Momentary Illusions
Chapter Twelve
Giving Up
Percy didn't know that Ginny and Ron were at George's that night. He had figured it out only when he'd knocked on the door and Ginny had answered it. Her face had changed from indifference to shock and then morphed into a mixture of both relief and fury. But before Percy could even say a single word, she wrapped her arms around him. Her hold was so tight that he felt like he was about to suffocate. "Gin," Percy barely managed to get a word out. "Gin, I can't breathe."
"Good," was her answer. He supposed that he should surround himself with softer, less angry women. "You're such an arsehole."
"I'm well aware." Everyone kept reminding him anyway.
She pulled away, placing a hand on his arm and squeezing it tenderly. "You've given mum and dad a coronary." She still sounded quite angry. "They think you're lying flat in some alley in London, having had suffered a massive stroke or a complication from your bloody cancer and nobody knows about it. Charlie's even come back from Romania."
"Charlie?" Percy was a little surprised. He did suppose he'd have to come back eventually, but he didn't think he'd come back for this. He couldn't imagine what his parents had been writing in their owls to him. "Charlie's back?"
"He's furious… mostly at Bill," Ginny sounded like she felt pretty bad for their oldest brother. "As if Bill would've known that you've decided to disappear off the face of the Earth for no reason."
Percy's face went pink. "I left a note," he said rather softly.
"You left a note, did you, Perce?" Ron had emerged from the shadows, only to shoot Percy a calculated look. "A fucking note. Great."
"And then proceeded to ignore every other owl we've sent you; you mean?" George added on, joining Ron by the door.
Ginny sighed deeply. "You know, Perce, this has been hard for us. We had to find out everything from dad—and not you—about you being transgender and having cancer. And now, you've disappeared off for no reason. And why have you come here exactly?"
Why had he come there? "Well… um…" Percy stammered.
"I'm going to kill you, Perce," George finally said. "I really am."
Percy looked down at his feet. The thought of going back to his parents had been intimidating, but all of this had brought back memories of him coming back home after the big fight he'd had with his father.
"Perce, are you at least going to try to explain where you've gone?" Ron waited for an explanation. In fact, they all were.
He hadn't bought into that quite yet. "I've spent a week at The Three Broomsticks reading books," Percy honestly answered, but he doubted that anyone would believe him. They'd think he was doing something else. "And I've got my job back, much to everyone else's disappointment." He thought about mentioning that he and Audrey had come to a compromise—sort of—regarding his chemotherapy, but he knew his family. They'd have 'supposed' he was going to do that anyway. And he was sick of having the same fight. "I've not gone and married someone else in my time away or decided to engage in any horrifying experiences if that was what everyone was worried about."
"Talking to you is impossible," George complained.
"I feel the same way," Percy answered back just as hotly. "Are you going to let me in?"
"Well…" he didn't look like he wanted to. "Fine."
George had to resign to let him in, though Percy wasn't even sure if he wanted to come inside. When he walked in, he found Angelina slumped by the table, eating a toastie and flipping through Quidditch plays. "Hey, Percy," Angelina greeted because she wasn't absolutely fucking mental like the rest of his family. "You've managed to get here fine?"
"I suppose."
"You look alright," she said as if she expected him to look like dirt. He supposed he wouldn't put it past George to explain to Angelina how deathly and ghastly he looked at the hospital. "You want anything to drink?"
"No, thank you." Percy would like a cup of tea, but he did show up unannounced. "I'm fine."
"Sure. But if you change your mind…"
"He's fine, Ange. You heard him, right?" George shot back at his wife. He and Angelina had the complete opposite tones, to say the least. "Fucking fine, leaving us all in the lurch so he could find himself at the fucking age of forty. Sent my parents spare just because he doesn't want to bother helping himself."
Percy opened his mouth to speak, but he felt like nothing he could say would make things any better, so he just said nothing. What was the point? He didn't seem to see it.
"What's that, Perce? Kneazle got your tongue?" Ron prompted.
"I have nothing to say," Percy answered, keeping his voice as level as possible.
"Nothing to say? That's a first," Ginny teased. "At least tell us where you've been."
"I have."
Ron didn't look like he believed him either. In fact, neither did George. "Really? You've just rented a room and read some books?" even he thought that Percy was a little more adventurous than that. Percy nodded his head. "So, you've worried mum just so you could catch up on your Tales of Beedle the Bard? Good on you, Perce. Really, a class act."
"What do you want me to say?" Percy asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Because surely what he had in his mind wasn't enough.
"Sorry would be a good start," George offered.
"Oh, I'm not," Percy said very thickly. "And I hope that you're chuffed with yourselves, bringing down an ailing man in his time of need." He had never quite thought of himself as ill or mentioned that he was, and because of that, you could see how tense that the room had gotten.
"He's right, you know, George," Angelina decided to say from the comfort of her table. "You're the ones being total knobs right now. Merlin, if that's the welcome you're going to give him, why on Earth would he come back? And what did you expect—he'd personally show up at everyone's door and announce that he's going away for a little bit? You don't want him to work, but it's not like if he wasn't working, you'd be popping down his flat every day for a bacon sarnie and a chat?"
"How do you know I won't go to my sick brother's flat every day and talk to him?" George didn't even sound convincing to himself.
"Honestly, George, has your life changed in any way since he'd been gone for—what? A week?" Angelina seemed to be on Percy's side, which surprised him. It felt like his family didn't agree with him for the most part. "Other than you egging on about him every chance that you get. If he doesn't want to put something in his body, you can't force him to."
George's lips were thin. "He's my big, ole dumb brother," he shrugged. "I don't want him to just…oh, fuck."
"I will do the chemotherapy," Percy said unhappily. "But not out of my own accord. But because Audrey asked me to."
"Because Audrey asked him to," George echoed incredulously. "He won't do it because of his fucking dignity, but he'd do it because the wife that he's maybe wanting to separate with asked him if he'd spare her a second thought."
Percy had reached his limit. When he'd seen Audrey and Holly talk that night, it was like something had hit him too.
He stood up from his seat, realising for once, that the corruption that had seeped into his family hadn't just started with his two daughters and his wife. It had been there long before when it came to his siblings. No wonder it took so long for him to recognise it. He felt like his heart was about to be ripped out of his chest.
"You know what I think?" Percy's voice was starting to get higher. "I'm wondering why you care."
"You wonder why I care?" George looked at him like he was mental. "You're my brother."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Percy was getting fired up now, and there was no stopping him.
"What the hell do you mean what the hell am I supposed to mean?" now George was talking in circles.
"All you've done thus far is ridicule me and act absolutely shocked that I haven't told you myself that I was assigned the wrong gender at birth. Honestly, why would I tell you? If you weren't my brother, we'd have nothing to do with each other." Percy didn't quite know how to explain it. "And why the hell do any of you care if I die? It's not like you've ever bothered to have a relationship with me—or even pretended to like me for that matter. If it weren't for the Christmas holidays, I'd hardly ever see any of you. And now I remember why." His son, Fred, had written him more owls in the past month than George had written him in a year. He went to Percy for all the problems he had with his O.W.L's, and they used to meet twice a month at a diner so that Percy could go over Divination with him over tea leaves and soggy toast.
George was grinding his teeth so hard that he was probably giving himself lockjaw. "Oh, fuck off, Percy. Fuck off, with your petty, pretentious attitude."
"George, stop being a prissy baby," Angelina hotly stated, then to Percy, she said, "Ignore him. I'll make you a cup of tea."
"Thank you, Angelina, for your offer but I suppose this is my cue to leave," Percy gestured towards Angelina, who seemed to nod towards him, barely moving from the table. There was something so blasé about her that even he liked. "I—"
"Uncle Percy?" Fred had peeked out of his door.
"Um…" Percy was stood there rather awkwardly, close to the door. He was clearly about to leave.
"You're back?" little Fred had gotten out of his bed. He ran over to him and hugged him so tightly that Percy felt like he could see stars. And it wasn't like Fred had that much power in that tiny body of his anyway.
"It's nice to see you too, Fred," Percy said rather unenthusiastically, even though it wasn't Fred's fault that things had gone pear-shaped. "And I'd love to sit and have a nice chat with you, but I suppose that I have to—"
"Fred," George said in an almost zombie-like tone. "Why don't you head back to bed?"
"George," Angelina warned.
Fred looked confused. Percy knew that George didn't mind it so much if Fred just woke up in the middle of the night and stayed up until six in the morning. In fact, Angelina and George were up all crazy hours of the night. He looked downtrodden. "Oh, I guess I can," he said, shuffling awkwardly. "But I thought that Uncle Percy was visiting."
George's eyes went hard. "He's leaving. That's all he seems to be good at anyway."
"You're scaring your own child, George," Percy said, reaching in to pull a strand of Fred's hair back over his ear.
George snapped. "Don't you fucking touch my son!" Even Ron and Ginny went white. Before Percy could resign himself to what was happening, George had pushed him. "Get the fuck out of my flat, Percy!"
Fred looked at Percy in a stunned expression. "Mum?" he looked at Angelina for clarity.
Percy left after that because he knew that things would only get worse the longer that he'd stayed. As he stepped out into the hallway, Ron and Ginny got out of the flat and were staring at him with quite dead-eyed expressions. Percy turned around to face them, his hands into his pockets.
"You didn't have to make it into this, you know," Ron said.
"You have no idea how it's been like for anyone else," Ginny added on. "Because all you could think about is yourself."
Percy was so flabbergasted. You'd never think that they were calling him out on being truthful on his death bed. He thought that everything was fine with his siblings too, but it looked like he'd been lulled into a false sense of security right there too. There was a part of Percy that felt like they'd never forgiven him for what had happened to Fred. And it was opening up wounds that Percy believed had healed long back.
He said nothing and apparated back to his flat. He stayed awake for the remainder of the night, and by the time that it was five o'clock, he woke Audrey up from her slumber. But he had no interest in going to work.
There was no methodical rooting through his heap of crisp white shirts. He took the first one that he saw, and it was entirely inappropriate. He wore it with the first pair of acceptable trousers that he found and put on his Ministry robes. He didn't even care about the fact that he was wearing loafers that would make Lucy blush because of how vibrant they were. Audrey had made him late by an hour—which meant that he'd actually arrived to work on time, instead of an hour early.
Elora looked a little confused when Audrey walked in, face full of make-up, in a tight pencil skirt and an even tighter button-down. She surely gave a few of his employees a good view, and Percy wasn't exactly pleased with that arrangement. This was his wife, after all, his very attractive wife.
Percy thought that having Audrey at his desk would make him lose it, but…well, she managed to surprise him very early on. She was extremely professional. She worked through his papers like she was doing it for years after he'd taught her the basics. She came in and out of his office like they were in their flat, which made Elora lose her cool a few times, but other than that, she seemed almost amused by everything. Her first assignment was working under Felix in the Floo Network Authority, and even he seemed to come in and mention that she was doing great. Her papers were very well-kept and tidy, and she seemed to even care a little bit about who she was assigning Floo networks to. His wife! Percy didn't think she'd ever cared about a Floo network in her life before he'd explained what actually went into authorising one.
At around lunchtime, she walked into his office with a paper bag of sandwiches. She forced him outside into the courtyard much to his chagrin, because he knew that once he was out there, his father would spot him. And then try to talk to him.
And Percy's fears were justified because only about ten minutes into his lunch break did his father walk towards him. Even from afar, Percy was trying to read his expression and he thought that he'd be seeing irritation and fury, but all he saw was a look of concern. Arthur sat beside him and the way that he looked at him made Percy shudder.
"Percy," Arthur reached out and gave him a half-hug, but it was so tight that Percy was struggling. "Son."
"Yes, dad," Percy did confirm that he was his son. Lest he'd forgotten that.
Arthur looked a little sad for him. He wondered if he'd already heard about what happened last night with George. "Audrey," he smiled weakly at her, and she nodded her head at him, gesturing to her sandwich, which she'd taken a generous bite of and was chewing rather avidly at the time. "I've had to hear from Kingsley that my stubborn ole mule of a son's come back to work."
"Yes, well," Percy shrugged. "I'm not dead yet."
Arthur winced when he'd heard that. "Is this what you want?" he asked, and Percy felt his heart warm at the question. It was exactly what he'd been waiting for someone to ask him—being terminally ill and all.
"Yes."
"Then I suppose it's…um…wonderful that you're back here, overworking yourself to d…to the bone," Arthur seemed like he'd wanted to say 'to death' first but he couldn't bear to think that. Percy smiled at him and looked down at his lap. "Your mum's gone spare worrying about you. We thought that something's happened."
"I left a note."
"Yes, you did. But you know that an old goat like me is always going to be worried."
Percy's shoulders deflated, and he ended up looking back at Audrey. "He's going for the chemotherapy," Audrey decided to mention. "For me," she added on a little thickly, just so Percy could remember that she was still yielding to his submission. "He doesn't want to. But the power of love, you know. I suppose that'll mend our marriage."
"I suppose so too," Percy quietly replied. He didn't know what would mend their marriage. All this time, they hadn't even been on the same book, much less on the same page. Now, at least they were in the same novel. And as long as they were on the same book, then there was a chance that they'd end up on the same page eventually. Even if it was the very last one.
"Stranger things have happened," Arthur didn't look stunned at the fact that Percy had convolutedly gotten Audrey to agree to take responsibility for his own treatment plan. But this was a compromise in his opinion. He didn't want to do this, and yet he was, and he was not going to be the one to take the blame for it if it didn't go the way they wanted it to. "But—wow, you're really going for it, are you? I mean we've just assumed but…I didn't really know if you were."
"You might not have assumed but everyone else had," Percy said flatly. "I do believe that George has disowned me."
"Bollocks," Arthur didn't look like he believed that George had it in him to really go through with his threats. "Everything will work out. Just you see. I'd really like everyone to come to dinner tonight—Molly will be itching to see you two as soon as possible. You know how she's like. And since Charlie's back, I suppose it's about time everyone got together."
"I'm not sure…"
"James is coming back from his—I don't know—spiritual journey across Tokyo with Teddy. Merlin knows."
"I suppose that's what they call shagging across Asia now," Audrey snorted.
"They're just good mates," Arthur answered. "I think. I mean Harry…"
"You're basing this on what Harry notices?"
"Um…" Percy didn't want everyone to get together. "There aren't enough chairs," he argued weakly. Every year, there seemed to be more grandchildren than adults. Audrey was smirking a little at him.
"We could always eat outside," Arthur suggested and looked chuffed at himself for thinking about it. "Get the chairs out and do a little summer barbecue." Percy couldn't think of anything more dreadful, but he supposed he had to go.
"That sounds very nice, Arthur," Audrey had practically sealed his invitation with that. Great going that. "We'll be there."
And unfortunately, by the time that they'd finished work and Percy was absolutely knackered, Audrey hadn't wavered. By the time that they'd gotten home, she'd told Molly and Lucy to be ready in time for dinner at the Burrow. Percy hoped that, as usual, they would be so late that there was no point of going, but much to his luck, they were ready by six on the dot. Percy had to be practically forced into taking a shower and dressing up. His favourite navy corduroys and loose mandarin orange jumper did little to excite him. Even when he'd decided to coordinate it with a navy tie and a pair of polished navy loafers that had been bought to him as a present two Christmases ago. He and Lucy clashed rather horrifically, with her pink-purple-and-red shirt, blazer and skirt. Molly had opted for a simple black sheath and Audrey had picked one of her hundred black dresses as well. She added a pair of dangly silver earrings because that was the only way that Audrey knew how to dress up.
If Audrey and Percy had a traditional wedding, she'd have worn black in that one as well. She abhorred dressing up for events like this, but enjoyed spending hours in front of the mirror, slathering on so much makeup onto her face. His wife eternally looked like she'd put on about half a stone of face paint.
Audrey had to practically apparate with him because he refused to go. Molly and Lucy had gotten there alright.
As his father had promised, the backyard had been expertly degnomed. There was a massive table that extended from one end of the yard to the other. It sort of reminded him of the Great Hall. The fine oakwood table was accompanied by lean, uninterrupted benches flagged on both sides of the table. There were more pots and pans outside than they'd been in the kitchen and Percy doubted that they were all his mum's. He could recognise Fleur's fine china even from afar, with its squiggly blue lines and tiny flower decorations. He could recognise Victoire's large metallic pan. He bet she'd bought a massive thing of soup, which barely anyone would touch as usual. He could also see Hermione's lasagne, which looked quite homey and inviting from afar.
So much for a barbecue when everyone had already bought enough food to feed the entirety of Puddlemere United—and he'd seen those blokes eat down at the canteen before. Each member must have eight stomachs, including ever-dieting Oliver, who ate approximately a hundred times a day, snacking on low-fat rice cakes and apples most of the time. Percy supposed that was how he maintained such an enviable physique.
They were not so late that they'd started eating, but late enough that Percy couldn't choose where to sit. If it was up to him, he'd be in a tiny corner next to Audrey, but no such luck. He was forced to sit beside Charlie and Audrey. Much to his chagrin, he was faced opposite a fretful Bill and a surly George, who looked like he was seconds from throttling him.
"Perce," Charlie grabbed his arm. "Merlin, I wish I could've been here sooner when I've got the news."
"It's quite alright," Percy tried to pretend to be interested in his plate, but nobody had started eating yet, and there wasn't anything on his plate. His mum had just started to peel back to foil on the dauphinoise potatoes.
"Blimey, cancer," Charlie continued on, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm really sorry, mate."
"Yeah, well…" Percy just shrugged nonchalantly. As if it were every day that you were told that you had a terminal ailment. He supposed that he was past the point where people could talk to him and not mention the fact that he was so ill. It was all that people could think about when they looked at him. "I suppose it could be worse."
"How could it be worse?" Arthur frowned at Percy.
"I could be dead already," Percy was completely serious when he'd said that. He could've died in his sleep not knowing he had something growing inside of him. He could collapse tomorrow out of pure cardiac arrest because he'd a coronary in his sleep, thinking about all the things that he had to do. He certainly didn't have 'all the time in the world' as some have suggested. In fact, he was struggling to make ends meet most of the time.
Charlie winced. "Perce."
"What?" Percy was sure he seemed completely unaffected and untouched by the concept of his own death. "Oh, thank you," he said when he'd received a generous helping of roast chicken, roast potatoes and roast carrots from Audrey. She knew his tastes better than anyone, so she knew that he was the most boring eater on the planet. He nibbled onto a buttered roll.
Charlie seemed unfazed and continued to carry on the conversation. "Dad said that if you'd gotten the second procedure, you probably wouldn't be ill." Percy nodded his head. He supposed that was true. If he'd transitioned fully, then he wouldn't have any ovaries, meaning he had nothing to grow ovarian cancer from. "Fucking hell. You know if…if we weren't such plonkers, we could've put the money down for you to get the second procedure done. Before…"
"I'm a grown man," Percy reminded him. "If I wanted to pay for my own second procedure, I would've."
"Perce, you have kids. It's not like you've been throwing your money away on broomsticks and wands," Charlie reminded him. Percy supposed that that was true. Ever since Audrey had decided to stop working, Percy's stress levels had just gone up. His daughters have been so accustomed to such a lavish lifestyle that he couldn't cut down a punnet of organic strawberries from their shopping bill without them complaining about how he wanted their arteries to be clogged with cholesterol by the time they were twenty.
"Even if I did have the money, I wouldn't be spending it on broomsticks and wands. But I do see your point," Percy cut his potatoes in half with a fork.
"Would you like to do something, you think? Go on holiday?" Charlie prompted.
"I've gone on plenty of holidays," he'd said, which he realised sounded like a weak argument. There were a lot of places that he hadn't been to, things that he'd wanted to do that he hadn't gotten done. What a shame. "In fact, I was just in Portugal a couple of months back for a portkey conference." He'd spent three days in a hotel and annoyed a very intelligent man with more questions than he could ever answer. He may be even banned from that part of Portugal after he'd pointed out an inconsistency in the details of the new international portkey forms.
"A portkey conference," Bill echoed. "How bloody exciting."
"A holiday sounds nice," Audrey mentioned. Percy begged to differ. He knew how it was like to take those three out on a holiday.
Percy grimaced. "I don't think that I'd like to spend any more time shopping," he said very loudly.
Both Molly and Lucy went red. "Well, um…" Molly bit down her lower lip. She had put on so much lippy that it had gone all over the napkins and the plate that she was eating from. There was a massive slice of lasagne on her plate, and she was also buttering a lippy-stained piece of bread. "Obviously, dad, if we were going on holiday, it'll be with you."
"We can go to Egypt," Bill decided to mention. "I'm going with Fleur in a couple of weeks."
"You have the money I was going to give you for the second procedure," Arthur reminded him. He was so intent on giving Percy that money, and Percy was so intent on never taking it from him. In fact, he would go so far as to tell Arthur that if he wanted to spend that money on him, he'd use it on his funeral service. "You should be doing something with that."
"Do you want a second procedure? Even if…" Charlie trailed off.
Percy didn't know if he wanted to waste that much money on himself. He did think about it all the time, how it would feel like to really have a knob. He'd feel like a real bloke. In his greatest fantasies, he'd have another go with Audrey. They'd have a baby. His biological baby. And it would be the baby that brought them all together. But he knew that things like that didn't happen. He knew that Michael wouldn't be happy just because he gave his 'younger bird' a baby. But at the same time, he was so sick of looking for reassurances. He was so sick of looking for ways to be as manly as possible to prove that he was a man.
"I want to keep this body," Percy admitted, his ears going red. He didn't want this body, he wanted what it stood for. He wanted to be accepted as it was without alteration. He didn't think that having a second procedure was going to make him feel any more comfortable in his skin than he had in his entire life.
This was the body that he had when he had first held his daughters. This was the one that his wife fell in love with. This was the body that he had when he'd first and last boarded on the train to Hogwarts. This was the one that he grew up with and he was tired of having to explain it. Because it was nobody else's business.
He knew there were always going to be people that didn't understand. That thought that he must not be who he said he was if he weren't 'willing' to fully transition. His family wanted it for him because they thought that it would fix everything and make him happy with his body. But he knew that it wouldn't work that way. He was more certain of that than he'd ever been with anything else in his life.
"Really?" Audrey even looked surprised. It wasn't what she'd thought that he'd say.
"Yes," Percy said very calmly. "I'd like to keep this body."
George looked at him like he was malformed for a second. "Seriously, Perce? You'd want to keep a—"
Percy didn't let him finish. He knew what he'd wanted to say. He knew what everyone was thinking. And he knew that they couldn't understand how he feel, "I really missed the part where I owe you an explanation, George."
"You don't," Angelina tossed George a look. Looked like they weren't talking.
"I hate to see you two fighting," his mum had said. "This is really a difficult enough time without you two going at it! And for what? Can't you just apologise to each other? Don't you think that things have been hard enough without you two going at each other's throats like you're third years fighting over a broomstick?"
George scoffed. Percy was ashamed to admit he rolled his eyes.
Speaking of George, Percy flicked his eyes towards his son, who looked so withdrawn. Poor Fred was poking at his sad-looking bowl of especially-bought-from-home plain chicken noodles. They looked kind of dry and sad.
"What on Earth happened between you two?" Charlie was at a loss. "Perce is fucking sick. How are you two fighting?"
As Arthur debriefed Charlie about it, his older brother's expressions changed and at the end, he seemed more confused than he was when Arthur had started talking. Percy had zoned out, tired of hearing the same debacle he'd heard a thousand times before. About him not wanting chemotherapy. About the procedure, about the tube, about the divorce papers from Audrey and everything else in between. Every time his father had mentioned something new, Percy felt himself shrink down more and more. And after he was done talking, the whole table had lapsed into sudden silence.
"Merlin, Perce," Charlie sounded like he were in terrible throes of pain. Percy didn't know if it were because he'd put too much chilli oil on his food, or if he'd really just felt bad for him. "I don't…I don't get this. He doesn't wanna do the chemotherapy, so…" he shrugged his shoulders coolly. "So, he doesn't have to do it."
"He'll die," George reminded Charlie in a hardened tone.
"Well, what do you care if you're not talking to him?" Charlie's question almost slapped George in the face. Percy agreed, but he'd already signed off on it in his mind. He didn't want to go back and forth on this issue. "So, if he does the chemotherapy, he's going to be cured? Is that what they're saying?"
"No," even George was starting to look flushed. "But—"
"They think I'll still probably die," Percy cut him off. He didn't want to take his family to every single one of his appointments. He'd made it very clear on his first appointment, but the healers saw him when he was being admitted in the hospital for his tube. "But there's a chance that…" he did know that there was a chance that he'd still be okay somehow.
"Oh," Charlie looked a little like he was stuck between a rock and a hard place too. "You don't want to…?"
"I don't want to do the programme, but I suppose that I am," Percy answered. Nobody asked him any further questions. And he was sure that there wasn't anyone that was going to pat his back and congratulate him for doing it. Even Lucy, who had stuck up for him when he said that he didn't want to, looked a little relieved.
"Audrey asked him to," George snored. "He won't do it for himself, but he'd do it for Audrey."
It was just one barbed comment after another, and Percy just couldn't stand it anymore. He was sick of everyone always picking on him, commenting on him, of him not being enough for anyone. He was so tired of fighting everywhere that he went. Maybe he was just too unconventional for people to understand, or even love. He'd dropped his shoulders down and felt himself giving up.