FIC: Little did I know (HP, Percy/Oliver, PG-13)
Well, what do you know?! It only took a decade for me to get back into writing fic again!
Time flies and things have changed a lot. Been perusing more into rare pairings these days, so you'll see more of that in my writing and art. Don't worry though! Harry/Draco will always have my heart, since I'll still be investing time to make art for them. Maybe one of these days I'll eventually write them again.
Anyway, here's something that I've been mulling over for quite some time (let's just say a good year) as part of a
rarepair_shorts challenge. I'm hoping to turn this into a complete series, based on this prompt table.
Title: Little did I know
Author:
sugareey
Pairing: Percy/Oliver
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,494
Summary: Right after the Battle of Hogwarts, Percy and Oliver find their way back to each other again.
Also can be read on AO3.
When the battle ended, he didn't know where to go or where to turn.
Even with the morning sunlight shining into the Great Hall, everything was a wreck. At least half of the room was destroyed, and one of the doorways was collapsing in. The air was thick with a smoky haze, and the smell of ash and blood. Debris and shattered glass littered the cobblestone floor.
He never imagined Hogwarts becoming a war zone. But now it was.
Percy glanced over at the farthest end of the room, where he spotted a familiar group of redheads gathered close together.
He should go over there. He knew he should join them. His family hadn’t turned him away when he had stood beside them earlier on. But they had all been in a state of fear and shock. There hadn’t been much time to talk, not when people were injured, missing or dead.
Percy bit his lip and swallowed hard.
If he went over them now, he didn’t know how well things would go over. While he shared the same surname, trademark hair and freckles with his family, Percy never felt like a true Weasley.
When things mattered most, he had always sided with the Ministry.
Percy had said some awful things to his parents before leaving the Burrow, things that now made him cringe with guilt, regret and shame. He had treated his siblings poorly, always pushing them away or scolding them. After all these years, he knew he could (and should) have done better as a brother and a son.
This time, he failed them again for not acting fast enough and doing more to save Fred. Nothing he could do would ever bring his baby brother back.
That was why Percy didn’t belong with his family.
But he also didn’t belong anywhere else.
There had only been three options to choose from: fight, hide, or stay with the Ministry.
The last option turned out to be a huge mistake, and when the Death Eaters had taken over, Percy pursued an unconventional fourth option. It was dangerous, unpredictable and one small error could have cost him his life and possibly others.
It had been why he continued going to work every day, keeping his head down and doing what he was asked. He quickly became proficient in deception and manipulation, doing whatever it took to collect vital information. And during late evenings, Percy dedicated his time copying and translating words into code, accepting and responding to messages from a silver lynx or goat, or making discreet visits to the Hog’s Head.
Of course, these were things people didn’t know. At least, not yet.
Because if anyone found out what he did during the war, they still might call him a monster. For sitting at his desk while people were being kidnapped, tortured or killed. For appeasing his superiors and letting them carry out their corrupt schemes.
Percy sighed heavily, taking off his cracked, scuffed-up glasses. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.
He was so tired.
He was tired of trying to meet expectations, knowing his efforts weren’t good enough. He was tired of being ridiculed and criticised because he took it better than most people could. He was tired of cleaning up the mess whenever something went wrong or someone screwed up.
If Percy was honest, he was tired of being alone.
He didn’t know how long he could keep doing this, living an empty shell of a life without a purpose.
“Percy!” a faint voice broke through his thoughts.
Percy opened his eyes and frowned. Who would be looking for him? There wasn’t anyone who wanted to seek him out willingly, and he wasn’t going to be too hopeful. He must be hearing things. It was difficult to tell with all the noise echoing in the Great Hall.
“Percy Weasley!” the voice called out again, much louder and clearer this time.
No, that voice was definitely real. It sounded familiar, laced with a thick accent and genuine concern. That couldn’t be for him, could it?
When Percy dared to look up, he saw a tall, blurry figure heading towards his direction. Taking in the outline of the strong build and broad shoulders, his breath hitched.
He knew exactly who this was. He just never thought this particular person ever wanted to see him again.
Percy quickly pushed his glasses back on, and suddenly, Oliver Wood came into focus.
Oliver looked worse for wear. He was bloody and dirty in his torn shirt and denims. His dark hair was shaggier than Percy had ever seen it, singed and curling at the ends. His face looked thinner and more scarred with a long cut across the bridge of his nose. A few more cuts and bruises trailed along his jawline down to his neck and collarbone.
What caught Percy off guard was how different this man carried himself from the one he remembered. Gone was the smooth confidence, and in its place was an unfamiliar hollowness.
That was to be expected. They had just survived a war. People changed.
And Percy hadn’t seen Oliver for a year.
One year ago, he lost the best thing that happened to him. One year ago, he let the last person he trusted walk out of his life.
Percy didn’t realise he was shaking until gentle hands settled down on his shoulders.
“Easy there,” he heard Oliver reassure him. “C’mon, deep breaths. That’s it.”
Breathing, right. In and out. One, two, three, four.
They had done this together so many times. Percy tried focusing on Oliver’s steady counts, inhaling and exhaling until the tightness in his chest loosened up.
But then, he found sweet brown eyes looking back at him with such compassion and care. Percy’s heart constricted painfully. He didn’t deserve any of that, least of all from Oliver.
“Percy?” Oliver said his name, as if asking for permission.
Percy averted his gaze to the cobblestones, clenching his fists as his panic bubbled up again. This second rush that passed through him was different, almost heavy and overwhelming like a tidal wave. His throat tightened and his eyes stung with tears that were waiting to fall.
“Oliver,” Percy choked out, his voice breaking.
That was all it took for Oliver to throw his arms around Percy and pull him into a tight hug.
It was as if a dam broke. Everything Percy had kept bottled up inside for so long suddenly spilled out. He clung onto Oliver like a lifeline, pressing his face against Oliver’s neck as his sobs took over his body.
He couldn’t recall the last time he had allowed himself to let go and just be.
Percy had always been conditioned to be tenacious and vigilant, and to keep going even through the most difficult times. For years, he played this part well. But there was only so much he could take. Eventually, people reached a breaking point. This was his.
A warm hand rubbed his back, and for once, he gave in to something he needed.
Percy grieved. He grieved over Fred, the missing years with his family, all the people he could have helped but didn’t, and his falling-outs with Penny and other friends and classmates. Most of all, he mourned over losing Oliver.
It wasn’t until Percy felt a different kind of shaking against him that he realised Oliver was crying too.
“You’re here,” Oliver whispered tearfully. He kept running his fingers through Percy’s unruly curls. “You’re alive and safe. Merlin, I thought I’d n-never see you again! Oh, Perce…”
Percy held Oliver tighter as he cried harder. He hated knowing he had caused Oliver’s anguish. All he wanted to do was to make everything better, but he didn’t know how.
What was he supposed to say? That he missed Oliver? That he didn't want to go another day without him? That he loved him? He would be lucky if Oliver gave him another chance to pick up from where they left off.
“I’m s-sorry, Ollie,” was what Percy ended up saying instead, truly meaning it.
Oliver pulled away and wiped his eyes. He shook his head sadly. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have left like I did.”
“You had every r-right,” Percy insisted, his voice still wavering. “I was a mindless, stubborn idiot, as you put it. I should have listened to everyone when I had the chance.”
“It was my fault I started that row with you. With all the rumours spreading about magical fires, murders, and missing people, I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified and angry at the time, and I-snapped.”
“I wasn’t any better.”
“I had no excuse for losing my temper though,” Oliver continued miserably. “I said some terrible things, and I’m sorry for all of that, I really am. I get why you didn’t reply back when I sent an apology. I wouldn’t have either if someone had insulted me so callously.”
Oliver was almost spot-on with that assumption. The sharp words Oliver spat out when Percy had tried to explain why he couldn't leave the Ministry had cut like a knife. But Percy had been just as vicious. While he could have easily repaired their friendship, he chose not to because it wasn’t that simple.
Percy sighed with regret. “That’s not why I didn’t owl you back.”
Oliver raised his eyebrows. “No?”
“We would have eventually gone our separate ways. ”
“During a war?”
Percy hesitated, selecting his next words carefully. “With everyone being monitored, staying together would have contributed to accessible targets for the enemy. It wouldn’t have been safe.”
As soon as he stopped talking, Percy knew something clicked in place.
Oliver straightened up as he stared at Percy with wide eyes. “You stayed away on purpose. To protect your family and friends. Me.”
Percy nervously waited, neither confirming nor denying the claim. When Oliver didn’t elaborate though, his heart sank. Perhaps he had misinterpreted his friend’s face as one of understanding.
Just as he started turning away, Oliver caught him by the wrist at the last second. Percy’s pulse jumped as rough fingers brushed and then pressed against his skin. Percy forced himself to turn back and meet Oliver’s steady gaze.
“You weren’t working for the Ministry, were you?” Oliver asked quietly.
“That’s not what I said.”
“You didn’t need to. Things are starting to make sense. Like with my family...”
Percy stiffened. “Are they-?”
“No, they’re fine. They’re in hiding,” Oliver clarified hurriedly. “Mum and Da are with Nan and Pa in a cabin up in Sweden, the last I heard.”
“And your sister and her husband?”
“Tarynn’s with Dom and his folks in Spain. Luckily, everyone made it to some of the safe houses before leaving the UK.”
Percy let his shoulders sag with relief. “That’s promising.”
Oliver gave Percy an intent look, tugging his wrist lightly before releasing it. “Would you happen to know anything about that?”
“What makes you think I would?”
“I got a Patronus about the battle. Yours,” Oliver added. “No one else I know has a crow.”
Percy felt his face grow warm. He glanced around, making sure they were out of earshot, and faced Oliver again. “A message needed to be passed on to a trustworthy resource.”
Oliver’s expression darkened at the vague explanation. “Perce, you can make your Patronus talk.”
“There are others who possess that capability as well.”
“True. Some people can do that, but only if they’re in direct contact with an Order member.”
And there it was: a missing truth only a few would ever guess. Percy’s stomach twisted as he tried to come up with what to say. Even after everything, Oliver still knew him so well.
Oliver had always been perceptive and strategic; he knew exactly how to solve complex puzzles and apply that newfound knowledge to Quidditch plays. It seemed those skills had also become useful for the war effort, and apparently, to uncover Percy’s true loyalties.
“I knew what I was getting into,” Percy admitted, looking away when he saw Oliver’s stricken face.
“How long?” Oliver demanded in a low, uneasy voice.
“Summer of last year, right before the war started.”
“Fuck! This whole bloody time, you were-”
“I passed along what I could. You had your orders to follow, and I had mine.”
The next thing Percy knew, he was being crushed into another tight embrace.
Oliver held him so close that their bodies were flush against each other. The intimacy made Percy wonder if he was dreaming. If he was, all he could do was melt in Oliver’s arms as he wrapped his own around Oliver’s waist.
It was only when Percy felt Oliver’s racing heartbeat that something hot and fiery ignited inside of him. That energy only grew as Oliver kissed Percy’s temple before nuzzling his nose against his cheek.
When they moved back to look at each other, Percy drew in a sharp breath. The fond expression Oliver directed his way sent sparks down Percy’s spine. Oliver brushed a copper curl away from Percy’s face, tucking it behind his ear. His intense eyes gave Percy a once-over before they flicked back to his mouth.
That was when Percy knew what he needed to do. Without another thought, he leaned in to press their lips together.
Kissing Oliver wasn’t new. They had once shared eager kisses in this very castle and a few occasional snogs whenever their busy schedules aligned.
But none of them compared to this kiss, which was raw and passionate yet tasted like remorse and sorrow. It offered apologies for the heartbreak from being apart and a promise for a bright future if they forever stood side by side.
Percy reluctantly pulled away, but Oliver wasn’t finished yet. Oliver slid a hand to the back of Percy’s neck, and he surged forward for another deep kiss and then one more for good measure.
“We should talk,” Percy said breathlessly when they finally broke apart.
“We will. I just...we haven’t done this in a while,” Oliver murmured, resting his forehead against Percy’s.
“We agreed to focus on other priorities.”
“I know. But I missed you.”
Percy blinked, his heart in his throat. “You did?”
Oliver gave him a half-smile. “Aye. Took three years of playing away games and a damn war for me to realise how much.”
“Why would you miss me?”
“Because I already lost you once, Perce. I’m not losing you again, not for anything.”
The weight of those words settled between them like a pile of tomes. Percy desperately wanted those words to be true. Considering how honest and hopeful Oliver’s face looked, he somehow knew they were.
“I’m here, Ollie,” Percy promised, reaching for one of Oliver’s hands and interlacing their fingers together. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.”
Oliver broke into a broad grin as he squeezed Percy’s hand.
Time flies and things have changed a lot. Been perusing more into rare pairings these days, so you'll see more of that in my writing and art. Don't worry though! Harry/Draco will always have my heart, since I'll still be investing time to make art for them. Maybe one of these days I'll eventually write them again.
Anyway, here's something that I've been mulling over for quite some time (let's just say a good year) as part of a
rarepair_shorts challenge. I'm hoping to turn this into a complete series, based on this prompt table.
Title: Little did I know
Author:
sugareey
Pairing: Percy/Oliver
Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2,494
Summary: Right after the Battle of Hogwarts, Percy and Oliver find their way back to each other again.
Also can be read on AO3.
When the battle ended, he didn't know where to go or where to turn.
Even with the morning sunlight shining into the Great Hall, everything was a wreck. At least half of the room was destroyed, and one of the doorways was collapsing in. The air was thick with a smoky haze, and the smell of ash and blood. Debris and shattered glass littered the cobblestone floor.
He never imagined Hogwarts becoming a war zone. But now it was.
Percy glanced over at the farthest end of the room, where he spotted a familiar group of redheads gathered close together.
He should go over there. He knew he should join them. His family hadn’t turned him away when he had stood beside them earlier on. But they had all been in a state of fear and shock. There hadn’t been much time to talk, not when people were injured, missing or dead.
Percy bit his lip and swallowed hard.
If he went over them now, he didn’t know how well things would go over. While he shared the same surname, trademark hair and freckles with his family, Percy never felt like a true Weasley.
When things mattered most, he had always sided with the Ministry.
Percy had said some awful things to his parents before leaving the Burrow, things that now made him cringe with guilt, regret and shame. He had treated his siblings poorly, always pushing them away or scolding them. After all these years, he knew he could (and should) have done better as a brother and a son.
This time, he failed them again for not acting fast enough and doing more to save Fred. Nothing he could do would ever bring his baby brother back.
That was why Percy didn’t belong with his family.
But he also didn’t belong anywhere else.
There had only been three options to choose from: fight, hide, or stay with the Ministry.
The last option turned out to be a huge mistake, and when the Death Eaters had taken over, Percy pursued an unconventional fourth option. It was dangerous, unpredictable and one small error could have cost him his life and possibly others.
It had been why he continued going to work every day, keeping his head down and doing what he was asked. He quickly became proficient in deception and manipulation, doing whatever it took to collect vital information. And during late evenings, Percy dedicated his time copying and translating words into code, accepting and responding to messages from a silver lynx or goat, or making discreet visits to the Hog’s Head.
Of course, these were things people didn’t know. At least, not yet.
Because if anyone found out what he did during the war, they still might call him a monster. For sitting at his desk while people were being kidnapped, tortured or killed. For appeasing his superiors and letting them carry out their corrupt schemes.
Percy sighed heavily, taking off his cracked, scuffed-up glasses. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.
He was so tired.
He was tired of trying to meet expectations, knowing his efforts weren’t good enough. He was tired of being ridiculed and criticised because he took it better than most people could. He was tired of cleaning up the mess whenever something went wrong or someone screwed up.
If Percy was honest, he was tired of being alone.
He didn’t know how long he could keep doing this, living an empty shell of a life without a purpose.
“Percy!” a faint voice broke through his thoughts.
Percy opened his eyes and frowned. Who would be looking for him? There wasn’t anyone who wanted to seek him out willingly, and he wasn’t going to be too hopeful. He must be hearing things. It was difficult to tell with all the noise echoing in the Great Hall.
“Percy Weasley!” the voice called out again, much louder and clearer this time.
No, that voice was definitely real. It sounded familiar, laced with a thick accent and genuine concern. That couldn’t be for him, could it?
When Percy dared to look up, he saw a tall, blurry figure heading towards his direction. Taking in the outline of the strong build and broad shoulders, his breath hitched.
He knew exactly who this was. He just never thought this particular person ever wanted to see him again.
Percy quickly pushed his glasses back on, and suddenly, Oliver Wood came into focus.
Oliver looked worse for wear. He was bloody and dirty in his torn shirt and denims. His dark hair was shaggier than Percy had ever seen it, singed and curling at the ends. His face looked thinner and more scarred with a long cut across the bridge of his nose. A few more cuts and bruises trailed along his jawline down to his neck and collarbone.
What caught Percy off guard was how different this man carried himself from the one he remembered. Gone was the smooth confidence, and in its place was an unfamiliar hollowness.
That was to be expected. They had just survived a war. People changed.
And Percy hadn’t seen Oliver for a year.
One year ago, he lost the best thing that happened to him. One year ago, he let the last person he trusted walk out of his life.
Percy didn’t realise he was shaking until gentle hands settled down on his shoulders.
“Easy there,” he heard Oliver reassure him. “C’mon, deep breaths. That’s it.”
Breathing, right. In and out. One, two, three, four.
They had done this together so many times. Percy tried focusing on Oliver’s steady counts, inhaling and exhaling until the tightness in his chest loosened up.
But then, he found sweet brown eyes looking back at him with such compassion and care. Percy’s heart constricted painfully. He didn’t deserve any of that, least of all from Oliver.
“Percy?” Oliver said his name, as if asking for permission.
Percy averted his gaze to the cobblestones, clenching his fists as his panic bubbled up again. This second rush that passed through him was different, almost heavy and overwhelming like a tidal wave. His throat tightened and his eyes stung with tears that were waiting to fall.
“Oliver,” Percy choked out, his voice breaking.
That was all it took for Oliver to throw his arms around Percy and pull him into a tight hug.
It was as if a dam broke. Everything Percy had kept bottled up inside for so long suddenly spilled out. He clung onto Oliver like a lifeline, pressing his face against Oliver’s neck as his sobs took over his body.
He couldn’t recall the last time he had allowed himself to let go and just be.
Percy had always been conditioned to be tenacious and vigilant, and to keep going even through the most difficult times. For years, he played this part well. But there was only so much he could take. Eventually, people reached a breaking point. This was his.
A warm hand rubbed his back, and for once, he gave in to something he needed.
Percy grieved. He grieved over Fred, the missing years with his family, all the people he could have helped but didn’t, and his falling-outs with Penny and other friends and classmates. Most of all, he mourned over losing Oliver.
It wasn’t until Percy felt a different kind of shaking against him that he realised Oliver was crying too.
“You’re here,” Oliver whispered tearfully. He kept running his fingers through Percy’s unruly curls. “You’re alive and safe. Merlin, I thought I’d n-never see you again! Oh, Perce…”
Percy held Oliver tighter as he cried harder. He hated knowing he had caused Oliver’s anguish. All he wanted to do was to make everything better, but he didn’t know how.
What was he supposed to say? That he missed Oliver? That he didn't want to go another day without him? That he loved him? He would be lucky if Oliver gave him another chance to pick up from where they left off.
“I’m s-sorry, Ollie,” was what Percy ended up saying instead, truly meaning it.
Oliver pulled away and wiped his eyes. He shook his head sadly. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have left like I did.”
“You had every r-right,” Percy insisted, his voice still wavering. “I was a mindless, stubborn idiot, as you put it. I should have listened to everyone when I had the chance.”
“It was my fault I started that row with you. With all the rumours spreading about magical fires, murders, and missing people, I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified and angry at the time, and I-snapped.”
“I wasn’t any better.”
“I had no excuse for losing my temper though,” Oliver continued miserably. “I said some terrible things, and I’m sorry for all of that, I really am. I get why you didn’t reply back when I sent an apology. I wouldn’t have either if someone had insulted me so callously.”
Oliver was almost spot-on with that assumption. The sharp words Oliver spat out when Percy had tried to explain why he couldn't leave the Ministry had cut like a knife. But Percy had been just as vicious. While he could have easily repaired their friendship, he chose not to because it wasn’t that simple.
Percy sighed with regret. “That’s not why I didn’t owl you back.”
Oliver raised his eyebrows. “No?”
“We would have eventually gone our separate ways. ”
“During a war?”
Percy hesitated, selecting his next words carefully. “With everyone being monitored, staying together would have contributed to accessible targets for the enemy. It wouldn’t have been safe.”
As soon as he stopped talking, Percy knew something clicked in place.
Oliver straightened up as he stared at Percy with wide eyes. “You stayed away on purpose. To protect your family and friends. Me.”
Percy nervously waited, neither confirming nor denying the claim. When Oliver didn’t elaborate though, his heart sank. Perhaps he had misinterpreted his friend’s face as one of understanding.
Just as he started turning away, Oliver caught him by the wrist at the last second. Percy’s pulse jumped as rough fingers brushed and then pressed against his skin. Percy forced himself to turn back and meet Oliver’s steady gaze.
“You weren’t working for the Ministry, were you?” Oliver asked quietly.
“That’s not what I said.”
“You didn’t need to. Things are starting to make sense. Like with my family...”
Percy stiffened. “Are they-?”
“No, they’re fine. They’re in hiding,” Oliver clarified hurriedly. “Mum and Da are with Nan and Pa in a cabin up in Sweden, the last I heard.”
“And your sister and her husband?”
“Tarynn’s with Dom and his folks in Spain. Luckily, everyone made it to some of the safe houses before leaving the UK.”
Percy let his shoulders sag with relief. “That’s promising.”
Oliver gave Percy an intent look, tugging his wrist lightly before releasing it. “Would you happen to know anything about that?”
“What makes you think I would?”
“I got a Patronus about the battle. Yours,” Oliver added. “No one else I know has a crow.”
Percy felt his face grow warm. He glanced around, making sure they were out of earshot, and faced Oliver again. “A message needed to be passed on to a trustworthy resource.”
Oliver’s expression darkened at the vague explanation. “Perce, you can make your Patronus talk.”
“There are others who possess that capability as well.”
“True. Some people can do that, but only if they’re in direct contact with an Order member.”
And there it was: a missing truth only a few would ever guess. Percy’s stomach twisted as he tried to come up with what to say. Even after everything, Oliver still knew him so well.
Oliver had always been perceptive and strategic; he knew exactly how to solve complex puzzles and apply that newfound knowledge to Quidditch plays. It seemed those skills had also become useful for the war effort, and apparently, to uncover Percy’s true loyalties.
“I knew what I was getting into,” Percy admitted, looking away when he saw Oliver’s stricken face.
“How long?” Oliver demanded in a low, uneasy voice.
“Summer of last year, right before the war started.”
“Fuck! This whole bloody time, you were-”
“I passed along what I could. You had your orders to follow, and I had mine.”
The next thing Percy knew, he was being crushed into another tight embrace.
Oliver held him so close that their bodies were flush against each other. The intimacy made Percy wonder if he was dreaming. If he was, all he could do was melt in Oliver’s arms as he wrapped his own around Oliver’s waist.
It was only when Percy felt Oliver’s racing heartbeat that something hot and fiery ignited inside of him. That energy only grew as Oliver kissed Percy’s temple before nuzzling his nose against his cheek.
When they moved back to look at each other, Percy drew in a sharp breath. The fond expression Oliver directed his way sent sparks down Percy’s spine. Oliver brushed a copper curl away from Percy’s face, tucking it behind his ear. His intense eyes gave Percy a once-over before they flicked back to his mouth.
That was when Percy knew what he needed to do. Without another thought, he leaned in to press their lips together.
Kissing Oliver wasn’t new. They had once shared eager kisses in this very castle and a few occasional snogs whenever their busy schedules aligned.
But none of them compared to this kiss, which was raw and passionate yet tasted like remorse and sorrow. It offered apologies for the heartbreak from being apart and a promise for a bright future if they forever stood side by side.
Percy reluctantly pulled away, but Oliver wasn’t finished yet. Oliver slid a hand to the back of Percy’s neck, and he surged forward for another deep kiss and then one more for good measure.
“We should talk,” Percy said breathlessly when they finally broke apart.
“We will. I just...we haven’t done this in a while,” Oliver murmured, resting his forehead against Percy’s.
“We agreed to focus on other priorities.”
“I know. But I missed you.”
Percy blinked, his heart in his throat. “You did?”
Oliver gave him a half-smile. “Aye. Took three years of playing away games and a damn war for me to realise how much.”
“Why would you miss me?”
“Because I already lost you once, Perce. I’m not losing you again, not for anything.”
The weight of those words settled between them like a pile of tomes. Percy desperately wanted those words to be true. Considering how honest and hopeful Oliver’s face looked, he somehow knew they were.
“I’m here, Ollie,” Percy promised, reaching for one of Oliver’s hands and interlacing their fingers together. “I’ll stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.”
Oliver broke into a broad grin as he squeezed Percy’s hand.