Chapter 137: Sleepover Birthday Party
"I will never let you go... Oh oh!"
Somner was in heaven. On stage, Stella Banner’s voice soared into the night, every note shining bright as the two stars on his chest.
And Somner...
Somner was screaming along, hands waving like a diehard fan who’d camped for tickets.
"I WILL NEVER LET YOU GOOOO OH OH!" He sang along, a little off-tune.
Aphrodite finally tore his gaze from the stage. He’d been humming along too, but something clicked. He scanned the crowd.
"Wait. Where’s Ymir? And Magni? And Hermes?"
Somner barely heard. He was busy trying to hit Stella’s impossible pitch, voice cracking like glass.
"Somner!" Aphrodite grabbed his sleeve, shaking him. "Did you see where they went?"
He blinked at him, dazed. "Hm? Uh... probably around."
"Probably around?" He frowned. "You didn’t notice any of them vanish from right next to you?"
"I was in the zone!" Somner protested, hands flailing. "Banner Zone! Once you enter, there’s no leaving!"
Aphrodite sighed. He pulled out his phone, dialing Ymir’s number.
***
Minutes later, the group reconvened at the quieter end of the festival. Ymir and Magni looked composed, if tired. Hermes looked like he’d been dragged through glass.
"What happened?" Aphrodite demanded at once.
Hermes hesitated. His eyes flicked to Ymir, then Magni, then back down to the pavement. "...I thought I saw him."
"Eirwyn," Aphrodite whispered.
He nodded. His jaw clenched. "It wasn’t him. Just a message. And I... lost control."
Aphrodite’s expression softened. He reached out, but Hermes flinched before his hand could land. He let it drop, lips pressing into a thin line.
Somner, oblivious to the storm-cloud mood, clapped his hands. "Okay, okay. You know what this means?"
Hermes gave him a flat stare. "...That I need to train harder."
"No!" Somner beamed like a kid with a secret. "That we need a sleepover!"
Hermes blinked. "A... what?"
"Sleepover!" Somner spread his arms wide, like he’d just announced the cure for plague. "At my place. Mansion, technically. We’ll eat cake, ice cream, and pizza. Watch a movie. Do facemasks. Well, maybe not facemasks, but—"
"Somner," Hermes said slowly, "are you having a stroke?"
"Sleepovers are sacred," Somner insisted. "Hero rule number one: sometimes you gotta hang up the cape and eat an unhealthy amount of sugar with friends. Builds morale. Prevents burnout. Increases libido."
Aphrodite raised an eyebrow. "Wait, that last one isn’t true. And it’s not relevant."
"Still," Somner pressed on, "we all need it. Especially Hermes."
"I don’t—" Hermes started.
"Especially Hermes," Somner repeated firmly, pointing at him like a teacher assigning detention.
Ymir actually smirked. "As much as I hate to agree with party boy over here.... I think it’s a good idea."
Magni shrugged. "Better than brooding in an alley all night."
Aphrodite folded his arms. "Fine. But please don’t try to coerce me to sing karaoke again like last time."
"Deal!" Somner said, already bouncing toward the parking lot. "Come on, party people! Let’s give the birthday boy a sleepover party to remember!"
***
Somner’s mansion sat on a hill overlooking the city, a sprawling estate with polished marble floors, vaulted ceilings, and enough bedrooms to house an army.
Hermes hated it instantly. It was too big, too open, too full of reminders that he didn’t belong in a world of silk couches and crystal chandeliers.
But then Somner dragged them to the kitchen, where three entire boxes of pizza waited on the counter. Next to them: tubs of ice cream, slices of chocolate cake, and sodas stacked like treasure.
"Dig in!" Somner declared, already double-fisting pizza and cake.
Hermes found himself eating before he realized it. A greasy slice of pepperoni in one hand, a soda can in the other. The salt, the sugar, the fizz. He hadn’t tasted anything like it in weeks. His shoulders eased a fraction.
Magni ate like a wolf, demolishing three slices in seconds. Ymir was neater, taking small bites, but his plate piled just as high. Aphrodite nursed his soda, nibbling at cake with a skeptical look, though he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at his lips.
Somner, of course, was a disaster. Sauce on his chin, ice cream dripping down his sleeve.
"This," he mumbled through a mouthful of pizza, "is peak hero activity."
Hermes almost laughed. Almost.
***
After dinner came the movie. Somner insisted on a superhero comedy, the kind where the hero spent more time tripping over his cape than saving anyone.
Hermes sat stiffly at first, arms folded, lips pressed in a line. But the absurdity wore him down. Halfway through, he actually chuckled. A real laugh, short and sharp, when the hero got smacked in the face with his own shield.
Everyone noticed. No one said anything. But Hermes caught the looks. The tiny smiles, the quiet relief. He swallowed the lump in his throat and let himself laugh again when the sidekick tripped into a fountain.
By the time the credits rolled, Hermes was slouched against the couch, half-asleep, his soda forgotten on the table.
"See?" Somner whispered triumphantly. "Therapy."
"I don’t think food and bad movies are enough alternatives for actual therapy." Aphrodite said. But his voice was gentle.
"Close enough though, right?" Somner replied, yawning.
One by one, they drifted off. Ymir stretched out on the rug, eyes closed, face serene. Magni claimed an armchair, head tilted back, mouth slightly open. Aphrodite curled under a blanket, already snoring softly. Somner was sprawled like a starfish across half the couch, dead to the world.
Hermes stayed awake longer, staring at the ceiling. The laughter still lingered in his chest like a foreign weight.
Eventually, exhaustion dragged him under.
***
Hours later, Hermes’ eyes snapped open.
The house was silent. Moonlight spilled through the windows, painting silver patterns across the floor. His heart pounded, though no dream clung to him. Just the ache, the restlessness, the familiar insomnia.
He pushed himself up carefully, stepping over Somner’s limbs, avoiding the creak of the floorboards. The air felt too heavy in the living room. He needed space.
The balcony doors stood slightly ajar. He slipped through them, the cool night air washing over him.
And there was Magni.
The lava man stood with his arms resting on the railing, broad shoulders outlined against the starry sky. His gaze was fixed upward, unreadable. The faint wind ruffled his golden hair.
Hermes froze in the doorway, breath caught.
Magni didn’t turn. Didn’t speak. Just stared at the endless sweep of stars.
Hermes’ chest tightened. He knew this scene. The quiet vigil. The weight behind it. He knew Magni was thinking, maybe remembering, maybe longing. And Hermes knew, with sharp guilt, that he was part of it.
He stepped out onto the balcony anyway. The boards creaked under his feet.
Magni’s head tilted slightly. Not enough to break his gaze from the stars. But enough to show he knew Hermes was there.
Hermes swallowed hard, words tangling in his throat.
The night stretched quiet between them.
And then the Ferris wheel memory returned. The touch of Ymir’s hand, the closeness, the guilt.
Hermes’ hands clenched at his sides. He had no idea what to say.