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Nico was 10 the first time he laid eyes on Percy Jackson. A hero, he thought. After all, he had saved him and Bianca from Dr.Thorne. Even after they had arrived in Camp half-blood, after Bianca joined the hunters, after she left on a quest, he never left Nico. Percy was still there, a heroic figure in the face of the unknown. Which is why, to Nico, it was no surprise he was chasing after the questing group and promised to protect Bianca. He was powerful, and wouldn’t let anything happen to Bianca. Right?
Percy lied. He didn’t protect Bianca, he let her die. Nico was alone now, with no one else to turn to. And it was all Percy Jackson’s fault.
(But why won’t his mind blame him?)
———
Nico was 13 when he fought at the Battle of Manhattan. Standing beside his father and Persephone, Nico took down monsters with ease, a testament to his years of (arguably informal) training. A loud cry diverted his attention to the Williamsburg bridge. There, in the midst of chaos, stood Percy, who was shielding an injured Annabeth. “NOBODY TOUCHES HER” he roared out, startling even Kronos himself. Nico looked away. Seeing Percy and Annabeth together always made his heart twinge with an unrecognizable ache, for reasons unknown. (You know why, a voice in his head sneered. A disgraceful-)
———
Nico was 14 when Percy Jackson disappeared. Of course, Nico soon found him at the Roman camp, with no memories other than his love for Annabeth. Nico could barely hide his resentment. So, he embarked on a solo quest to find the Doors of Death, where he was captured by giants and saved by Percy. Again.
———
Nico was 15 when he acknowledged his feelings. More accurately, when he was forced to. It had been a simple enough task; find Diocletian’s scepter with Jason Grace. Unfortunately, the fates seem to love being cruel to Nico. Cupid, threatening Jason with an arrow, made him admit his deepest secret - his romantic admiration towards Percy. Jason must be disgusted. Shame overcame his being as he tried to join the shadows.
———
Nico hated Percy. He hated his sea green eyes that swirled with the power of the ocean. He hated his unruly black hair that still somehow seemed styled. He hated how he was surrounded by loved ones and gods and secret admirers. He hated how he doted on his girlfriend, never casting a glance in another direction. He hated him with all his being.
(And yet, why did he still love him?)