Sunburn- phoebus apollo

--ix. you drew stars around my scars

PERCY JACKSON

Percy had initially worried that Rhea would feel bored at home after spending so many summers at Camp Half-Blood. But Rhea got herself settled in surprisingly well, and Percy was really glad. The whole thing was rather domestic, actually—her toothbrush was next to his on the sink, he was back to sharing his room again and fighting for space, his hoodies were now her hoodies, and his favorite thing to do in the evenings was to curl up next to her in the living room and watch trashy horror films or cliché rom-coms (Rhea had solemnly offered to swear on the River Styx not to tell anyone about his weakness for Mamma Mia!, but Percy had graciously nixed her offer).

All in all, Percy was glad to have his twin back, and it helped to cheer both of them up. Percy had only brooded about Annabeth a total of four times in the last two days, and Rhea had only woken up still gasping from a nightmare maybe five times. It was easier to separate yourself from your problems when your twin was there to distract you.

Far too soon, however, their birthday came, and it sort of served to sour his attitude a little. Most people looked forward to their birthday, but getting older didn't seem like much to celebrate anymore since he'd gotten that big prophecy about him destroying or saving the world when he turned sixteen. Now, he was only a year away, and he was running out of time.

Still, the small party his mom threw for him and Rhea helped improve his mood a little. Tyson had arrived a little while ago and seemed to be enjoying blowing up the party balloons. Even Paul Blofis came, which seemed to delight Rhea endlessly.

"Hello, Mr. Blowfish," Rhea had greeted him politely, once she and Percy had opened the door.

"It's Blofis," he'd corrected, smiling.

"I know," she'd replied, her voice as light as air, "I call you that with affection."

Percy figured the man was probably here to stay, then, if he'd gotten Rhea's vague approval. He knew he was right when Paul called him into the kitchen to help him pour the punch.

The thing about Paul was that he reminded him of Chiron sometimes—it was the perceptive glances and the teacher aura—and although Percy wasn't that close to him, he had to admit that the man was kind of growing on him. So he didn't really mind when he called him in for this one-on-one chat, even though it could feel a little awkward sometimes.

Like this time.

"You've had a rough summer," Paul said, examining him carefully. "I'm guessing you lost someone important. And... girl trouble?"

Percy stared. They were really getting into it from the beginning. "How do you know that? Did my mom—?"

He held up his hands. "Your mom hasn't said a thing. And I won't pry. I just know there's something unusual about you and your sister. You've both got a lot going on that I can't figure. But I was also fifteen once, and I'm just guessing from your expression... Well, you've had a rough time."

Percy nodded hesitantly. He'd promised his mom he would tell Paul the truth about him, but now didn't seem the time. Not yet. But he could give him a little bit to go on, at least.

"Rhea—she, uh, she got hurt earlier this summer. Pretty badly," he said. Just thinking about that incident made something inside of him seethe. He and Apollo had nearly come to blows during the whole thing; they both had some nasty tempers when it came to her safety. "She's fine now, obviously, but we really thought for a while that she might not—"

"I'm sorry." Paul actually looked deeply concerned to hear that. But anyone who cared for Rhea's well-being automatically scored a few points in Percy's book.