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Percy was alone.
His eyes were glazed over as he stared at the fluorescent city lights, at the city that never sleeps. It was a city of wide avenues and small places to sit and eat, to relax as folk went about their day.
There were the sky towers in the centre. What would've been thousands of homes now took up less ground space than an old shopping mall. The rest of the land surrounding Percy's apartment was used for parks, a chance to walk among nature or enjoy the trails on bicycles or horseback. This was a step up from his old life, that's for sure.
Percy watched people, at midnight no less, walk the streets with determination. Walking to their houses to see their loved ones or drunks walking to the nearest bar. He wonders if they knew that everything was meaningless. What’s the point? You’re only here to die, then its eternity walking the fields of Asphodel. Percy knows now.
His thoughts were blank.
Well, not blank exactly. But clear. What a strange occurrence. Normally his thoughts were twisting and turning. Suffocating him with their whispers about the war he faced. Sixteen and he led people to their deaths. Michael, Silena, Beckendorf. But now...Percy’s not sure.
Percy let out a sigh, face eerily neutral as he reached into his jacket. He pulled out a small box of toxic sticks that were more dangerous than a riptide. He’s faced death and wars but the thing he can’t control is a little tube of nicotine. Percy pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in the corner of his mouth, lighting it up shakily. Chilly wind attempted to snuff out the flame before it grew too huge, his hand coming up to shield the burning from the breaths of Boreas.
If any of the neighbours were to be watching they’d be worried; a teenage kid with his legs dangling off the side of a balcony, six stories above the ground is sure to be worrisome. They didn’t know that he couldn’t be hurt. Well, not in that way.
He let out a little laugh but it wasn’t of happiness, just a chuckle of pity. Maybe for him, maybe for the ones he lost. Either way, it didn’t matter. He kicked his long legs out, wincing slightly. He and Annabeth had fought a couple of hellhounds earlier that day and, even if he couldn’t get hurt, his limbs still ached from exertion. True, Percy didn’t bruise, but with his Achilles curse, he needed much more sleep and his nightmares weren’t doing him any favours. Leaning forward a bit, his backside resting on the rusty rails of his balcony, he breathed out a puff of smoke. The smoke shifted in the air, twirling like it was performing its own beautiful dance. The odour filled Percy’s nose. It didn’t seem like too long ago when Percy was knocked about and beaten by a fat fuck of a step-dad. Percy shivered. Just thinking about that man was enough to bring up bad memories. His childhood was ripped away too soon and his teen years taken away by wars. Coincidence or not, his whole life was full of monsters - whether mortal or not.
Percy hated smoking. He knew it was bad for him but his mind just wouldn't let him rest no matter how hard he tried. His own thoughts were his new monster to fight.
But oh, yeah. It’s okay. Percy will just bounce back with his goofy and obliviousness. Nice, stupid Percy. Who can lead a war but can’t pass math.
Percy gritted his teeth and took another puff. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He could almost hear Annabeth's disapproving sigh.
‘Smoking’, he thought, a grin goofily spreading on his face, ‘look at how far I’ve come’. He promised himself he wouldn’t become like Gabe but here he is. He physically felt sick any time he smelled the smoke, the stink settling into his nostrils, so why did it help? Why did it help quell the pain he felt in his chest? Why does it help him forget about all the friends he lost?
Urgh. The gods.
Those bastards up on Olympus. The greedy assholes who expect their children to do all their dirty work. Percy knows they have to go on these quests or else the gods will literally kill them. Smite them on the spot. Boom. You’re gone. It doesn’t matter if you’re their favourite, you’ll die nevertheless. Take Silena Beauregard - she was obviously Aphrodite’s favourite but look at where that got her.
He propped his head on his hand resting on his knee, chuckling for no reason. He didn’t find any of this funny but at least he was filling the silence.
He felt something cold approach behind him as the air rippled slightly, almost as if something (or someone) had bent the air in order to form. He would get out his sword but he really didn’t care.
“Percy…” He heard a voice sigh. “What are you doing out here?”
Percy turned his head, a grin plastered across his face. “Nico, hey man. Where have you been?”
He eyed him warily, much like how a child would cautiously approach a wild dog, “Percy, what are you doing out here?”
Percy stood up and sat himself against on top of the railing, his back now facing the streets and the light from the apartment illuminating his shaded features. “Is it bad to say that I have no clue?” He snorted. “Just drinkin’ in the sights.”
Nico narrowed his eyes, suspicion creeping and causing a dark eyebrow to raise.
“What is up with you? Did something happen between you and Annabeth?”
“Nothing's wrong,” he sighed, legs fidgeting where they hung against the metal bars. “I just had some things on my mind and so I came out here.” Percy mimicked his expression: brooding anger. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check on you. I just had a feeling something might be....bad.”
“Well, thanks, but you can go. I’m perfectly fine. I don't want to keep you up any longer than need be, I think you need the rest.”
“How kind of you,” Nico said, climbing over the railing to sit next to Percy. He showed no impression of leaving anytime soon, demonstrating the stubbornness Percy is unfortunately very familiar with. “So, what are you thinking about? It must be...heavy if you’re out here at three am.”
Percy snorted. “Yeah...heavy.”
He quickly got up and climbed onto the top of the bar that wrapped around his balcony. The metal creaked a bit under his weight as Percy stuck his arms out like a tightrope walker and went along the edge.
"What is wrong with you? Get down from there!"
"It’s fine," Percy grumbled, clenching his fists at his sides.
“Percy get down now." Nico sprung from the edge, his dark eyes wide. "Please."
“Back off."
"Just come down! You’re going to get yourself killed, for fucks sake.”
“I have that dumb curse, Nico, I can’t die.”
“GET DOWN!”
“Why?” Percy spun around, “Falling to my death isn't an option or anything. My skin is literally unbreakable, nothing fucking pierces it!” He paused, “I can manage. Please, just leave me alone.”
Percy was still walking back and forth but with less childlike humour and more adult-like pacing. In any other context, it would be quite impressive the way he flawlessly kept his feet on the thin, rusting metal without stumbling.
Nico let out a short breath. “You...haven’t tried to do anything, right? Like..like...Gods, don't make me say it.”
“No. I’m not suicidal. If that’s what you’re asking.”
He turned around. Green eyes stared into black. “And I know where my weak spot is. So if I wanted to...you know...off myself, then I could. Easy.”
Nico sat there, mouth slightly open. It scared him that a demigod like Percy, probably the most powerful in history, was on his way to self-destruction. It unnerved him that it seemed like he had that answer rehearsed.
Did Annabeth know that Percy was like this? Gods, no she couldn’t. He wouldn’t have gotten this far if she knew. Sally and Paul obviously didn’t know. They wouldn’t let their son smoke on a balcony in the middle of the night.
“Percy, you need to get to bed. It’s, Hades, what day is it? Monday, now? You’re still in school, right?”
“Hades, can’t believe I’m letting a thirteen-year-old look after me.”
“Technically 78.”
Nico grabbed Percy’s wrist, pulling him down from the railing.
“Just go back to bed or whatever. Don’t make me call Annabeth. Or if you're extra annoying, Chiron. ”
Percy turned to Nico once they were both back in his bedroom, his blue sheets twisted from Percy’s nightmare and stained in sweat. Nico was curled into himself from where he was standing near to the glass door of the balcony, clutching his sides like it was a poor imitation of a hug. A wave of guilt washed over Percy and made him stop in his tracks. This is so backwards; so wrong; so...stupid.
Without another word, Percy wrapped his arms around the considerably smaller boy. After a moment of hesitation, the stiffness in Nico's shoulders slowly seeped from his body, the smaller boy letting his forehead rest on Percy's shoulder with a thunk.
In Percy’s humble opinion, when he was in his mother's arms, he was as safe as he will ever be. He didn't need to worry about monsters or his unprotected Achilles spot - just his mom in front of him. He was safe. The paranoia and fear melted in his chest like ice cream in July. In his mother’s embrace, he was cocooned better than any butterfly-to-be.
Nico, on the other hand, was like a twig. Percy felt like he was hugging one of those skeletons he would find in his science labs at school. Gods, did this kid ever eat? As Percy felt Nico fall further and further into his embrace, Percy felt a strange sense of calm so unlike the eerie tranquillity he felt out on the balcony. In the more stable part of Percy’s brain, he cringed at himself - he thought that Nico was supposed to be comforting him - but he knew they both needed a hug as much as each other.
________________________
Hugging Percy, Nico remembered his mother and Bianca.
Maybe everything will be okay. For now at least.