Chapter Text
By normal people's standards, the dream could only be described as absolutely terrifying. Everything around him was crumbling down. There was water cascading down through the wooden walls, flash of whites littered his vision. The air smelled moist and scorching at the same time, rushing by his ears with deafening wails. Someone was screaming, another was roaring. His body moved on its own, each movement was foreign to his foggy mind. The images kept blackening out and swimming back again, sounds jostling against each other in his ears, deafening. He thought he saw the eyes, vicious, twisted, cold eyes, gazing down at him with all the friendliness of a murderer to their victim.
He was flying - at least, that was what Jason believed - and then, there would be a beat: a single thump after which all his dream senses went jittery and sporadic. His body shut down like a puppet without strings. Just like many times previously, Jason watched as the world around him toppled down, the mosaic tiles felt cold on his cheeks. Pain consumed him, excruciating, shooting through his soul as if it was a bullet to his paper.
Jason supposed he should be scared - what was with the devastating sight unfolding around him and the pain rendering him helpless - but he wasn't. He couldn't, really, when this dream had been replaying itself too many times to count, to the point that Jason could practically see the next scene before it even transpired. And what came after the pain had never scared him before. In fact, he welcomed it.
There was darkness, then warmth. Just a little, enough for Jason to suspect that he was being hugged. By what, he couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw something like wings wrap around them, blocking whatever horrid images that might come haunting him. Arms tightened around his neck and on his shoulders. Something soft nuzzled at his hair. Jason tried his best to salvage the moment. Everything had soon faded into black and all the sounds had been cut off like an out-of-battery speaker, leaving Jason alone, disoriented in an unfamiliar embrace. But he couldn't complain, even when his eyes were bedazzled by darkness and his limbs felt like they were made of lead - not when whatever that was holding him felt so warm against his aching body. It felt so serene, so peaceful, a salve to his burns, the anesthesia to his turmoil. The pain receded, chased away by the other's mere existence until nothing was shackling his senses but the typically tender and calming feelings of restful sleep.
It had always been like that. The nightmare came and so did the supposed angel. Jason dived deeper into the embrace, clutching tight at whatever he had managed to get a grip of. Every time, he was determined to not let go. Again, Jason tried to peer up through the black fog, hoping to catch even if just a glimpse of the angel sheltering him.
He woke up with soft knocks pressed on his door. Sunlight filtered through the curtains, dripping heavily on his eyelids.
"Jason?" A voice called out from the other side of the wooden door, soothingly calm and slightly gravel, a distinct warmth drawled prominent by the faded hint of an accent. It made walking out from sleep feel so effortless and a new day ahead seemed all sunshine and flower, definitely much more comfortable than being jostled up by an alarm. Jason's favorite voice, actually. "It's time to wake up."
Jason blinked the residual sleepiness away, trying to make himself the most presentable possible as he grabbed his glasses and shuffled to the door. His lips curled up as a habit even before the wooden frame swung open. "Good morning, Nico."
He smiled at his housemate-slash-landlord. A little too brightly, perhaps. Jason couldn't help it, especially when Nico replied with that soft curve of his mouth: a lovely delicate thing that hung on the pale pink lips akin to the shy moonlight peeking out from behind the clouds - the kind that Jason wouldn't hesitate to trade sunlight for, shining just enough to draw a tide pulling him closer, up up up where they belonged.
God, it was only early morning and Jason was already feeling giddy. Sue him.
"Did you sleep well?" Nico asked in that dulcet baritone voice of his, the smile still gentle in the newborn light and brisk autumn air.
It was all routine at this point, the same questions every day, Jason's facial muscles have gotten used to how painfully wide he was smiling. Even the mention of his chronic nightmare couldn't deter him from the satisfaction of having Nico di Angelo care for him.
"Yeah, I slept great." He lied easily since Nico was a thoughtful landlord who would go out of his way to ensure Jason's easement in his house if he had any say in it and Jason seriously didn't want him worked up over his sleeping arrangements. It was just a dream, anyway.
And just because it was only seven in the morning and Nico could stick it up as Jason was still drunk on serotonin, he added. "Hope you've had sweet dreams, too."
That got Nico's smile to widen shyly. It brought twinkles to his obsidian eyes, lightening up his pale face and the entire hallway brighter than the sun. Such a small thing was enough to be Jason's reward and got him cheering internally throughout the day.
"Thank you." Nico nodded before ducking his head, "Breakfast is almost ready. Come downstairs when you're done, alright?"
Jason managed to bottle up his infatuation to produce an affirmative nod, coupled with an amiable wave. Nico turned to leave, presumably to finish their breakfast, and Jason's eyes couldn't help but stick to his retreating form all the way until it disappeared behind the staircase.
Closing the door, Jason spared a glance at the windows as he grabbed his clothes and uniform. The sky seemed higher today, hopefully as a herald for another refreshing autumn day in Venice.
Jason often got up earlier than this just so he could wander around the house doing miscellaneous tasks with Nico's click-clack-sizzle one or two rooms away. Today, though, when he'd finally made it to the kitchen looking acceptably decent, Nico had already finished with his cooking and started laying out the table for their first meal of the day. The black-haired boy nodded at Jason before quickly turning back to the dishes, turning off stoves and grabbing intricate handpainted plates.
Nico was dedicated in everything he did, so Jason took extra delight in watching him carefully scoop up what seemed like a tomato mixture onto slices of perfectly baked baguette, slender fingers hovering closely above with a few smudges of red juices that Nico was quick to lick it away. Too much delight, maybe, as Jason nearly burnt his fingers with over-poured coffee for not looking. It didn't help at all that Nico had chosen an oversize brown sweater to go with his gray sweatpants today, and while Jason adored that cozy style, the boy had to keep rolling up his sleeves to avoid getting food all over them and revealing more pale-almost-glowing skin in the process, much to Jason's joy.
"Bruschetta with tomato and basil," Nico told him smoothly, placing the delicious toast in front of Jason's watery mouth. There was a glint of pride in his earth-brown eyes and his lips were pressed together like a flower bud as he pushed the bru- sound through their little gap, exactly Jason's favorite way whenever Nico got to show off his perfect authentical Italian accent. Jason had Italian lessons at school, too, but he didn't think he (or anyone, for that matter) could make it ear-honey as Nico did. "I added mozzarella, as well."
"You're the best landlord ever," Jason replied without missing a beat.
Nico laughed, an equally pleasant airy sound that washed over him like gentle waves lapping at Venice's moss-laden bricks.
They had breakfast across from each other. Most of the toast ended on Jason's plate, Nico spun the espresso cup between his bony hands, taking little sips as a form of subtle taunt to his housemate's weak American tastebuds. Jason couldn't help but revel in their little bubble of early contentment, stuffing delicious bruschette in his mouth while trading light conversations that served nothing but watering his ears with Nico's baritone voice. The boy's amused smiles were flowers every time Jason uttered something intriguing to him.
"What's for lunch?" He asked, to which Nico replied with the usual "Find out when you have your lunch."
It helped him forget all about the nightmares. Nico was his source of caffeine (not like Jason would tell him that). He had to will himself to not physically melt right then and there.
"Would you mind watering the garden before we go?" Even when he had every right to force it on Jason, Nico still asked politely, to which he would always happily comply.
"Sure, no problem. The landlord had spoken." Jason winked, and Nico grinned, taking the dirty plates away before Jason could demand to wash them for him.
Nico's garden was just as lovely as its owner, a small exuberant forest just a few steps away from their doors.
There were many flowers Jason didn't know the names of, beautiful and fragrant all the same. A green wall surrounded the house - a litany of ever-growing vines and trees, so thick he couldn't tell which apart. Organization didn't seem to be a priority in Nico's parents' minds when they grew these plants, Jason had figured, as there was no flower bed or parterre to keep different kinds separated. The pretty flowers mingled with lively shrubs, preening, taking turns to primp up the garden kaleidoscopic year-round. Some stood tall and proud as graceful queens, a few bushes wriggled under the shades like cheeky little elves, right next to each other. It looked like a messy, color-dotted painting of the faery's masquerade. Jason loved it, so much that he had spent countless afternoons amidst them to finish his Art homework.
He didn't have his shoes on as he pulled out the hose. The grass tickled his toes, small pebbles caressing the soles and Jason let them, reveling in their little touches. Nico had his walkways paved in chubby gravel and flagstones, spreading to all corners of his antique palazzo - another small pretty lovely thing Jason adored in him. He was so close to indulging the child in him that crowed and asked if he was allowed to roll around on the lawn. They did that sometimes, actually - when summer days smother the entire Lagoon and the sun was too high for Nico's all-black, closed-off attire. Jason's landlord had never been stingy with whatever his mansion had to offer, no matter if it was his lavish grassland or the elegant patio by the water. They would be there, basking in each other's presence under the shades of flaunting bougainvillea, books scattered around as if they would read them eventually instead of tickling and teasing the other.
That fun wasn't for today, though, because it had been fall already and the garden was getting more and more drenched as Jason waved the hose around like a magic wand. Nico didn't require special treatment for his garden, so Jason took his task in stride, casting spells to wake up beauties without damaging the blossoms. Sunlight bathed the scenery in an iridescent mist. The Lagoon sang to him in the background, a melody of gentle waves from far, far away. Wet air prickled his skin, a chilling smell fluttering. The leaves waved merrily, shimmering in between tiny rainbows.
At some point, Nico had finished washing the dishes to join him outside. The black-haired boy sat on the porch, hands in his lap and head leaning on the column, eyes half-lidded in a completely comfortably defenseless manner. He, too, was barefoot. His mess of ebony turfs swayed along with rustling leaves in the gentle autumn breezes, a fleeting movement akin to shadow flecks beneath the trees.
Jason gave him a little smile, which he mirrored. Nico didn't say anything, opting to watch him lazing around in his yard and drink up the silence as if his soul had been too old for even a little bustle of life; that seeing Jason hosing down his parents' years-old plants and flowers was enough of the satisfaction for him. That was fine. More than fine, actually, because Jason enjoyed chilling in the garden with Nico, too. It was times like this that everything else seemed less important whereas their presence felt the most prominent, most real, and all the more boundless. As much as he wanted it to be true, Jason couldn't be sure if Nico enjoyed their two-people time (not like there was anyone besides themselves in the house most of the time) the same way he did. But that was okay because Nico chose to sit with him now and it made his insides melt, softly and unhurriedly, akin to morning dew dripping off green leaves drop by drop.
He turned off the water and crouched down in front of Nico just in time to see the obsidian eyes flutter open.
"All done." Jason held out his hands. "Let's go before we have to run to beat the bells, shall we?"
Nico accepted the help with a grin. His hands were painfully cold against Jason's, yet with a grip surprisingly strong for an illness-stricken teenager. The tug felt weightless when Jason pulled him up.
Venice had already been bustling with life when they left Nico's house. As they gradually moved out of the quiet neighborhood Nico's family had chosen for themselves, the calli got more and more crowded. Venetians opening up their stores, children skipping around in some old corte, and public vaporetti packed with tourists exploring the city's wonders. The bakery's owner waved at the two when they passed.
The city's signature watery, slightly salty smell lingered in the air as they strolled along its canals, keeping up their leisure chat while taking odd shortcuts through the sotoporteghi to bypass crowded tourist attractions. Nico fell half a step behind, his shoulder brushed against the old brick walls. Jason angled his broader form to help shield him from strangers - an inadequate repayment for Nico's efforts of overlooking his agoraphobia to accompany Jason on his way to school.
It was inadequate - because Jason still felt like Nico was giving him much more than he could return every time the boy looked up at him and there was only his reflection in that deep, deep blackness. The buzz of an entire busy Venice didn't taint it one bit. Their steps matched without practicing. People swept by them like waves, Nico pretended they didn't exist. He was telling Jason about some new kind of bread the baker gave him for free as a taste test, his whisper-like tune clear in a sea of Venetian Italian mixed with English. Jason barely managed to reply in time, distracted by the pale skin that glowed ivory in the sunlight. He must have been staring, and yet Jason couldn't bring himself to care as he traced the swift movements of Nico's soft hair - the first thing Jason could see to their height difference - which glistened like silk, the most extravagant velvet-smooth kind.
A familiar lady said hi to them from the other fondamenta. Jason felt like the whole street could disappear and he wouldn't realize at all for as long as he was still drunk on Nico's undivided attention. He was there, on a breathtakingly beautiful Venice street canal whose every brick was an architectural wonder in of itself, walking side by side with his wonderful housemate - twinkling eyes, gesticulating hands, and precious smiles reserved for Jason only.
Jason was just glad he hadn't hurt himself with how he was walking all distracted and bubbly inside.
Fortunately, they reached their destination without having to race against the bell. Jason soon spotted his classmates waving at him from the porch, typical bright grins and sleepy yawns in place. Nico stopped just a step away from the school gate. His casual dark clothes stuck out starkly in the sea of students in red uniforms, small fingers peeking out from the sleeve as he raised a hand to bid Jason goodbye.
"Have fun and good luck with your study," he said. It sounded like a parent talking to their child.
"You too, okay?" Jason patted his shoulder, smiling, "See you in the afternoon."
Nico nodded, turning away as they parted: Jason to a new day of schoolwork and Nico in a big house all by himself with a personal teacher.
His day at school passed by pretty much the same as his morning with Nico, albeit with a lot more fanfare in the form of lectures and indulging his classmates' antics.
Jason had both Italian and Art today, a delight to look forward to. As always, he sat dutifully in the Gothic-style classroom, listening and taking notes when needed, trying to scribble down an answer to his friends' paper messages before losing track of whatever was written on the board. All typical schoolwork. The teacher's accented English wasn't as sweet as his housemate's but still nice nonetheless. Chilling winds sneaked in through the windows, prickling his short hair as they passed. Jason bet Mark was dozing off again.
"I'll never understand how you can enjoy school," his only American fellow grumbled when the group sat together for lunch, just like always. "As a student, you are supposed to hate studying, no matter in what country. I mean, it's like a rule or something."
Jason shrugged, smirking at the other's grumpy, sleep marks-painted face. It wasn't his fault Mark failed to adapt to their curriculum. The guy claimed that sitting hours in class was unhealthy for his free-loving spirit (his words, not Jason's) like the international liceo artistico program wasn't free enough for him. Unlike him, Jason quite enjoyed his school life, both in the mean of taking history notes and competing with others during PhysEd. Mr. Antonio's rambling about his favorite history characters was fun, Italian classes with Mrs. Daniela were surprisingly easy, and the architecture hours were a joy in and of themselves.
"You're taking this surprisingly well as an international transfer student." Giovanni, ever the one with better manners, complimented with an amused smile, slightly impressed. Jason beamed at his Venetian friend.
"Spill it out, buddy, what's your secret?" Rin narrowed her eyes at him across her scarce lunch. The heavy eye bags added effects to her sharp scrutinization. "I'm pulling my hair out with all the school stuff and expenses. And then there you are making this look like a vacation. How?"
Jason shrugged again, this time with a sheepish grin. "I guess I just have it easy on me."
"Oh no, no you don't." Mark warned, "I don't need another speech about your amazing landlord who lets you live rent-free and gives you homemade Italian food to school-" He glared jealously at Jason's still-warm minestrone and lasagna, "-I'm already desperate enough!"
The guy pointed his fork at Jason. He smirked in response but pushed his lasagna forward, nonetheless. Nico always packed a lot, a few additional bites wouldn't hurt.
Rin muttered an appreciative thank at the same time Mark shamelessly dug his fork into the food, backpedaling quickly, "But I won't deny that the food he made is delicious," as if it could validate the chunky scoop he stuffed in his mouth after shutting down Jason's speech of praise. Giovanni snorted.
Jason felt his grin widen, pulling at the scar on his upper lips, unable to contain his glee.
He bet he was the luckiest international transfer student to have such a wonderful landlord, who not only gave him a free place in his spacious inherited villa ("You can pay me by helping out around the house," Nico had told him, shrugging, "This house is too big for me anyway," only to have Jason squish him in a tight bear hug) but also catered to his every need with utmost dedication as if Jason was a special guest to his noble family. He knew for a fact that Rin had to work multiple jobs to make ends meet and Mark didn't have the luxury of a four-poster bed with drapes. Hell, Jason must have saved the world in his previous life to have his landlord wake him up in the morning with hearty meals instead of disdainful glares and complaints about too-loud alarms.
Even Giovanni, a son of a well-off family he was, had been goggle-eyed when Jason mentioned living with the young di Angelo in the Dorsoduro sestiere. Apparently, the family had been a prestigious one with money to spare since decades ago, according to his Venetian friend's grandfather. There was also a note about how the mansion must have only been lived in recently, yet Jason was still reeling from petty pride to care.
"Jason, please let me come live with you," Mark turned to him, sighing in pleasure as he chewed on the delicious pasta.
"Sorry but no, buddy," Jason smirked despite the kind tone, earning himself a pout from the other. Mark always said that whenever he had a glimpse at Jason's surprisingly privileged living arrangements.
His friends had wanted to come - if only to see the mansion in person or assert Jason's claim of free housing, as they'd declared, and in Giovanni's case: finally meet a di Angelo - yet Jason had declined, having a feeling Nico wouldn't appreciate that. It wasn't like Mark would die if he didn't get to see the di Angelos' piano room, anyway, and Giovanni should be contented with the brief interactions when Nico accompanied Jason to school.
"What did you do to deserve this, by the way? I need tips." He demanded. Jason only shrugged.
He wondered that sometimes, too, unable to come up with any reasonable explanation for Nico's astounding generosity. Nico had said he hadn't felt the need to charge Jason when he was living fine off the di Angelos' fortune, and having another in his house helped ease the loneliness, anyway. The reasons didn't sound sufficient enough to share a whole villa with another stranger, an international student at that, but then again, Jason hadn't died in his sleep (despite Mark's suspicion) and Nico's care was so heart-warming he could cry. The young owner was exceptionally kind, Jason believed, and he just so happened to be the recipient of that said kindness.
(Jason hoped, just a little, it would gradually be something more than pure good intentions. Nevertheless, if it wasn't the case, he would be contented with just sharing a house with such an angel like Nico for a few years of studying abroad.)
He settled for the typical joke, "I gave myself up to save the world in my past life."
Mark's groan was satisfying.
"I have to give it up, then," Rin sighed with no actual gloom, "A shame, alas."
Jason chuckled at her faux melancholy.
"Well, at least I can compensate myself with the fact that you don't get to play video games," Mark grumbled, smirking sarcastically.
"Nico loves his classical style," Jason shrugged. Mark made a face at him, but Jason was unperturbed.
It was true. There was hardly any electronic device in Nico's house except for necessary household appliances. He had a pretty big in-wall TV for movie nights but no gaming system despite Nico's profound enthusiasm for his card game, and the only phone he got was the landline one probably older than both of them combined. At first, Jason had thought Nico's family had been thoroughly engrossed in their time-honored antique vibe to tolerate more modern touches than the essentials. Later, it turned out that Nico wasn't that invested in technology, either.
But Jason had nothing to complain about, though. The less distraction the better (the Italians were not lenient with their homework, seriously), and Nico's homemade pasta was phenomenally scrumptious. Re-animating Venetian antiques had also become a hobby Jason didn't know he enjoyed that much (or maybe it was just to have Nico sat on his heels next to him, shoulders touching and fingers skimming across whatever new object they have found).
"And that's why Jason's at the top of our class whereas you are failing, Anderson."
Rin concluded mercilessly, ignoring Mark's indignant responses entirely after. The guy attempted to steal her eggs before Giovanni smacked him across the head without looking. Just their typical lunchtime.
Jason couldn't help but skip a few steps as he walked down the familiar fondamenta to home, bag jostling around a little on his back.
The sun had started to set, residual light veiling the structures in bright orange and shading the canals shimmering. The crowds didn't seem to subside, if anything, there were more people than in the morning. Fortunately, without Nico, Jason didn't need to stick himself to the wall. He weaved his way through the tourists with practiced ease, dodged the locals' animated gesticulations, and spared a few seconds to wave at acquaintances before rushing away, eager to be home.
He'd had a great at school, but he looked forward to seeing Nico more. Jason wondered what they would have for dinner today, what they could do to entertain themselves before being off to do homework. Maybe he could convince Nico to try resuscitating the gramophone they found several days ago.
He turned and stepped on the bridge.
"Jason!" A voice rang across the busy street, high and loud.
Startled, Jason whipped his head around to see who had called him, only to be met with strangers strolling, surrounding him in wave after wave of colorful, unrecognizable faces.
Confusion seized him, Jason leaned over the railings, craning to see if he could catch anything. Water lapped at the ancient walls, singing background noises in the sea of people talking. Boats drifted along the bank. There were noises somewhere at the other end of the waterway. Jason squinted through his glasses at a water bus floating away from him, getting farther and farther in seconds.
He thought he saw a girl with brown hair trying to jump over the railings, of all things. She'd already had a foot on the metal bar, being held back by a man and another girl beside her. Jason could see the other passengers back away from them, picturing the girl's wild expressions as she threw herself over the bars.
And then the boat sailed away swiftly, disappeared behind ancient buildings. Gone. Jason blinked.
He stared at the place where the vaporetto had been just a few seconds ago as if it could help re-animate the girl's images. There were only choppy waves and a piece of orange-red sky smiling at him, an endlessly repeating motion as if nothing had happened. People kept walking, undisturbed, the fondamenta remained beautiful and festive. They swept by him like invisible ghosts, definitely there but two worlds apart. Jason found his legs unable to move along with them.
It felt familiar.
For some reason, his body froze. The winds suddenly felt a lot colder. Pain spiked up his spine sharply and his muscles went rigid in a too-familiar way.
Jason couldn't move. His back hurt and his consciousness slipped away like a lost cloud across the lonely sky, blown astray by something so close yet so blurry.
Someone bumped into him. Jason stumbled.
"Oh, sorry!" He looked up to see a man grabbing his arm, eyes apologizing. Jason managed a jerky nod and a quick "It's okay" to wave the other off. The guy left and Jason was alone to continue his contemplation on what had just happened. His head swayed and he had to close his eyes for a moment.
Weird. Huh.
Maybe there was someone else with the same name as him, Jason mused. It was probably it. He didn't suppose he had ever seen her before, anyway. And he should have worn more clothes, it was becoming colder near winter.
Shrugging one last time to himself, Jason spared one last glance at the water and crossed the bridge, jittery steps faster than any other day.
As Jason turn onto the familiar fondamenta, he noticed the small figure crouching down near the canal's ledge, arms around his knees, clad in black clothes with black hair to match. The familiar gate was left ajar behind him. Jason blinked, surprised to realize it was Nico, sitting hunched over, alone on the quiet bank right in front of his house.
As if having a sixth sense, the boy turned to meet gazes with him, and Jason's heart plummeted at the distress clouded his features, fraught with something too much akin to fear than he could stand to find on Nico's face.
It didn't last long, though, as the coldness dissipated from his bones like dust through skeletal fingers when Nico stood up nimbly and walked to him, messy hair splayed against the winds. Jason thought he saw him heave a sign of relief.
"Welcome home." Nico greeted, fingers curling into the too-long sleeves, all the dark shades wiped off from his face. What was left was only a certain agitation of his shaking hands.
"Hi, Nico," Jason replied, still slightly baffled. He snuck a glance at Nico's slightly trembling, and then the stiff line of his shoulders. "Have you been... waiting outside?"
The boy shrugged in response, a merely tense movement as he wrung his hands, tugging at the skull ring. "I ran out of things to do inside, so I thought it would be a good idea to greet you at the gate for once," he smiled, and it eased the tension on his shoulder somehow. Jason's worry melted away instantly.
He matched the other's smile with one of his own. "Thank you," Jason uttered all the sincerity he could muster, squeezing the smaller boy in a grateful one-arm hug. It was nice to know someone looking forward to seeing him again like that - more so, considering Nico's concerning health condition along with his aversion to being out of the house. Jason couldn't recall a similar sensation from his parents.
Nico replied with a nod, slim fingers clutching at Jason's uniform jacket. The little gesture filled him with warmth.
When they unwrapped, Jason didn't let Nico go but keep a hand on his shoulder to direct him toward the gate. "Now, let's go inside before you catch a cold."
Nico complied easily, the touch seemingly wiping off all the anxiety inside him. His eyes gleamed when he threw a grin behind. "I made you some cicchetti."
Jason threw his fists to the sky, cheering like a child.
It was all routine again, after that. They spent their late afternoon under the blooming pergola. Nico had a book in his lap, abandoned in favor of humoring his tenant, who was chomping down tasty Venetian snacks and talking about his day at school simultaneously.
Jason told Nico everything. The boy was exceptionally invested in anything relating to school, his sheltered raising-up gave him an interest in almost all details, no matter how trivial or dumb, Jason got to offer about another life behind the school gate with peers of the same age. It was quite endearing, Jason had always thought.
Today, though. Today was different somehow, even when Jason failed to decipher it transparently. An undercurrent snuck under the seemingly serene water, weighing on his chest uncomfortably, which even Nico's delicious cicchetti and the gentle, playful breezes couldn't ease.
Speaking of which, Nico was still shaking slightly, an air of distraction on his pinched eyebrows despite the casual smiles.
Jason disliked it, so he pushed the strange incident with the girl to the back of his mind and indulged Nico in harmless chats. He couldn't afford more anxiety on Nico's features for such a minor occurrence.
"Mark was caught sleeping in class again."
"Americans..."
"Hey!"
"Do me a favor and stop speaking with your mouth full, please."
"Oh right, Noé was wondering if she could borrow a few antique things in our house for her project. Something about the 20s. Would you mind? You don't have to if you don't want."
"No, it's fine. Just inform me of what she wants so that I can approve first."
"Of course! Thank you, I'm sure she'd be grateful."
Nico smiled at him across blank plates and Jason felt like he could stay here forever, relaxing in this beautiful garden in the middle of Venice, all gentle breezes and singing waves.
To answer Jason's self-querries earlier, they had risotto and chicken (Pollo del Borgo, as Nico'd called) for dinner, of course not without the classic Sarde in Saor. The risotto was black, deeply, vibrantly black, and Jason would have bolted out of the chair in downright terror (he didn't fall, okay? He didn't) if not for Nico's reassurance that it was just cuttlefish ink and of course, totally digestible. A very Nico thing, Jason couldn't help but muse silently.
His tiny little landlord took immense joy in watching Jason inhale slowly to brace himself before shoving the spoon inside his mouth. He was enjoying himself too much, and yet Jason couldn't bring himself to resent that smug face when it was Nico's eyes, dark, dark and pristinely dark, the clearest night sky he had ever seen, solely on him across the dining table. Something in that shimmering darkness told him to put the obnoxious-looking risotto in his mouth and Jason obeyed blindly.
He found himself whooping down the rice the next second. It tasted like the sea, just salty enough to not be overwhelming.
"Your face was so funny," Nico giggled, eyes filled with mirth.
"Excuse you, not everybody can take the emo attire to the next level like you." Jason shot back, trying to appear defiantly but he could already feel his lips curling up. He scooped up another spoon.
"I'll take that as a compliment," Nico straightened out, pointing his fork at Jason. "And I'll have you know that this dish is a heritage of us children of Venice---"
The boy launched on a talk about risotto al nero di seppia, enthusiastically defending his darkness-induced food (not like it wasn't delicious). Jason listened to his rambling, chiming in queries about Venetian cuisine as if he had been paying full attention to the topic instead of the speaker. He loved the Venetians' innovation - he truly did - but then again, Nico's voice was fluctuating fluidly, a signature packaged with wild gesticulating, reserved solely for his special interests and Jason couldn't miss it. He loved it despite numerous times being hit on the head by bony hands.
"Your teeth are black!"
"Yours is not so different, Jason."
Jason clamped his mouth shut. He snorted and Nico followed, and then they were hollering with laughter at each other's monochromatic oral fashion style. Nico's naturally gravelly voice broke like crispy crackers in the nicest way Jason thought only he could do.
Nico kicked him in the shin as his shoulders shook uncontrollably, hugging his belly. Jason, still vibrating with glee, caught the ankle before toes pierced a hole through his legs.
"Hey, knock it off!" He rebuked playfully between chokes. "You know you skinny things hurt!"
"Then stop setting me up! I can't stop laughing when you keep--keep doing it!"
Jason didn't. He grinned, showing his patchy gray teeth and causing them to burst out again. Several times just because he could. For a while, their guffawing resounded through the empty house, probably starling some poor birds in the garden. It was lovely. They were happy, relaxed, completely at ease.
Jason forgot about everything else. What was left in his mind was only Nico and him in their small corner of delight in the form of a life thousands of miles away from his deserted house and broken family.
Nico was magical like that. It was magical. His housemate always managed to smooth out every minute they spent together, filling them with playful candy drops of joy and moments as tender as ricotta. Nico wasn't much of a cheerful sunflower, yet he had his special way of efficiently feeding warm soup to Jason's soul. His private smiles felt so much more precious when they bloomed almost unnoticeable, reserved, untainted. Just the sight of him made Jason feel light; the light along the edges of their smiles, the lightness of their steps as they did the last cleaning that felt more like dancing than necessary, and the small firefly of warmth that Nico had left inside his chest by wishing him a goodnight in his whispering, fragile tune.
Jason poked his head out to look at the night sky. Venice was still shining with all its glory, illuminating the other corner of the sky. But it was quiet here, between sedum pots and Nico's favorite star jasmine, in a small neighborhood that felt more like the weary, worn-down veteran compared to the others' stifling vigor.
Closing the windows, Jason made sure to leave enough gap between the curtains for the first glimpse of sunlight before retreating to his bed - a land of delightfully soft mattress under the fleece blanket that Nico had been so kind to give him for the cold weather. Letting his eyelids fall, He could still hear muffled sounds from downstairs. Just the muted, almost imperceptible click-clack of Nico finishing his day. The waters hummed quietly, a soft lullaby seeping through the walls. His body melted, heavy under its spell.
Jason let himself sink into sleep, putting an end to another peaceful day.
And the familiar dream shimmered into view.