Work Text:
5:16am
The last time Leo had looked at the clock before sleep finally graced him.
He rolled out of bed with a stretch, taking in his surroundings. At a mere 6:30, many siblings swarmed around the cabin, readying for the day with every invention under the moon.
He planted his face back into the pillow, breathing in the smell of linen and fabric softener. In the dim lighting, the sounds around him illuminated, he could almost imagine he was back where he started.
The bustling of busy peers, the uncomfortable crooked beds, and Leo, with his head in the feathers. Whether that was metaphorical or literal, he wasn’t sure. Either way, he didn’t miss the orphanage.
Breakfast felt no better - he slumped in his seat, his mom’s famous French toast magically appearing on his plate. At least there was this, he thought.
“Leo!” His eyes fluttered to the noise, of who he could place his friend Jason. Leo raised an eyebrow.
“Ahh, Superman’s breaking the rules?” Jason huffed at the overused nickname. “Sitting at your table instead of alone at mine is hardly an offense, Pyrrha.” The corners of his mouth flickered up.
Leo’d always liked that nickname - it’d been a nickname for Achilles in one of Leo’s favorite books. It meant “fire head”, which was fitting. He’d always loved the story of Achilles and Patroclus, The Song of Achilles was one of his favorites. Jason knew this.
Moments with Jason were typically the only freedom Leo got. It was hours filled with giggles that felt like mere minutes. And between Jason’s lightning tingling the air, and Leo’s sparks, they were usually just a few jokes away from fireworks.
The day was pretty average. Leo was tired, his one hour of sleep not boding over well, but chugging energy drinks and slapping on a stupid smile were his two talents. At least in his eyes.
He tugged at his work gloves, the ones he wore even to bed. Whenever someone asked, he typically blamed his adhd. “Oh silly me, I forgot to take them off!” “Well I’m working all the time anyways!” Or “Why, thanks for noticing, they make me look extra attractive, don’t they?”
Yes, that last one was a real reply.
And sure, sensory, work, forgetfulness, it all contributed. But no one understood the sting that itched at every swift move of his hand across gears. Or even during a wave hello. The way the fibers of the glove stuck to the raw tissue far too often.
Cal had made them with her fireproof cloth before they broke up a few months back. He brushed off the thought.
He toiled away at his station, taking in the sound of clunks around him. This is where the magic happened.
His eyes jumped around, taking in everything with adrenaline. His blood pumped with excitement. Pure ecstasy flew through his fingers as he worked on his current invention - what he hoped would be a Demi-god safe phone.
It was a place of safety, and solitude. He had control, completing tasks and fixing mistakes. Machines always made more sense to Leo than people.
There was a soft tap that stood out among the working clatter. Where it came from, he did not know. His hands stilled.
It wasn’t Morse, he knew that much, but the faint ting morphed his reality.
Suddenly he was seven, sitting on an old, creaky red stool. He spun around, busy with spare gears, when the wall seemed to whisper.
He calculated the taps. “You ok?” He grinned, lifting a finger to delicately reply.
The conversations were brief, but had always been special. When he came to, he was staring with heavy eyes and a sad grin towards the floor. He thanked his lucky stars no one was paying attention.
——
Beacons of fire. Springing out from his hands, flashing through the sky. Vaporized water molecules ascended through the air. He glanced to his right, watching the all too familiar scar curl with a smile. He blamed his warm face on the fire.
They’d been practicing this trick for weeks now, but whether it was just an excuse to spend sparring together, he hadn’t figured out yet.
The air filled with electricity, making Leo’s skull tingle. He watched as his hand glowed a bright orange, marveling at the sparks surrounding his outlined bones.
Now came Leo’s favorite part.
Jason inched his hand towards his, a barrier of lightning mixing with the fire.
Their hands intertwined, and a jolt sent down Leo’s spine. He gulped in air, watching his friends eyes as shock waves of flame swirled.
They’d done it before, but it never got old. Watching the way Jason grinned in disbelief and pride, soaking in his calloused hands. Sure, the power show was amazing, but nothing beat the view of him.
Of all the things he’d experienced, he decided, this would be one of his most cherished.
The air became stark as day shifted to night. Speckling stars swirled in the sky. He sat alone on the beach, watching demigods young and old swarm with excitement as the day ended.
It was a moment of peace, contentment. He shifted his weight as a warm breeze caught his army jacket.
An old lady seemed to approach a few of the younger kids, talking them into turning in for bed. Leo squinted. She was fair, with a pin bun of salt and pepper. Lines traced her aged face, circling her kind eyes.
He’d seen this helper before, some mortal with the ability to see through the mist. She was a kind lady.
If he zoned out, it could almost be her. The mannerisms, the stature. He could imagine the kids were the same as he’d grown to love, and pity.
His mind absently flooded with pictures of her. In the garage, or the kitchen. Bent over the garden as the children played.
Such a strong, lovely lady, people would say. Leo winced.
The pictures changed, to what he remembered more vividly. Her face above his crying foster siblings. A firm grip on Leo’s arm, just below the bruises that traced his olive skin. Empty plates, broken beer bottles, splattered words of anger.
He hadn’t noticed how his fist grew tight, or how smoke traced the air. Or the way any scar she’d left permanently on his body seemed to sting anew. He’d been to many foster homes, and many unfortunate ones at that. But she’d won the prize for “worst place Leo’s ever run away from.” And running away won: “best decision Leo’s ever made.”
The light shifted.
He cranked on a grin. Hey, pipes!” She greeted him with a warm smile, settling beside him.
He watched as she studied his face.
“Talk.”
Piper was the longest time Leo’d kept a friend. After all, running around so much doesn’t exactly scream stability. He was forever grateful for her, after all, she’d been there before the illusions of Jason even started. She knew all too well the pain of those false memories.
Leo smirked. “About what, beauty queen? Didn’t realize you were so into hearing what I have to say.”
Piper winced. “You know I mean, Leonidas.”
He scowled. “Watch the name.”
“Fine,” He sighed, “I'll talk.” His impish grin threatened to show. “Ya know, my favorite episode of star treck was-“
“You’re impossible. Listen, is this about Jason?” He flinched, eyes darting down to the tap at his hand. Pipers soft touch was meant to be reassuring.
He cleared his throat, politely shifting his arm. “Why would it be about him?”
Her eyebrows knit. “i wouldn’t be upset, you know. I- it’s not like that. If-” A shiver ran down Leo, a flight. He needed to turn this around, shift the topic.
“Oh! Hows your girlfriend, beauty queen? I forgot to ask earlier!”
She cocked her head. “Leo, don’t change the subject. I’m serious about-“
“Me too! Honestly, you guys are the hottest couple. And it’s nice to see you so happy, sis.”
————
3:15am
Here he was again. Every night felt the same, dragging on and on. His sheets were heavy, weighing down as he counted each screw in the bunk. It was his third mechanism, a list he sifted through each night.
There were 6 steps, a method his mom taught him, as a fellow insomniac. Relax your body, from your toes to your head, that was step one. Picture happy memories, step two. Count sheep, or for Leo, anything mechanical nearby. Step three.
Step four was usually his mind drifting off, losing interest. He thought about his day, his friends, Jason.
Step five was somewhat like getting lost. A maze, circling through his mind. A field of memories, flashbacks.
Like the corn mazes he used to go through with his mom and abuelita.
“Saying Corn ‘maize’ is funny, Mijo. It’s like saying corn twice!” Her smile illuminated on her face, brighter than the blaring Texas sun ever hoped to be.
Except these mazes weren’t corn, they were metal walls of tungsten, at its highest strength, at over 1,500 degrees Celsius. Impossible for Leo to break through.
Chip at its flakey surface for years? Sure, but that's besides the point.
Step six, well, wasn’t something he took pride in. His gloves bore into his shakey hands the rest of the night. If his mom ever got a tip the last two, she would short circuit from her grave.
Rinse and repeat.
The sun rose the next morning, shocker.
It bore down into Leo’s skin. Typically, he loved the heat. It didn’t make him uncomfortable like it did the others, if anything, it felt like a shock of energy surging his skin. Him and the Apollo kids had that in common.
Yet today it felt itchy. All too familiar, like those days in the woods, alone.
He shot his head around, daring anything to approach, as he stood alone in the strawberry fields.
A deep breath of air graced his lungs. Alone. The word wrung through him like a grease covered cloth.
He shunned loneliness, after all, it was all he grew up feeling. No mother, no friends, simply unwanted. And living homeless for months at a time never made you fond of your own thoughts.
He forced himself around others, laughing and goofing off, desperately clinging to any signs of being liked. If they laugh, maybe they won’t leave me, or good riddance, do anything worse.
But being around people meant acting. So there was simply no winning.
He snatched his heavy pal, lugging it to the porch. His eye caught a lightning bolt among the crowd. Well, not literally. His eye caught Jason.
Looking back, he could easily blame his neurodivergent mind. Getting lost in him? Nah, just zoning out while staring. It was out of his control, right? ADHD.
But the snickers behind him didn’t exactly believe such a story. There’d always been rumors about Leo, to which he ignored.
They subsided once he and Calypso dated, which tempted him to find another girl, to shew off the rumors.
He knew that wasn’t fair.
Snapping back into reality was easy. He turned, finding Drew and a few other Aphrodite siblings. Part of him wished Pipes was here to tell her half-sister off.
He bit his lip. “Laughing at your own jokes again, Drew?” Her siblings scoffed at the comment, elbowing her with a tease.
Leo let his hand slip off the pal handle.
He glanced behind him. No Jason, he must have left.
His legs took him there before he knew it. Top of the Zeus cabin, Facing away from camp. This was Jason and Piper's spot, which is why it now remained empty.
Leo took advantage of that.
His pulse flew, breaths unsteady. Maybe it was stupid, heck, not maybe. It was. But his mind flew back to months prior.
He had sat alone on the ground, away from the wreckage of what had become a fight. Some unclaimed campers staying with Hermes chose to pick Leo’s brain on the concept of bisexuality, yet if they’d actually been interested, the infirmary wouldn’t have been quite so busy that day.
It’s safe to say Chiron scolded him. And the perpetrators too, since the guy was far superior to punishing victims. The entire event was enough to send him into a spiral - it was all the same.
Bringing him right back to square one, sixth grade. Maybe that’s dramatic. Regardless, it flashed back through his eyes in a matter of seconds.
The kids, their vacant stares. If they weren’t staring soullessly through him, he was usually being shoved.
He was the loud one, unable to sit still, or keep his dam mouth shut. Kids sifted through the halls like he wasn’t there, until the slightest misstep.
He was never important enough for the big bullies, he was served the wannabes. Don’t be fooled, it was just as bad.
Sure, they shoved his head in the toilet, stuffed him in lockers, framed him for cheating.
Yet no one asks why they called him a murderer, a red-hot orphan who killed his family. Rejected, vengeful. No one asks why their belittling mattered to Leo, or what their grips felt like. No one wondered why he was so interested in Leo’s bisexuality aside from what must have been homophobia.
Because his violence turned quickly to touch.
His body cringed, insides curling up like a wilted flower, a pruning grape. He was aware of everything touching his body, the clothes, their texture, their placement. The cold, hard ground. His hands, clutching his knees. He did not dare loosen them. Anything gentle would send him into a spiral.
His breathing laboured. Suddenly the roof seemed calloused, facing away from the crowds, boring into the fields.
He slipped off, leaving the sanctuary to its lonesome. One foot after another, he walked.
The plan was pretty straight forward. Walk, fly with Festus, maybe tool around in the workshop, no pun intended.
Instead, he made it about 5 feet before turning around. His chest was tight and his body tense, eyes fluttering around for any threats. Just the reaction in itself made him furious, getting so overworked by memories.
Sweat trickled his neck as he walked to his cabin. His siblings were gone, scattered throughout the sunny day. Leo decided he hated the sun.
His eyes blinked to adjust the dim bathroom lighting. The door clanked shut behind him, and a soft click told him it was locked. A shaky breath told him he wasn’t turning back, and a white-knuckled hand reached for his drawer.
He sifted through the back, hidden under layers of assorted items. His gloved hands reached harmlessly for the razor.
His blood boiled, not an inch of his mind thinking properly. His body felt like nails on a chalkboard, shakey and weak, a victim to any slightest movement, sending Leo’s breaths into panic.
He tore the gloves off, and a cold metal met skin in a sloppy kiss.
———
Tap, tap, tap.
•• •-•• - - - •••- • -•- - - - - ••-
“I love you”
He sat slumped over an empty plate. Occasionally, the plate would figure out that he didn’t want to eat, and just cease to work. Part of him appreciated it. He made sure to thank the plate.
His finger tapped the wooden table as he thought. There was a dull shame stirring within him. Muddled emotions, mixing like oil and water. Satisfaction, relief, shame, fear, disgust, disbelief, release. All things the blade cut loose in his mind. They remained shoved in a mason jar somewhere deep in his mind, his gloves acting like a lid, forcing all those feelings tightly down.
“Pyrrha”
His voice was light, full of spark. Leo watched as he sat beside him. Suddenly the tensing in his body shifted. He was comfortable, safe, protected. No harm came from this person, and no harm could reach them. His chest tightened with something that wasn’t fear.
He’d always been a bright source of life, strong and steadfast. Stubborn, unwilling, heroic. The opposite of whatever mess defines Leo’s life.
But Leo also knew better. Not all the light he portrayed was honest. Jason had opened up about his suicidal thoughts to Leo months ago, and how they had gotten bad during the war with Gaia. He isn’t just what meets the eye, Yet even some of his closest friends fail to see that.
Leo wondered if likewise, no one saw through his own facade, or saw his cries for help. He just wanted to get everyone together, and scream at them to see. He wanted to blame their obliviousness, or lack of care.
Guilt flooded him when he thought like that. Spiraling, spiraling.. Saying its their fault that you’re not getting help. Holding yourself back because of shame. This and this and this. On and on and on. They did notice, he thought, he just didn’t accept it.
He was always just on the edge of speaking up before his lips moved faster, cracking a joke or turning the tables.
“Leo?” Jason’s head was cocked sideways as Leo stared, adrenaline pumping.
His whole life he’d stayed silent. First, her death was his fault, and nothing he said helped. Then if he spoke up, the punishment from her would be far worse. At school, they’d speak up first, shame him, say he wanted what he got. He lost everyone again and again, pushing them and running away. Now he had friends, would speaking up just reset the clock?
Reason after reason, excuse after excuse.
A shiver sent down his spine, studying Jason’s concerned face. He soaked him in, drinking the light he poured out of his eyes. In case this is the last time, he thought.
There were many things he thought of doing, saying. I’m not okay, or, I think I’m in love with you.
It was a wide spectrum.
He picked his calloused fingers.
His voice cracked. A pit formed deep in his stomach, an itch to flee crept up in his body. He knew any slightest touch and there’d be no coming back.
He choked.
“I need help.”
————