Football practice seeps into evening, letting out late when the air's veiled in charcoal, gruel clouds smothering the sun. Worst of all, Jason's duffel bag weighs like a ton of bricks. Zhang really needs to cool it on his tackles. Jason rolls his sore shoulder, grimacing, glancing down at his phone. The text from his driver says to wait at the side parking lot. Before long, he'll be soaking his muscles in some tranquilizing, warm water.

There's just one problem. Jason's walking slows to a halt, converse soles chafing the cement. Someone's smoking on the steps, and it's not just any stoner either.

Percy Jackson.

They've been sharing the same grounds since kindergarten. Jason imagines most communities operate the same way: you've got one class, one vat of humans to bubble and sprout with, tangling roots until senior year, when you're all wrenched from the soil at once. Because education supposedly grows a ripe batch, if that isn't the biggest bullshit Jason's ever heard. Some kids have been rotting for years.

He still remembers Percy from first grade, the tiny rumple of black hair and acid green eyes. They'd been best friends for a day, sworn over scraped knees, a kickball home plate, and by the time the yellow buses were pulling up, they'd turned archrivals. Only when they reached middle school was Jason relieved they severed so early. Glimpses of Percy's dark clothes, the sketchy crowd he hung with, and the amount of times he'd be requested in the principal's office were enough proof. High school hadn't changed things much, because Percy had already rotted. Decayed and festered to the core.

Rather than climb the stairs and address him, Jason turns to the empty lot, facing the masterpiece of chalk rectangles. They're drawn like marching men, same and tidy, definitively boring, but that's how Jason likes to keep things. It makes the world feel stable when he knows the tiniest, inane factors can swoop in and throw everything, everything off balance.

"Want a smoke?"

Jason whips his head around, embarrassed. As the last of vapor trickles from Percy's parted lips, their demure o-shape changes, curving into a smile. He's propped his elbows on the stair behind him, chin tilted a fraction to reveal the pretty pale line of his neck, starkly disappearing into his black t-shirt collar. His hoodie is unzipped, thrown open over his slender chest, jeaned legs tossed across the steps.

"Lost in my eyes?" Percy grins. But God, if he wasn't blessed with some gorgeous features, his eyes just a grain among sand.

"No thanks." Jason's gaze lingers a moment longer than he wants, before he swivels his head forward.

Percy continues anyway, languid and amused, "Worried about the health effects?"

Jason opens his mouth without a clue how to reply. "Um, yeah. A little actually."

Stupid.

"Well, one cigarette isn't going to give you lung cancer."

Jason glances over his shoulder, because he can't help it. The look in Percy's eyes―dancing glint, sweet poison―tells Jason he's wandered right into a tripwire.

"Don't be a bitch. Come on and sit with me."

So Jason does. He drops his butt on the gravelly second step and immediately regrets it because his shoulder's not the only thing that's sore. At least he can set his duffel down. He watches Percy tug a cig from his back pocket and spark his lighter, curling a resolute flame at the end of the paper.

Jason reaches out, drawn toward Percy's fingers. Their skin brushes for a fragment of a second and then Jason is placing the cigarette between his lips. Percy's the one watching now, so Jason can't mess this up. He takes a drag, exhaustion shuddering in his chest, and somehow, he swallows down the raspy need to cough.

Percy smiles and Jason feels like he's won something.

"Do you even remember my name?"

"Percy, of course. We've been going to the same schools for eleven years." Jason's glad for an excuse to free his windpipe. He rests his wrist on his knee, jerking it rhythmically, like the trailing of smoke. "Do you remember mine?"

Percy scoffs. "Couldn't forget it if I tried. You do the daily announcements, prez."

"Student council's good for college applications," Jason replies pointedly. That's not the reason he joined, but it's close enough. "It's not like I enjoy saying that shit."

"Could've fooled me."

"Right. Because all that weed and nicotine has made you ultra-perceptive of other people's lives."

Percy puffs ash. And chuckles. "You're less straight than you look."

"Straight-laced, you mean."

"Sure. So, you're heading off to a university after we're done wading through this crap?"

"Yeah," Jason says. "I'm guessing you mean high school." For once, reversing the question seems rude. He doesn't even know whether Percy will graduate.

"Which university?"

"Stanford, hopefully. My dad went there too."

"Gonna get a scholarship from football?"

Jason nods, surprised that Percy has paid enough attention to learn a single member of the team.

"Good boy." Percy pats Jason's knee. The back of his knuckles are embroidered with scars, but his hand is overall more narrow than Jason would've expected, almost dainty. "Make me proud, huh?"

Jason pushes his hand away, laughing. "Shut the fuck up."

"What're you gonna study?"

"No idea."

"Then why are you going to Stanford?" Percy blinks wide, curious eyes, more innocent than they have any right looking.

"Why do you think? It's an amazing school."

"Because it's expensive, or because your dad went there?"

"Neither. That's idiotic." Jason's concentration slips and he has to cough into the crook of his elbow, purging his lungs of smoke. Stanford's reputation is more than enough to prove its worth, yet Percy's suggestion still rattles his nerves.

"Do you look up to him?" Percy asks. "Your dad."

"A little." Even that much is a stretch, though Jason banishes the doubt from his voice.

"Sure."

Percy is staring, but not at Jason. He's looking through him, past a transparent pane of glass, into the rumbling clouds on the other side. Jason bites back the urge to shiver.

"You're so fucking weird." Percy slots his cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

Jason huffs, shaking his head. "And I'm starting to think you're high."

"You don't have to be so cagey. Dads suck ass in general, so yours is nothing special. I would know, I've had two."

Jason lets a beat pass. Instead of saying something normal like―you're adopted?―Jason blurts, "Your parents are gay?"

"No, genius. I have a biological father and a stepdad. Both of them, deadbeats." Percy tilts his head, examining him. Mischievous delight ripples across his expression. "You sure jumped to that conclusion fast."

"It was your wording." Jason wants to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit. But he forces his hand to stay still.

"Sure," Percy says. He says that a lot. Whenever Jason's lying, now that he thinks about it. It bothers him on a level that he hadn't even known existed.

Percy kisses his cigarette again, lashes lowered, catching Jason's eye. For a moment, his lips clamp down, pink and wet, and Jason can easily picture him suckling on something else. Heat crawls down his abdomen, scalding and pooling pleasantly in his crotch.

The grind of tires signals his ride. Jason savagely butts his cigarette on the stair and gets to his feet.

"Look Percy, I get that you might have a tough home life. But I don't have any problem with my dad, and I don't know where you got that idea." His bag is going to tear his shoulder open, but his patience is the first thing that's splintered. "See you around dude."

Percy's only acknowledgement is a nod before he turns his cheek, steadily blowing a cloud of ash. Jason tries not to look back.

Jason's not paying much attention to his surroundings, eyes glued to his phone screen.

(3:10) Pipes: AMC theater

(3:10) Jason: yeah

(3:12) Pipes: 3:45

(3:13) Pipes: thats thirty min from now

(3:13) Jason: okay. Do you have a ride?

(3:13) Pipes: yes

(3:13) Pipes: just don't bail on me again

(3:14) Pipes: please

(3:15) Jason: I won't, I promise

He's been stuck at school for an extra half hour, helping the student council put up posters about the dangers of flu season and the importance of vaccinations. Now the hallways are deserted, everything from the bright crimson lockers to the maroon-tiled floors. There's an exit straight ahead, and Jason adjusts his backpack straps as he moves toward it.

Suddenly, a door flies open in front of him. Ms. Iris stumbles out, hugging an untidy stack of binders and papers, the heels of her shoes wobbling, dangerously close to snapping her ankles. She spots Jason, and a wave of relief crashes over her face. Great.

He has to stop, because it's the right thing to do. "You need help with anything?"

"Jason, you truly are the most charitable, kind-hearted―Yes. Can you watch the student in my classroom and make sure he doesn't leave? I'm late for a staff meeting."

She's already striding away before she's done blathering. Jason tries to do the math in his head while a stab of worry twists in his stomach. Staff meetings are usually half an hour, and she said she was late, so…

Fuck, he really doesn't want to disappoint Piper.

He'll probably still make it. Jason turns the door handle of Ms. Iris' room and pokes his head inside. And who else does he find in there, other than,

"Percy."

"Hey Jase." Percy's sitting at a desk in the front row, his chin propped in his hand. Jason doesn't think he's met anyone with a more attractive smile.

The door shuts behind him. "What're you in here for?"

"Detention."

"Yeah, but what for?"

Percy rolls his eyes with an exaggerated pout. "I was framed. Iris is such a bitch, she just assumes the worst. She sent you in here to watch me, right?"

Jason nods. "So don't leave, or I'll look like an asshole."

"You wouldn't stop me?"

"I wouldn't really know how. Tackle you, I guess?"

"Yeah, that'd be super dangerous," Percy drawls. "You'd break every bone in my fragile body, huh quarterback?"

"Some quarterbacks can tackle," Jason says, undignified.

"Maybe. Just not you."

Percy pops up from his seat and begins packing his things in his bag. Assaulted by anxiety, Jason strides over and plants his hands on the desk, leaning near Percy's face.

"Come on dude. Please don't leave."

"Why not?" Percy leans a little closer, his smile taunting. "Your spotless reputation isn't everyone's biggest priority, you know."

Jason catches his wrist. Percy frowns, eyes flickering down as Jason tugs the sheet of paper from his grasp.

"This was homework from last month wasn't it?" Jason turns it over, blank white flashing on both sides. "You didn't do it."

"I did. But Mrs. O' Leary ate it."

"Who's that?" After a moment, Jason clicks his tongue. "Your dog?"

Percy crosses his arms, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

"You couldn't come up with a better excuse than that?" Jason asks. "And I thought you were a pro."

"I didn't think she'd give me fucking detention for it."

"So all you've got to do is finish? That's easy." Jason points at the empty chair, hoping he looks authoritative. "I'll even help you."

Percy narrows his gaze, twisting his mouth in a skeptical line. They glare at each other for a second or so, during which Jason feels his will bending like melted steel, and then Percy flops down with a dramatic sigh.

"Well, hurry up."

"I'm not doing it for you," Jason drags the nearest desk over and pushes it up against Percy's. "You won't learn anything."

"Christ," Percy snaps. "You sound like my mom."

"Hey, I'm just trying to do what's best for you."

"That's proving the comparison, not refuting it."

Jason slides into his seat, bumping Percy's narrow shoulder as they comfortably settle against each other. Jason doesn't mind the proximity. He scans the homework, dredging up answers from the back of his mind, all the while distractedly licking his lips. When he looks up, there's a pair of green eyes staring at his mouth. They quickly dart away.

"Done reading, mother goose?" Percy spins a sharpie around his pointer finger. Probably the same one he uses for graffiti.

"Get a pencil or something, that'll go through the page."

"I don't have anything else. Just quit nagging and tell me what to write."

"Did you even read To Kill a Mockingbird? If you didn't, there's no point attempting this."

"I did." Percy pauses. Then his tone changes, morphing into something warmer, winter into spring. "I mean, kind of. I listened to the audiobook since I have dyslexia. It was pretty impressive."

"You think so?"

"It made me read Go Set A Watchman, the sequel. Which sucked ass by the way."

A grin briefly flashes across Jason's face. He hadn't thought Percy had the mental capacity to understand or appreciate any form of art. Now, Jason knows he's just a prejudiced douche.

"Alright, Let's go through each question together."

And for a long time, it's just the two of them, soldiering through a task that feels less and less like work. Percy's more energetic and childlike than he comes off as, with a darker sense of humor that Jason shares, in a way. They laugh together and exchange insults and Jason feels a strange rush every time Percy looks at him, offering that cute, slightly razored smile.

As Percy finishes scribbling his last sentence, he shifts his weight onto Jason's shoulder. "Maybe I'll come to one of your games sometime. They sell alcohol in the concessions?"

"Hell no. And you'd be kicked off the field for bringing booze in."

"Then I take back what I said. No way am I watching your trainwreck of a team sober."

Jason opens his mouth to protest, they're not that bad, but he's interrupted by the turn of a knob. Ms. Iris teeters through the open doorway, still wearing those biohazard heels. She looks curiously between Jason and Percy, their positions pressed up next to each other. Jason tilts away.

"Thank you Jason." She's blinking slowly. "Were you helping him with his homework?"

"Yes ma'am."

A smile shapes her orange-lipsticked mouth. "Really? Well I think it's great that you two get along so well. Jason could have a very good influence on you, Percy."

Percy laughs, surprising them both. Not only with his light-heartedness, but his sugary sincere tone. "I think you're right, Ms. Iris."

A hand finds its way on Jason's knee―warm, dainty―and with a tantalizing pressure, it slides up his thigh, fingers dragging along the seams of Jason's jeans.

"I mean it," Percy sways so close to Jason's face, he tenses, expecting something stupid, something like a kiss. Instead, Percy's lips touch the shell of his ear. "Thanks a lot dude."

Percy swipes his homework off the desktop and grabs his bag. The subtle swing to his hips is hypnotizing, and Jason locks onto it as Percy strolls up to Ms. Iris' desk and hands over his finished homework. Percy throws one last thorn of a smile over his shoulder, then leaves the room without another word.

Jason is left blinking at the chalkboard. Ms. Iris glances up and tells him he's dismissed. But he can't leave, not until his half-hard on goes down. There's a buzz in his backpack, launching a reminder through him like a bullet. Jason pulls his phone out.

(3:47) Pipes: where u at babe

(3:50) Pipes: ur coming right?

(3:52) Pipes: if not, text me

(3:53) Pipes: cuz its a waste of my time

(4:00) Pipes: u get ten more minutes. the movie's already started

(4:21) Pipes: forget it