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Nico had lost decades worth of music.
Sometimes he would hum snippets of a melody in a language that died with his mother and sister. The tune would force its way to his mouth, teasing his mind with a memory he couldn’t grasp. Only for it to leave his tongue tasting bitter and his heart feeling heavy.
The casino was a mess of sounds and colors. There was no discernible genre or time period in the haze of the casino. Any song heard would fade out eventually, replaced by another, then another, then another, until the lyrics and harmonies sounded the same. Of course, any memory of any song was replaced the next day by the newest one.
Nico’s last time ever hearing a full song was at the school dance. He’d been nearly vibrating out of his body to have a night without homework and teachers breathing down his neck, and that’s just what he got.
The music had boomed through the whole gym, shaking the walls and vibrating on the floor. Nico hadn’t felt that way in a while, but there was something about it that reminded him of the casino. With all the pounding music, blinding lights, and kids running around, it was like deja vu.
When Nico got to camp he never stopped hearing music. There was the rambunctious rapping and foul words in the Hermes cabin, accompanied by the slapping of their wooden bunks for some semblance of a beat. The Athena kids listened to Mozart and Bach, soothing instrumentals to keep them focused. The Apollo cabin never seemed to stop their music, just a constant flow of clashing tastes.
Even on the streets, cold and tired, Nico heard music. He couldn’t seem to get the constant sound of bells and talk about sleighs out of his head. The jolly atmosphere was ruined by his heavy heart and his hatred. He’d never hear Christmas music the same, he didn’t think he’d want to.
The Underworld was never quiet either. Musicians roamed the fields, singing songs they never finished, that no one got to hear. Left behind lyrics proclaiming love washed down the River Styx. No matter if it was mournful or fast paced, the Underworld was never quiet.
His only break from music was in the jar. The place where the only noise was his shallow breath and clinking of pomegranate seeds. He couldn't conjure up any lyrics from his mothers lullaby, the jar truly was his own prison.
The Argo II welcomed him in a flurry of sound. Music returned in the creak of Festus’ engines, and Leo’s harmonizing language. Piper’s charmspeak resonated through the ship, resembling love songs. Hazel hummed through her seasickness.
—
Now, as the earth settles and the buildup of war no longer hangs heavy on their shoulders Nico can listen to music again. Real music that pours through an ancient CD player that sits at the nurses station of the infirmary. The whole thing is covered in stickers, most depicting the sun, but some are random from the arts and crafts bin.
Much like he noticed the first time, the Apollo kids keep music playing at all times. The CD player is accompanied by an overstuffed crate of CDs, the covers peeled off and the tracklists abandoned or torn. The second one CD ends, someone is swooping over to change it out.
During the first afternoon of Nico’s required three days in the infirmary he wakes up to a familiar song. It’s techno, and way too much to be woken up to. But he’s momentarily too stunned to be annoyed.
“I know this song,” Nico says to no one in particular, but Will Solace- it’s always Will Solace lately- perks up.
“You’re up!” He exclaims, rushing over to Nico’s side, clipboard in hand. Then his head is tilting to the side, his eyebrows pulling in. “Wait, you’ve heard of Lady Gaga?”
Nico shrugs. He didn’t know who Lady Gaga was, but he knew this song. “I heard it at Westover. At a dance.”
The thought of the dance brings back unwelcome memories. Memories he wishes Lethe could take now, and replace them with ones of his mother. Nico’s luck has never been the best.
“Do you like her?” Will asks.
Nico is taken aback, momentarily forgetting the conversation at hand. “Who?”
“Lady Gaga.” Will says again. “Do you like her music?”
Nico listens closer. The vocals are nice, this “Lady Gaga” sounds good, especially when there are no kids screaming over her.
“I think so,” Nico replies. “It’s good.”
Will smiles, too bright, and almost forced, like he’s slowly cracking in front of Nico. “Good! I’ll keep it in mind.”
—
It keeps happening throughout the second day. Another CD will be replaced, filling the slowly depleting infirmary with drums, bass, and guitar solos. There is no discernible genre, anything and everything is played as long as there is a CD for it.
Nico will throw in an offhand comment about hearing it before. Whether it’s from an old memory coming back, or something he heard someone on the Argo humming. Will will ask him if he likes it, the artist or the song. If Nico says yes, Will will nod, share a fact, then write something down.
Sometimes another Apollo kid will indulge him in this new found music game. The CD will be changed, and then someone’s bounding up to his cot and waiting to share their input.
Kayla is the one who does it during his lunchtime. She shifts around the crate, throwing out cases that had been stacked on top. She cries out victoriously when she finds one of the very few unharmed cases, taking out the disc in a hurry, placing it in the player, then rolls a stool over to Nico’s cot.
“Prepared to be enlightened, di Angelo,” she sings, smiling in the same bright way as Will.
Nico is used to it by now, catching him up with their favorite music. He doesn’t mind it, actually finding it enjoyable even for it being the second day of it. It’s nice having people do stuff like this, doing stuff because they want to, not because they feel obligated.
The song starts up with the sound of a heart monitor. Nico tenses, convinced it’s someone in the infirmary.
Kayla taps the cot. “It’s part of the song, everyone’s fine, no one’s hooked up to anything.” She sounds like she’s had to say this before.
Nico shakes his head, crossing his arms. “I know. It’s just…weird.”
Kayla nods in understanding. “Just listen.”
So he does. Listens past the heart monitor beeping, and into the jolt of drums, and, weirdly, yelling.
“Why are they yelling?” Nico asks as a break before the next song comes.
Kayla snorts. “That’s the whole thing. I thought you’d be familiar.”
Nico is thoroughly confused. “Why would I?”
Kayla’s mouth falls open, pure shock pulling at her pale features. “You parade around- no pun intended- in your Black Parade shirt without knowing what it’s from?”
Nico holds up his hands defensively. “It had a skeleton on it. It was cool. How was I supposed to know it had a bunch of screaming.”
Kayla snorts out a laugh again. “My gods. Just listen to the rest of it.”
Nico listens to the rest of the album, noting the songs he likes and the ones he doesn’t. It’s a good album, surprisingly poetic for something that consists of mainly yelling and loud drums.
When it ends, and the first song begins playing again, Kayla asks him the usual question. “Did you like it?”
Nico tells her yes, the same way he’s been saying yes to every album they’ve played in the infirmary. The constant noise is welcoming. It keeps out the suffocating silence that reminds him of the jar. It keeps his mind from remembering every atrocity he’s faced in the past few months—years even.
—
On Nico’s discharge day he isn’t jumping to leave like he thought he would. He’s grown accustomed to the warm quilt he’s been wrapped in. He’s enjoyed waking up to the bright, sunny smiles of Will Solace. He’s liked the music lessons he’s been giving.
But if he’s learned one thing, nothing good lasts long for him.
Will walks him out of the infirmary and onto the Big House porch. From their spot they can gaze upon the wreckage that remains from battle. The grass seems dull, the strawberries don’t smell as sweet, the sky isn’t as blue as Will’s eyes.
Much like the demigods, the earth carries irreversible damage.
Will clears his throat, gaining Nico’s attention. “I’m glad to see the progress you made during your stay.”
Nico’s mouth twitches at the forced formalities. “It wasn’t terrible. The stay.”
Will shrugs, smiling lopsidedly. “That’s what we aim for; not terrible.”
Nico hums. “I’ll see you around, Will.”
Nico steps down the first few stairs of the porch, but someone stops him at the bottom one.
“Wait, Nico.” Nico turns back. Will is shifting on the balls of his feet.
“I have something for you.” He digs something from a pocket of his cargo shorts. He holds something shiny and square towards Nico. “It’s a CD.”
Nico takes it, holding it like a precious jewel. He pries open the case gently, coming face to face with a piece of torn lined paper. The paper has a myriad of handwriting scrawled on it, numbering several songs Nico had been asked about for the past three days.
“Oh,” Nico breathes out. He’s nearly moved to tears over a collection of songs, but it’s the most permanent thing he’s had since he came to camp for the first time.
Then, he realizes he’s missing a key piece to his gift. “I don’t have a CD player.”
Will laughs, sunny and warm, chasing away Nico’s guilt. “I guess you’ll have to come to the infirmary to listen to it.”
Oh. Nico understands what that means, and he feels silly when he realizes the excitement that comes with it.
“I guess I will,” Nico says softly, closing the case.
He’s happy to know that he means it.