Astronomy, task 2: Write about a sacrifice

Cheese Board, Riesling: Perciver

Bath Bomb, Arrowroot Powder and Honey: Percy and Oliver

Word Count: 1185

For Lizzy

"I'll be fine," Percy says with a laugh, leaning in and kissing Oliver gently. "You worry too much."

Oliver rolls his eyes, cheeks glowing with a soft warmth. "I do not worry too much," he mutters, though it's all for show. He's always hated away matches because they mean having to leave Percy behind.

"Come on. This is your chance to qualify for the Olympic football team," Percy reminds him. "You're not about to miss out just because you're fretting over whether or not I'll be here, pining away."

Oliver's lips quirk into a hint of a smile. He brushes his fingers through Percy's red curls, sighing. "I'm nervous," he admits.

This level of competition has always been his dream. Becoming part of Arsenal had been nothing compared to the day he'd been asked to try out for the Olympic team. Still, his dreams of glory are no match for the anxiety and fear that twists his insides into knots. Oliver knows he's a damn good goalkeeper, but what if he isn't good enough? What if his dreams are too big, and he fails?

Percy's thin fingers caress Oliver's cheek. "I believe in you."

Oliver grins. "My good luck charm," he chuckles. "If you believe, it has to be true."

"Break a leg."

Oliver laughs and shakes his head. "You know that's for acting, right? Not sports…"

Percy grins, shrugging. "Good luck," he says, gripping Oliver gently by the wrist and pulling him closer and kissing him.

It makes it so much harder to leave. At least he knows that staying here means enjoying his nights with Percy. They would watch cheesy romance movies–Oliver's guilty pleasure–and argue whether or not pizza or curry is the best dinner option.

Still, this is his chance. If he walks away, there's no guarantee that he'll be selected to try out for the next Olympic team. Head held high, he squeezes Percy's hand before turning. He has to do this.

…

"Mate, you've checked your mobile twenty times in the past five minutes," Cedric Diggory, his old friend from school and current roommate at the hotel, says as he sits on Oliver's bed. "Everything okay?"

Oliver bites the inside of his cheek. Maybe he's being ridiculous, but he's starting to worry. Still, if he can open up to anyone without being ridiculed for having feelings, it's Cedric.

He sighs and slumps forward, illuminating his phone's screen. "Percy hasn't messaged me back," he says.

Saying it makes him feel ridiculous. It's such a small and simple thing to most people, but it's enough to make Oliver nervous. Percy never ignores Oliver's messages unless he's working, and it's nearly midnight. Even a workaholic like Percy wouldn't be at the office this late.

"I'm sure everything is fine," Cedric says, grey eyes bright and twinkling. "He's probably enjoying having the house to himself."

Oliver smiles, but it feels so forced and flimsy. "That must be it," he says, though he doesn't believe it for a second.

With nothing else to do, he pulls the blankets over himself and lays back; Cedric offers him a reassuring nod before crossing the room to his own bed. Oliver stares at his mobile for a moment longer, praying for screen to light up. Nothing happens.

Though he can't quite push his concern out of his mind, he closes his eyes and drifts off into a restless sleep.

…

His phone rings, and Oliver is awake within a second. He bolts upright, eyes heavy as he swipes the screen to accept the call. "Hello? Perce?"

"Sorry to wake you, Wood."

George, not Percy. Oliver's stomach twists again, but it's panic, not nerves, that grips him this time. He's friends with all of Percy's siblings, but not close enough to casually call in the middle of the night.

"What's happened?" Oliver asks, his voice tight.

George exhales. "It may not be too serious. I mean, Perce kept screaming for us not to bug you. Stupid git." He laughs, the sound shaky and strained. "He was leaving the office last night when his car got slammed by a bloody drunk driver."

Oliver's heart drops to his stomach. The last remnants of tiredness is stripped away in that moment. "And no one told me?"

"Mate, you know Perce. Have you ever successfully argued with him?" George counters.

It's a fair enough point, but it does nothing to make Oliver feel better. "What hospital are you at?" he asks. "I'll catch the first flight back."

…

Fred and George greet him in front of the hospital. Oliver nods politely but doesn't stop to chat. If they want to talk to him, they can follow along.

"The doctors say it isn't… Well, it could have been much worse," George reports.

"His back is fucked," Fred adds. "He's gonna need therapy, for sure."

Oliver nods and picks up his pace. The twins keep up nicely, and George stays slightly ahead to lead the way.

"How'd your tryout go?" Fred asks when the silence becomes too much. "Will we be rooting for you during the games?"

"I didn't try out," Oliver says. "I came here."

…

Percy is asleep. Oliver sits in the chair beside his bed, watching lights pulse and change on the monitor. The steady beep, beep, beep of the machine is maddening, but Oliver endures it. He can't bring himself to leave her lover's side.

"I'm sorry, Perce," he says softly. "I should have stayed with you. Or… I dunno. Maybe I should have taken you with me. You wouldn't be in this mess now."

He knows he's being ridiculous. There's no way he could have known any of this would happen. Besides, Percy would have asked him to have his head examined if he'd suggested Percy take a few days off to follow Oliver around.

Still, the guilt sours his stomach.

Percy shifts in the bed. "Oliver?"

Oliver jerks his head up, lips twisting into a bright smile. "Hey. How you feeling?"

"Did you make the team?"

Oliver laughs. Percy is the one bedridden after a terrible accident, and he's worried about Oliver. "I… Well, George called," he explains. "I came as soon as I heard."

"So you don't know how the tryout went?"

Oliver clears his throat, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "The, uh… Well, you see…" He takes a deep breath. "I didn't try out because I wanted to get to you as soon as possible."

Silence hangs between them. Percy attempts to sit up but gives up with a groan. "You sentimental idiot," he says. "Don't you dare sacrifice your dream for me!"

Oliver smiles sheepishly and rakes his fingers through his brown hair. "Some things are more important than sports."

He still remembers a time when he never would have said that, but he's grown so much. Even though he loves football and is passionate about sports, he loves Percy more. Sacrificing one love for another is easy.

"You really are an idiot," Percy teases, affection clear in his tone.

"Yes, but I'm your idiot."

The Olympics can wait. Percy is far more important anyway.