Chapter Text
Percy stares at his feet, which swing over the edge of the fountain. Jason’s blue sneakers are right beside his. His mind flashes back to that night all those weeks ago, and he almost flinches at the harsh memories, that hit him just as hard as Nico’s cold words— ones he can’t seem to force out of his mind.
“I don’t…” He sighs. “It’s complicated, okay?”
Jason leans back, exasperated. “Nico hasn’t told me anything about what happened between you too. He usually does, but I don’t… I don’t know why he—” Jupiter’s son suddenly straightens, panic pulsing through his words as his desperate gaze meets Percy’s surprised one.
“He– he didn’t tell you, did he? No wonder he’s freaking out!” Jason’s words are shaky, and his hands are waving around in a frenzy, and Percy just blinks, completely confused and clueless about what his friend means.
“Tell me what? Man, chill, what are you talking about?”
“That he— ugh! What did he last tell you? What did you find out? Y— you didn’t react badly at the news, did you? The guilt must be eating you alive, it's not surprising you look like this!”
“Hey! Hey, Jason, calm down! You’re jumping to conclusions here. We got into a fight, that’s all? And what would eat me alive? I– is Nico hiding something from me?”
Jason stares at himself for a moment.
Then he gets himself back together, and clears his throat as he realises that Percy genuinely has no idea of anything he’s been stressing about for the past few minutes. “Uh, nothing. Not to be rude, but it’s none of your business. Don’t worry about it. What really happened though? A fight? About what?”
Percy looks away, sighing. “Nothing. I just… was stupid. Nico got mad and… I don’t know any better than you do, okay? But I don’t want to see him. You can tell him that for me. I appreciate your earlier concern, but I’m fine. You… can go now.”
He ignores Jason’s protests, and pushes him out the door. “Bye Jace. Tell the others I said hi.”
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It's been a couple days since Jason had come over. He has continued the same ritual he had adapted to all those weeks ago, and his eyebags haven't seemed to improve. At least he decided to take a proper shower after Jason had poured that bucket of water all over him.
The water felt good, and energised him a bit. He wondered why he'd deprived himself of such comfort, as well as laughing.
Laughing was something he hadn't done in a while, as he hadn't had a reason to do so in the first place. But he had with Jason, and it felt better than spending his hours training and singing till he couldn't even force out a couple syllables.
It was currently very late, and Percy lay in bed, staring at his ceiling even if all his surroundings were dark, and he couldn't even make out where one shadow met the next.
Suddenly, the small sound of feeble knocks echoed in his ears. Sitting up and frowning at the door, he swung his legs off the mattress and walked over.
He would usually tell them to go away, but it was probably 3am, and he found himself wondering what anyone would be doing knocking at the door of his cabin this late into the night.
So he turns the knob and pulls slowly, and before it's even half open, someone tumbles into his arms, body shaking and mumbling something he can't exactly make out, just like the identity of this person, whose face is concealed in the darkness.
“Whoa— who are you— what happened?”
All he gets in response are mumbled words that he only realises mean “Jason” a couple seconds after they are uttered. Jason?
What does Jason of people have anything to do with this? Then, realisation dawns on him. Is the trembling boy in his arms the very same son of Jupiter who came by a couple days ago— and freaking dumped water over him?
No, that doesn’t make sense— in the small light spared by the shade of the night, he can tell the person he holds has dark inky hair, with a skinny frame and small figure. Definitely not Jason then, he decides firmly. Still trying to comfort whoever he’s currently guiding towards his bed, he suddenly matches the sparse description he’s put together in his mind to a certain demigod.
Who may or may not hate him.
Nico?
As he sets the shivering boy onto his bed and pulling the sheets tightly over what-may-be-Nico’s body, he realises that he said that last thought aloud, because his suspicions are confirmed when he hears a shaky “Yes” from somewhere in the blue blanket that what-he-now-knows-is-Nico has curled around himself.
“Oh. W– what happened? Why come here? I thought…”
A beat of silence, and then comes a small voice, confused and unsure. “Jason?”
Percy frowns, and blinks in realisation. Of course Nico hadn’t come here for him. He’d gotten confused in terms of the cabins. Cabin One and Three were close, after all. “No, Nico— it’s Percy.”
He finds himself wondering if the boy will leave when he sees him freeze. He had been starting to forget that they aren’t on good terms.
“Percy. Oh. I… Wait—” Hades’s son’s voice trails off, as if realising something that has him stop completely. It’s just an ‘as if’, but something in his gut and instinct tells him it’s the truth, but he can’t yet decide if it’s a good thing.
Or not.
Percy swallows and sits at the end of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight, and Nico shifts a little, his black mess of hair appearing from out of his weird blanket burrito. The son of Poseidon can clearly make out the boy’s dark eyes staring back into his own, shining in the shadows from the light reflecting off his tears.
There’s silence, just both of their heavy breathing and Nico’s occasional sniffle. Then, Hades’s son speaks up, voice soft but still trembling, unsure and vulnerable, cautious. Like he’s forcing himself to spit out the words he needs to say, forcing himself to ignore the gravity of his actions and shaky syllables.
“S– sing something for me? It’s the only thing that can make me go to sleep right now.”
A pause.
“Please.”
Percy blinks, about to object, for he hasn’t sung for a single person in thirteen years, and last time it did, it didn’t go well. He contemplates properly a little too quickly, thinks a little too quickly and almost refuses with an apologetic tone.
But it’s late, and it’s Nico, who looks so broken, so desperate, and a little too much like himself.
So he gives in, clears his throat, leans closer, and sings.