Chapter Text
Nico di Angelo wasn’t particularly spur-of-the-moment. Only, having anything work out was very optional for him, he’d found that out early in his chaos-ridden life, and he always had to deal with stuff with spur-of-the-moment decisions. His latest one had made it so that right now he’d rather freeze his ass off on the Met museum's front steps than go back to 210 East 124th Street.
Literally. His ass was so uncomfortably cold. Shit, he could swear this stone was actual ice, and admittedly his black skinny jeans weren’t helping much, but he was going to dress however the hell he liked, because he could. He tried to ignore the unpleasant feeling as he stared at the corner of 82nd Street.
From where he sat on the far end of the huge staircase he could barely peak into it. He could also barely feel his uncovered face and hands in the cold and Percy’s place was like five blocks away behind the tumultuous crowd rushing on the Avenue between him and the street.
A gust of wind whipped into him, pleasantly stinging his numb skin back to life. He allowed a reinvigorating shiver to run through his body and looked back down at his phone. The screen had gone black.
Hmph.
He made his frozen fingers work, with little frenetic taps, through his pin code – 1-7-1-2 – then failed to properly touch the contacts icon twice, held his breath, managed, released it. This March weather was beginning to get on his nerves.
There weren’t a whole lot of contacts. However he was looking for someone who was not too busy, not too nosy, and certainly not overprotective, so he still scanned through them for a while, because he’d never watched Mission: Impossible but he was pretty sure the mission had been easier than this.
Eventually he tapped one of the names, just barely, and in a swift motion he brought the phone up to his ear.
It rang once. In a surge of desperate hope, Nico turned his head to look up at the Met and its glorious columns towering over him, and wondered if he could pray to it. The phone rang again.
Come on.
The other end picked up.
“What’s up? Did you get the job?” Percy’s energetic voice came on the line.
Nico let out the smallest sigh of relief. “Hey. Yeah, I got it. Done with classes yet?”
“Nice, man!”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m washing dishes, don’t get hyped up. You didn’t answer the question.”
“Nah, not nearly done, sigh.” He actually said sigh out loud. “Why?”
Of course. He should’ve known better than to think things were going his way.
“Nevermind. Bye.”
“Why?” Percy repeated and Nico was unsure as to what part of bye had been unclear, so he judged it was his right to tweak the truth to get out of this fast.
“Just thought we could hang out.”
“No lie? Yesterday you said you’d have to stay home for– oh, oh, man. You ran away again, that’s what’s up.”
Hmph. Dramatic.
“No, I just left and won’t be returning for as long as I can manage,” he corrected. He was willing to get scolded by someone like Annabeth. He was most definitely not getting scolded by Percy Jackson.
“Please tell me your stepmom is home with Hazel at least.”
Marie Levesque was probably out again but honestly Hazel would be better off without that woman acting batshit around the house.
“Look, I didn’t call for you to act like my m– …babysitter.” Now he was just frustrated.
“I’m so done,” Percy sighed, properly this time. Nico heard a missing with you. “Go to Jason’s.”
Jason would have actually been his first choice, unfortunately he did not fit the most fundamental criteria, which was not too busy.
“Can’t, Piper is there probably making out with his stupid face right now.” He pinched his nose even though Percy couldn’t see. “Listen, you don’t have to… do this. It’s no big deal, I’ll manage, alright? I’m hanging up now.”
“Just go to my place, my mom’s home.”
This did seem like a good idea. The only thing was, he didn’t want to bother Sally Jackson – god bless her – more than necessary. He slept at her place often enough to have his own toothbrush there, so his already low tolerance to discomfort was pushed to its limits. Also he was not rude. At some point he’d decided he would only go when Percy was there.
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll wait for you, though. Bye.”
“Later, man.”
Fucking great. A few more hours of struggling to keep his undisciplined thoughts busy and his hyperactivity at bay. Plus at this point the biting cold was just plain unbearable. God was it hard not to get lonely during the day when your friends were in college but you went straight to working after high school.
Nico pushed himself off the grand staircase, bitterly thrust his hand and phone into the pocket of his oversized aviator jacket, and went past the Met and into Central Park.
As he strolled around his temper went down a bit. The first signs of spring in the discreet leaf buds caught his eye, small but promising. It wasn’t until a surge of anxiety washed off his smile that he noticed it had been there in the first place, but now his brain was already focusing on the wrong things despite him. Spring already? He couldn’t remember what he’d been doing for, like, the past six months. Waste of life.
In a distressed effort to brush that thought away he settled on a bench, took out a worn out pencil and a small notebook out his pockets and focused on sketching some plants growing next to a bench across from him. He’d been told before that he drew amazingly well. He thought he was okay at it. Drawing kept him busy. And it allowed him to pick the beautiful things apart from this grey grey world.
When his hands started to get cold again he sighed, exasperated, and looked up at the people passing by.
Big mistake. Huge.
First he saw a little girl with her parents, then he saw a jogger, and then Nico’s breath caught short in his throat.
The next person that came into his view was… well, let’s just say many pretty boys were always walking the streets of the Upper East Side, but this guy looked – how to describe him? He had the poised face of a Greek hero, he looked straight out of a Renaissance painting, he was prettier than Antinous and more handsome than Achilles and Nico didn’t even know what he looked like, and he was also sporting the ugliest teal puffer coat Nico had ever seen and he had hair so honey blond and delicately wavy –almost curly– it would make Apollo, god of the Sun, jealous. He plopped down on the bench right across his.
Stop staring.
Nico made his eyes dart down at his notebook and pretended to be absorbed by the stick figure with a smiley face he had now started to carefully trace.
Jesus fuck, what had got into him? This guy– Nico had never seen anyone so beautiful in forever. He had to do something about it, or else he’d regret it so bad.
His hand stopped. He kept his head down so he could discreetly glance up again.
The guy sat nonchalantly. His ugly yellow socks matched his ugly yellow sweater and did not match his beige pants at all. Hell, it was all so bad. He looked so good. He was looking around, it was perfect.
Nico slowly turned the page, glanced up at the sunny guy one more time, focused, and started smoothly sketching his ideal Greek features out on the blank space, turning him into an art subject more than anything. Actually, the more he worked on it the more he realized he’d been wrong. No, this guy didn’t look like Achilles, he was warmer. He didn’t look like Apollo, he was softer. Who was he? But as he tried to get another glimpse of him softer-than-Apollo stood up.
Nico watched him go over to a girl that seemed she had just barged in out of nowhere, smile, and give her a peck on the lips, to which she chuckled. He put his hand around her shoulder and they walked away.
It was at this point he decided he’d had enough of this damned cold for the day. He cursed the weather under his breath as genuinely as he could, jumped up and took the direction opposite to theirs.
Yesterday 4:38PM
to: Percy
Nvm I'm going home
The phone clock above read 2:18AM and Nico obviously wasn’t home.
After riding all over New York’s subway, back and forth, and all around again, sketching cool graffiti to fill the time, he’d got off when it was late enough for him to be alone in the streets, at least here, far from Manhattan, near the northern border of the Bronx – in the flat suburbs part of town that felt like any random city.
The phone flashed off as Nico kept roaming like a shadow around the empty streets.
He enjoyed these nocturnal getaways because they gave him the thrill and elevation of walking through unknown places, unperceived. Here and there, faint signs of human life behind windows, like little silent films inside framed squares of light, and outside, in the dead of night, the feeling of being alive.
Sometimes he’d feel like the world was all his, other times he’d feel empty, and it was just as good.
Here he could run, jump for no reason other than feeling cool, or lie down in the middle of the large asphalt road for hours and graze over the immortal stars with his fingertips; maybe believe, sometimes, that one among them was Bianca, pick the one he thought she was, always a different one, then smile sadly, get up and jump again– he could do all that with the comfort and certitude that no one would ever know, except for the breeze caressing his hair, the heavy glow from the lamp posts, and the reassuring darkness that surrounded it.
The night quietly rustled to him and he was glad to answer with silence, knowing it was enough. The night didn’t care about what was wrong with him. It kept him company, allowed him to feel like he wasn’t alone.
Sometimes he wouldn’t have it any other way, other times it just wouldn’t do, and the unrecoverable presence that Bianca had taken with her hit him with all its reality and the world was submerged in a harrowing emptiness.
The night still didn’t care, it kept rustling. It was cruel, but in some moments, thinking that it was rustling for him would make him feel at peace, so Nico kept roaming like a shadow around the empty streets.
Until the sun would rise.
It wasn’t the sun he hated so much, it was the relentless, unforgiving city that woke up along with it. Tomorrow he’d have to show up at this new job. Which made a familiar thought assail him in the midst of his precious night venture. Of course anything that was dear to him could only last so long before a disturbance would ruin everything.
This idea, the same one as always when streetlights caught him wandering on the edge of town.
How easy it would be to leave.
It had taken him months to understand he’d never done it because he was afraid, and several more weeks to understand what he was afraid of: if he actually left, he’d never want to return. So what if he never came back? Fuck his job, fuck his crazy stepmother, fuck the art school he’d never afford and the young Greek hero he’d never see again. If it wasn’t for Hazel, and Percy and Jason, he’d have lit the hell out long ago. This had never been about him and would never be. Unless he left.
I’m sick of this.
Feeling nauseated by the smoke of possibilities,as always, Nico forced himself to turn back before he made a big mistake, and he let his phone guide him out this stranger neighborhood to Pelham Bay Park station from where he hopped on the empty 6 train and began apathetically staring at the night time scenery as it slid by.
He could crash at Jason’s place. Or maybe it was too late now. Whatever.
Station after station the doors would open and close and Nico remained alone as expected.
At the fifteenth station, the door (which he couldn’t quite see on account that it was a bit behind him) slid open with its usual low hiss followed by a thud. This time he heard messy footsteps tumbling in. Heavy, shaky breathing and someone plopping down on a seat right next to him, but with their back turned to him so they couldn’t have noticed he was there. There was sobbing so quiet he could barely hear it. Now Nico couldn’t really move, otherwise it’d make things awkward, but he wasn’t especially concerned with this newcomer. Down here in the New York underground everything fell under the realm of the sketchy folks. Still, he furtively glanced over, out of curiosity, only to see tints of an ugly teal coat and a mop of hair that had kept its golden blond warm shine even under the sickly pale subway lighting, and he instantly looked right back in front of him – ohgodohgodohgod – and froze for good. That was it, he would never move again, he’d stay in this dirty subway till it carried him to hell.
This is a Brooklyn Bridge bound, six, local, train. The next, stop, is, 3rd Avenue, 138th, Street.
Stand clear of the closing doors please!
Ding-dong.
The doors closed on both of them and the train moved again.
Nico managed to stay still despite his racing heart, and he sure intended on staying that way until the guy was gone. So he had to listen to him cry for approximately too fucking long. Until, because of course there always came an until, the guy turned his head around and up towards… what was he looking for? At any rate, what matters is that he saw Nico, and Nico couldn’t help but glance at him on instinct and when their eyes met the guy started just a bit with a tiny gasp – was that cute or dramatic? Probably both. Then he fully turned to Nico, who wasn’t the best at handling any social situation more demanding than being professional or talking to friends in the first place, so now this? So he just waited for him to say something like sorry and then he would answer sorry and that would be it.
Instead the stranger laughed – how dare he – he laughed faintly and said:
“I’m sorry, I didn’t, uh…”
And his voice, his warm and calm and steady voice, even though he had been sobbing seconds ago, for fuck’s sake– his voice trailed off. Oh, and he kept looking at Nico.
This, is, 3rd Avenue, 138th, Street.
This is a Brooklyn Bridge bound, six, local, train. The next, stop, is, 125 th , Street.
Ding-dong.
Nico thought the guy would eye him like he was a weirdo, riding this late with probably suspicious dark shadows under his eyes.
Yet he didn’t.
Then he realized he was actually looking at him like he hadn’t answered, which was precisely what was happening, so he said (and suddenly he felt self-conscious about his own voice):
“Yeah.”
Realized that made no sense and tried again:
“Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
And normally he’d have considered a stranger’s problems to be none of his fucking business, but oddly enough he felt bad.
“You okay?”
Of course he wasn’t okay. God, why am I being so stupid? Well probably because the guy still looked breath-fucking-taking, and probably because now he wasn’t just a model for his drawings anymore but a very real person that was crying. Probably.
In fact he sniffled just then as if to confirm.
“Yeah. I mean, no.” He snorted. “But, ah, I’ll be fine,” he added as if to reassure him, as if Nico was the one who needed reassuring, and God knows how, he managed a pretty smile.
Then he looked up as he did when he’d first turned around. Nico saw tears softly glisten in his eyes and on his cheeks as he glanced around confused. Then he turned to him again, which unsettled him a bit.
“Uh… do you know when we get to the Village?”
“This doesn’t exactly go to the Village.” Nico could give out technical information, he could do that just fine.
“Oh.”
Oh.
He’d been looking for some sort of map.
This guy was lost.
If Nico wanted to go home and be able to get some sleep that night he needed to get off at the next station.
The Village guy looked down, then up again, and stared at an empty space next to Nico’s head.
He had freckles.
He wiped his tears off in one single sleeve swipe. His face had gone back to normal surprisingly fast. He almost looked like nothing ever happened, but Nico knew too well what hurt looked like.
This, is, 125th, Street.
He tried to get up but his body felt like it was made out of lead all of a sudden.
This is a Brooklyn Bridge bound, six, local, train. The next, stop, is, 116th, Street.
Get the fuck up, di Angelo.
Ding-dong.
The doors closed and the train moved again.
“You can, uh, you can go to Grand Station and walk to… the 1 Line probably. Or you know, you could just take the 7 Train for that. Whichever.”
“Oh, thanks,” the guy replied, and the small smile he gave made Nico feel light.
“… you sure you know how to do that?”
“Yes.”
Silence. The guy sighed at last.
“Okay, no, I didn’t get a word you said.” He shook his head looking desperate, which made his hair sway ever so slightly. “I’m totally lost.”
“No shit,” Nico blurted out and regretted it immediately but the other guy just quietly laughed again. Maybe he was just that dense, but that laugh made it feel like it was alright, like there was nothing he had to apologize for. He figured he’d just go on before he could overthink it.
“You need to ride for, like, twenty more minutes.”
He stopped again when he thought about how he’d have to explain the New York subway system to a guy who didn’t even seem to know which line he was on. Normally he would just have found an easy and efficient way to do it, but right then, as if under the influence of some superior power that came and went within the blink of an eye, he made a move so bold coming from him he would never be able to understand it later.
“I could take you,” he offered. “I’m not going far off.”
But then the guy’s face lit up, and any regret Nico could’ve have dissipated before it could even form.
“You’d do that for me?”
“Sure.” And before the stranger guy could say anything else that would make him blush for sure this time, he added: “Do you know which station you’re supposed to go to?”
“You think I can get to 14th Street from here?”
He’d asked like it was impossible. That was cute. Nico smiled.
“Sure.”
And he had no idea or recollection of how they did it but they rode to Grand Station together and walked down 42nd Street, which was still crowded with tourists even at three A.M. Maybe they'd exchanged a few meaningless words, he didn't recall what it was exactly. What he could remember was that the Village guy acted more like the tourists than like him as they walked. He also knew that by now he was back to feeling relaxed himself, and not so stressed out anymore from being around an attractive stranger he’d just seen cry, since now at least he’d proven to be just some guy lost in New York.
And he’s nice, too, his mind supplied. Maybe cute also. Like a cat.
Fortunately he was able to make his mind shut the fuck up as they’d just arrived at the subway entrance. But the guy didn’t go in like he was supposed to. Why did he never do what he was supposed to? Instead he stood in front of Nico and stared for five hot seconds, maybe squinting just a bit, but it was hard to tell from how slight it was. Before Nico could ask him what his deal was he raised his eyebrows like a light bulb had just popped up above his head.
“Hey,” he casually gave him a finger gun and a boyish smile that made his heart skip a beat. “You’re the guy from Central Park. Saw you at, like, noon.”
It was four PM. Don’t you even know at what time you met up with your girlfriend?
“Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I saw you at Central Park today, you were sitting on a bench in front of me. I think you were writing down some stuff on a notebook,” he explained assuredly, looking him in the eyes. His features were definitely soft.
“You must be mistaken.”
“Uh… are you sure? Because I ’m pretty sure it was you. You even looked at me, remember?”
Fuck, was he dense or just so rude? This guy had no fucking business going around doing everything he wasn't expected to and saying shit like that to embarrass him.
“Piss off.”
The guy didn’t flinch, he just looked confused. On the other hand, a burst of shame instantly supplanted Nico’s anger, and as he felt heat rise to his face he heard himself mumble something pathetic like sorrybye, and started walking off so fast he almost tripped.
“Hey, thanks!” he heard the guy yell behind him.
He walked faster. Don’t yell in the street, it’s ridiculous. He could picture his beaming smile way too clearly and this time he was glad the guy was just a stranger he’d never see again, or so he tried to tell the warm feeling that lingered in his chest for the rest of the night even after the embarrassment was gone.