Some Percico One Shots

Deadly Love

Not again. He sped up, a fist reaching up to press against his lips. Once he knew people were far away, he couldn't hold it anymore.

His shoulders were shaking, and he grabbed onto the wall for support. He covered his mouth quickly with his other hand, the warm blood seeped through his fingers as they caught the petals spewing out of him.

Minutes coughing up flowers and blood, he forced himself to take a breath. The metallic taste lingered in his mouth, but he was too weak to spit it out. The rain fell harder than before and lightning illuminated the dark sky. Thunder soon followed, and he wondered what Zeus was mad about now. He opened his palm and the red carnations fell to the ground.

He extended his hand and the blood washed away, mixing with the cold rain. His heart was pounding, and he grasped his chest. Wrapping his thin jacket around him, he cursed himself for not checking the weather beforehand. He leaned against the wet wall and looked down at the flowers on the floor.

Drops of blood decorated the beautiful striped carnations. He grimaced and he shut his eyes. The sight disgusted him. He ached to scream, any release for his frustration, but his throat felt sore.

Desperate, his eyes prickled at the sides, and tears that had built up over the past weeks spilled. He promised himself he wouldn't cry over someone. But even his body was telling him. He was in love with Percy Jackson, someone who'd never love him back. If he did, the roots wouldn't be growing deeper into his lungs as days went by.

He felt more coughing building up in his chest, and he did his best to prepare for the impact. This time, his body shook forwards with such force, he almost toppled over. He could feel the flowers coming out, scratching his throat as they made their way out his mouth. His breathing came in short rapid gasps. He struggled catching his breath, his mind panicking.

His eyes widened, as he realized this was a glimpse of his fate. He was never afraid of death, after all, his father was Hades, but he thought about how terrifying it would really be. If this disease kept advancing at its current pace, he'd die in a few weeks, suffocating on the same flowers Percy had once given as a joke on Valentine's Day a year ago, alone. The roots would keep growing deeper into his lungs until he ran out of air.

He cursed Aphrodite, he cursed Eros, not caring if they came down to strike him right there. He figured that would be a better way to die. He cursed the person responsible for this, for the flowers in his lungs. Was she laughing now, laughing at his pain or was she spouting nonsense about the beauty of a tragic ending?

He contemplated for a moment. In a way, it was beautifully tragic. At least he'd die surrounded by flowers, he thought bitterly. He laughed, but it came out more like quick, short exhales. He was fucked, wasn't he?

He thought of the alternative. He could get surgery, and remove the flower from its roots to stop it from growing back. He would be cured and he'd be free of risk of ever getting it again. But it came with a price, everything came with a price. Get the surgery and you lose memory of the person that indirectly caused you pain. You lose any opportunity at romantic love in the future. You suffer the risk of getting other lung infections and dying from that. In some cases, the plant will have reached a point that surgery will not save the patient.

His throat itched but he willed himself to not cough. The disease was advancing quickly, pretending it wasn't there wouldn't work anymore. He was surprised at how little time he had. Just two weeks ago, he coughed up a single petal.

He needed to do something about it, choose between latching onto the nonexistent sliver of hope his feelings could be returned, or find a way to save his life and agree to surgery. Maybe surgery was the best option, he knew where he stood in Percy's life and it was not in his heart. No, that place was reserved for someone else. But to forget about him? At this point, Percy had become such a vital part to his life, he was incapable of imagining it without him.

He thought back to when he found Percy in Camp Jupiter. He had been so frustrated with the blank, confused stares Percy gave him. Now to be in his position, how upsetting would it be to look at someone, think you recognize them, but have no memories of who they are and what they mean to you? He tried not to think of how hopeless his situation was.

One thing was for certain, he needed to get out of here. He could look for Hazel, but not in this state.

He did his best to compose himself, wiping away any blood and tears streaking his cheeks. The night was young, but there were sufficient shadows around. But did he have enough energy to shadow travel? Where would he even go? Camp, where without a doubt the golden couple would be back together? The Underworld? It wasn't his favorite place to be and his father would be confused but it would have to do. He remembered he told Percy he'd see him later, but he pushed that thought aside. He couldn't afford to think about Percy right now.

The night clung to him as he walked into the shadows. 

A/N I have no idea where this much angst came from, but my mind wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote this down. I have a question though, do you guys prefer first person or third person? Or maybe second person? Either way, thanks for reading!