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Birthdays.
It was never his favorite time of year, to say the least. Most years prior had gone forgotten, since, as a homeless teen, days weren’t always tracked to a tee.
But here, the sun creeping past the black curtains, the creaked door leaking in fresh winter air.
His boyfriend, a sunheaded boy, twirling Nico’s raven hair absentmindedly.
Things could definitely be worse.
Will had crashed onto Nico’s bed at a ripe 8 am, apparently too excited to wait for a time of coherent thinking.
Nico groaned.
His boyfriend hummed, helping himself to crawl under the covers for warmth.
“You know what today is?”
He pressed his forehead against Nico’s own, and Nico couldn’t have stopped the smile if he tried.
He could smell the fresh spring flowers on his supple skin, the brown constellations tracing his cheeks still dewy with sleep.
Then he registered what the beauty had said.
“Ughh.” His fingers pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Neeeeks. Someday we’ll be old and you’ll long for 16.” His hand swept its way to Nico’s, sending shocks down his spine.
He rolled his eyes. “16.”
The words fell ill on his tongue, foreign and far too unsettling.
He had been a child, sprung into adulthood far too early. You’d think aging would feel long overdue.
But 16?
His insides cringed at the thought. It’s not like he felt younger than that, mind you, but the idea settled like a stone in his chest.
His boyfriend must have noticed the brudding, as he cupped his face gently, placing a neat kiss on the bridge of Nico’s nose.
“We don’t have to celebrate, if that’s what you’d rather.”
The stone in his chest sank, until it was temporarily gone, warming like a summer's day.
He knit his brow.
“I appreciate that,” He said, lacing his hand with Will’s, “but you seem awfully excited.”
Will scoffed. “It’s your day, not mine! I’ll enjoy it if you do.”
Nico mimicked a gag, and a soft giggle sprang from Will.
“Mmm, too early for sappy.”
His boyfriend sighed, protesting on how it was not one bit too early, but the dark circles on Nico’s eyes begged to differ.
Finally, after Will's excruciating attempt to convince him out of bed, he decided getting up might shake off the lack of sleep after all.
—————-
The light stabbed his eyes as they shuffled towards the dining hall. The camp was desolate, nothing but the slight chill of January sneaking into the perfect camp weather.
The lonesome picnic tables gaped at him, twisting his stomach. Will's gentle hand rested on his shoulder, and Nico silently cursed himself.
The dread building in his chest, the hollowness of his eyes, he knew it was obvious. Will had plenty bad days of his own, he knew what they looked like. The inability to see the good in front of you when your mind latches onto the past.
The guilt spread over him like a fever as Will lead them to stop one of the day.
Breakfast.
His mind wilted. Months and months of mechanisms couldn’t have prepared him for today. His fists clenched, digging cuts into clammy palms. His throat closed, his heart raced.
Was it silly to think the food was squaring him up? Perhaps. But if it kept him sane, giving him reasoning for his irrational fear, then so be it.
He couldn’t even bring a hand to a fork, just like you wouldn’t bring a hand to the lever of on a dam. Even if you know you don’t have to pull it, just the idea of sending that tsunami keeps your hand away.
Sure, it felt shameful, but the starved headache that beat his mind felt like steady hands on the reigns of a horse.
Next came the plans.
His sweet, thoughtful, genuine plans.
He’d taken him to all his favorite places.
They visited the Trogs in the underworld, peered into the beauty of Persephone garden just for the thrill of secrecy, visited Hazel and the others at camp Jupiter.
It was perfect, full of all the people he loved.
But when Will refused to tell him what was next, a small, meek smile crept over his face. He loved when Will did stuff like this.
He let the giddy feeling slip through the cracks of his walls, enjoying the comfortable silence as they walked-
-before, “Close your eyes.”
It was almost a whisper.
Nico glanced suspiciously at the smirk enveloping the blond boy’s face before shutting his own world dark.
“Your prideful look is so strong I can see it with my eyes closed.”
Will sneered. “Focus on walking. If you trip, Nico, I’ll slap you into next week.”
When he finally heard the words, “Open,” his boots had already begun the all too familiar shuffle in sand. The breeze was fresh, and the soft lap of waves swelled up in his chest.
The light poured in shock as his eyes adjusted to the grey, clouded sky hanging above.
The lake.
The one spot in all of camp he’d always said reminded him of Italy. The curve of the land, the color of the water, the scent sweet rather than salty.
He felt Will wrap around him from behind, and rest his chin on his shoulder.
His words were gentle, “If this isn’t what you had in mind, we can always leave. Okay?”
Pain pooled stubbornly in his eyes.
“Thank you.”
He let the tear roll down his cheek and soaked in Will’s presence. It was precious, and loving, like the healing comfort of the sun warming a cold winter's day.
He could almost picture her.
Her swift brown hair swirling in curls as she danced across the sand, splashing waves and collecting pebbles.
She looked almost angelic.
Her grace, her beauty. More than just fragile.
Her presence like a strainer unable to hold liquid.
He couldn’t grasp her, no matter how much he longed to. He knew it was selfish, but his heart had stopped beating along with hers.
She would always be that void in his life that he could peer into. Evergoing, unending, forever deepening in insatiable darkness.
He leaned into the life that stood behind him, and felt his pulse quicken. Will always had that affect on him, and he had never thought of it as anything but special.
Yet as he watched her dance along the beach, he wished his pulse could stop for her. He would cease to breath, just like she did.
He longed for it, like the many days he had before.
His chest itched at the thought of living so brightly, so fully, without her, as he’d been for years now.
It would only be right to be gone
———-
He watched in adoration as his hair swept like fire over his face, that bright smile lighting matches in Nico’s chest. The blue of his eyes pierced warmth straight to his soul.
He could get swallowed in them, and he would be appreciative.
They’d gone through a majority of the things Will had planned, now all that remained after a mythomagic game (which Nico, naturally, won,) was a movie.
He could’ve cried a dozen more times that day. The effort, the thought, his boyfriend’s understanding of Nico’s struggle.
He felt his eyes sting as his head lay on Will’s chest. They’d settled on something to watch after much bickering, though Nico wasn’t convinced the whole ordeal wasn’t just an excuse for Star Wars.
Yet how could he have minded? There wasn’t a bit of him that wanted the day to be different.
It would’ve never be perfect without her, without them, but Will made it as close as you could get.
There was no comfort in her premature departure, or in thinking of all his own time as stolen.
His older sister, forever twelve, as he grew older by the day.
But how could he stay guilty for the life that surrounded him? It was out of his control.
His heart beat against Will’s.
He could’ve wished he’d gone cold, stark, dissipating into the afterlife, his body lost to time.
Maybe it’d find her body, entangled in the dirt. What made him worthy of seeing the light of day when she’d become nothing but dust? Should he not be dust too?
He bit his lip.
Shifting his grief to others is all it would accomplish. There was no peace in the death he’d wished for, it only stole peace from others.
Since, now, others actually found peace in him.
And if he allowed himself to feel life, to actually reach out and touch it, no part of him wanted to leave.
Will scowled at the small TV mounted on the wall of the cabin. “That was so out of character for him.”
Nico giggled. “Thanks, I’m glad you cleared that up.”
Will rolled his eyes with a smile, resting his head on Nico’s. Warmth stung his chest.
None of them would ever wish for him to give up the light simply because they did.
Maybe birthdays don’t have to be bad.