Chapter Text
He had never been good with tools, but this had to be done. Kneeling precariously on the bathroom counter, he awkwardly clutched a dirty screwdriver in his left hand. He reached up to the corner of the streak-covered bathroom mirror and carefully twisted out the rusted screws one by one. The mirror fell past him, clattering on the stained tile. He heaved a sigh of relief, setting the screwdriver next to him. He didn't need the mirror, or rather, he didn’t want it. It just served as a reminder of all the disappointment, rejection, and lack of satisfaction that its images brought him. For years, Nico had lived his life without it, and he wasn’t about to change now.
Nico hid the mirror in one of the creaky wooden cabinets under the sink. He’d find something to fill the empty space later, he thought, as he padded to his small bedroom. The bed springs creaked as he sat. He pulled off his trusty aviator jacket, and then his t shirt. He undid his belt and laid back on the bed, rubbing his eyes and breathing deeply in an attempt to clear his head. At least he was here now. Nico had been looking forward to getting his own place since he was a kid. He hated living with his parents, surrounded by people who thought they knew what was best for him, who thought they could help him, when all Nico really wanted was to be independent. The fact that the Di Angelos’ home was packed full with memories of his older sister made the place feel even worse. It wasn’t easy for Nico to move on when photos of Bianca were framed in every room. Bianca, who had been taken by cancer when she was only eleven years old. She had been Nico’s best friend, worst enemy, role model, and hero, all in one, and she was gone, just like that. It was far too young for anyone to go. Losing her slowly had been the worst part. Knowing that it was only a matter of time before he’d lose his sister was enough to drive a grown man insane, let alone an innocent nine year old boy. A piece of Nico’s heart had been buried along with Bianca, and even all these years later, he couldn’t escape the memories. All he could do now was push the thoughts away, forget about his sister, forget about himself, and concentrate on his own life in the present.
Nico jumped when he heard a knock at his door. Falling rather awkwardly off the bed, he immediately hurried to put his clothes back on.
Leo rapped his knuckles four times against the door, humming to himself. His knocks were met by a thump, the rustling of fabric, and a muffled "oh, shit", making him chuckle. The door was soon opened by a teenager who strikingly resembled a skeleton dressed in gray jeans and a black My Chemical Romance t shirt, struggling to pull on a battered aviator jacket.
"What do you want." His question came out as as a statement. The boy peered through badly dyed black bangs with a hostile expression, which sat oddly on his young-looking face. This kid couldn't have been older than seventeen - how could he have gotten his own apartment? Leo cocked his head. "Just wanted to say hi."
The boy crossed his arms defiantly, looking Leo straight in the eye, as if challenging him. "Hi."
"Hi." Leo imitated his crossed arms. The question was out before he realized how creepy it sounded. "How old are you?"
The boy's face went deep red, his eyes dropping to the floor. "Eighteen..." He looked back up at Leo, as if checking whether or not he bought it. Leo raised an eyebrow. He sat in his right hip, leaning against the doorframe, a sarcastic half-smile forming on his elf-like face. After an awkwardly long pause, the boy let out a huff, dropping his arms to his sides. "Fine, I'm sixteen. Happy?"
Leo's brows furrowed, his smirk softening. "Wait, then how did you get an apartment here? You have to be eighteen, you know." Rolling his eyes as if it were obvious, the boy reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out what looked like a very damaged drivers license. Probably a fake ID. Leo took the card from the boy & examined it. It was fake, Leo could tell from experience, but it was honestly very convincing. More convincing than any Leo had ever used. Plus, the building manager wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer, so it was probably very easy for the boy to sneak his age past him. A badly-taken picture of the boy had been carefully pasted onto the plastic. He looked like death itself, with his ghostly pale skin and darkest brown eyes, which appeared black as pitch in the photograph. The name on the card read "Nico Di Angelo". Leo flicked his eyes up to meet the boy's. "Fake name?"
The boy shook his head, his messy bangs brushing back and forth against his forehead. "It's real," he sighed, nervously tapping his fingertips against the side of his thigh.
Leo's lips curved into a gentle half-smile. He handed the card back to the boy, who gave him a tentative look, and held out his hand. "I'm Leo Valdez," he said, his eyes crinkling slightly.
Taking Leo's hand, he gave a small shrug, his expression casually flippant. He held Leo's gaze with a cynical air. "Nico Di Angelo."