CHAPTER 3
The New York subway system.
There really wasn't anything like it.
Percy winced, his hushed breathing swallowed up by the screech and rumble of the train, the mumbling of passengers, and someone's overly loud headphone music.
Gods, less breathing. More focusing on not moving with the sway of the train.
His hand moved involuntarily to clutch his side, then he caught himself. Pulled his hand back into his jacket pocket when the person sitting next to him glanced over. Tried to keep his breathing even.
He looked down, and through the gap between his sweatshirt and his chest, he could feel the heat radiating off of his skin. He looked back up, swallowing hard.
Percy closed his eyes, stiffening when his left side neighbor bumped his leg. He bit back a groan through clenched teeth, the muscles in his neck jumping.
"Eeraagh," Percy squeezed out the pain in a long, achy breath, face contorting as they hit the next stop and the train slowed down, jostling the passengers and his stupid ribs.
The old lady across from him looked up from her novel. They met eyes briefly.
"If you're motion sick, you should get off at this stop," she said in an accent that screamed Brooklyn inner city. Percy gave an attempt at smiling.
"I made a really good curry last night. I don't plan on losing it."
The old lady harrumphed.
He had to take his hand off his ribs again, moved it to clutching the bar beside him with white knuckles.
Because gods, he really didn't want to see that curry again.
Just three more stops. Three more stops and he could get off to stumble to his tiny-ass apartment and crash into his shower and pray to the gods that he had enough money to pay for the water bill that would come from how much water he was going to use to heal himself with.
The train wailed another long note, and the next stop was announced. People shuffled past Percy, knocking his feet no matter how much he tried to pull them under his seat. His left side neighbor got up and left. Another person replaced them.
With a thud, they fell into the seat.
"Ow," Percy squeaked.
Two more stops. He could do this. His curry could do this.
The subway noises were getting tinier in his ears, making room for his heartbeat which had recently taken up residence in his skull. The old lady kept glowering at him from across the train car.
One stop. He could do this.
People shuffled around him again, and the car emptied and filled around him.
When the train shuddered to life again, Percy had perfected the stiff elbowed grip on each bar in front of him so he didn't move an inch.
"You good, kid?"
His new left side neighbor was talking to him. Percy blinked a few times to clear the black spots out of his vision.
"Huh? Yeah, I'm good," Percy mumbled. He flipped his hood up. "Thanks."
"Somethin' hurts, doesn't it, kid."
Percy looked this time over his shoulder at the guy. Larger than him, with big brown eyes and long braids trailing down his back, his neighbor was looking at him not with humor or distain, but with some sort of understanding.
"You get mugged?" his neighbor asked, persistent.
Percy thought of the rogue demigod trying to rob the city bank. "Something like that."
It was his stop. The blessed voiceover lady was announcing that the doors would open—and he was standing, sort of, but his hands were gripping his ribs now and he couldn't fake it anymore, and—
His left side neighbor had his arm under his armpits, swallowing his shoulders in a grip that kept him from falling out of the train instead of stepping carefully.
"Not trying to be creepy, man. Just trying to get you home safe," his neighbor said.
And Percy maybe said something like thank you and his apartment address between blacking in and out of the subway exit as his ribs shifted around inside him—or, it could have just been a gurgle of pain.
Short, pain-filled breaths huffed out between clenched teeth was the only sound between them.
They marched up the stairs one by one, his left side neighbor helping him limp one foot at a time toward the light and stink of the street above. Pigeons scattered out from under them. They took a right at Percy's direction, then a left as the buildings stretched on for what seemed like forever.
When his apartment complex rose up before him, he could have wept.
"You sure you don't want the metro hospital? It's only 'bout a block from here," his left side neighbor said.
Percy shook his head, fighting his curry desperately.
His neighbor shouldered the door open and they fought their way up the three more flights of stairs before the comforting, sweaty arm that was keeping him upright for the last twenty minutes was gone, and he was reeling against the wall, clutching his ribs.
"Aight, I'm leaving you here, man. I hope whoever mugged you didn't get your keys."
Percy shook his head, fumbling in his jacket pocket until he was holding the key ring that had his apartment key, a Lego Chewbacca keychain, and an expired membership to Planet Fitness clinging on for dear life. The guy from the train snorted.
"You going to use it?"
"Yeah," Percy said. "Right after I give you this hug."
He leaned back against the wall, the cool drywall a comfort against his neck, and move his arms in a generally hug-looking motion. The guy gave another snort of laughter, then ruffled his hair.
"You take care of yourself, aight?"
"I will. Dude, I don't even know your name, and I wouldn't have—I mean, I think I would have passed out in the train station if you hadn't helped me here."
"You'd have been street meat 'bout fifteen minutes ago," he agreed.
"Trampled by the five o'clock rush hour."
They shared one of those smiles that showed they both knew it was funny, but not that funny because of how true it was.
Then the guy just turned around, shoved his giant hands in his pockets, and walked back down the stairs.
Percy let himself into his apartment, plugged his phone into the charger, and launched himself into the shower with his socks still on.
Healing came slower these days, the water filtered and trickling through his old faucets like spit out the side of a mouth. One glance down told him how bad of shape he really was in—dark black bruises ringed in greens and reds and yellows, some with epicenters of red, raw wounds that were closing before his eyes.
Gods, that always itched—skin knitting together one cell at a time.
He rubbed a bar of soap over his shoulders, trying not to disturb the healing wounds as he leaned against the chipped tile, head lolling. His hair slicked to his forehead, and he closed his eyes, feeling the water's slow caress.
He pulled off one of his drenched socks and slapped it over the shower drain, letting the meager water start to pool around his ankles, and took his first deep breath in a long, long while.
Hey C! I told myself I wasn't going to write things like these anymore, but recovering from surgery this far from your home means I pull out all my old feelings from being injured and comforted and I look for ways to show people we're not alone in the pain. Sounds ridiculous typing it out like this, but I hope this brings you a little distraction while you recover.
To the readers that aren't C, thanks for reading! More to come of these one-shots of Percy getting beat up in NYC.
