Setting the Scene
Percy Weasley was born different. He knew that much.
On one fateful August 22nd, Molly Weasley gave birth to her third child, completely unaware of the many more to come. At the time, all she could focus on was her dearest newborn baby, Percy.
All throughout her pregnancy, she'd been more emotional than she ever had with Bill and Charlie. It was miserable, yet strangely peaceful. She felt a deep connection with Percy, as though he could feel and understand how she felt. Realistically, she knew that wasn't the case. How could a fetus be sentient and understand emotions it had never been exposed to?
Percy was a C-section. He was smaller than Bill or Charlie, but not unhealthy throughout the entire pregnancy.
Everything was fine until he'd been delivered and simply didn't cry. Molly and Arthur cried enough for all of them when the doctors had rushed their boy away, worried that there might've been problems with his breathing.
But he was fine. Percy didn't cry. He whined, constantly overwhelmed. He stared unnervingly at people as though able to see right through them. He acted as though he'd much rather be left to himself, yet got all happy when Molly came in his nursery, ready to feed him. But he didn't cry.
It worried Molly and Arthur to no end. Percy was nothing like their other children, and nothing like most children. They could rejoice about how easy he was, but it was just too easy. The only thing Percy ever needed was time. Bill and Charlie weren't even allowed to meet him until two months later as people constantly overwhelmed him, but when Bill got to hold him for the first time, it was as though Percy'd already known him.
By the age of three, Percy proved to be highly intelligent. Molly and Arthur, after a few Google searches, eventually had him screened for autism. Whatever it was that was wrong with him, the doctors refused to give them a sure diagnosis. There was nothing wrong with him, he was just a little different.
Percy could feel people's emotions and occasionally pick up on their thoughts. His family loved him. The more they loved him, the more he could tell about what else they thought about. His mother loved him the most; he was acutely aware that she was constantly worried about him and his development, almost as though he was the one who was worried for himself. It was overwhelming to be around her.
Bill thought he was a little weird, Charlie only ever thought of him when he was directly in front of him, and his father shared the same sentiment as his mother. Percy felt their emotions and thoughts less intensely than his mother's.
His favorite people to be around were his little brothers, Fred and George. He could only tell what they were feeling to the vaguest extent, and even then they weren't very complex emotions. Their baby-brains were too underdeveloped and they didn't love him enough. Percy realized that they weren't like him. None of his family was like him.
By five, Percy had a tentative grasp on how to focus on his own emotions and thoughts. He was forced to. His emotions always mirrored those of the family, and Molly and Arthur were worried about his individuality. Thus, he was worried about his individuality (ironic).
Fred and George were growing up and getting thoughts and emotions. They often shared them. Maybe they needed help with their individuality, too.
Percy's new favorite was baby Ron for the same reasons he liked Fred and George. It made his parents happy, but for the first time, Fred and George had radiated an emotion he came to know as jealousy. He made sure to make them happy again, because jealousy was an awful feeling.
Bill and Charlie went to school. They came back with new things in their brains everyday. Percy wanted to know new things too, so he learned the foggy bits from Bill and Charlie. He wasn't allowed to go to school with other children. He learned things at home, but he wanted to experience what it was like to be so taken with a girl's smile that he instantly got happy thinking about it. Bill was always thinking about that blonde girl.
Molly and Arthur didn't think Percy could handle it. They were correct, but that just wasn't something that little Percy could comprehend. He knew his parents wanted him safe, but he knew he wanted social interaction.
Percy didn't go to school until age eleven. His parents were so worried when they sent him off. His gift would prove to be a blessing and a curse in his endeavor to make friends.
He wasn't very socially adept. His sensitivity was heightened and he had the tendency to notice things that people would rather leave unnoticed.
Initially, he couldn't grasp at anybody's thoughts. That was perfectly fine. They were strangers, after all. He could read their emotions just fine, though, and that was good when he was trying to find people who were accepting of him.
People thought he was weird. There were mean-spirited people who radiated jealousy and hatred towards the very people they smiled and sat with everyday at lunch, but then there were also kind people who genuinely liked those that they interacted with. There were sad, lonely people, and angry people that were just mad at the world. Percy felt for them, really, but he wasn't going to use his powers to play hero. He was an observer that could occasionally give good advice.
School wasn't anything special, really. Kids were more open, anyway. It didn't take his emotional intelligence to tell their nature.
School was where he met Oliver, though.
Oliver had quite a few friends. None of them knew him like Percy; they couldn't help it. Oliver emitted positive energy. He genuinely cared about people. His heart was so light, save for the slight shadow of guilt and shame that Percy would occasionally register. No matter how opening and inviting he was outwardly, it became clear that Oliver had a secret.
That was fine. Percy had problems with boundaries (naturally), but he knew that people would want to keep their secrets. However, if he wanted to get to know Oliver a little more and the secret happened to fall into his hands, well...
He took to following Oliver around, feeding off of his energy. Oliver was a happy person, so feeling Oliver happy made Percy feel happy. But Oliver wasn't always happy, and Percy wanted to feel him even more. They needed to be friends.
Percy was a little hesitant to make friends. He knew who he was, but he also knew what other people wanted in a friend. When given the chance, who wouldn't want to shape themselves into the perfect friend for someone that they admire?
But that proved not to be an issue with Oliver. He had to go in blind, but from there...
They started with introductions. Percy got a moment alone with Oliver when they were both placed in the hallway to make up a quiz they were both absent for. Though they were far away from each other, Percy had no qualms about simply getting closer, teachers orders be damned. He was on a mission.
"Hi, I'm Percy," he greeted simply as soon as they were close enough to talk quietly and still hear each other.
Oliver was confused, but delighted and a tad bit amused. "I know. I'm Oliver."
"I know," Percy echoed. That was a step in the right direction. Percy didn't feel a connection further established itself, so he knew he'd have to do more, but this was good for now.
After that, he turned his attention back to the quiz. It was terribly easy for him, and it wasn't because he was drawing answers from his teacher's brain. No, that would be ridiculous. She wasn't even thinking about the quiz at the moment, having completely forgotten about Percy and Oliver in the hallway. It was easy because Percy had studied. He worked for what he had, trying his best to develop his brain outside of what it was already capable of. It was one of his first attempts at finding himself.
Beside him, Oliver was struggling. Percy could tell, because he was once again giving off confusion.
Now, Percy knew right from wrong very well, and knew that it wouldn't be fair for him to help Oliver. But he wanted to help Oliver—had to, even. So he did.
"The answer to that one is Mesopotamia," Percy informed him dutifully, pointing at the question that Oliver was currently on.
Oliver smiled at him sheepishly, giving him a curious look as he finished penciling in the answer. "Oh... thanks. You're very..."
Nice. He didn't need to complete his sentence. Percy heard it echo through his brain the moment their connection deepened. They were getting somewhere.
He had a feeling that he wouldn't have to change for Oliver. He was the kind of friend that Oliver needed already. Oliver was the only kind of friend he needed.
Bill was leaving soon. It was a fact that was weighing on everyone, and if it was weighing on everyone, then it was especially weighing on Percy.
In everyone's somberness, Percy caught phrases and words like ...will miss him, sad, and gone forever, as if he was dying or something. But Bill himself radiated determination, some fear, some sadness, and surprisingly anger. It was weird.
When Percy went to probe through Bill's mind (just a little bit), it was like reading a book with the pages covered in a film of smoke. He had to try hard, and even then the words weren't easy for him to make out.
With shock, Percy realized that Bill was pulling away from him. In fact, Bill was pulling away from all of them.
Now that he thought about it, he realized that Bill had been pulling away for a while. Every time he didn't sense any strong emotions from his oldest brother, he assumed that either Bill just wasn't feeling any strong emotions or that he himself was subconsciously blocking them out.
This was the first time Percy recognized a weakening connection. There were more firsts to come upon realizing that.
Since he couldn't read Bill's mind, he decided to go straight to the source. Bill was harboring some strange sort of resentment, and Percy was curious. What good were his powers if he couldn't play therapist every once in a while?
He caught Bill one night after dinner when they were all being dismissed. Since his realization, Percy noticed that Bill actually spent more time in his room than with the rest of the family. With a gift like his, he wondered how he could be so unobservant.
Bill had nearly slammed the door in his face, and Percy couldn't tell if it was on purpose or accident. It was on purpose.
As Percy stood by the door silently, Bill sat down on the edge of his bed. They engaged in a staring match; Percy looked all serious and business-like and Bill couldn't take him seriously. He snickered (just a little), but it was enough for Percy to narrow his eyes at him.
"Bill," Percy stated gravely. "Is everything okay?"
He talked slowly and his eyebrows were raised to make him look more inviting. To Bill, he looked absolutely ridiculous. On the other hand, it was also heartwarming. It was his little brother asking if he was okay and making an effort to reach out. And truth be told, he was a little less than okay.
But he wasn't going to unload all his problems onto his little brother. Just the fact that Percy had noticed a change in him at all made him want to cry; he liked to hide the bad stuff from his siblings. Percy wasn't even 12 yet. He didn't need to know anything about existential crises.
"I'm fine," Bill assured Percy. He was lying through his teeth and Percy knew it. He reeked of guilt and sadness.
Turning to close the door behind him, Percy missed the eye roll that Bill gave him. He sensed his annoyance though, and also surprisingly caught the words long conversation. Never mind how irritated Bill was with him trying to reach out. They were making progress.
"Do you think I'm stupid?" Percy asked, settling on the edge of Bill's bed, right next to him.
Bill smiled at him placatingly, squeezing Percy's shoulder as a sign of assurance. "Of course not."
But he did think he was only a kid. Percy picked up on that. Only a kid he may be, but he was far less naive than Bill thought.
"Everyone knows that people who say they're fine really aren't fine half of the time," Percy explained as if talking to a child rather than his brother who had six years on him. Two could play at the condescending game.
Bill again smiled at him placatingly, this time ruffling his hair. "Well, I mean it. So you can get out now," he said, proceeding to lightly shove Percy off of his bed.
"No!" Percy protested, immediately jumping back on the bed like the petulant child Bill thought he was. "I'm not leaving until you tell me what's wrong with you."
"There's nothing wrong with me!"
"I'm your brother! I know these things!"
"You're my younger brother. Why would I tell you anything about my problems, Perce? You're too young to understand."
"...So you do have problems."
"No—I just," Bill sighed in defeat. He conceded, "Maybe I am having some troubles. But I'm not telling you, so go away."
"No," Percy reiterated firmly. To Bill it sounded more like a whine. "Just tell me. It's good to talk to people even if you think they won't understand."
Bill was silent for a moment, leveling Percy with a considering look. "You're very good at feelings, Perce," he stated. "I wonder where you get that from."
Percy smiled at him innocently.
"Well, here it goes," Bill sucked in a breath, chancing a pleading glance at Percy. Percy stared at him resolutely. There was no turning back. "You know how I'm leaving for university soon?"
"Yes, you will be missed," Percy nodded.
Bill laughed shortly. "Yeah, well sometimes it doesn't feel like it."
"How do you mean?" Percy frowned.
"I mean it doesn't feel like anybody cares that I'll be gone. Nobody talks about it. I'm so much older than the rest of you, it's as if I don't even know you lot. I can't talk to anybody," Bill complained.
Percy could confirm that he didn't have much of a connection with him at the very least; he had a way to quantify it. Still, "We'll all care that you'll be gone! And you can talk to Charlie. You're only two years older than him."
Bill scoffed. He bitterly stated, "Charlie doesn't give a flying fuck about me. All he can think about is how he'll have his own room."
"Charlie does care about you!" Percy defended his other older brother. "He's the saddest of us all besides mum. The room thing is just him trying to pretend like he doesn't care."
"What, have you accosted him about his emotions too?" Bill joked sourly. He didn't believe him.
Percy rolled his eyes. "I don't need to. I can sense it."
"'I can sense it,' he says. You're hilarious, Percy," Bill commented dryly. "This has been a good talk."
Percy's cheeks heated, and he said without thinking, "You used to be nice."
Bill was stunned into momentary silence, beginning to splutter in objection after seconds of staring at Percy like he'd said something really offensive. "I've been nothing but nice this whole time! I could've kicked you out if I so pleased."
"Yes, because nice is when you don't turn someone away when they want to try and help you. Super nice, William," Percy retorted, folding his arms over his chest defensively.
"Shut up, you little shit!" Percy flinched at the harsh name. "I didn't even ask for help."
"You used to be nice," Percy said again pointedly, voice cracking slightly. He was able to stop the tears from welling in his eyes. Bill was just angry, he didn't mean it. It was too bad he couldn't predict how people would react to the things he said. He could only guess, and it didn't help that he was actively trying to make Bill angry.
Bill groaned in frustration, covering his face with his hands as he let his back fall onto the mattress. He picked up on the tremor in Percy's voice, and now he felt bad. He'd nearly made his little brother cry. "...M'sorry, Perce," he mumbled quietly.
"Why are you angry?" Percy wondered aloud.
"I'm not," Bill denied. "I'm just a little annoyed."
"You are a little angry right now, but that's not what I'm talking about," Percy remarked matter-of-factly. "It's just... before. I understand why you were sad and a little scared. But you're almost resentful. Why?"
Bill looked at Percy strangely. He was weirded out by how precise Percy's read on his feelings was, and he quite frankly didn't like it at all. It would be useless if he brought up his discomfort, though. Percy would press on for his answers.
"I really don't think you'd understand," Bill told Percy, apparently trying to stall.
It was useless. It didn't matter if Bill left out any details, Percy was a mind reader. Their connection grew as the conversation went on, and Bill was thinking so hard about a singular word that it was hard for Percy to miss it. Mum.
"What is it about our own mother that makes you resentful?" Percy questioned without thinking. He only recognized his slip-up, when Bill shot up, insistent denial spilling from his mouth.
"I—huh? What are you even talking about, Perce? I don't resent mum!" Bill blustered. His voice raised an octave and he scratched his neck nervously. Those were his tells. Percy didn't even have to use his powers to know he wasn't being entirely truthful.
"Alright, calm down," Percy yelped, trying to pacify Bill before he wound up getting kicked out. "I'm not saying you hate her! But you're begrudging her for something... right?" He tacked on the last part to pretend like he didn't already know that yes, that was the case.
Bill was receptive to it. "Well... yeah," he winced as though it pained him to admit it. It did. It made him feel like a bad person, especially because she'd done everything for him. As far as Percy was concerned, that's all their mother had ever done because he was only eleven and didn't know any better. Well, that's what Bill thought Percy thought.
Percy didn't like to think he knew everything, but he was very aware of his mum's overbearing nature. She was quite tense these days and a little short with the older children. That, paired with Bill's determination and resentment—it wasn't rocket science.
"She'll just miss you," Percy argued feebly. Despite knowing better than anyone how both sides of the conflict were feeling, he didn't often play devil's advocate or mediator for anyone, but he hated when his family had conflict. Emotions ran high and it overwhelmed him, and time told him that it would never stop.
"Don't I know it?" Bill scoffed, rolling his eyes at Percy's weak attempt at defending their mother. "But it's an uphill battle trying to leave here. She's trying to make me feel like I'm abandoning my family... but I just want my own life. It's just university, for fuck's sake!"
"Oh," Percy said as he pursed his lips. He got his answers, but he truly didn't know what to say to that. Mind reading couldn't help him here.
Bill exhaled loudly, folding his hands together on his lap. He'd relaxed considerably as the reality of the situation set in. "Sorry, I shouldn't have told you that."
"No, don't be," Percy assured him. "I asked."
"Yeah, but...." Bill narrowed his eyes, shifting his head side to side as he considered Percy's words. Finally, he shrugged. "Whatever. I just hope it'll be easier for you when it's your turn. I know you want to do big things."
Percy blushed at the acknowledgment of his ambition. It wasn't exactly a compliment, but it was something.
Unbeknownst to either of them, it would be much, much worse when it was Percy's turn to leave the house, but that didn't matter now.
Bill felt lighter. His general energy was more positive, even though he still harbored all those negative feelings. Percy was a firm believer that it helped to talk about it.
"Well, I hope mum gets off your back. It's not fair for her to want you to stay," Percy confidently told Bill. He really did feel for him; it was easy to imagine himself in Bill's position.
Bill slightly smiled at him, taking Percy under his arm and pulling him closer to ruffle his hair like he knew Percy hated. "Thanks, Perce. I knew you of all people would understand," he said as Percy tried to wriggle free from his grasp.
"Just a minute ago you said I wouldn't understand!" Percy reminded him distractedly, pushing at his arm with great effort. It was no use. Bill would always be the stronger one by far.
"I knew you of all people would understand," Bill repeated louder, finally letting go. Percy was left panting, and he put another half a meter between them as Bill continued, "It's like you know just how I'm feeling. Super eerie."
Percy stared at his older brother for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he tried to restrain from blurting out his well kept secret. It was times like these where it was just so very tempting to out and say it.
Bill, noticing that Percy looked like he wanted to say something, frowned. "What?" He prodded.
A strangled noise left Percy's throat as he aborted his next words, and he quickly looked away in embarrassment. He knew his behavior was strange, and now Bill was genuinely curious as to why he'd reacted that way. Without any tact, Percy decided right then that now was as good of a time as any to tell someone about his abilities. What was the worst that could happen?
Time seemed to slow for Percy as he looked up at Bill and seriously informed him, "I do."
Bill frowned, the confusion evident on his face. "Do what?"
Letting out a deep breath, Percy realized there was no going back. "I do know how you're feeling. All the time in fact. I... have powers."
Bill's face was devoid of any emotion for a few short seconds, and for a moment Percy thought he was going to be taken seriously. But then Bill's mouth was twitching perceptibly, and it wasn't long before he bursted into boisterous laughter, clutching his stomach as he keeled over. Percy immediately deflated.
"I'm serious!" Percy protested, hitting Bill on the shoulder. He was very in tune with his emotions, but even he got uncontrollably angry at times, and this was one of them. It wasn't even that funny.
Bill straightened up, gasping for air as his laughter fizzled out. With a wide smile, he jokingly shook his head, "The power of empathy! That's hilarious, Percy."
"It's not just that!" Percy corrected, causing Bill to chuckle even more. He was very tickled, but Percy ignored it and soldiered on. "I can read minds too."
Predictably, Bill's body began wracking with even more laughter. He was laughing so much that he couldn't breathe and his face was red. Percy thought him utterly hideous-looking as he clutched at his aching stomach.
Bill, upon noticing the unamused look Percy was giving him, tamped down his laughter into little bouts of chuckles when he remembered what was just said. "Look, Perce. Every kid has a phase where they think they have superpowers. I once thought I could fly! That's how I broke my arm the first time."
"You were a bloody idiot," Percy deadpanned, internally boiling with anger. They were not in the same boat.
"Oi!" Bill exclaimed, slightly chuckling again at Percy's swear. "You think you can read minds! I guess we're even."
Percy shook his head. "We're not the same. At all."
Bill just wouldn't wipe that stupid smile off of his face. He was entirely too amused. "You're always so serious, Perce. I didn't expect this from you, honestly. I thought you knew too much too soon. Remember when you told mum and dad that Santa wasn't real when you were three?"
"No, I don't remember that. I was three," Percy stated drily. "In any case, I don't doubt that happened. Santa isn't real, but this is."
Bill was finally sobering up, recognizing the unadulterated belief in Percy's voice. "Perce, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but... you can't read minds. Empathy isn't a superhuman trait, either. Don't get me wrong, your mind is wonderful, but..."
"I honestly can! You have to believe me," Percy insisted desperately. He knew this outcome was a possibility, but it was still more upsetting than he thought it would be. He thought the sheer amount of disbelief Bill was radiating was highly unnecessary.
"Fine," Bill sighed appeasingly before demanding, "Show me."
"Think of a number," Percy replied quickly. Now to prove he wasn't a lunatic.
"Okay, I've got it," Bill said after a moment.
Percy had to probe at his mind. The point of having Bill think of a number was so that it would be at the forefront of his mind and Percy wouldn't have to go actively dig. After a moment, Percy decided to give up.
"You're not being decisive enough with your number!" He accused.
Bill raised his eyebrows at that, but said anyway, "Fine. Go again."
This time it was much easier. "3,427. I was thinking more 1-10, but this works too."
Bill blanched in shock, staring at Percy with wide eyes. "I wanted to make it hard," he admitted distractedly, looking at Percy with wonder.
Percy returned his gaze smugly. "Anything else?"
Bill blinked. "Uh... yeah. What fruit am I thinking of?"
"Pineapple."
"Color?"
"Orange."
"Country?"
"Egypt."
"...What's my girlfriend's name?"
"...Floor? Fleur? What?"
Bill covered his mouth, laughing in disbelief. "Blimey!"
Percy nodded pointedly. "See? I'm not playing pretend."
"You're crazy good at this mind manipulation stuff! You totally made me think of all that stuff," Bill commented once the shock had passed.
Percy looked at him as though he were crazy. "Are you serious?"
"Are you? I don't know how you know about Fleur or how you did whatever you just did... but you're crazy good at it. Keep it up," Bill said encouragingly, patting Percy on the shoulder.
"They're my powers," Percy explained slowly. Maybe Bill needed it spelled out to him.
Bill shook his head stubbornly. "Those don't exist, sorry. It's a really neat trick, though."
Percy watched as Bill pulled his phone from out of his pocket and began texting someone, only pausing to sniffle slightly. After a few moments of sitting in silence, Bill said distractedly, "You can get out now. It was fun talking, Percy."
Percy got up and left without another word, pausing at the door once he'd closed it behind him. Looking at the floor, Percy pondered if what had just happened actually happened.
Bill seemed to believe him at first, but something in him completely changed. It was as if a switch had been hit, and the emotions that Percy's powers picked up on told the same story. It was weird.
That was the first and last time Percy tried to tell anyone about his abilities.
Percy was 15 when he figured out Oliver's secret.
"They're as thick as thieves," their parents would say. Other people called them best friends that were almost too close. From the day that Percy told Oliver that quiz answer, they'd officially become friends. Oliver invited Percy to join him for lunch that day. And the day after that. And the day after that. Before they knew it, they couldn't go a day without talking to the other.
For Percy, it had everything to do with Oliver's energy initially. He felt happy a lot, and when he felt happy, Percy could feel happy. Then, Percy could feel happy because sometimes Oliver was happy because of him.
As their connection deepened and made it easier and easier for Percy to read Oliver's thoughts, Percy actually found himself shielding them more and more. It was almost too easy to decipher what was going on in his brain — like reading a book with non-prescription reading glasses.
Oliver was good company. He was truthful. Percy didn't need to see into his thoughts to understand him, nor did he want to. He wanted the Oliver that everyone else got the privilege of knowing, even if they weren't mind readers. He wanted Oliver as Oliver wanted to be known.
With Percy's powers, there was always the moral dilemma of seeing into people's minds without their permission. Percy acknowledged that it was wrong early on and so didn't, but Oliver actually made him actively want to not use his powers. Crazy.
For Oliver, well it must've initially been how Percy understood him so well. He could make him feel good. From what made him laugh to what made him cry, Percy knew just how to do it.
As they got older, Percy became like 'the Oliver whisperer' or something:
The day Oliver broke up with his first primary school girlfriend, he was brooding in the classroom and making it everyone's problem. Their teacher had had it with Oliver's tantrum, and for whatever reason sat Percy next to him to get him to calm down. It worked. Oliver was over it in no time.
The day Oliver made the school football team in their first year there, Percy was there to celebrate with him. Percy was also there to comfort him when they'd lost the championship game to their rival school.
"Somebody told me to come get you," one of his teammates explained as they walked towards the locker room. He'd left as soon as they'd gotten to the door. Percy knew what kind of state Oliver would be in, because he literally felt his hurt.
"I hate Durmstrang," Percy could hear Oliver moaning and groaning under the sound of the running shower.
Percy rolled his eyes. "Don't you drown yourself in there, Oliver!" He scolded. It took a while, but Oliver ended up being okay.
Even when Oliver's favorite aunt had died when they were 13, his mum had called Molly and asked for Percy to come over. Oliver was requesting him, and everyone agreed that it would help for Oliver to have a friend. It took a while (short-lived happiness, long bouts of mourning and talking about feelings), but Oliver ended up being okay.
He felt he always was okay with Percy's help. Everyone did. It was a heavy burden, but Percy didn't mind. It's what he wanted, what he was good for.
So it was no wonder that when his best friend became even more secretive, he was the first to notice.
It was very gradual. Even Percy, who'd always been aware of the secrecy that seemed to haunt Oliver, was a little slow to catch on. But he did, and it was bothering him.
Percy didn't want to confront Oliver about it; that would be weird. There was no reason for him to have reason to believe that Oliver was keeping secrets from him, and he truly wouldn't have known had Oliver's mind not have been so open. He didn't want to dig into Oliver's mind, either. That would be a huge invasion of privacy. Thus, he was at a loss.
Not for long, however.
Over the next few months, the strangest thing happened. There was a male of unknown age and identity that was flying around and fighting criminals.
It had been videotaped several times over the course of months. Some thought it was special effects and the result of a lot of editing, while others thought it was just someone with access to super high-grade technology (think Iron Man).
But then there were people who were privy to seeing the guy in real life. It was, for lack of a better word, real. By the end of the year, there was no doubt in a lot of people's minds that this wasn't a hoax. The problem was the speculation from there.
Everybody wanted to know who the vigilante, pinned with the nickname 'The Keeper,' was under the mask. Law enforcement saw him as a threat; vigilantism wasn't exactly legal, no matter what place it came from in the heart. Common folk saw him as a protector. There was no denying that crime in their area had significantly been reduced.
Percy... well, Percy found it ridiculous.
As someone who also had powers, he thought he had a special insight on the situation. While he thought it very noble to try and help others with said powers, he also found it rash and stupid. He guessed that the differences in how they'd decided to use their powers had something to do with his being more mental than physical. Honestly, though, Percy couldn't see himself parading around in a costume even if he could lift a bus. That just wasn't his style.
And while he found it ridiculous, he, like the rest of the world, was also a little bit curious as to who was under the mask. He was only human. Also, they had the whole supernormal thing in common.
Percy was also someone who really liked the saying 'curiosity killed the cat.' He could've spent his time trying to scour their city trying to find out the identity of the masked vigilante, but he decided to focus on other things: school, homework, family, and friends (Oliver). He knew as good as anyone that secrets were meant to be kept.
But like always, they just fell into his lap.
First, it was the location of the crime fighting. It was all eerily close to his school and community, and Percy couldn't help but think it was someone he knew. He brushed it off easily, though. It wasn't like he knew everybody that lived within a 20 mile radius.
Then it was the stature and gait of this so-called Keeper. The way he carried himself felt very familiar, and on the rare occasion he was caught speaking on camera, it sounded vaguely familiar. Looking at videos, Percy could almost envision a face under the mask. It was right there in his mind and yet... he brushed it off. There was no use going crazy over something so useless. He was probably deluding himself. Lots of people sounded and walked the same. Lots of them.
Nobody thought the same, though. Percy was pretty sure of that.
So when taking a shortcut across the park led to a chance encounter where he witnessed a violent robbery that 'The Keeper' intervened in, it was really strange when Percy's mind was just flooded with someone else's brain activity.
Admittedly, he'd had his guard down. He didn't expect to run into anybody he knew, therefore getting a glimpse of someone's thoughts right then wasn't even in the realm of possibility. Besides, he was in a park. The pool of emotions was very tranquil at the moment. Everyone else was calm, so he could be calm.
That was until somebody had run up on the old lady he was strolling behind and ripped her purse from her arm. The woman remained fairly relaxed, more angry than anything. Even when the man flashed a knife at her, the only distress Percy was able to pick up on was his own.
To make a long story short, arguing ensued, the man held the knife to the lady's neck, Percy simply stood there in complete shock, and a ruckus erupted around them as a masked figure landed right behind the armed robber. Percy didn't even register the disruption in the air, but rather the disruption is his brain.
They came all at once. It was quite crowded. They were quite easy to understand if he focused on one train at a time, but it was nearly incomprehensible with how crowded it was.
Startled, Percy quickly blocked them out with great effort. The only person he ever had to try so hard with was...
Time seemed to stop as the masked person looked up. Percy couldn't see their eyes, obviously, but he assumed they were making eye contact. The crisis was averted, but the Keeper was still stood there, standing stock still and staring right at Percy in shock. Percy stared back; he'd been in shock the whole time but now he was also confused.
Distantly, Percy heard the old woman thank the Keeper, causing for the Keeper to look away as though nothing had happened. Realistically, they'd only been staring at each other for a handful of seconds, but it was enough for Percy.
As the Keeper flew away, Percy was able to compile his thoughts. Forgotten puzzle pieces assembled themselves in his head, and his legs got heavy as he trudged along the trail through the park, deep in his epiphany. He could finally put his finger on it.
The Keeper thought like Oliver. He was built like Oliver, carried himself like Oliver, stayed in this particular area like Oliver. Apparently, Percy had a connection with him like Oliver, too. No matter how many different roads he took, all the signs pointed to Oliver.
Oliver was the Keeper.
Over the next few weeks, Percy took to watching Oliver very closely — closer than ever before.
Sometimes, Oliver would show up to school with random bruising or injuries, fresh ones spawning in different places everyday. When Percy would ask, Oliver would chalk it up to football and clumsiness. If he didn't know any better, Percy would think Oliver was being beaten at home or something.
He always looked tired and miraculously disappeared in random intervals throughout the day. He never missed a practice or game, however. Coincidentally, the Keeper was nowhere to be found from 16:00-19:00, but Oliver could always be found on the field at that time.
Percy tried to wheedle the truth out of Oliver many times, leaving comments to elicit reactions from Oliver. Internally, Oliver rises to the bait, reacting just how Percy thought he would if he actually was the Keeper. But externally, Oliver acted indifferent, which was not helpful in getting him to verbally confess.
There was one time when Percy thought he'd had him. They were sat in an interstice between two classrooms that was a result of bad construction. In front of them was a wall full of windows that overlooked the courtyard. It was bustling with other students, and the only reason they weren't down there was because Percy insisted on staying in and Oliver insisted on staying with him.
Somehow, the conversation had shifted to the topic of the Keeper.
"I wonder who's under the mask," Percy mused aloud, pointedly not looking at Oliver. At this point, he wasn't even trying to be discrete. It was fun to feel the split seconds of fear that Oliver felt before he relaxed. Oliver was convinced that his secret was well kept. Percy would let him have it... for now.
"Why does it matter so much to you?" Oliver asked abruptly. Typically, when Percy would talk about the Keeper, Oliver would remain silent and just listen. It almost startled Percy to hear the annoyance in his voice.
"Well, why does it matter that it matters to me? I'm just curious," Percy countered, careful to keep his voice neutral.
"You never cared before," Oliver commented with a frown. "Now you keep talking about him. It's annoying, honestly."
Percy could see how that was. It almost annoyed him to bring it up too, but he still had fishing to do. Oliver was upset with him for whatever reason, which was also when he was more vulnerable to truth-telling. Just a little more coaxing. "Well, sorry. I didn't know it was such a sensitive topic."
"I— what? Sensitive topic?" Oliver spluttered. Percy raised an eyebrow, goading him into saying more. "It's not a sensitive topic! But you just keep talking about it. Like yes, it's interesting, but just take it at face value. What good what knowing who he was do you?"
"I'm just curious," Percy insisted again. "Aren't you?"
"No!" Oliver exploded. Percy nearly flinched at the outburst. "Because it doesn't matter."
Percy stared at him a moment. Oliver was really high-strung. His feelings, thoughts— everything—were whirling around him like a twister. He hardly ever got like that, yet he still kept a fair amount of composure (or at least enough not to blurt out his deepest darkest secret). Percy had to give him credit.
"Fine. I guess I just think he's really awe-inspiring, you know?" Percy tried. Maybe flattery would get him somewhere.
"Do you really?" Oliver posed the question with skepticism, but Percy could sense something else there. He was seeking approval. Flattery was the way to go after all.
"Yes," Percy affirmed. "I think he's very admirable. Having powers is one thing, but it takes courage to use them for what he does."
"You wouldn't do the same?" Oliver frowned.
Percy looked him in the eye as he easily admitted, "No." Oliver had no idea how truthful he was being.
Oliver blinked. "Oh?"
"Would you?" Percy pressed, schooling his face to hide the smirk that threatened to appear.
"Absolutely!" Oliver replied immediately before clearing his throat. Too eager.
"That does sound like something you would do," Percy nodded. "Exactly like you, actually."
Oliver laughed nervously, wringing his hands slightly.
Percy watched him closely. There was that guilt again. Allowing himself to probe slightly into Oliver's thoughts, Percy heard something loudly echoing around. Tell him.
(As we already know,) Oliver didn't end up telling him, but that was okay. That was confirmation enough for Percy.
Percy was only 13 when he figured out that Oliver loved him. He loved Oliver too. He was 16 when he figured out that somewhere along the way, Oliver had fallen in love with him. He'd say it was anticlimactic, but it was really the exact opposite.
Since Percy had found out for sure that Oliver was the Keeper, Oliver's guilt had grown significantly. One peak into his mind when they were together, and all Percy heard was Tell him.
Percy felt bad. He'd bet if he could look into his own mind, it would be chanting Tell him that you know, because it almost physically pained him how much Oliver stressed over informing him of something that he already knew. But if Oliver found out that he'd known all along, then that would open up an entirely new can of worms.
Oliver's secret pressed on Percy's brain like a rapidly growing tumor, and it became harder and harder to be around him without feeling what he felt. Percy never wanted to feel that way, and he never wanted Oliver to feel that way either. He needed him happy again.
With classes, Oliver's football matches and practices, and Oliver's secret superhero shenanigans, Percy had to move mountains to convince him to hang out, and even more to find time, but he persevered.
"Why?" Oliver had asked Percy one day. Percy had insisted for the third time that week that they hang out after school. "I mean, I'm not complaining, but..."
He was complaining. Percy understood Oliver was a busy boy, but that kind of hurt his feelings. "Something's off with you," he explained. "This will help."
"Nothing is wrong with me!" Oliver protested with a frown.
"Nothing is wrong with you," Percy agreed, appeasing Oliver's offense. "But you look... sadder. I want to help."
That wasn't the most eloquent way to describe his agenda, and from the face Oliver had made after the explanation, he wasn't exactly impressed. But Percy didn't have to time to go on about how the light in Oliver's eyes was dimming and how he'd become a nerve-wracked shell of who he used to be. Oliver wouldn't like that, anyway.
In some ways, Percy's plan had worked. Oliver was smiling more. He looked less tired all the time, less stressed, and he genuinely felt like spending time with Percy was a safe haven—somewhere he could go to actually enjoy being a sixteen year old boy. Percy could comprehend some stray positive thoughts that spilt from Oliver's brain.
But the guilt... the guilt was ubiquitous and becoming even more pressing. Literally. It was present in every smile Oliver gave him, every conversation they had together, and lingered like a shadow in Oliver's mind whenever they were together. That wasn't unusual, actually, but Percy was feeling it more. If he hadn't had such a grasp on his powers at this point, he could swear it was his own guilt. But it was Oliver's, and it wasn't going anywhere.
He supposed that it might've been harder for Oliver and that the plan was backfiring. The more time they spent together, the longer Oliver had to keep his two lives separate in front of him. It was a double-edged sword that Percy couldn't work around, but he was in too deep. If they stopped hanging out as much now, Oliver would think something was wrong.
So the pattern continued. More time spent together, more pushing from Oliver's intensifying emotions. It got so bad that Percy had taken to carrying around aspirin when he was around Oliver.
Then, one day, it all came crashing down.
They were hanging out at the football field after Oliver's practice, something they did often on their attempts to spend time together outside of school. It was the most convenient for Oliver, giving him an excuse to make his leave before dusk and go do his duties for civilians. Percy was just happy to be there.
Oliver jokingly called their rendezvous, dates, something that Percy didn't know how he felt about. He may or may not like it, but it was mostly something he found humor in.
"That looked like a nice practice," Percy complimented once he'd made his way to where Oliver had waited up. They typically sat inside of the goal, and today was no different.
Oliver had forgotten his gloves and had opted to go barehanded rather than borrowing someone else's. Percy thought it was ridiculous, but dutifully gave Oliver a towel to wipe his hands once he'd seen how muddy they were. It was usually kept on hand for Oliver's sweat, but it was Oliver's problem that he'd have to sacrifice a dry face and neck for clean hands.
He tried not to be offended when Oliver had snatched it from him without a word. Even before he'd started the trek over, he could tell that Oliver was greatly agitated by something. Time to be the Oliver whispered... again.
"Of course you'd think so," Oliver muttered as he aggressively wiped his hands off.
Percy sighed. Oliver wanted him to be mad with him, and that wasn't going to happen, even if Percy could feel his emotions like they were his own. With tired acceptance, he asked, "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you don't give a rat's arse about football! You'd tell Cormac McLaggen that he had a good practice if he so much as touched a single attempt," Oliver snapped, throwing down the towel. Apparently, he'd given up on clean hands.
Percy merely raised an eyebrow. "That bad?"
Oliver sighed, running a hand over his face. Just like that, all the anger had left his body, replaced with remorse. "Sorry," he apologized, just like Percy knew he would. Being Oliver's friend required him to develop the patience of a saint.
"Well, you didn't have your gloves," Percy pointed out in an attempt to console him. He truly had nothing insightful to offer Oliver, because he really didn't give a rat's arse about football. He could only say what he thought Oliver wanted him to say, and he wasn't trying to dive in the uncontrollable wave pool that was Oliver's mind, just to make him feel better about a bad practice.
Oliver scoffed before licking his lips, chapped from the overexposure to air. "That doesn't mean anything to me. I just played bad."
Percy took the time to settle into his spot beside Oliver while Oliver took the time to mull things over. The ground was muddy, and he wanted to minimize the mess it would make on his pants, so he grabbed Oliver's discarded towel and placed it where he intended to sit. Oliver looked at him expectantly all the while
When he'd finally stopped shifting around, Percy tucked his knees to his chest and just sat there, staring forward. He waited. Beside him, Oliver grew restless after a minute of silence.
"What, did you want me to say something?" Percy finally asked, giving Oliver a teasing smile.
Oliver tutted, irritated at his antics, but he couldn't resist smiling a little. "Whatever, Percy."
Confident that Oliver's sour mood had subsided enough for him to be receptive to words of encouragement, Percy leaned into him slightly, relying on Oliver to keep them upright once both of their bodies rocked in the opposite direction. "Don't be so hard on yourself. A bad day for you is a hell of a day for everybody else around here. Just... relax a little bit."
"Easier said than done," Oliver replied, a wan smile on his face. "There's just a lot on my plate right now."
"Oh!" Percy exclaimed, rummaging through the messenger bag he'd brought with him. It was productive to do work while he waited. A few seconds passed before his hand reemerged with two plastic bags, each containing a sandwich. Handing one to Oliver, he said, "I forgot I brought you this. Sorry it's a little flat... books and all."
Oliver accepted it with a grateful smile on his face. "Thanks, Percy. That was very nice of you." As if on cue, his stomach started growling, causing both of them to laugh a little.
"Anytime, and I mean it," Percy responded earnestly. "Anyway, I know you've got a lot on your plate, Oliver, but you still need to take care of yourself. Everything might work out for you sometimes, but that won't always be the case, hence today."
"Yes, I know that, mother," Oliver said jokingly as he waved him off. "But, isn't it crazy how there are only 24 hours in a day? So much to do with school and practice and..." Playing hero was left unsaid, but it was present in both of their minds. "How will I find time to eat or sleep or whatever constitutes 'taking care of myself?'"
"Um..." Percy didn't have all the answers, nor did he have the ability to make a time table for Oliver that accounted for all of his necessary activities. All he could do was assure him, "You can make it work. I'm always here to help, too."
"...Thank you," Oliver choked out after thickly swallowing down his previous bite of sandwich. He didn't know why, but he felt like crying. Whether it was all the stress and frustration begging to be released, or the fact that he had a best friend who he could talk to about all things except for one, having this specific conversation with this specific person was overwhelming him. He couldn't cry, because not even himself would know why he was doing so, but the wetness in his eyes was pooling pretty fast. Maybe a tear or two...
Oliver felt Percy's hand take his, and watched motionlessly as he interlaced their fingers. The grasp was warm and comforting. Percy was good at that. "Oliver?"
Shaking his head, Oliver let the fifth and sixth tears slip down his face before collecting himself. He took a shuddering breath and then a bite of his sandwich. "I'm good," he managed to communicate through the half-chewed food in his mouth.
Percy said nothing. He didn't let go, but rather squeezed Oliver's hand tighter. The flurry of Oliver's emotions pressed against his brain like a strong flood on a dam. Whatever Oliver was feeling, he was feeling it strongly, and Percy's walls could barely withstand it. If anything, the comforting grasp was for both of them.
Mechanically chewing his sandwich, Oliver tried to ground himself in the moment rather than worrying about everything else he had going on. Right now, he was sitting on the turf inside the goalie box, his second home. There was bread—wheat—stuck to the roof of his mouth that his tongue felt too heavy to reach up and get. Leaned up against him with a reassuring warmth was Percy. Sweet, sweet Percy who knew just what to do, when to listen, and when to just be there. He brought him sandwiches and sat on muddy fields for him, for fuck's sake. Percy was Oliver's rock. He didn't know what he'd do without him.
I couldn't do anything without him.
Oliver suddenly stopped chewing his food with a sharp intake of breath. Staring at the ground in front of him, dread pooled in his stomach, and he wanted to spit out the overly-salivated bite of sandwich. He really couldn't do anything without Percy. Percy was like an oasis after hundreds of miles of pure desert—Oliver craved him, needed him, even. He meant the world and more.
"Oliver?" Percy called for the second time that evening.
This time, Oliver couldn't even bring himself to muster up a response. Blinking rapidly, the realization hit him like a train: He didn't just appreciate Percy's company, he loved it. He loved Percy. He was in love with Percy.
At the same time he thought that, a dull ache quickly turned into a sharp pain as all of Oliver's thoughts came crashing into Percy's mind like a tidal wave. It was a loud cacophony, super loud, and the absolutely head-splitting migraine Percy got was almost insignificant in the absolutely chaos of having another person's entire brain being processed by his.
In real time, Oliver watched with concern as Percy suddenly keeled over in pain, clutching his head in his hands with a loud groan. This time, it was his turn to call with a worried voice, "Percy?"
"Aspirin—my bag. Please. Now," Percy bit out, clenching his teeth together with his eyes tightly squeezed shut. His hands went from cradling his head to digging his palms into his eyes.
As Oliver fell over himself to get to Percy's bag and find the pill bottle, Percy focused on shoving Oliver's thoughts out of his head. It was weird; Even when he tried his hardest, he could only filter out most of Oliver's consciousness. In the crevices of his brain, Oliver's most prominent ideas lingered, bouncing off of the back of his brain. Two things: aspirin and I'm in love with him.
Oliver pulled his attention from the bag with the white bottle clutched in his hand, just in time to see Percy sprawl out on the wet grass. He'd fainted.
Only when Percy woke up in his bed hours later, stripped out of his wet clothes and down to his underwear, did his head stop hearting. As expected, Oliver was nowhere to be found.
Unexpectedly, however, Percy registered a sense of worry that was not his own, niggling at the back of his mind. It didn't take him long to determine that it was undeniably Oliver that was in his brain. But why?
Percy tried to recall the minutes before he'd fainted. Oliver complaining, Oliver gets his sandwich and isn't as vocal but is still complaining and cries (?), a little comfort offered here and there, Oliver completely shuts out for the second time, and then the headache starts.
In the darkness of his bedroom, Percy rolled over to face the dimly-illuminating window. He had some thinking to do.
After two hours of thinking, littered with two bathroom breaks, a kitchen raid, and an attempt to go to sleep, Percy finally figured out what had happened. It only took him so long because he was counting out some ridiculous explanations, when they were the right ones the whole time.
The fact of the matter: Oliver was in love with him. While his guilt and happiness were both heightened nowadays, Percy only felt it so much because it was actually their bond deepening beyond what he imagined to be possible. He felt stupid for not recognizing it for what it was, but at the same time, nobody had ever felt for him the way Oliver did. This was very foreign.
Accidentally finding out that his best friend was in love with him on a random Tuesday... to say Percy was confused would be an understatement.