Chapter Text
Grief was his constant companion for as long as Alabaster could remember. It held his hand with the familiarity of friends and siblings he lost - with the intimacy of a lover he would never come to know - and walked alongside him in this lonesome, dark journey of his life for as long as it would last. It didn't matter if it came to him in waves or in trickles, what mattered was that it was inevitable. It was only a matter of time and in what form.
So, it didn't surprise him when Grief came to his door in the dead of night, offering a pale, fifteen-year-old boy silently standing on the concrete front porch, his russet-brown eyes lowered to the ground, holding a lifetime of tragedy and sorrows deep within them. Don't think I've forgotten you, Grief crooned into his ears while placing the younger boy's icy cold hand in his. He'll keep you company in my stead.
Of course, this person would. For as long as Alabaster held Grief's hand, Nico di Angelo held onto the other.
Swallowing the expletives he had at the tip of his tongue, he wordlessly pushed the front door wide open and welcomed Nico inside.
"How long are you planning to stay?" Alabaster questioned as he closed the door behind him.
"... A while," Nico mumbled without looking up, his eyes looking lost in more ways than one.
"... Okay," Alabaster said while closely observing the son of Hades.
There had always been a brokenness in those eyes that the passage of time never fully fixed; a brokenness that was mirrored in his. But whereas his' never mended, Alabaster thought that Nico's did to some degree the last time the son of Hades visited him. But now, looking into those eyes, they were just utterly shattered.
What was it now? Who was it that Grief took from him this time around?
Alabaster didn’t ask his reason for coming; didn’t press him for details. Nico would speak in his own time, at his own pace, as he normally would. Right now, Alabaster was certain that what he needed was to be in the presence of someone who didn’t prod at the scabs in his heart. Someone who lived outside the false paradise of Camp Half-Blood. An outsider. Him.
There was never a single visit wherein Nico didn’t wake him up with his blood-curdling screams at least once late into the night. Alabaster had grown accustomed to it at some point, though the first few instances had been justifiably alarming. Tartarus - Nico explained his situation with that one word alone, and the son of Hecate didn’t prob any further. Something in that place shattered him; something that Nico wasn't willing to divulge in. It wasn't his business to know, so Alabaster respected his silence.
It was clockwork by now. He'd go to Nico's room which was beside his, coax him awake, and hopefully not get stabbed in the process by his sword or kicked on any part of his body. It happened a handful of times that Alabaster would like to consider it a tradition in honor of the son of Hades' visitations. Grumbling at being woken up again at an ungodly hour for the second time in the span of a few days, he kicked the covers off his body and rushed bare-footed towards the next room.
He was prepared to see Nico trashing, clutching and wrenching at the sheets as if his life depended on it, the palpable fear of being trapped in a nightmare painted across that haggard face. He had a clear image in mind; it was ingrained permanently into his memories, haunting him like the ghosts of his past.
But he wasn't prepared for what greeted him.
Nico was crying.
Nico di Angelo never cried.
But in his sleep, he was. Tears were streaming down the corners of his eyes, soaking the pillow that cushioned his head. His eyes were moving erratically behind closed lids, and he was mumbling unintelligible gibberish way too fast for Alabaster to decipher a single word. Only one word stood out, and it was a name.
Jason, Nico occasionally whimpered, calling out the name as if it was his personal prayer, his salvation. The name was familiar. He was certain Nico talked fondly about that person before, but his sleep-addled mind drew a blank at the moment.
The room was enveloped in darkness as the shadows swirled with a tumultuous energy, resembling numerous tendrils whipping through the air around the bed, mirroring Nico's intense emotions. It's going to be one of those nights, huh, Alabaster thought, muttering a few curse words as he reached for the light switch, hoping to disperse the unsettling aura. However, not only did the shadows not recede, but they coalesced into a cohesive entity once he stepped forward, poised to strike.
"Incantare: Ferreus Murus!" He immediately wrapped a thick protective barrier around himself as a precaution. He had never dealt with an unconscious son of Hades before, not in this particular manner. He could handle a well-placed kick to the gut, but rogue shadows? He needed to wake Nico up, pronto. He didn’t want to find out how badly this could end for him.
"Nico! Hey, Nico, wake up!" Alabaster yelled as he took out the Mistform card for his sword and tapped it twice, grasping onto the hilt of the Imperial Gold sword once it solidified. He quickly moved towards Nico, but the shadows liquified the next second, pooling around the bed and causing him to falter.
"Get away from him!" Nico screamed, and for a second, Alabaster was relieved, until he noticed that Nico's eyes were still shut tight, moving frantically underneath his eyelids. In response to his emotions, the shadows rapidly expanded outwards.
Danger! Alabaster's mind screamed.
"Incantare: Columna Aquae!" In a desperate act, Alabaster chanted the incantation, unleashing the spell as a powerful column of water materialized and descended from the ceiling. Simultaneously, the shadows converged once more, slipping past his sword before crashing into his chest and abdomen with immense force, sending him hurtling towards a wall. The torrent of water forcefully snapped Nico out of unconsciousness, causing him to jerk upright, gasping for air and struggling to overcome the effects of near-drowning.
“G-Gods, Alabaster!” Nico coughed, clutching at his chest.
"Shadows, Nico! Shadows!" The son of Hecate shouted from the floor when the shadows poised to strike him again.
Nico's brows furrowed momentarily, his face contorted with confusion, before his breath hitched as he understood the situation. Before the shadows could strike again, he extended his trembling hands in front of him and harshly pulled them away from Alabaster and back to their original positions.
"I… I'm sorry," Nico said as he shakily stood up from the bed before collapsing on the floor beside the son of Hecate. Alabaster briefly glanced at his direction before he leaned his head back against the wall, cautiously dismissing the protection spell around him.
The shadows… They moved to kill him; Alabaster was certain of that. He didn't want to entertain what would have happened if he didn't cast a spell on himself or if he didn't manage to wake Nico up in time.
"Is that a new thing with you?" Alabaster questioned, gesturing with his head towards the general direction where the shadows retreated. "Because if it is, a little warning would have been nice."
Nico shook his head before pushing back the wet locks with a still trembling hand. "That's the first time. Probably. I don't have anyone to check up on me."
"If you could call waking someone up from their nightmare as 'checking up' on them, sure, let's go with that," Alabaster huffed. He took measured breaths to steady his palpitating heart before he continued, “You were having a nightmare. But it wasn't Tartarus you were dreaming about, was it?"
He turned his head to face Nico's direction. "You were calling out to someone - someone named Jason."
It was only for a second, but he saw how those russet-brown eyes flashed with immeasurable pain.
“Oh," was all Nico said, as if it took everything in him to acknowledge Alabaster's words. Judging by the look in his eyes earlier, it probably did.
“Is he why you’re here?” Alabaster couldn't help but ask. He was waiting for a verbal response, but all he received was Nico's hands tightening into fists on his lap. It was enough confirmation.
Nico's grief: it had a name now.
“I’m sure I can cast a spell to make sure you don’t have any more dreams for a period of time," he eventually offered as he shakily stood up using the wall as support and took out an empty Mistform card. He tapped it twice before the Imperial sword disintegrated in his hand and moved back to the card.
“... You’re not going to ask?” Nico questioned him. He offered the younger demigod a hand, which Nico hesitantly took.
“You’re clearly here because you expect me not to ask. So, I won’t," Alabaster reasoned. He was familiar with their arrangement and silent agreement by now. "I'll let you borrow my clothes for now, since you didn't bring any."
He expected Nico to hit him back with a quip. A 'You wouldn’t need to, if you didn't try to drown me'.
“... Thanks," Nico said instead, his face and voice devoid of its usual spark of life.
Alabaster didn't like it. Whoever this was, he was not the Nico he had come to know.
It had been two weeks since Nico started sleeping in his bed; two weeks since Alabaster was forced to fit his six-foot-two body on that small, hard couch Claymore insisted on keeping for 'aesthetics' opposite of said bed. His back was killing him, but he'd endured worse.
It was nothing short of a miracle that he managed to convince Nico to take his bed - Claymore was unwilling to have another room of his house trashed, and Alabaster was unwilling to go through with Claymore's initial decision of convincing Nico to just go back to camp. Not when he's still in a bad state, Alabaster reasoned. Just for a little longer, his mind betrayed.
It had been two weeks since that incident; two weeks since Nico had any dreams. Alabaster thought it would heal him. It did not.
"Hey, Al." Alabaster looked up to find Nico looking down at the open book in his hands. He hadn't turned the page a single time for the past few hours. He never did for the past two weeks. "Do you believe in past lives, and how they are interconnected with your current life?"
"What?" He found himself asking, peering at the son of Hades over his glasses. He lowered the documents in his hands onto the table, giving Nico his full attention.
"It's just… I talked to someone before about it." You mean Jason, Alabaster supplied in his head. He didn't miss how Nico glossed over the details - how his eyes glossed over - his hands trembling just slightly as he tried to get the words out. "They believed that everyone you meet in your current life are people you've already met in your previous lives at some point. An intervention of The Fates, or something."
Alabaster had mixed feelings about the will of the Fates. He had lost enough in his life to consider the will of the Fates as anything but bad for him. Yet, at the same time…
He quietly looked at Nico for a few seconds before he finally offered his input.
"I don't know about the Fates' will, but I must've led horrible lives since I don't seem to run out of enemies," Alabaster said, fiddling with the frame of his glasses.
"Probably," Nico gave a hollow laugh. His fingers gingerly traced the book's spine before he flipped to the next page. Alabaster knew he wouldn't read any of it. In fact, he had an inkling that Nico had skipped through the previous pages too, without absorbing a single word. "I probably did too."
No, Alabaster contested in his head, observing him silently, staring at the fragile curve of his lips. Life might be shitty, but Nico di Angelo wasn't.
Perhaps the will of the Fates was not completely bad. If it was by the will of the Fates that they met, it couldn't possibly be completely bad. But Alabaster would be lying if he said that he wasn't waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Grief brought Nico to his doorstep for that purpose alone. To break Alabaster down when Nico would eventually vanish from his life, never to return.
Alabaster wished he was a little more selfish. Then perhaps, he wouldn't be having an internal conflict between what he wanted and what Nico needed. Then perhaps, he could keep the son of Hades by his side a little longer. But Nico di Angelo wasn't meant to be tied down to one place. He was a free bird, through and through. He wouldn’t stay forever, especially not for someone like him. Not that he would ever tie Nico down. Not that he could ever tie Nico down.
He should have known, from the moment Grief brought Nico to his doorstep and he let him in, that it was neither out of mercy nor pity.
"You've been here a month now," Alabaster addressed one day.
Nico frowned. "I can go-"
"That’s not where I’m getting at," Alabaster cut him off. He fiddled with the teacup in his hand, tracing the rim with an index finger. "You've been here for a month, but you're clearly not feeling any better."
Nico shook his head. "I am. I was much worse when I came here."
That was true. Nico's eyes appeared hollow when he arrived, and he mindlessly agreed to everything that Alabaster said. However, as the weeks went by, there seemed to be minimal change in his demeanor. While a glimmer of light returned to his eyes, it was evident that they lacked the radiance they once held. It was almost as if the son of Hecate's assistance had reached its limit. Perhaps, it had.
"I don't think that what you're looking for is here.”
He could tell from Nico's lack of retort that he held the same sentiments.
"He's nowhere either," Nico murmured in a voice so low he might as well have whispered it. But Alabaster heard it nonetheless.
"Who was he?" He knew the guy's identity from Nico's stories, and his’ alone. Jason Grace, son of Jupiter. Former praetor and Pontifex Maximus of the Roman camp. He was-
"... My best friend."
A best friend, he says, Alabaster pondered over Nico’s words. It didn't sound like a lie, but…
When he lost his friends and his siblings in the Second Titan War, he couldn’t remember mourning for any of them as hard as Nico was mourning for Jason Grace. Of course, he was well-aware that different people mourn differently. But the way Nico was processing his so-called best friend's death was as if… as if…
Oh.
Oh.
"I thought that was me," Alabaster replied in a light, almost teasing tone, but his fingers marginally tightened around the cup in his hands as he processed his newfound realization on Nico's situation.
"You’re a close second." The son of Hecate laughed in amusement, but his eyes betrayed bitterness. He didn't want to be a second anything.
How many months would it be this time before Nico came back? Three? Six?
He really should stop counting; he was the only one doing it. He was the only one waiting, the only one yearning.
"Thanks for letting me stay," Nico said. They were both standing in the living room, with the son of Hades checking on his belongings. Not that he had much; just his clothes and Stygian Iron sword. He didn't even have his skull ring anymore. Gifted it to his boyfriend, or so he claimed.
'Boyfriend', Alabaster scoffed at the thought. That sounded so much like a lie now.
"You're paying for the groceries," Alabaster claimed, dismissing his thanks.
"Not even Dr. Claymore is asking me to pay, and it's his house," Nico countered, earning an eye roll from the older demigod.
"Just be glad I didn't kick you out," Alabaster shot back.
"Yeah, yeah,” Nico answered, the smallest of smiles playing along his lips.
Alabaster wondered if he and Nico were ever meant to find happiness or if grief was The Fates' sole intent for them. Deep in his heart, however, he believed that if anyone could defy The Fates' will, it was Nico.
Approaching the son of Hades, Alabaster took a rare step out of his comfort zone. "No more running away, Nico,” he said as he enveloped Nico in an embrace that was almost crushing. In that moment, he couldn't discern if he did it to console Nico or to find solace for himself. “The Nico di Angelo I know doesn't run away from any situation."
Especially not from the weight of sorrow. Yet, he was acutely aware that both he and Nico were still so young. Nico was only fifteen, and he was only eighteen. Too young to know the world in its entirety, and yet too old for the roles they were born into.
Hesitantly, smaller hands slid from Alabaster's waist to rest hesitantly on the small of his back. They tightened around him just as the son of Hades leaned against him, and it was enough for Alabaster to consider asking him to stay. For him. But in the end, he held his tongue; he swallowed unspoken words. The reality was, there was no force in this world strong enough to confine Nico di Angelo to a single place.
"Take care of yourself. See you, Al," Nico whispered as they simultaneously let go of each other.
It was never a goodbye. It was always 'see you'. It held hope that, should Fate allow it, there would be a next time.
As soon as Nico disappeared into the shadows, Alabaster collapsed into one of the couches.
“I swear that kid managed to chip away at your sanity every time he visits,” Claymore remarked as he entered the living room. He stared at Alabaster with an incredulous expression, as the teen had an amused smile on his face. “What did he do or say this time to make you smile like that?” Claymore inquired.
Alabaster briefly glanced at him before shaking his head.
“Nothing. I just realized that I was trying to compete with the wrong person all this time.” He couldn’t make Nico stay because he wasn’t what Nico needed. But even with Nico’s ring in his possessions, the son of Apollo was never truly his competition to begin with.
Nico’s grief had a name. And now, so did Alabaster’s.