweet talk and corny lines, until Esperanza has told him to go away because she liked someone else. Like she were a child confessing a school crush on the playground. But Beryl, white-knighting the way she did, stormed in at the wrong time and rather than saving Esperanza from the pervert at the bar, she was pushing her aggression into Esperanza this time around.

“I can’t say his name,” Esperanza muttered.

“Why not?”

“Because,” she sighed, then shut her mouth.

Beryl peeled away, scanning Esperanza, her brows knitted together, until her mouth twitched and she slapped Esperanza’s arm as she stepped back. “You bitch! After all that shit you gave me?”

Esperanza rubbed her shoulder. “Nothing’s going on.”

“You’re blushing.”

“No, I’m not.”

Beryl sighed, tossing her hair back. “Is he…” she trailed off, glancing to the sky, looking a way that Esperanza couldn’t describe with anything but the word pitiful.

“No,” she realized what she was being asked. “It’s not him. Yours.”

Yours. It was ridiculous to insinuate that a god could ever be theirs… not that Esperanza desired anything specific or even wanted to be with Hephaestus no matter how much she thought about it. They’d been together for months, maybe even a year at this point, and Esperanza wasn’t stupid enough to think it would mean anything in a few years.

“Good,” Beryl nodded, relieved. She fixed the straps of her dress, then turned to the other woman, before reaching to fiddle with Esperanza’s dress as well. Head bent low, as she adjusted Esperana’s neckline, Beryl cursed at her. “You hypocrite. Is he cute?”

“...Yes.”

Beryl tucked a hair back. “Well, if you like him.”

Esperanza’s face grew hot. “He likes me more,” she said off-handedly, as if he were listening, and frankly, he might’ve been.

“Don’t be stupid. Gods don’t love mortals. Trust me, I know.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

Beryl went silent, her lip curling. Then she stepped away again and dug around in her tiny little clutch. “I’m calling a taxi, and you are telling me everything. I’m so serious with you right now, I need every detail on how you met and when you guys started to-”

“I get it!” Esperanza found herself whining childishly, and the tone made Beryl’s lips twitch upward.

Thalia Grace was practically non-existent. Had Esperanza not been aware that Beryl had ever had a kid, she wouldn’t have known looking at Beryl’s apartment. The only sign of there being a child was the random toys kicked around, abandoned and collecting dust.

For most of her vacation (kidnapping) with Beryl, Thalia had been squared away into the arms of a different caretaker each day. This time, the nanny had to leave for an emergency, so the small child was sitting on the ground combing through an unbearably large heap of plastic food and cutlery.

Looking at the little girl, Esperanza nearly felt bad. Part of this was because the restaurant Thalia had been playing seemed to be out of cake, which made the young girl very distraught, but mostly, Esperanza wasn’t sure if Beryl even knew what to do with Thalia.

Not that Esperanza knew more. She didn’t have many memories of her own mom at this point, and she wasn’t looking into having kids either.

“She’s a brat,” Beryl dismissed, waving her hand as she sipped her wine from a plastic pink teacup. Every so often, she’d point at one of the bottles on the coffee table, asking Thalia to pass the fruit juice that only Mommy can have. “Come on, let's go out. She’ll be fine on her own.”

“But we’re at the best restaurant in the world,” Esperanza said solemnly.

Beryl’s face puckered, and she drank silently.

Thalia toddled over to Esperanza, awkwardly raising a bottle of glitter. “More?”

“Yes, por favor,” Esperanza’s own pink princess teacup was tilted as Thalia spilled half of the red glitter to the ground. She pretended to drink. “Mm, very good. And this is..?”

“Blood,” Thalia nodded happily.

“Oh.” Esperanza glanced at the cup again.

“Do you like it?” Thalia began pouring in more glitter.

“I don’t think you gave me a choice,” Esperanza said, and Thalia stared at her before jumping up and yelling about the chicken nuggets being done as she ran around the living room towards the kitchen.

Beryl was glaring at her, pouting. “You like her more than me.”

“You never give me blood and Dino Nuggets.”

“Hmph,” Beryl simmered, “I’ll have to put her down soon, but she likes you more. You do it.”

Esperanza put her cup on the table. “I would never put down a child.”

“To bed,” Beryl scowled, as Thalia started running back, chattering about dinosaurs. “It’s not fair.”

Esperanza raised a brow, accepting a frozen chicken nugget from the toddler. “What’s not?” Momentarily distracted by Thalia’s sticky hand tugging at her arm, she turned to find Beryl hunched over with her hands in her hair.

“Nothing,” Beryl breathed, sitting up. “Hey. Why don’t you move in with me?”

Esperanza watched Thalia carefully resituate a giant stuffed animal at their makeshift dinner table. She scratched her arms, frowning. “You’re joking.”

Beryl sidled in closer, her hand lazily curling into Esperanza’s hair. “... Yeah, haha. I know you can’t. But imagine if you could.”

“We’re not in college anymore.”

“Ha!” Beryl barked. “I didn’t even go. It would’ve been sweet to party with you and go to frat parties and all that. I missed my chance- why not try again?”

When Esperanza didn’t say anything, Beryl continued, drinking from her cup. “It’ll be me and you, and we can like, do whatever the fuck we want. Hell, we can even call up Tristan too. And we can run away to our prince Charmings and fight monsters and all that jazz. Don’t tell me you don’t think about that?”

Thalia bumped into the table and began chiding it for getting in her way. Esperanza’s back crawled. “I don’t.”

“Yeah, but you could. Like, this shit would be so easy for you to just-” Beryl’s hands dropped into her lap, and she wiped at her eyes.

Esperanza rose before squatting by Thalia. “I’m going to put her to bed,” she announced aloud, with only Beryl’s hiccuping answering back. “Unless you want to…”

Beryl got up, but rather than take her daughter, she stumbled off towards the patio. Esperanza sighed, looking down at the giant blue eyes staring back at her.

“C’mo,n big girl,” Esperanza held out her hand. “Let’s get you in those princess PJs with Mr Snuggles.”

Hephaestus was a dream come true. With him came the realization that the good existed with the bad, and though maybe Esperanza had been living the bad through most of her life, she was happily pleased to find out maybe she could get something.

It wasn’t complicated: they knew where they stood. Hephaestus would come and go as he pleased, but he’d try to send her a heads-up. They agreed he wouldn’t talk about his other relationships- that was too confusing to wrap her head around in the first place. On her end, she kept it secret, never requested anything but a bit of safety.

The god was to be treated like a project. She was to examine and poke at him as she wanted to, but ultimately, she had her own life. Sammy was growing less active, Rosa was dating on and off again, and Esperanza was saving up for an apartment of her own.

One night, when her grandfather was snoring away, and Rosa mentioned something about going on a date, Esperanza had been expecting Hephaestus to come later at night, when she walked out the shower in her towel to find a woman sitting on her bed.

The woman stared at her with the longest lashes and warmest loving eyes Esperanza could ever imagine. She pressed the door closed behind her, leaning against it.

“Who-”

“Oh dear, I just love a good sweetheart story,” the woman sighed, smiling. She hummed, beckoning Esperanza with her nails. “Even if it’s my husband, it’s so exciting.”

Ah. Esperanza awkwardly stayed glued to the perimeter of the room, inching towards her closet. Aphrodite had an extremely pleasant smell wafting from her, which made Esperanza feel like she needed to hop back into the shower another three times to compete.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected from Aphrodite, as a goddess of love and beauty. Maybe for her to look more glowing? She was no doubt beautiful, with her girlish, perfect ponytail, and Cupid’s bow lips, but the casual wear of a flannel and overalls was surprising to say the least. This was the kind of pin-up woman the guys at the car shop fantasized about working with, when they got Esperanza and her stupid hair and plain features instead.

Aphrodite beamed at her, as Esperanza turned to her closet- only for the woman to immediately whirl around towards the goddess.

“What happened to my clothes.”

“I upgraded them! It’s no extra fee, merely a gift, dear.”

Oh my god, Esperanza gripped her once baggy sweatshirts to something more chic and fitted like she’d been flipping through a magazine. For once, her closet had color. She opened her underwear drawer to find that all her intimates had also been given the makeover treatment that she never asked for. Surely someone would be pleased, but it wasn’t the woman who was supposed to be wearing the clothes.

Aphrodite turned to give her some privacy, humming as she looked at the picture frame on her nightstand. Esperanza quickly changed into a black tank top and sweats, trying not to sigh into its softness, and keeping her arms folded as a barrier between her and the goddess.

“Your friends are so beautiful,” Aphrodite remarked, eyeing the high school graduation photo with her, Beryl, and Tristan crowded around, eating burgers. “You look happy there. I hope you are happy like this again.”

Esperanza shifted her weight to her other leg. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Never! Love can never be wrong!” The goddess put down the picture and walked towards Esperanza, who immediately kept her distance as they circled the room. Aphrodite pouted, and God, it made Esperanza both blush and hate her. “I don’t bite! I just want to fix your hair. So many split ends…”

When the mortal woman didn’t budge, Aphrodite sighed and sat down on Esperanza’s bed again, patting right next to her. Reluctantly, Esperanza peeled herself off the wall and sat on the bed as well.

It felt ridiculous for her to be sitting cross-legged in front of a goddess, like they were about to whisper about crushes and their dreams during a sleepover. She wondered if Hephaestus knew this was going to happen, and perhaps that’s why he had been obscenely patient with her when they talked earlier.

“Hmm,” Aphrodite caressed her skin. Up close, her clear skin sparkled. “Do you love him?”

Esperanza gaped, then blinked. “I’m sorry? Huh?”

“Hephaestus,” the goddess tilted her head. “It’s alright if you don’t. But humans always fall so hard, so I wouldn’t be surprised. He has his charms, don’t you think? Most people put him off, but when you get to know him..” Aphrodite smiled again. “Of course, you know what I mean, dear.”

Esperanza’s heart couldn’t take such an angelic face staring at her for too long. Her eyes darted towards the ceiling instead, while Aphrodite poorly suppressed a snicker, threading her long fingers through Esperanza’s curls.

“I like him,” she ended up saying.

“But do you love him?”

“No,” Esperanza surprised herself by blurting. Her face warmed, and she squeezed her eyes shut, expecting to be admonished, but instead, Aphrodite only giggled.

“That’s alright, sweetie. Maybe it’s better if you don’t,” Aphrodite sighed, rubbing a strand of hair. “You ought to drink more water, though; it’s good for the skin.”

“Am I supposed to love him?” Esperanza squinted open one eye, cautious. Aphrodite’s nose scrunched, her lips quirking to the side.

“Really, dear, that’s not for me to answer. There are things in life you can’t control, but how you feel isn’t one of them.” Aphrodite tilted her head up, scanning Esperanza’s forehead. She raised her hand, holding tweezers that made the woman jerk back in alarm. “It’s only one hair, please? It’s just the one, I promise. It won’t hurt at all.”

“I’m fine,” Esperanza’s hands slapped over her face, and she dropped back in her bed, hitting the pillow.

She was hooking up with a god, and getting makeovers from his wife. She wondered briefly if this was the type of thing Beryl expected them to get up to, and Esperanza could now confidently say that she truly did not care.

The bedsheets next to her shifted, and she looked to the side to find Aphrodite lying in bed right next to her, looking expectantly with hidden glee. She immediately closed her eyes again, sighing.

“Does it get better?” Esperanza asked aloud. “The whole, god thing?”

“Hmm,” Aphrodite laughed. “Not at all! It’s quite miserable for most of your kind. Though there are some things to make it good.”

“Like what?”

“Chocolate and presents. Love, friends, the beauty of the world, oh, what else makes life worthwhile, dear?” Aphrodite huffed, poking Esperanza’s cheek. “As long as you stay in your means, I don’t see why you can’t have fun doing it too. What is the flame of love without the sparks? You mortals are so dramatic these days, you never appreciate the little things.”

“That’s easier for you to say.”

“No! We have issues, too. Maybe not as inconsequential as your silly wars and violence, but having all the power in the world doesn’t make things less lonely. Even I falter at times with how I should feel, versus how I do feel.”

Esperanza opened her eyes, turning her head to Aphrodite. “But I’m not alone.”

Aphrodite gave a knowing, tight-lipped smile. “But does anyone understand you?”

And what kind of question is that? Esperanza barely understood herself.

Aphrodite patted her shoulder, hand burning warmly through her skin. “Don’t think too much, dear. Your life is short, and your fate has already been written, and neither of us can change it. I truly do want you to enjoy it. Love makes everything worthwhile.”

“But-”

“Even if you’re not in love with Hephaestus, there’s something within you that’s searching for something within him. Besides, dear,” Aphrodite sat up. “You and he meeting was always going to happen whether you like it or not. That’s one of the few undeniables of this lifetime: how you handle him, dear, whether or when or if you decide to love him is up to you. It’s truly a uniquely human ability.”

“I don’t want to get involved in all of this,” Esperanza said, sitting up as well, groaning. “I just want to be normal. I want a normal boyfriend, and normal friends, and a normal life.”

Aphrodite patted her back, with a laugh laced into her saccharine voice. “Oh, dear, don’t be silly, that will never happen, and that’s not your fault. You’re simply cursed for misfortune, dear, and there’s nothing you can do about that.”

Rosa and Sammy were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, stewing in their anger about who-knew-what. The two could bicker about anything as long as they could keep their mouths open, but to some point, Esperanza realized that it’s not so much what they were arguing, but merely the fact that they could argue that kept them going.

Esperanza dropped her keys in the catch-all bowl, kicking off her shoes.

“Good afternoon-”

“Esperanza’s dating, Tito,” Rosa said smugly, obviously trying to shift their grandfather's frustrations. “I’ve seen her sneaking out and giggling. She’s skipping out on work too, and that’s why she’s always late with your meds.”

“You lying bitch,” Esperanza howled. “She’s pregnant, oh my god, I heard her talking about it! It’s the Tony guy!”

“I am NOT pregnant, and definitely not with Tony!” Rosa cried, folding her arms. “You’re such a-”

“Congratulations,” Sammy tossed in.

“I AM NOT PREGNANT!” Rosa darted up, reaching out to claw at her sister. “I’ll kill-”

“You started it-”

“You’re a grown woman-”

“You’re older than me!”

Sammy nodded along to their argument. “A great-grandchild would be nice. Very nice indeed. I’ll have to dial Lotte-”

“Ugh!” Rosa screamed, elbowing Esperanza away before storming off down the hall. The door slammed, and she screamed again, then, a few moments later, she marched back out to the front, grabbed Esperanza’s car keys and barged out the front door.

The picture frames vibrated against the shaking walls, Esperanza yelling at her through the window. When Rosa finally drove off, she exhaled, tossing off her jacket and collapsing into the warm couch where her sister had just been sitting.

Sammy scratched his chin, frowning. “I will need a new suit for the wedding.”

Esperanza’s blush flared. “I’m not getting married.”

“It wasn’t for you,” Sammy mused. “But a joint one will be cheaper. I only have so many years left in me.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Esperanza chided. “And neither of us is getting married anytime soon. You’ll have many years before you have to worry about that.”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Sammy shook his head, running his hands through his curly white hair. “Dona Callida said it’s only a matter of time.”

She frowned. “Is that someone new at church? Should I prepare for your wedding?”

“My love has come and passed long ago,” Sammy pressed back into the couch, rubbing his knuckles. “The curse wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The hairs on her arms rose. Curse. Sure, it was a joke in the family, but it kept coming up with other people: people who would know curses, Hephaestus’ scowl and grumpy avoidance, and Aphrodite’s lighthearted threat.

“Is there really a curse?” she murmured. “Are we cursed?”

For a while, Sammy didn’t say anything. It was so silent that she was afraid she’d ruined something, but instead, she looked up and saw her grandfather nodding off. Of course. She grumbled, standing up, and reaching towards the side to get one of the woven blankets to drape on him.

Leaning over him, she shivered when his voice tickled her ear, “It’ll pass how it should.”

But when she leaned back, he was still asleep, a little snore whispering through the summer heat.

Esperanza was surprised that a woman like Beryl Grace still remembered her. If anything, she was frustrated as to why the woman wouldn’t leave her alone in the first place. But, it had been about three or four years since she’d last seen the movie star, and the call had come in the middle of the night (Beryl’s midnight, Esperanza’s early morning), and the plane tickets had already been bought, and Esperanza was standing outside of Beryl’s new house in Pasadena.

She hadn’t even known Beryl had moved in the first place. They fell out of touch, the way adults did when they lived separate lives, but, looking at the modern architecture and gleaming sleek cars in the driveway, everything still felt vaguely familiar, despite her never seeing any of it before.

The code to Beryl’s front gate was still 1124, and the thought made Esperanza oddly pleased. She was still pissed- woken up in the arms of Hephaestus to hear about Beryl’s DUI, but now, a couple feet away from Beryl Grace, Esperanza’s irritation subdued into a familiar exhaustion.

The door opened to Beryl in a giant LA Lakers t-shirt and cotton panties. She scowled at Esperanza through her dirty hair, before, after a second, lighting up. “Evie! So you do remember your best friend, you bitch.”

Esperanza tensed when the woman’s arms surrounded her. “You smell.”

“Whatever,” Beryl rolled back into her house, leaving the door wide open. “Make yourself at home.”

A stranger to the home, and this Beryl, Esperanza followed cautiously, as the two scattered through the house and towards backyard, opening up to a giant pool. The poolside was outfitted with chic wooden furniture, the smoky grill still burning, but there were also bottles, cups and trash lying around. Drifting against one of the pool floats was someone’s underwear, which Esperanza knew Beryl would rather die than wear.

“There was a party,” Beryl explained when she noticed Esperanza’s gaze. “It was fun. Had the entire Dodgers roster flirting with everyone, you would’ve hated it. Ha ha.”

“I’m sure,” Esperanza gingerly stepped over a crumbled Cheetos bag. “Where’s Thalia?”

“Who?”

“Your daughter-”

Beryl tilted her head then shrugged. “Maybe she went home with one of them or got kidnapped or something? Who knows.” She started laughing, but when Esperanza’s lip curled, Beryl rolled her eyes and ducked by the grill to fish through the outdoor bar. “I’m kidding. She’s with the au pair at fucking Disney. Jesus, chill out.”

“Beryl,” a couple of glasses dropped onto the counter, and Beryl pulled out juices and tequila. “What is going on with you?”

“I think I wanna get my bartending license back,” Beryl hummed. “I miss being poor, busing tables and taking orders and shit. Wasn’t very good at it, but it kept me busy. What do you do for fun these days? I’m so bored.”

“Beryl.”

“Ugh, come on,” Beryl swiped her fingers across the rim of the glass, licking her thumb. “I’ve done everything. I’m so bored and tired of this all. We should seriously run away and go backpacking in the Himalayas or something, only stupid girls do.”

Esperanza held her hands over the glasses, causing Beryl to look up. Cloudy blue eyes bore back at her, Esperanza’s chest hurting. “Why am I here?”

“I don’t know,” Beryl snapped. “I thought you and all those fucks forgot about me. I didn’t ask you to come here.”

“Your manager did. I’m your only contact left you haven’t pissed off.”

Beryl snorted. “There’s still time for that.”

Esperanza scowled. “You’re such a child. Grow up. You have everything you could need.”

“Fuck off,” Beryl said. “Get out of my house. I didn’t ask you to be here.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Esperanza said, rubbing her head. “You’re drunk and on house arrest. It’s the least I can do for you.”

“Fuck you.” Beryl slapped her hands away, and took the glasses to down them. She left one for Esperanza, as if expecting the girl to partake, but when Esperanza sighed heavily, Beryl flicked her off and tossed her shirt off, sliding into the dirty pool.

A few hours later, Esperanza is woken up on the couch by Beryl standing over her, like a murderer, so Esperanza screamed and kicked out, and Beryl crawled over her, clamping a hand over her mouth.

“Stop screaming, it’s just me,” Beryl wrestled her down. “I thought you were an intruder.”

“Why would an intruder sleep on your couch?”

“I don’t fucking know, Goldilocks.” Beryl sat up, groaning. “I feel sick.”

Esperanza twitched. “Do not vomit on me.”

“No promises.” Beryl grabbed her stomach. “Can you help me? I want to take a bath, but I don’t want to drown.”

“Then take a shower.”

“I want a bath.”

Esperanza stared at her. “You’re ridiculous.” But, she stood up, yawning and gestured for Beryl to lead the way.

They slunk into the bathroom, but the overhead light was way too bright for either of them, so Esperanza turned on the hallway light and left the door open. Beryl sunk into the tub with a moan, while Esperanza leaned by the granite sinktop, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

After watching Beryl lazily dump shampoo on her head and awkwardly pat at her head, Esperanza dropped to her knees and rolled up her sleeves.

“Come on, I’ll wash your hair,” she offered, reluctantly.

Beryl sank into the water until she couldn’t breathe before breaking the surface.

“Don’t mess around like that.”

“I’m not.”

Esperanza put her hands on the girl’s crown of stringy blonde hair and dunked her into the water herself until Beryl started thrashing and smacked her.

“What the fuck!” Beryl whined, rubbing her face.

“I slipped.”

“Ugh!” Beryl slapped her arm, then turned, dropping her head on the lip of the tub, hair stringing out over the side. “Can you scrub, please?”

Esperanza did, and Beryl sighed happily. They worked in silence, or at least Esperanza did, while Beryl acted like she were at the spa, and throughout, Esperanza couldn’t help but think, Why am I still here?

It was a question that didn’t have any quantifiable answer, and her mind kept wandering away to every time that Beryl had inconvenienced her, but also every time Beryl had said she loved her.

“I figured out something new,” Beryl said aloud. Esperanza shifted in the dark, waiting.

“Close your eyes,” she tilted Beryl’s head back, cupping water to pour out the shampoo. When she was done, Beryl smiled, sighing happily again.

“I saw him again.”

“Him?”

“You know,” Beryl rubbed her nose. “Him. But it wasn’t him. He was kind of different. But it was him, you know? He came back to me.”

“Oh,” Esperanza yanked her fingers through a tangle. “How long?”

“A few months now. And the wife is totally jealous. What a bitch.”

Esperanza paused. “You really shouldn’t be saying that.”

“Why not?” Beryl reached for a clean-smelling bar of soap. “Not like she can do anything to me. She needs me. He needs me.”

“They don’t need anyone.”

Beryl scrubbed her shoulders furiously. “Of course, they do. Gods wouldn’t come down to us if they didn’t. We have something they don’t.”

“Being?”

“Some fucking guts.”

Esperanza shook her hands away, folding her arms. “You need to be more careful with this stuff. You’re still a human.”

“For now,” Beryl turned to her. “I know it’s been a while. But you’re the only one who understands what I mean, you know? Sure, there’s other of those demigod mommy freaks, but they’re not us. We can do so much with this. Move in with me.”

She was so surprised that Esperanza couldn’t contain the laugh. “I’m not moving in with you.”

“Why not? We’d be happy.”

“We’d be…” Esperanza shook her head. “I don’t want what you want.”

“How could you not?” Beryl straightened. “I’m offering you power, some real godly influence power. Are you still with that creepy guy? I can ask him to get you a total hottie. Cupid? The god of sex? God of fucking- I don’t know- rock bands or whatever? There’s so much out there for us.”

“I’m fine where I am,” Esperanza said honestly.

Beryl squinted at her in the dim light. Scanning for something, maybe a lie, or hesitance. But Esperanza felt like she’d finally fallen into a place of something natural. She was protected from monsters, and outside of Hephaestus’ various feats, she could pretend like that entire world she stood at never existed.

“God, Evie,” Beryl’s face crumbled. “How do you keep doing it? Why do you keep trying to run away from me?”

Dark eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“You’re always running. You can live with me here. I don’t mind. I want you here.”

Esperanza shuddered. “I can’t do that.”

“But I want you here. Please.” Beryl grabbed her arm, water spilling onto the tile. “I need you here. When you’re here, things are so magical.”

She shook her off, recoiling. The thought of being sucked back into Beryl Grace’s life, with her obsessions, her desires for what Esperanza resented made her skin crawl. She couldn't tell if Beryl actually wanted her, or what she stood for.

“You’re doing fine here,” Esperanza said, her lie feeling weak in the air, considering the only reason why she was even there was because Beryl Grace was not fine.

“But you don’t mean that. You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, dummy,” came Esperanza’s exasperation. “I can’t. Can you just forget me? We both can move on, you know.”

Beryl’s knees bobbed up in the water, and she ducked her head, rubbing furiously at her face. “But I’m miserable. My life was always shit, but ever since I met you, it keeps getting better. Why do you want to leave me here? I need you, I do, and you need me too.”

“Beryl…”

Anger shook through the blonde woman’s throat as she glared at Esperanza with pink eyes. “Tell me honestly right now, you’re happy like this. That you’re not lonely and bored and miserable.”

Water splashed over the edge, hitting Esperanza’s knees.

She sniffed. “I’m happy the way things are.”

“You don’t mean that,” Beryl screamed.

“You don’t get it,” Esperanza said, exasperated. “You’ll never get it.”

“Then let me. Let me understand.” Beryl grabbed her wrist, squeezing tightly. “We’ve been through it all together. We are with each other. How many times do I have to tell you that I need you? That you’re the best thing that ever happened to me?”

“Stop it,” Esperanza’s voice trembled. “Please, let me go. Let all of this go.”

“How stupid do you think I am? Come on. I was- I was- I was miserable before you. How can you leave like that? That’s not fair! You get fucking everything, Tristan, a family, that fucking god wants you-”

Esperanza pulled back, causing her to slip across the ground, Beryl squealing in surprise. Esperanza’s elbow banged into the toilet, and Beryl glowered at her. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is this about? If you fucking know everything.” Beryl clawed at her shoulders.

Esperanza froze, elbow throwing with pain in her silence.

“I wish we never met,” Beryl sobbed, tossing her head back to cry in the dark, as Esperanza scrambled to escape her.

Chapter Text

“I didn’t mean that,” Beryl sort of apologized in the morning. Esperanza nodded, moving a spatula around some eggs.

Beryl tiptoed in a wrinkled Rolling Stones shirt and Scooby Doo pajama pants. Her eyes were ugly and puffy, her lips torn to shreds from nervous biting. Esperanza doubted she looked much better.

“I know.” Esperanza turned off the stove.

“But do you?”

“Yes.” … She did.

“If you were gone, I wouldn’t know what to do.”

“You’d survive.”

Beryl stared at her strangely. “Are you happy?”

“I’m tired.”

“I mean,” Beryl averted her eyes. “In general. In Texas.”

To be truthful, Esperanza didn’t know. She was content for right now. She was sailing through her work, she had just signed the lease to her new apartment (one that was monster-free and safe according to Hephaestus’ mother), and things with the fire god were going smoothly. Hell, even Rosa cooled off lately, finally being married and maturing.

Things were going well. Things were going well. Wasn’t that good enough?

So she said yes.

“Good,” Beryl said. “Good. You deserve to be happy.”

“And you don’t?”

Beryl sighed, picking up a fork. “Born a bitch, die a bitch.”

“Ha,” Esperanza laughed, ease slipping through her muscles. “Yeah.”

“You’re not supposed to agree!”

“I’m not going to lie to you-” Beryl smacked her with a banana, and everything was fine.

They settled at the breakfast nook, eating quietly. Beryl’s blonde hair clung to her neck, her head hung low over her plate, her leg bouncing up and down. Esperanza wondered faintly how long she was going to be here. She also wondered if perhaps Hephaestus was still waiting for her in her bed.

“You think if we were different people, we’d still be friends?”

Esperanza paused, chewing for only a moment. “No. We’d be different people.”

“Yeah, but like,” Beryl sat up. “If we were us, like, the same souls and stuff. And we kept meeting. We’d still be friends, right?”

“That’s awfully romantic, don’t you think?”

“I’m a romantic person.”

“You’re something.”

“Asshole,” Beryl jabbed her. “You don’t want to admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“You know.”

But she didn’t. Beryl leaned in close, her eyes flickering over her face. “Do you… Do you really not get it?”

“Get what?” Esperanza said, exasperated.

“That we’re, like,” Beryl’s gaze dropped to her plate, her face growing pink. “Forget it. I feel sick. You gave me food poisoning with your burnt eggs.”

For the next few days, Beryl managed to drag her around South California as she pleased. Esperanza didn’t have many objections outside of staying firm that she would pay her own expenses. On the one hand, neither of them was talking about the problem that landed Esperanza in Beryl’s house in the first place, but on the other hand… Esperanza doesn’t know the last time she drank mai tais while getting luxury massages with hot rocks down her spine.

She noticed, with a creeping sting of paranoia, that Beryl was very comfortable with her impulses. This wasn’t new information, but Esperanza wasn’t impulsive. She made calculated measures in most everything, while Beryl didn’t seem to put two thoughts together before launching into the next action.

Which is why it was pretty fucked up, but Beryl somehow managed to convince Esperanza to get high in her toddler daughter’s room. She remembered looking at Thalia’s room with curiosity, her envy burning as she saw the giant closet of costumes and the ridiculous toy chest overflowing with toys that had never been touched. This was the sort of thing Esperanza would’ve dreamed about as a kid. Then, a sobering moment later, it hit her that this was the type of life Beryl was dreaming about as a kid, too.

“Oh god, fucking Miriam,” Beryl blabbed about one of her co-stars for a show she had been in nearly a decade ago. She was digging through the closet, tossing out princess crowns and foam swords. “She was the worst. You would’ve hated her. She would’ve loved you, though. Fucking Miriam!”

“What did she do?” Esperanza said, lazily sitting and threading her fingers through the plush carpeting. Her fingers tingled, eyes drifting open and closed.

“I can’t even remember, but I know it was bad. Trust me. I’m so not joking, she was the worst.”

“I don’t joke.”

“Hey,” Beryl snorted, poking her. “You said it wrong. That was my line.”

Esperanza leaned back, her head hitting the mattress of Thalia’s Wonder Woman-themed bed. “What are you working on now?”

“Hmm? Nothing. Fucking DUI, you know?”

Esperanza opened her eyes, only to find Beryl right in front of her, adjusting a plastic pink furred crown on her head. Esperanza touched her head too, surprised by a headband connecting a halo that bobbed in her peripheral.

“Can we watch TV?” she asked.

“Sure,” Beryl smiled. “But why are you whispering?”

“I’m… not whispering.”

“If you say so, silly,” Beryl laughed, hooking her arm around Esperanza. They trudged through the hall, Esperanza muttering apologies to whatever maid was going to clean the spilled wine from Thalia’s room.

Beryl pushed Esperanza on the couch, and fell on top of her, Esperanza wincing when she headbutted, and Beryl’s hair caught in her mouth. But then she stopped squirming and they lay there, Beryl flicking through channels on the cable, until she felt satisfied with a rerun of The Bad Seed, in all its black and white, static-softened glory.

“What’s he like?” Beryl muttered into Esperanza’s neck. Her plastic crown jabbed her under the chin.

“Who?”

“Your god.” Beryl shifted, sitting up, pulling Esperanza up too. “Wait, hold on.” She giggled, kicking off the couch, her feet tapping against wood, until she came running back with a new bottle of wine. “Okay, now tell me.”

“He’s,” Esperanza thought about it for a few minutes, while Beryl struggled with her cork. “Nice.”

“Nice?” The cork popped open. “C’mon, he’s gotta be more than that. You can have anyone, and you chose him.”

Esperanza shook her head, laughing. “Stop exaggerating. He’s good? I like him.”

“Aw,” Beryl teased. “Do you looove him?”

“Nothing like that. It’s not that serious,” Esperanza waved her off, wiping at her face to get rid of the creeping smile. “We just hang out.”

“Hang out.”

“Yes, that’s it, shut up now,” Esperanza drank from the bottle, while Beryl grabbed at her stomach, laughing.

“Oh my god, that’s so good,” Beryl wiped at her eyes. “Yes, my sex god and I also ‘hang out.’ A few weeks ago, we ‘hung out’ in Bermuda on a fucking cruise, all day long.”

“You’re annoying,” Esperanza pushed her friend out of her face, laughing. “Do you even do anything but ‘hang out’ with him?”

“Hell no,” Beryl snorted. “If he wants to talk about his feelings and whatever, he has a wife. Who won’t fucking leave me alone either, oh my god! Maybe I should invite her along one night.”

When she said that, the earth began to tremor, causing both women to sober up amongst the shaking furniture immediately.

“It’s just an earthquake,” Esperanza reasoned quickly. “That’s it.”

“Yes, California has them all the time,” Bery said, just as fast and as seriously. “Nothing else.”

They glanced at each other before bursting out laughing. The movie onscreen ended, spinning into something by Hitchcock, and while Beryl curled up to watch, Esperanza felt herself drifting to a warm sleep.

She woke up to the slam of a door and a scalding warning, “Do not test me, mortal!”

“Yeah, yeah, kill me already, why don’t ya? Oh, wait— you can’t!” Beryl mocked, stomping through the house. She huffed seeing Esperanza sitting up, and whined, pushing her back into the plush cushions. At some point, the TV paused on a still image of 1940s actress Celia Johnson's crumpled face. “No, no, no, go back to sleep, we were having fun-”

“Beryl Grace,” the stern voice came in, Beryl cursing, and Esperanza pushing her away when she saw who had entered the house.

Standing in a jean jacket and boots, a scowl on her face, and a sleeping Thalia in her arms, was Hephaestus’ mother, Hera. She stopped by the doorway, shifting her hold on Thalia while glaring at Beryl. For a moment, Hera’s eyes slid to Esperanza, the distaste in her face so strong, Esperanza thought her heart stopped. But then she gave a thin smile. “Esperanza. It’s a pleasure.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Esperanza gaped, clutching the blanket closer around her. A little awkward lying around in a ratty t-shirt and boxers in front of your immortal (somewhat) mother-in-law.

“Just drop the stupid kid to bed and get out,” Beryl muttered.

“Beryl!” Esperanza’s sharp call interlaced with Hera’s, “How dare you?”

“Ugh,” The blonde woman’s shoulder slumped out of submission, and she padded away back to the kitchen. Hera whirled away, moving through the house with an ease only found on runways.

“Beryl,” Esperanza said carefully, when the movie star sulked back into the room, with more wine. “Why is your daughter with-”

“She picks her up when no one else can,” Beryl dismissed, flopping back next to her. She dropped her head on Esperanza’s shoulder. “Childcare isn’t cheap, so whatever. Maybe the brat gets to see her dad or something.”

“Come on,” Esperanza pushed her off, frowning. “You’re an adult.”

Beryl watched her carefully, then, without dropping her gaze, took an impressively long drink of pinot blanc. She wiped her mouth, adjusting the play crown on her head. “You wouldn’t get it. I didn’t ask to be a mom.”

“I understand, but-”

“No, you don’t.” Beryl closed her eyes. “I like Thalia. She’s mine, I guess. But I’m not— I had a life, Evie, and all she does is look at me like I've done something wrong. Like-” Beryl slumped over. “Goddamn it. All this stuff used to be fun when it was just me and you, but now it’s-” her hand flopped around, “fucking pedestrian.”

Esperanza peeled the bottle away from her, setting it on the table. “What do you mean, this stuff?”

“You know,” Beryl’s eyes shifted above Esperanza’s head. “The gods and the magic and stuff. Scary as fuck, but it was the best time of my life. Now I’m in some stupid pact with this kid I didn’t even want-”

“Motherhood isn’t for everyone,” Hera’s voice cut in, both human women swiveling to look at the goddess. Hera crossed the room, picking up the bottle Beryl had been drinking, examining the label. She pinched her thumb over the top and shook it like a kid with a bottle of soda, and sighed happily when the bottle’s glass changed to a smooth amber, the label in some language Ezperanza had never seen before.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Beryl snapped. “That was expensive!”

Hera paid her no mind, reaching for one of the discarded cups on the table to pour herself a glass. She leveled her eyes toward Esperanza instead. “How is your apartment? Have you had any difficulties? Though he isn’t talking to me, I’m sure my son has been there a few times, has he not?”

“Erm, it’s nice. Thank you for the recommendation, ma’am,” Esperanza blinked. She was offered a glass as well, and she swirled the golden liquid in her hands, sniffing it carefully. It didn’t smell like anything but lemons, but that was probably more of Beryl’s soap and shampoo sticking around her.

“It’s my pleasure,” Hera’s eyes slid to Esperanza’s stomach. “It’s the least I can do, considering.”

“Considering what?” Beryl spat and snatched Esperanza’s cup from her. “Don’t drink that shit. It’s poison or something.”

Hera laughed. “That would not be the way I kill you. It’s merely nectar, adjusted for… mortals in your gravid capacities. You don’t have to have any if you don’t want.”

Beryl’s face soured, and she drank out of spite. Then her eyes lit up, and she reached for the bottle, going, “Holy shit, girl, you have got to try this.”

Esperanza didn’t like drinking much in the first place, but she eyed the goddess who sat down in an armchair a few feet away and thought, Why the hell am I drinking wine with a goddess?

It tasted like the creamy frosting on the cakes Rosa used to make when Esperanza was at her lowest. She’d quietly bake, and appear in front of her with a slice, and would kiss Esperanza’s forehead, both not wanting to say anything to address the unspoken miserableness seeping out of her. They might not have gotten along, but there were days when Esperanza remembered Rosa was her big sister, and always will be.

The sudden nostalgia surprised Esperanza so much she nearly choked, completely overlooking the intense burn that alcohol typically gave going down her esophagus.

“A gift,” Hera hummed, as if reading her mind. “Something to enjoy without hurting the future.” Her eyes fell low on the woman again, a fond, yet regretful smile on her face.

Esperanza couldn’t help herself: “What do you mean?”

Hera sat forward. “You two are a cataclysmic event waiting to happen, but I’d rather that to happen when it’s supposed to, not due to an incident.”

“Fuck you,” Beryl snapped immediately, and Hera rolled her eyes, waving a finger at the blonde. Beryl’s body seized up, rigid straight, and she dropped back into the couch, sparks flickering up and down her arms, face reddening.

Esperanza nearly screamed, but before she could, Beryl’s muscles relaxed and she twitched, shocking Esperanza when their skin met.

“Test me again, Beryl. You’re merely lucky; any voltage I can throw at you will hardly affect you with your condition.”

Beryl grumbled to herself, her head lolling on the side, stretching out her limbs.

Esperanza patted her arm, assuring the woman she was still there and concerned. Not that Esperanza was suicidal enough to talk back to a god, one as powerful as Hera, especially, but the least she could do was support her friend.

“Cataclysmic event,” Beryl repeated bitterly. She reached for the bottle, her fingers still twitching. “Of course. Word of my fucking life.”

“Does that mean something specific?” Esperanza said, more towards Hera than Beryl.

Hera drew up her two index fingers, “There are certain things and people who are not supposed to meet. When they do, certain other things swing into motion. More often than not, these are world-ending,” Hera wagged her fingers. “Not always. There are times when it's necessary to delay, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not only you two: we are all trapped by our singular fates.”

“Not only us,” Esperanza’s lips trembled. “But especially us?”

Hera merely shrugged with a shake of the head, but didn’t say anything more about it. She stood with a stretch, finishing off her glass. “It’s been some time since I’ve had a girls' night like this. Perhaps we shall have more pleasant nights soon. There are many things to discuss.”

“A pleasure,” Beryl muttered. “Bring more of that nectar and none of the rest of you.”

Hera’s eyes narrowed, then her features flattened with a heavy sigh. “As I tell you often, I am on your side. But do not strain my care for you.”

Beryl waved her off dismissively, lying back on the couch, kicking Esperanza’s side for space. “‘Kay. Tell big daddy I’m horny as hell when you see him.”

Hera’s right eye twitched, but she smiled pleasantly at Esperanza. “May the next time I see you be filled with joy. And please excuse any issues that may arise with my son in the coming months. He might not say it, but he does adore you very much.”

Esperanza blushed furiously, unsure what to say to that, her hand held up in an awkward wave goodbye. The goddess advised them to close their eyes, and the thin reddened flesh of her eyelids lit up, and when Esperanza opened her eyes again, the goddess was gone.

Beryl groaned, rubbing her eyes. “God, I fucking hate you.”

She sat up on her knees and leaned over Esperanza, reaching above her head. The woman had nearly forgotten she’d been wearing a costume halo. The tinsel crinkled under her fingers, and Beryl’s chest pushed into her face carelessly. “Of course you’re an angel. Of course, she likes you. Everyone likes you.”

“That’s not true,” Esperanza tilted her head back to look up at her friend. Beryl adjusted her knee, accidentally kicking the remote off the couch. Beryl’s hands fell from above her head to Esperanza’s shoulders, her breath faint of something fruity.

“It is. I wish I could be you,” Beryl’s eyes flickered down her face. “Do half the things you can do. I’m just some annoying bitch everyone tolerates.”

“You’re not annoying,” Esperanza said.

“You know,” Beryl’s arms dropped to play with the hairs at Esperanza’s neck. Esperanza bit her lip, uncertain, her stomach itching from the inside. “When I first met you, I really hated you. Really fucking hated you. Now I love you. Isn’t that fucked up? I’m supposed to hate you, supposed to resent you. You’re this girl everyone likes. For fucks sake— we both bagged gods, but yours fucking loves you! I get nothing and you get everything! Fuck you.”

Esperanza frowned. “It’s not that easy-”

“For you.” Beryl snapped, her fingers tugging so painfully at her hair that Esperanza gasped in pain as she jerked back. Beryl let go immediately, head falling, the plastic crown hitting Esperanza’s forehead. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean it. I don’t want to ruin it. Fuck— I ruin everything.”

“Not everything,” Esperanza said, because it felt like the only thing she could say.

Beryl stayed quiet then, her hands reached out to cup her face, and she kissed her until she began to cry. Esperanza pulled away, body trembling, and Beryl sniffed with wet eyes.

“I wanted to marry the shit out of Tristan McLean. Fuck him in a giant fucking mansion and have his goddamn gorgeous babies. Instead, I get to fuck the god of gods. And it was fucking good. So good. You can feel it. Like here, give me-” She grabbed Esperanza’s hand and pressed it against her warm belly.

“Can’t you feel it? It's like. He’s still here. He’s put something in me-”

Esperanza was still short of breath and stunned. “That’s… how sex works.”

“Yeah, shut up.” Beryl laughed, wiping at her face. “You feel it, right? Like. This tiny little spark inside of you. We’re kinda gods, you know.”

“We’re not,” Esperanza scowled. But she couldn’t deny the feeling some days, even when she detested it the most. “Just humans.”

Beryl’s nose wrinkled, and she pulled off of Esperanza, silently staring back at the TV, chest heaving.

Unsure what to do, stomach queasy from the night's events, and her heart pattering in her chest. Esperanza toed off the couch, mumbling about needing to pee.

In the bathroom mirror, her hair was a mess, her face was red, and the halo upon her head teased her. She pulled down her underwear to pee, sitting with her head in her hands.

What the hell does one do with Beryl Grace? They weren’t close, not like before, but they also weren’t not close. Beryl was in Esperanza’s life, and it was meant to be (Cataclysmically so, Esperanza’s mind bit), but God, what was she going to do with her?

Her stomach churned. She didn’t want to think too much about the future, but what choice did she have? Esperanza had always lived in the present, focusing on escaping the pains of today, because she wasn’t sure if tomorrow was guaranteed. Now, she was being told that it was, and it would be terrible.

Something to enjoy without hurting the future, Hera had given her nectar, as if to celebrate this calamity. There are certain things and people who are not supposed to meet. Esperanza had never despised herself so much for something she had no control over, but was forced to deal with nevertheless.

As she stood, a piece of tinsel fell from above, falling to the floor. She grabbed it and went to throw it out, when a certain package sitting in the trash caught her eye. Esperanza blinked, then opened the cabinets to look for more.

She peeled out the pregnancy test, chewing on her thoughts from Hera and the future, and closed her eyes.

Gods liked games. She’d been so enamored with the way her life was evolving that she’d forgotten that she was merely a player. Esperanza read the instructions, wincing when she remembered the last few weeks with Hephaestus, and she held onto the stupid little stick, with a fire flooding her anatomy, because she didn’t need to check.

Hurting the future, their condition, the way that Hera looked at her. Esperanza nearly wailed.

“Beryl….” she called, voice rising.

Beryl stumbled to the door a few moments later, holding onto the nectar, day-old mascara creasing on her face. “Cute panties.” Her eyes drifted to Esperanza’s shaking hand. “Oh shit. No fucking way. Really?”

“I think… I’m gonna stop drinking.” Esperanza sat up on the toilet. She pressed out three sticks, reading the same thing. “At least you’re not, I mean, maybe you are...” Esperanza lost for words, peering down at her tummy.

“The maid was getting sick, so I bought these for her just in case,” Beryl stared at the sticks, then Esperanza, then the nose of her bottle. Beryl folded her arms, leaning against the bathroom door. “Oh, you’re totally fucked.”

“Thanks,” Esperanza winced.

“I mean, congrats,” Beryl’s face flickered with regret. “I’d kill someone if I got pregnant again, but you’re different. You’re going to be good.”

Esperanza flushed and got up, mulling over the words as she washed her hands. Then she leaned on the wall and slid down with a groan.

“Do you think he knows?” she asked aloud.

Beryl snorted. “Of course he does. They always fucking know.”

She watched as realization drew upon Beryl’s face, her face contorting between grimacing and disgust. “... Fucking Hera.”

Beryl had been quicker than Esperanza. She made fast work, sitting next to Esperanza, as they both stared at the test on the ground in front of them.

When the tiny lines were visible, Beryl choked. “Fucking Bermuda,” she finished off the bottle of sweet nectar. “I got my tubes fucking tied too, what the fuck?”

Esperanza closed her eyes, her head hitting the wall behind her. For once, her mind was despairingly blank. They sat there, unsure of what to do, the mood turning sour.

Her heart stammered. She didn’t know what to do next. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t have the house or money Beryl had. She barely had anything, and was only now starting her life and now-

Esperanza Valdez could deal with having a baby. Fine. She would love it as much as she could and give what she had never had. But what stung her heart and spun her with dread was the reality of this child: demigod, and thus, trapping her forever to that world she never wanted in the first place—trapped by her singular fate.

“Oh, oh baby, why are you crying?” Beryl turned to her and kissed her. “We got this. We can have two little freaks running around. God, I hope not another fucking girl. Our super freak kids can get married and have kids, and we’ll be immortalized forever. You name yours Beryl, and I’ll name mine Evie. No- Evan. Okay?”

“Stop,” Esperanza wiped her face. “Please. I can’t— I just-”

“I know,” Beryl sighed. “Come move in with me. We can raise them together, you know? And we’ll be happy with our dumb demigod family. We can run away, too. Just me and you. Or if you want, there are other options-”

Esperanza heaved, her world shrinking.

She loved Beryl, despite everything. She really did. She couldn’t not love her best friend. But, Esperanza would never love this part of herself that she was itching to remove and hide. She’d known better, but she entertained Beryl. Entertained Hephaestus. She entertained herself, lying about her inevitable fate.

Beryl pulled her to her feet. They walked out into the living room, Beryl mumbling about there being other options that she would support, and she knew a woman who—

“Ladies.”

“Queen—” Esperanza said, as Beryl muttered, “Hera.”

“Beryl.” Hera glared. “Fix your tone.”

For once, Beryl stayed quiet. Her arms laced around Esperanza. Hera approached, and brushed their hair back, tossing away the plastic costumes. She glanced at their middles the way one does an overgrown puppy. Fondly, cautiously. Jealous, even. Hungry eyes, a wince of pain.

Hera sighed. “Neither of you understands the significance of this yet. In due time.” She tapped their cheeks. “Here’s my gift for these little heroes and champions.” She kissed their forehead, warmth shimmering through Esperanza’s bones. “You’ll be concealed for now. At first, I was going to give you two more time before separating, but… ” She waved her hand, jaw tensing. “I’ve been advised against it, for fear of setting things too early. Say your goodbyes.”

“What do you mean, goodbye?” Beryl scowled. “I’ll tell him you’re hurting me and my family.”

“You hardly have a family,” Hera scoffed. “You are an immature child pretending to be bigger than you are. This is one of the few things you can do for the world.”

Esperanza had it in her to scowl at a god, for the first time. “I don’t want to do things for the world. I want my life to be normal.”

For a moment, Hera hesitated, her forehead wrinkling. Esperanza thought that maybe that was the way to get the gods to listen to you: being angry and going against them. Maybe rather than running from the world, she should’ve been fighting it.

Instead, her thoughts fell apart as quickly as they came, when Hera's smile tightened. Esperanza couldn’t be certain, but she was sure, or at least, she hoped that maybe she was seeing sadness in the goddess’s irises.

“I know,” Hera said. “And I’m sorry for that. This is the best I can do.”

“Fuck you,” Beryl stuck up her middle finger, and began mumbling a prayer to him.

She hugged Esperanza, and their stomachs felt hot. The earth tremored, and Hera forced them apart. “Enough.”

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you-”

“ENOUGH,” Hera snapped her fingers, and they were gone.

Esperanza woke up warm in Hephaestus’ arms. She moaned, feeling the sun hit her like a caress. She felt extremely good. Heavy, weighted to the world. Something in her had clicked through the night, and she was buzzing with love.

Hephaestus grumbled next to her, awake. “It’s three in the afternoon. Must’ve been some sleep.”

“It was,” Esperanza said, sitting up, stretching her arms out. She playfully punched him. “Why’d you let me sleep in so late? I’m supposed to see my sister later.”

Hephaestus frowned. He stared at her strangely. “What did you dream about?”

“I had a dream about your mother.”

“How unsexy,” he laughed, a rough sound.

“Yes, yes, but she was good to me.” Esperanza tried to recall more about her dream, but all she really remembered was little baby angels and princesses, with Hera blabbing to her in utter nonsense language. It was still fading away as she thought about it, replaced with that foggy exhaustion and fond frustration of losing what you knew was probably good.

“She must want something.” Hephaestus muttered, “But she can’t have you.”

“Please,” Esperanza rolled her eyes, kissing him. “What time are you heading out?”

“I have no plans today,” the god rumbled, scratching his cheek. “...How was Beryl Grace? Should I expect her to run back here, and I stay away for a few weeks?”

“Who?” Esperanza snorted, brow furrowing, “Like the girl from the toothpaste commercial? I didn’t peg you for a fan. What do you mean?”

Hephaestus opened his mouth, then tilted his head. “Ah. I see.” his gaze dropped to her stomach wrapped in blankets. “Oh. You’re pregnant.”

Esperanza blinked. “...You can tell?”

Hephaestus cursed. “I didn’t realize that it would be you.” His fist curled up, and he pushed away from her.

“Are you talking about your other women again?” Esperanza grimaced. “I know, I know, you’re a god and can be at so many places-”

“This one is different. You’re different.” Hephaestus grumbled. “If I knew, I would’ve never- Grr. I’ll be back.”

“Okay-” He left like that, the way she always hated, in a pillar of smoke, and she sighed, rubbing her stomach.

She didn’t feel any different, certainly didn’t feel pregnant, if there were a way to tell. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as she thought about it. Would she even need to take a test? It was a bit of an asshole move for Hephaestus to announce such a bomb and then leave, but Esperanza sighed, figuring she’d have to get used to it.

She didn’t really feel comfortable with it all, but she woke up feeling good, and Hephaestus would be back, and they could talk about what they were going to do. The murmuring fear in her slithered through her skin, a hollow trapped feeling like she was caught in a web she couldn’t crawl out of.

Esperanza thought maybe she should call someone to feel better. Her sister had been pregnant before, and her grandfather was always open to listening to her. Her head ached as she thought, pulling at a whisper of a memory of blonde hair and lemons. But she couldn’t pull up any images, which was pretty ridiculous, because Esperanza Valdez didn’t make friends in the first place.

There was a lingering of blood congealing in her mind. Maybe some rain. A hug. Crying. If Esperanza weren’t as prosaic as she was, she’d say it’s like she was falling in and out of love with a concept. But Esperanza Valdez couldn’t really remember anything but the feeling that remained, and the fire burning in her stomach.

END PART III

Chapter Text

PART IV - because it's you

They fell apart like pinballs knocking into each other. Leo stared at Jason with an expression he could not pick apart, the wind still howling through the window, blood dripping across the floor.

“Jason Grace… son of Jupiter,” Leo tested out.

He didn’t know if he was allowed to talk. Frankly, Jason didn’t know anything anymore.

But whatever anger he had sunk away with the memories, the way their timelines had inevitably met and entangled with each other, and the realization that being with his best friend has been, and always will be, a doomed effort, was sobering, to say the least.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You couldn’t handle it.”

Leo scowled. “You don’t get to decide that. You should’ve told me.”

“I tried,” Jason sighed. “But now you know.”

“I know your version,” spat Leo. “I barely remember this shit. And every time I think it can’t get worse, it does. You fucking trapped me here.”

Jason bit his tongue: Leo had the uncanny ability to get under his skin like no one else. He sighed, pulling out a piece of glass from his arms, feeling his stomach twisting every way possible.

Jason watched Leo stand there, eyeing the now blank walls. “There’s still glass in you.”

“I’ll handle it myself.”

“You don’t have to--” Jason backed off at Leo’s glare. “Look, I get you’re mad at me, but what’s done is done. I want to help you.”

“You want to feel good about yourself.”

“No,” Jason rubbed his temple. “You can ask me anything, I’m serious. Just let me help you. We are-”

Leo frowned, picking at the glass with shaky fingers. “Don’t touch me,” he spat at him.

“I won’t.” Jason’s hands raised in surrender.

Eventually, Leo lifted his head. “Was it fun?” his eyes drifted to the models.

“What part?”

“Any of it. The quest, Argo, the Seven,” Leo murmured. “Did I enjoy it?”

He couldn’t lie.

“There were fun moments,” Jason decided. “We made the most of it.”

“Until I died,” he said bitterly. “Why didn’t you try to stop me?”

“I didn’t know until it was too late. You only told Frank and Hazel”

Leo sighed. “But you said we were best friends.”

“We were- are,” Jason amended, sheepishly looking to the side.

“Not right now,” Leo said. “I don’t know what we are.”

“No worries, man, I’ll wait for whenever you’re ready.”

Leo sighed. “Sure, whatever,” he tensed. “Where is Frank and Hazel? Or Piper, or… I forget the rest of the Brady bunch, but how come I haven’t seen them?”

Jason blinked. “I haven’t told them.” Well, Percy knew, but Jason wasn’t going to admit to that.

“You haven’t told them,” Leo repeated, like Jason was dumb. “I’ve been here for five months.”

“I’m not supposed to talk to any of them.”

“You’re not supposed to do a lot of things, but that’s never stopped you.” Leo sighed. “Jesus, Jason. Five fucking months. What is wrong with you? Holy shit, do you have a complex.”

Despite his evident frustration, Jason tried not to smile at the familiar look Leo sported, the what am I gonna do with you? Familiar was good. Familiar was warm. Even if Jason had nothing, he still had familiar.

Then he thought of his mom and the suffocating way she clung to Jupiter, and it made Jason feel uneasy. The last thing he remembered was killing her in Rome. Now that he knew a bit more about her, he felt sorry for the woman, but mostly, he still had a scrap of disdain.

For a woman so contingent about needing people, she hadn’t needed much of Jason. She had she’d come back for him, and at the time, when his mother was straining a smile, and Jason was two years old, staring back at her, neither of them would’ve known that Beryl Grace would come back to Jason through nightmares and painful thoughts.

Leo frowned, tossing a piece of the window onto Jason’s bed. “Did no one look for me?”

Jason paused. “Me and Piper did, until, we were here.”

“You gave up,” Leo said, plainly.

“Never,” Jason said honestly. “I’d send Tempest to look.”

“And Piper?”

“It’s complicated.”

“You should’ve told her. I can’t believe you didn’t.”

When he had to think about it, Jason surprised himself, too. Telling Piper had come to mind a few times, but he could never do it. It wasn’t selfishness: Piper hadn’t talked much to him lately, and everything had grown messy. There was no good moment. He told himself that there would be a right time to introduce them and start anew.

And maybe a deep, small part of Jason didn’t want to tell Piper. He didn’t need Leo to disappear, too. They were both his best friends, and losing Leo then Piper, within a few months hurt. Jason wasn’t sure if he could handle that again.

He found his fists were clenched, and he dropped them. “I can take you to her,” Jason tried.

Leo waved his hand. “I barely know her.”

“But I can show you Hedge. Maybe it’ll bring up some memories or something.”

Leo threw a shard against the wall, muttering something.

“What?”

“I said,” Leo sighed. “I don’t want to fucking remember that shit. My life sucks. I don’t care anymore. You should've left the moment you saw me.”

Jason frowned. “You know I couldn’t.”

“I don’t know anything. I know Jason, my roommate, not Jason the preacher.”

“Praetor.”

“Who cares!” Leo grumbled. “I just want to forget it again. Holy shit. Why can’t things be normal?”

“You know that’s not possible,” Jason said.

“... I know. I still want to- Damn. FUCK!” Leo’s voice went quiet. “I have all these feelings and nowhere to put them.”

Jason understood. He had the undeniable urge to hit something. Get rid of this unease that Leo was instilling in him, the uncertainty of where to go, the terror of his birthright from his mother. “I can take you somewhere with monsters-”

“Are you fucking insane?” Leo’s eyes widened.

“It’s a good way to take out some anger.”

Leo stared at him. “You’re such a freak.” He got up. “Do not follow me. I need a fucking break.”

Surprisingly —or unsurprisingly, depending on who was asked —Jason was an unforgiving child. Raw and battered, crackling with an energy too sharp to call anxiety, he was left clawing into the world.

All those things have changed by now, but sometimes Jason remembered bits of that hazy childhood filled with iron in his fangs, and dirt under his gnawed fingertips.

I’m going to kill him, Jason remembered thinking about Octavian. He was about thirteen or fourteen, freshly kicked out of the First Cohort into the Fifth for his own impotence and failures, but the smug half-way smirk Octavian gave him was enough to launch Jason through the air, kicking and screaming.

The Senate looked down upon them, bored, as they dismissed themselves. Dakota, on duty by the heavy doors, watched with lazy eyes, but his grip adjusted on his spear in case he needed to step in when things went too far.

“Fuck you,” Jason growled when Octavian flipped them over, and his head crashed into stone. A skinny arm jutted under his chin, pressing into his neck, and Octavian jabbed a knee into his fractured ribs.

Biting back the gasp and satisfaction, Jason glared at the older boy.

“You’re a fucking mutt,” Octavian caught his breath, with a sneer. “If it weren’t for your father, you’d be banished from SPQR long ago, and I would catch a fucking break. You’re lucky you only got demoted, moron.”

“I don’t care,” Jason scowled. “You were supposed to protect me-”

“Stop being a child.” Octavian spat. “If it were up to me, you’d be shoveling shit for the rest of your life. Be grateful for once and control your temper.”

Jason stopped trying to squirm, not exactly giving up, but not wanting the ache on his side to worsen. Octavian’s frown deepened as he began easing off Jason’s fractured ribs, though his gaze remained calculated on keeping him down.

“Are you done with your tantrum?” Octavian asked, more exasperated than mocking. Jason didn’t answer, his head turning to the side, cheek against cold, greyed stone.

By now, the amphitheater had emptied, and Dakota was sitting by the door, pouring into a bag of Doritos. A bead of sweat fell from Octavian’s hair into Jason’s eye.

“...Why,” Jason eventually rasped out.

“Why what?”

“Why didn’t you?” Jason squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the anger within him seep into a heated mix of embarrassment and frustration. “You’re supposed to be my friend. We’re supposed to be in First Cohort together with Reyna-”

“Jason,” Octavian said slowly, solemnly. His eyes remained half-lidded. “We are not friends.”

“We-”

“Mutt,” Octavian pressed in on him again. “Alter ipse amicus. I saw it. You don’t belong here. You never have.”

“You don’t mean that.”

Octavian rolled his eyes. “No one here is your fucking friend. We are cohorts, you and Reyna are cohorts, you and Gwen are cohorts. Nothing else.”

Jason didn't want to leave Leo alone, and frankly, Leo, despite his silence, didn’t want to be left alone either. They got yelled at for breaking the window, their RA in a rage that could’ve been historical. Trying to leave, Leo’s motorcycle was busted, but he was a son of Vulcan, and that would never change, regardless of what he could remember. Jason offered Tempest, but Leo glanced at the sky and looked nauseated.

“Fuck that,” Leo said. “I want to be normal for a day.” Before Jason could interrupt, Leo scowled- “Mortal.” He disappeared and came back with a toolkit from some kid he was tutoring.

They end up at a batting range, swinging silently, a couple lanes apart to feign distance. Jason’s eyes strayed to Leo, listening to him mutter. Every ball that came to Leo was thwacked as hard as he could hit it. Jason had to admit that it wasn’t as satisfying as beating up a monster, but it was a good medium.

Watching the sweat pour down Leo’s face and his back muscles tensing with each swing, Jason tried to picture a world where they were two normal teens hanging out. Perhaps they shared a class, or they were roommates, and that was all. They’d graduate and go their separate ways, or perhaps they’d have families and live long lives in cozy little houses, surrounded by innocent neighbors and tooth-rottingly sweet kids. No gods, no goat coaches, no more prophecy.

Jason didn’t want to admit it, but he couldn’t stand the thought of it all. He’s not Piper: that was never his life, and it never will be that. But also, Jason couldn’t stomach the thought of returning to the camps alone. He was a warrior, a praetor, a standard of justice and heroism. And maybe, deep deep deep underneath that, he was still a coward. No matter where he went and what he did, Jason was still Jason.

A two-year-old child watching his mother say, she’ll be back for him, versus the sixteen-year-old who knew better as he drove his sword through her ghost.

A fifteen-year-old amnesiac promising to be with his best friends no matter what, versus the seventeen-year-old who watched his best friend blow up, and let the other one leave without a fight.

Jason’s bat cracked in his hands, causing him to drop it like it burned. Leo had been right, partially: he had fucked up something, but this time he didn’t know if he could put it all back together. Honestly, he was exhausted. Exhausted of lying, of explaining, of gods, of Leo, and worst: of himself.

He was tired of trying to tuck himself away in a home that evidently didn’t exist to anyone but himself.