✩ ━━━ chapter thirteen, a hill on the moon. ❝Those who are called can easily climb to the top, but that child hasn't been summoned yet. A disappearing smile becomes a full moon,❞
FOR SOMEONE WHO WAS DRAGGED TO THE UNDERWORLD IN THE JAWS OF A HELLHOUND AGAINST HIS WILL, MICHAEL YEW RADIATED AN UNMATCHABLE SENSE OF VICTORY. The son of Apollo hauled Percy around Hypnos' cave with a bounce in his stride, explaining how he and the other campers managed to survive as the healing deities moved around them from demigod-to-demigod, checking for injuries and readjusting bandages; the little winged-creatures he recognized as the Oneiroi, the personifications of dreams who served Hypnos and his children, carried cups of ambrosia, some rushing as Nono began chasing them wildly.
The cave didn't resemble one interior-wise. If anything, it seemed like a luxury home—Elegant furniture nestled in natural circle of stalactites, massive chandeliers crafted from black metal gleaming above as they erupt from cave top; despite the number of dirty half-bloods, the stone floor shined unblemished, and the curving steel banisters leading to the loft blended pleasingly with the earth-like colors and hard-edged aesthetic of the cave.
Everything seemed less Hypnos and very much Micah, in that unearthly high-end fashion he carried himself with.
"So, yeah!" Michael said cheerfully, dragging Percy to a large kitchen; the campers well enough to cook focused on the task, prepping whatever they could with the good available. They all cheered at the sight of him.
Percy smiled back dazedly, trying to decipher if this is all a dream. Michael nudged him. "The Hellhounds did actually attack us, but they were trained to take us here before trying to eat us!"
"Not a single person died?" Percy asked with disbelief.
Michael nodded. "Minus a few bites. Even the traitors got here in one piece, though I did want to shoot them when I saw them,"
Percy is glad he was sitting down. He did not understand how anything of what Hiroki managed to do was even possible. Raising a hand to his face, Percy said. "Where are they? The other half-bloods?"
"Your boyfriend took them somewhere," Michael said casually, nearly falling off the barstool as he moved back to avoid getting as Percy shot out his seat. "Jeez, Perce! Be careful, you could kill me! I'm small!"
The son of Poseidon managed to pull an apologetic look as he asked, trying not to sound too desperate. "Micah is here?"
Michael looked at him weirdly. "I don't know if he's still here, but he rounded up the traitors and took them somewhere,"
Percy clapped him on his shoulder, walking out of the kitchen despite Michael's calling. If there's a chance Hiroki was still here, Percy wasn't going to let it go by without searching for him. He wandered deeper into the home, bowing to each god and goddess as he ventured, resisting the urge to peer inside each room hidden behind wooden doors. He'd seen the little winged-creatures exit them but could never catch sight of what was on the other side of the doors. Unlike his mother's house, there's no framed pictures or books or random clothes folded on chairs to indicate who truly lived here, if anyone at all.
He pictured Micah living here, alone and unreachable; for the person he is, it made sense to live in isolation, but it still hurt Percy's heart.
The sound of clawed-paws stumping on the group forced his eyes to the ground. Nono kept snigging insistently, nearly shoving Percy off his feet as the hellhound rammed his way through in his chase; Percy laughed, reaching out to pat his head when a voice interrupted him.
"Don't do that," Micah said casually, locking the door he had come through with a key.
At the sight of him, Percy felt the warmth in his chest travel to his cheeks; he opened his mouth to speak but felt short of words as Micah faced him. "Oh," Percy said dumbly. He looked—so striking, hair fully colored to a familiar rich black instead of the colorless blonde he had, the darkness enhancing the natural pallor of his face. His golden armor was stored away, but he carried his scimitar loosely, dressed casually in a pair of sweatpants, the smooth skin of his chest too distracting and tempting without a shirt to anchor Percy's sanity; the son of Poseidon chose to count the endless feathers that peaked over Micha's shoulder instead of focusing on the taunt muscle over his stomach.
Gods, who allowed him to be so—"What did you say?" Percy cleared his throat.
Micah had the audacity to glance down at his chest, an amused pull to his lips. "We're in a safe place, so he is not paying attention to his surroundings as much." He explained. "A sudden touch may startle him. Call him before,"
Nono let out a low whine again, clearly agitated by something. Micah looked at his hellhound with coolness, his expression like a stone; With a heavy sigh, a sound so alien Percy nearly shriveled back with worry, Micah crouched down and said. "Nontan, I know you caught my scent before entering the cave. It's me,"
The hellhound stood still for a single second, then launched at him. Micah welcomed the bulk of the weight with a barely auditable grunt, even as he skidded back against the wall with the force.
"Yeah," He said absently, petting Nono's massive head; the hellhound let out wounded noises. "I know, it's been a long time. Sorry I've avoided you, it was cruel of me to leave you without even saying goodbye."
Percy watched as Micah's eyes fluttered shut. "Are you okay?" He asked cautiously.
"You're not supposed to be here," Micah replied. He didn't sounded upset nor happy at the sight of him. "I planned for Lord Hypnos instead, but I suppose all my plans fall apart with they involve you."
He stood up slowly, a slight sway as he rose. "Run along, puppy," He told Nono with a bit of heartbreak. "We have a lot to catch up with, but I can tell you're exhausted. Go rest, the war just begun."
The hellhound let out a strangled cry, an attempt to howl before Nono stalked off as ordered. Percy watched the son of Hypnos carefully; he sounded too delicate to be his Micah. He neared him, concerned, and at the sight of that small, wary smile that drove his heart insane, Percy wrapped his arms around him without another second to waste. I'm allowed to do this now, Percy reassured himself, nearly hysterical with ecstasy with the warmth of Micah's body pressed against him. He doesn't need to keep his distance with his soulmate.
Still, Micah sounded something close to shattered as he whispered, "Hey, pretty."
He leaned his forehead against Percy, head on his shoulder and for once, didn't pretend to be a god who did not feel pain or emotion.
Percy told him quietly. "I'm mad at you for what you said last time we saw each other,"
Micah replied, "And I am upset we had to separate to begin with."
Percy tightened his arms, wishing Micah could melt into him as weird as that sounded. Maybe then the idiot would stop trying to carry fate alone.
Micah let out a choked breath. For him, it might've as well been a scream of agony.
Percy tried to pull away from the embrace; Micah stopped him, his hand grabbing him quickly. He let out an airy laugh as Percy insisted, "What happened? Are you hurt?"
"Nothing worth your worry," Micah allowed their distance to grow enough to pull a lazy smirk at Percy. The son of Poseidon tried to control his anger at those careless words. With the curse augmenting everything he felt, it was almost impossible.
"Stop being like that!" Percy gritted his teeth. "Micah—We already went over this, didn't we? I love you and you love me, so you need to trust me just like I'm trusting you. I can't believe I have to tell you this again! When you are hurt, I want to take care of you; when you are unsure, I want to be by your side. I want to..." He broke off, unsure of what to say. "I want to understand you, Micah! More than anything else, I want that. Please, just let me—Let me love you properly, idiot."
He expected Micah to argue back or find a way to drain Percy's anger with a few carefully picked words. Instead, the son of Hypnos lowered his head. He raised a hand to the back of his neck, and said softly, "That's a nice way of viewing love,"
"You gave everything away to change the world and make some faceless kids happy," Percy shook his head, taking Micah's hand away from where he began tugging at the delicate hair. "It was never your job. With me, you can stop, okay? Let me be there for you."
"You shouldn't say things like that with a face as pretty as yours," Micah said. "What am I supposed to think?"
Percy let out an exasperated sigh. "If I don't say embarrassing things like that, you would just run off to the next thing on your martyr agenda without thinking of coming back. Now, are you hurt? Don't lie to me."
"I messed up," Micah admitted plainly. At Percy's pointed look, he clarified. "I missed up the plan. So, yes, I got hurt."
He turned, unlocking the door behind him once more. Percy gasped at the blood sipping through bandages covering the entirety of Micah's back, the delicate skin where his wings erupted aflame and marred a rusting red. "It was my own doing," he admitted; before Percy could say something, the son of Hypnos guided him into the room.
Percy didn't care enough to observe the room anymore. Forcing Micah to sit on a wooden desk void of clutter, he tried to be delicate as possible while he touched the edges of the upper bandage, unsure of what to do; blood was seeping through the gauze already, splatters of red appearing without delay.
"What happened?" He demanded.
Micah's shoulders tightened with discomfort. "Kronos wanted a host. At first, I tried to delay it as much as possible. Then I realized I couldn't do it at all, so I forced the choice away."
"Kronos wanted a host and you did it to yourself...." Percy repeated, trying to make sense of the words. Then it hit; "You—Micah, Gods, please tell me you didn't purposefully hurt yourself in the middle of a war."
Micah just smiled at him; awkward and tiny small, clearly out of practice. With his black hair, he looked more like nine-year-old Hiroki's missing picture. "He did not consider me a strong candidate due to my heritage as 'the son of the weakest god, but out of all his available choices, I was the most appealing to him, for the initial host. Stepping stones, in his words. I figured, if my body suddenly became weak, I would be disregarded."
"Because if you were weak, he wouldn't possess your body," Percy completed, feeling like someone hollowed him out. Loving a willing victim is borderline excruciating. "You were supposed to be the one, not Luke. You planned to sacrifice yourself instead."
Worst of all, Micah didn't look bothered by the aspect of potentially dying. Percy's anger rose like a fire-seed had planted itself in his stomach and clawed way out through his throat.
"Was that your big fucking plan?" He probed, staring at Micah's torn apart back with barely conceal horror, thinking of a nine-year-old boy believing, I'll save the world and abandoning the love of his family. Percy was twelve when he had the same thought, and now look at how they both met in the end. "To what," His voice took a mocking edge. "Were you gonna let Kronos hijack your body? Then what, Hiroki?"
Micah didn't say anything, taking his tide of emotions with ease. His expression remained too soft for the severity of his actions. The son of Poseidon willed himself to remain angry as Hiroki's eyes lit with devotion, staring at him as if he was the hero out of the two.
"Then something we do not need to worry about, any longer. It is up to fate now." Hiroki tilted his head to the side, picking up Percy's white-knuckled hands and pressing a simple kiss to the side of his fist. "As long as you remain safe, as long as you are free, then everything is alright."
Percy stared at him with disbelief—irritation, disbelief, the overwhelming confusion and fondness he felt for this boy—and shut his eyes. He felt so tired. "Can you start from the beginning, please? I don't understand anything. I don't understand why you do all of this, or how, or the way you're so willing to get yourself killed. Micah, why do you care so much?"
Micah let out a laugh. "Why do I care? I don't, Percy. I haven't in a long time. I've done so much that the only way I can remain sane is to continue—there's a difference. All the half-bloods, all the gods and deities, may have my respect and they may control my leash, but they'll never have my love or loyalty. I only hold one thing dear in this life, in all my future ones as well, and it's you."
Percy looked the ceiling helplessly, nearly folding onto himself. He tried not to crumble. "Do you hear yourself?" He said in a lack of words. "And you asked me how I can say things like that."
Micah let out a small laugh, eyes shutting a wince of pain. "I'll be fine," he soothed Percy's fretting. "Aceso tended them. I cannot heal them fully, or Kronos will become suspicious. I told him the wounds are from a cursed whipped wielded by a Gorgades."
Percy could barely recall what Gorgades were; by the time his history lessons with Micah moved to Greco-Roman tribes, he was a little too in smitten to pay attention. "They'll scar," he pointed out softly. "I know you hate that,"
Micah scowled. "It cannot be helped. I went long enough without any blemishes." He looked at Percy from underneath his lashes, pin-point golden eyes hypnotizing. "Will you still love, Percy Jackson, the so-called hero of the prophecy? I might lose my title of the most handsome mortal of the millennium after this if Aphrodite learns of the scarring. Without my title, how else am I supposed to compete for your attention?"
"You're so—!" Percy shook his head. "No one is fighting for my attention."
Micah raised an eyebrow. He listed dryly, "the little daughter of Athena, Calypso, the clear-sighted mortal, Nico di Angelo,"
"Woah, hold up!" Percy interrupted him. "I thought Nico had a crush on you!"
Micah laughed; it made the skin underneath Percy's cheeks warm and tingle with a blush. "Be realistic, Percy. Everyone has a crush on me at one point in their life, then they get to know me and suddenly I'm a psychopath."
The way he said the word psychopath, like he actually believed it, stung. "I'm sorry about that," Percy apologized sincerely. "I promised myself I would never be like the other campers and call you any of those names. I just..."
Micah let out a small hum, wrapping his hands around Percy's wrist. "You felt betrayed; you believed you witnessed half of your friends get slaughtered. I did not help by learning your weak spot in such a crude way." He said, tugging the son of Poseidon closer until he stood in between Micah's parted legs. With a knuckle, he traced his way down Percy's back until the younger of the two shivered; satisfied, Micah pressed on his weak spot and chuckled as Percy's breath cut off short. "I understand. You could use me like the dirt underneath your feet, and I would not mind, Percy."
"I would—I do," Percy admitted. "You're still my perfect hero. Always," With his free hand, the one Micah wasn't cradling, Percy brushed aside the growing fringe covering those unforgettable golden eyes from him. Micah looked at him, indiscernible; Percy never wanted those eyes to stray. "Tell me everything, please. From the start."
"From the start?" Micah echoed; a faraway gaze blanketed movement until he was moving. "That's quite a while back, pretty. I'm not a good story-teller to begin there."
"Your dad already warned me," Percy said. "I'm not here for an epic, anyways."
His smile faded slowly. "Lord Hypnos..." Micah's golden eyes burned bright with misery for a split second, regret washing them a pale yellow then disappeared as he nodded. "My father is biased. I could do no wrong, according to him. Yes, let's start with Lord Hypnos."
"You—you don't have to force yourself, I guess." Percy reminded him gently. "I know the general stuff from your dad. I can piece some things together. I just want to understand... Everything, I guess."
Micah huffed at his words, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of Percy's head. "Everything, then?" He asked out loud, considering. "I'm only able to be here because Kronos is adjusting to Luke's body. I'm not sure when we'll be able to speak again safely; I suppose there's no better time."
As Percy settled on his lap, grasping the arm around his waist in a show of encouragement as he leaned his entire weight against the older boy, he began; "Growing up, I cannot think of a day without him around." Micah told him. "Each night, father would come up with a new tale of me as a brave hero, and each morning he would wake me up with a new gift. I never doubted his love. And so, I assumed all gods must've been the same." His lips rose at the irony. "Annabeth's theory of my fatal flaw isn't entirely wrong, you know. Even then, I had... issues expressing myself properly. Understanding why others did not feel the same. It is not apathy like she believes, but close enough. I wanted to dictate how others felt; if I couldn't, I wanted them to disappear."
Percy tried to call back any moments where Micah tried to do that; Control him or send him away. He could think of many. Dozens of confessions mocked or dismissed or met with irritation. All the cruel you're just a kid, Jackson. The raised eyebrows at the random display of emotions. Percy always found him so charming it never hurt. He understood, kind of—It's not a secret the way campers mistreated Micah, calling him names and excluding him. Percy assumed Micah's aloof personality came from years of rejection, not rather than something he inherently felt.
Noticing his distraction, Micah traced the shell of his ear lightly with his fingertip. Percy shivered, signaling to continue.
"My father noticed how I struggled to connect with the world. He always worried too much." He recalled. "He would change his appearance to match my age so he could attend class with me, asked other children to play with me when no one would approach me. Naoki tried to help but there's something naturally unsettling about the children of the Underworld, so mortal children avoided me. Lord Hypnos only relaxed when I met a half-blood, a son of Iris."
The way his soft filled with longing caused a part of Percy's heart to twist uncomfortably. "His name was Yangyang." Hikori said with a too-small voice. "He was my first friend,"
It took Percy nearly dying in the Sea of Monsters to become visible to Micah's skyward gaze. "Your first friend?" He prompted softly when Hiroki stopped, unable to form words for the first time in his life.
"We both got teased over our packed lunch in school," Hiroki hid his face on Percy's shoulder. "It embarrassed me. Yangyang took it as an opportunity to annoy everyone, bringing extra servings and singing traditional songs, always trying to rope me since we were the only Asian students in our class. I tried ignoring him for weeks, but... He was my best friend, even when he humiliated me."
Percy laughed at the thought of something so mundane happening to Micah. Lately, he's been finding so many little details like that it's a wonder he hasn't burst at the seams with fondness; twelve-year-old Percy's Micah was untouchable, his own personal god, dismissive as an immortal could be. Those years were filled with the pettiness of childhood crushes, burning jealousy of anyone spoke to Micah, a constant stream of notice me, notice me, I'm not a little kid!
Sixteen-year-old Percy's Micah is a little jaded, full of regret from a life of cruelty, but his touch is gentle with hatred for needless violence and warm with love; he seemed more real now, a child who grew up hearing bedtime stories, a kid who crushed on fictional characters and named his pet after them, a small boy who struggled to make friends and never quite learned how to. This Micah, the one holding him now, can speak historical facts for hours and debate with Athena herself until his face turned red; he stares down Titans and gods alike without flinching but shivers with disgust at the sight of frogs. He's a little superficial and cared more about his appearance than his health, felt self-conscious of his smile so he hides them with a smirk, but he is Percy's more so because he is that way.
"Before my parents decided to remove me from school, he would follow me everywhere," Micah told him. From the faintness of his voice, as he remembered, the son of Iris still owned a part of his heart. Percy found he didn't mind sharing a small piece of it. Micah continued, "Nothing I did would keep him away; he was fast, too, so I could never outrun him. Yangyang was annoying in every sense of the world. Back then, I would fall asleep often because I couldn't control my power. Because of him, I used to wake up with rainbow doodles everywhere."
Percy laughed at that, but Micah couldn't quite muster a sincere smile. "I never considered us close, but he insisted we were best friends. I didn't agree until months later when a monster attacked him." Hiroki let out a shaky breath. "I was the one who found his body near the park. I... never told my father before, even though he suspected it, but I... dreamt of his death beforehand. I was too afraid to do anything."
"Oh," Percy let out, all happiness bled from him. "Oh... I'm sorry, Micah. It was not your fault, you know, that right?"
Micah didn't reply. "You asked me how I am able to do this—why I'm the only one who can."
He twisted, moving Percy from his perch on his lap until they were able to look at each other eye-to-eye. Micah leaned back one hand on the desk, head tilted as he declared. "I'm the son of Hypnos, the god of sleep. I told you before, Percy. Nothing is more dangerous than the person who acts with a sense of the future, and every night, I dream of it."
The sheer arrogance dripping off his words allowed Percy to roll his eyes freely. Micah chuckled at his reaction, "At the camp, they're called demigod dreams, correct?" Percy nodded; he had a few of them in the past months leading to the war. A glimpse of the past, present, and sometimes even the future.
Micah hummed, trying to figure out the best way to explain something so natural to him. "For a child of Hypnos, it's like a never-ending dream. We never truly lose consciousness; when we sleep, we dream. And when we dream, we're in control. It's not the gift of prophecy, but my powers allow me to see the world for what it truly is. No one, including the Titans and the memories I threw away, can hide from me."
To Percy, it sounded overwhelming; to Micah, it was clearly paradise.
"The idea came to me from a place of hurt. Idealistic and impossible, now, but I was young. My dad made me a little delusional, too." Micah acknowledged. "I kept wondering if Iris saw what I had—Why she didn't stop her son's death. Why she allowed his body to lay on the bottom of a polluted lake until it discomposed beyond recognition. I was five years old. I didn't understand how cruel a parent could be until then."
Micah sighed, resting his head against him once more. "Lord Hypnos tried to explain the rule of gods not meddling with mortals, but our lives made me doubt him. I struggled to understand, wishing I could forget it all but I could not ignore my heritage so easily; Lord Hypnos is a primordial deity, after all. Higher than god. Not knowing what to do, I did what instinct told me: I took control."
"It was obsessive. If I was damned as a half-blood, then I would become the greatest one. I gave up my childhood in order to do that; I stopped listening to bedtime stories, toys brought me no joy, my relationship with my brother grew tense as I embraced my demigod status more. I wanted to be the very best, so I would never lose any of my future friends the way I did Yangyang."
"A dream so large for a child. Sometimes, I wonder if this is my first life," Micah admitted; he's never sounded as anxious as he did at that moment. That thought must haunt him, too. "The want to protect my friends transformed into a need to correct the gods. There's a word in Japanese, one my mother taught me before I learned how to spell my own name—Marutsuke."
He recognized it as Hisa's shop name. "What does it mean?" He asked as Micah traced the kanji against Percy's palm.
"One of the interpretations is 'calling our way of existing as 'alright,' but it can apply to anything. Love, for example, is another." The son of Hypnos explained. "My mother would use it as a way of discipline. It forced my brother and me to reflect on the way we lived, and what we desired from life."
"My mom never disciplined me," Percy commented. He couldn't imagine having to question the philosophy of his life each time he misbehaved. No wonder Micah is so intense as a person. Constantly thinking, unable to escape his own mind even during his dreams.
Micah didn't look surprised. "Sally is too good of a person. She would never punish you, even if you are such a troublemaker."
Percy grumbled, opening his mouth to complain but a yawn escaped him instead. Amused, Micah signaled him to get up from his lap. "Change doesn't happen until it's forced," he told Percy as he gently pushed him down to a black leather couch. "After so many stories of little Hiroki growing up to save the world, I believed I was the force needed."
"You were, though," Percy told him, getting comfortable. His body relaxed when Micah knelt down next to him, his large hand finding its way to Percy's curl. "Lord Hypnos told me of all the changes that came after you became the, uh, ambassador of Olympus."
"I'm their bitch, Percy." Micah smiled crudely. "I became that because I thought of myself as too important; but yes, I've done good. I won't deny it—a bloody bite is nothing compare to an infected scratch, and the gods learned that the hard way with me. Are you too tired to continue?"
Percy nearly stumbled off the couch in his haste. "No! I'm not tired at all!"
"Cute," Micah cooed. He gestured Percy to make space, the two of them squeezing tightly in the couch. They've been closer before, shared the tiniest bunkers imageable so adjusting to get more comfortable was done quickly. Laying on top of him, not seeing his face but being able to picture his expression clearly, Percy felt Micah's half-smile against his chest. "Achilles himself took about twenty naps a day. There's no shame in feeling tired. I would prefer it if you slept, for now, pretty."
Percy protested. "But I want to know now,"
"Why tell you," Micah said. "When I can show you instead?"
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ! ! !
micah is back cus ive never loved an asshole this much. to the person who wanted xiaojun, hendery & yangyang together: I found a way to add yangyang lol are you happy
also. i know micah's character is really inconstant/borderline contradictory but i think a lot of his persona comes from untreated trauma as a kid? he's not apathetic he just went through a lot as a kid and now he's not able to properly identity what he feels. micah grew up insolated then his first friend was murdered, he SAW it and feels responsible. then you had a much of asshole kids from camp bully him, then the gods took advantage of him, all the while being gaslighted into thinking he had a choice when he truly didn't.
another thing I wanted to touch on before we get there is micah/percy. I mentioned it a lot but percy's been crushing on micah since he arrived at camp but micah ignored it because he's aware of a) the age gap and b) the idolization from percy's part
Micah is the type to think a lot before doing anything and he doesn't like the easy of dealing with things bc *wave* self-loathing. the two of them only have a two year age gap but im uncomfortable writing about romance with anyone under the age of 18 tbh? 16 is already pushing it for me lol im trying to make sure micah address the power imbalance and some of their relationship aspects id like to talk about hopefully by next chapter too
either way i'm writing percy and micah's character to read as older and more mature compared to the original age; i'm sorry if people don't agree because of technicalities like the great prophecy's age requirement but fuck it LOL
next chapter(s?) is/are from his point of view yay! we'll learn more of this poor poor boy finally.
for ur visual pleasure pls consider smiling xioajun (micah's fc) being held by hendery (naoki) and yangyang
Please comment and vote! Until next time!