Chapter Text
Peter was only five years old, but he had already lost so much to him. He had lost both his parents to a plane crash and was now moving in with his aunt May and uncle Ben.
The days following his parents' death were very hard. There were days he didn’t eat much, and over the four days after, he had barely spoken.
The therapist he had seen had told May and Ben it was too early to truly tell, but if it lasted longer than a month, go to a child psychologist.
The funeral had been the day prior, Peter stood at the caskets, closed because the bodies of his parents were to bad to be seen (not that Peter knew that, he was after all, still to young).
May and Ben was worried for him, but they didn’t know how to help him, they tried what they could, but they couldn’t.
Peter had stayed in his room the day after the funeral, a sketch book open on his desk, and he just kept sketching his parents.
They weren’t perfect, but it was the best he could do. He’d learn to draw better, he’d draw his parents better, the last thing he wanted to do was forget what his parents looked like.
—
Peter was now twelve, he was turning thirteen this summer! When he was five, after over a month of not speaking, his aunt and uncle took him to a child psychologist as suggested by his therapist.
Selective mutism, the psychologist said. He still had the ability to speak, but something in his mind was stopping him from speaking.
It was coming close to the start of August, and there were new people moving in next door! It was an older women and her son, about the same age as Peter.
Before them moving in, there was no one else around Peter’s age in the building, and now there was a boy as his neighbour!
Peter looked excitedly at Aunt May, hoping that they’d be able to meet them soon.
‘Can we go meet the new neighbours soon?’ he signed.
May laughed, “Yes we can, we’ll let them move in a bit more before we go over and introduce ourselves.”
Peter nodded, a smile on his face as he went back to his room.
Peter loved Aunt May and Uncle Ben, when they found out that he was selectively mute, they learned sign along with him, making communicating with him so much easier.
He hoped he’d find an easy way to talk with the new neighbour.
Percy was four when Gabe moved in. He hated him. He was always yelling, hitting, throwing or punching, and it all hurt so much.
Percy was five when Gabe threw something to close to him. It was a glass bottle and shattered, glass getting in his ears.
Gabe had all but killed him to keep him quiet and not tell his mom, so he didn’t.
It was fine until he started complaining about his ears hurting, and it was getting harder to hear.
They caught it to late. Ear infections that took away his ability to hear. He was now deaf.
His mom had learned to sign along with Percy, easily able to communicate, but Gabe hadn’t done a thing, instead, he made it so much worse, he still screamed at Percy, but Percy couldn’t hear. The only way he knew that Gabe was yelling at him was when glass bottle was thrown at him, something hit him, or, on the odd time Gabe got up from his armchair, a hand hard on his arm, a burn of a cigarette on his forearm, sometimes back of his hand.
Percy learned pretty quickly how to tell when Gabe was yelling at him to avoid any more pain, but that didn’t stop him, even if he did stuff right. Gabe just liked watching Percy suffer, yelling at him, making it harder to read his lips, making it harder to get what Gabe wanted, making it easier for Gabe to punish him.
Percy was twelve when his pre-algebra tried to kill him, twelve when he learned he was half-god, twelve when he arrived at a camp, trying to fit in even though he’s unable to hear what people are asking him to do, twelve when he went on a quest for a lightning bolt, twelve when he killed medusa and sent it to the Gods, twelve when he walked into the underworld to get his mother back, twelve when he returned Hades’ helm of darkness and Zeus’ thunder bolt. Twelve when, on July 4th, two weeks after he figured out he was a demigod and went on a whole quest, got betrayed by someone he thought was his friend.
He was twelve when Gabe Ungliano suddenly went missing after his wife and son returned from being kidnapped, and Sally Jackson sold her first and only stature, ‘the poker player,’ that sold for enough to get them out of the bad part of their city and move into a new apartment building in Queens.
There was another boy there, their neighbour, and he looked around Percy’s age.
Percy was hoping to have a friend outside of the mythology world. But the only problem was that Percy was tired of always having to read lips. Some people at camp already knew Sign Language, which meant that it was easier for him to talk to some of the campers, but others, it was still a whole problem. But Chiron had promised that next summer, something would be done to make it easier for Percy to talk the campers.
Percy was sitting in his new room, unpacking the boxes he had, putting his clothes in his closet, hanging some things up on his walls.
His lights flickered, his mom alerting him to her at the door.
He turned around and smiled at his mom, who was leaning against his doorway.
‘Want something’ his mom signed.
Percy thought about it for a moment.
‘What do we have?’
They still needed to go grocery shopping, they didn’t have much from their old apartment.
‘I have enough to make a small fruit tray,’ his mom offered.
Percy nodded with a small smile, going back to unpacking.
A few minutes later, a plate with some fruits were placed beside him and a kissed pressed to his head before Sally turned around and left him alone.
An hour later, he was done unpacking and was sitting in the living room, waiting for his mom to come out of her room so they can go on a grocery run.
Sally came out of her room, her brown hair pulled into a bun, just some jeans and a plain black shirt on. She also had her purse.
Percy got up and followed her out the door and into the car.