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Nico's greatest flaw and his greatest strength were two sides of the same coin called selflessness. Nico was extremely kind, gentle, loving. Even if he didn't seem it, Nico was startlingly caring towards everyone he trusted. He put everybody's needs and comfort before his own, even when it hurt him.
There were plenty of times where Nico was selfless that didn't hurt him, like when he spent the night watching tutorials online to help Hazel with her hair so she didn't have to keep going to the hairdressers, or the time he made Will sit down in the infirmary whilst Nico treated all of the minor injuries. There was the time he started to teach a younger camper how to fight so they'd feel safer, and there was the time when Nico had sacrificed his free time to babysit Estelle.
And there were times like now, when Nico was putting others needs before his own in a way that hurt him. A younger camper had been sent to restock the armory, but they were scared, and Nico had offered to do it for them. Nico had set his crutches aside and he was struggling with a particularly heavy rack of swords. His back was straining painfully under the weight, and he was sweating with exhaustion. He was so tired and so pained and he could barely catch his breath through the burning pain shooting through the scars in his shoulder from lycaon, hyper-aware of the way the scar tissue stretched, and the way damaged nerves below the surface flared and burned and tingled. He felt like his arm was being doused in pouring acid and his muscles gave out, the swords clattering to the floor with a heavy crash.
He gasped in pain, his arm seizing up and spasming painfully. He gripped his arm, but it only made the pain shoot further down his arm, his fingers locked painfully- he couldn't straighten or bend them, and the pain was shooting up his neck and into his jaw. He couldn't understand it- he'd trained with this injury. He'd trained despite the chronic pain that had him using crutches today, and he could handle lifting a few swords, but here he was, over-exerted and gasping in pain from an old injury. He wished it had healed, wished he wasn't used to this pain, wished he wasn't used to the spasms and burning sensations, his joints seizing up. He couldn't bare the pain, couldn't handle the way it almost never stopped flaring up. He wanted it gone, he just wanted the whole arm gone so it couldn't hurt anymore.
He wished he could be selfish for once. He'd sacrificed so much for others, his heart, his health, his sanity… gods, he'd jumped into Tartarus and it left him traumatised and injured, he'd almost died countless times to help the quests of others. He realised he wouldn't be like this now- collapsed to his knees, gripping his arm, mouth agape in a silent gasp of agony- if he'd just been selfish for once. If prophecies, if fates, were destined to end a certain way regardless of what you did to change it, then why? Why did Nico try so hard, sacrifice so much of himself? If the prophecies would play out anyway, why did he put himself through so much for the benefit of others?
He was in so much pain, from lifting just one mere rack of swords, and the pain was triggering him, thrusting him into a series of flashbacks until he was dissociating and nothing could calm him and the shadows- the shadows were whispering.
By the time he was found, Nico was anxious and exhausted from the trigger, the shadows whispering and writhing more than ever, clear as ever even through the blur of Nico's tears… shouldn't they be blurry? Were they even there…? Nico had been so selfless he'd sacrificed himself, his sanity, his childhood. And for what? For a boy who didn't love him back, could barely stand to be around him? For a sister who left him alone? For friends he barely knew, who barely knew him? Nico realised that his selflessness, the very trait he was constantly put on a pedestal for, constantly praised for, constantly encouraged for, was no different to self destruction, and it was too late to go back. He didn't react as Will lifted him in his arms and carried him to the infirmary. It wasn't much, but it was the first selfish thing he'd done in a long time, and the guilt washed over him in waves. He was so used to sacrificing himself that he felt guilty for allowing himself to be carried. He couldn't be the selfless boy everybody hoped him to be anymore, because he was broken, and he was tired of fighting for others when he had no strength to fight for anymore.