Archive of Our Own ^beta

Kayla was the first one to point it out.

Nico and her were lounging in the infirmary, waiting for Will to finish bandaging up some Ares kid so they could drag him off to lunch. There were a few balled-up papers on the floor near Nico’s shoes, and he absentmindedly kicked them into a small trashcan in the corner. He wouldn’t have noticed his ease with the game, except Kayla suddenly said, “Whoa, dude.”

Nico glanced over at her. “What?”

She drew a hill in the air with her finger. Her green bangs bounced with every action. “That’s pretty impressive,” she said, “making it go up like that. And you got it in every time.”

Nico thought it was a bit of an overstatement. It wasn’t like he was calculating the trajectory and wind resistance or anything. His leg just seemed to know what to do.

“It’s not that hard,” he dismissed.

“Really?” Kayla found her own ball of paper, pushed it around a little. Satisfied with the angle, she let it fly. But it bounced off the wall several feet away from the goal. “So, you’re saying I just suck?”

Er—he sort of was saying that. Sure, it wasn’t the biggest or most convenient goal, and the paper was a poor replacement for a real ball, but he was positive anyone could do it with a little concentration.

He said as much to Kayla to avoid answering her question. “You weren’t really trying,” he added. “You wanted to prove your point.”

He should have just stayed silent, because Kayla’s face split into a grin. “AHA!” she cheered. “That is the point, my dear brother-in-law. I or anyone else would have to try. You were totally zoned out. “

Nico was used to cabin 7 dramatics by now, though he didn’t quite know how to deflect it this time. She was right, he supposed. It just wasn’t such a big deal.

Luckily, Will bailed him out of having to reply. He appeared from behind a curtain, struggling to peel red-stained gloves off his hands. His hair was a bit disheveled—as per usual—and his vibrant blue eyes glinted with mirth. He shot the two of them a half-smile that made his left cheek dimple.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, for keeping them waiting. “More blood and guts than expected.”

“Ew,” Kayla said.

“Unforgivable,” Nico quipped.

Will finally managed to get the gloves off. He went to throw them away in the little trash can, which immediately reignited Kayla’s excitement.

“Oh! Will!” She gushed. (Uh oh.) “Notice how all those paper balls are in the trash can?”

He followed her gaze and squinted down at the make-shift goal. Then he gestured to the one she had missed. “Sorta?”

“Ignore that one!” She pointed at Nico, waving her arm all around. “It’s because he’s a secret soccer champion. He was kicking them from all the way over here.”

(What, like 10 feet away?)

“Stop,” Nico mumbled.

She didn’t. “I mean, like, Neymar shit. Trickshots!”

Will approached Nico and nudged him. “Well, you know this guy. Effortlessly cool, good at everything that doesn’t involve keeping himself alive.”

Nico nudged him back. “Shut it.” But he wasn’t really annoyed with either of them. Kayla had made an innocent observation that would never come up again. He was a child of Hades, not a damn World Cup representative. As soon as they left the infirmary, he forgot all about it, thinking instead of what to pile on his plate. He’d been meaning to try that shrimp Teriyaki…

***

It came up again.

This time was Cecil’s fault, as most messes were. He came skidding around the side of the Big House while Nico was on his way to a sword fighting lesson, hair swept to one side and arms full. Upon spotting Nico, his face lit up. “Oh, good! Help me get rid of this!”

He set down a small backpack that was nearly bursting with how full it was. He looked at it, then at Nico, expectantly.

When Nico just stood there for a solid 5 seconds, he hissed, “Come on. Hurry!”

“What am I supposed to do?” Nico asked.

Cecil made a frantic gesture. “Something! You don’t understand, she’s gonna kill me!”

Whoever she was, she was probably in the right. There was no logical reason to become an accomplice in this crime. However, Nico was—horrifyingly—going soft. Besides, he didn’t particularly want Cecil sulking all day and weeping about how Nico failed him during his most vulnerable moment.

So Nico helped. It was more of a conscious effort than the first time, punting the backpack across camp, but he still didn’t really consider his actions. It was the simplest method of transportation, that was all.

Cecil gasped. He watched the backpack arc through the air, and land almost at the edge of the forest.

“Nico! Oh my gods!” He yelled, voice going all high and squeaky.

“What?” If Cecil revealed now that there was something super important in that bag, then it was his own fault that it had gotten beat up.

Instead, Cecil beamed. “That was fucking awesome, man!”

Nico stared at him blankly. He supposed the distance was decent, but the reaction still caught him off guard.

“Uh,” he said, after a pause. “Thanks?”

At that moment, a furious girl with pigtails caught up to them. She shoved Cecil in the chest, to which he grinned. “Where is it?” she demanded. “What’d you do with it?”

Cecil pointed at the distant backpack and shrugged. “Oopsie. It must have slipped out of my hands.”

She made an angry sound like “Auurgh!” and sprinted away after her goods.

Cecil laughed as she got farther and farther away. “Oh, man, look at her. That could have been bad.” His pride over his prank was blinding; Hermes kids had strange hobbies.

But then his smile flipped into a frown. He turned to face Nico.

“Nico, Nico, Nico,” he began, shaking his head. “As great as that was, I cannot believe you’ve been keeping this from me.”

Nico hadn’t been, not on purpose. In fact, he couldn’t even pinpoint what “this” was. All demigods had at least some basic PE drilled into them; Cecil could have gotten literally anyone to help him.

Regardless, campers were already gathering at the amphitheater for sword fighting. Nico didn’t have time for any more chitchat.

“I keep a lot of things from you,” he said darkly, and started to speed-walk away.

“Wha–huh?” Cecil sputtered. He didn’t attempt to chase Nico, but he did make sure to scream, “I won’t let you stay mysterious any longer, emo boy! I’m amazing at spreading news.”

Without looking back, Nico flipped him off. Yeah, right. What was there to spread? It wasn’t like anyone would care. Believe it or not, Nico’s friends had their own lives, and had no business encouraging him to develop a hobby that he literally didn’t have.

Well, whatever helped Cecil sleep at night.

Goodbye, Nico thought. I have real work to do.

***

…

…

So. Update.

He may have underestimated Cecil.

The first signs came at breakfast the next morning. Nico was so profoundly not a morning person that those who were tended to shrivel up and die in his presence. Which was why when several people that knew not to bother him before 10 A.M. started coming up to him anyway, he was sure something was amiss.

He complained about this to Will, who was indeed a morning person, but had developed an immunity to Nico’s bad vibes via sheer willpower (pun not intended, and in fact greatly loathed) as well as constant exposure. Kayla and Austin had somewhat gained the same ability, though he still occasionally extinguished their joy.

“She’s just coming over to say hi,” Will assured him. He was referring to Valentina. She was currently running over from the Aphrodite table as fast as she could. I.e., not very fast at all.

“To you, I sure hope,” Nico grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure the way you’re glarin’ at those eggs is sending her a clear enough message.”

But Nico wasn’t so convinced. He had decent distance eyesight, and could swear that Valentina’s gaze was zeroed in on him. Worse, a few Hermes kids stood up to flank her. It was like he’d accidentally left a sock behind with a wolf, and now the whole pack was tracking his scent.

Valentina cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled something. When Nico raised an eyebrow, she repeated it. This time, he caught a few words: kickball, tournament, join.

That was the exact second Nico knew he needed to evacuate. He could hardly handle normal socializing this hour; getting bombarded by Cecil’s minions was sure to end in homicide.

He stood up from the Apollo table’s bench in one swift movement.

Will blinked up at him. “Where you going?”

Nico was already searching for escape routes. His best bet might be his own cabin, as most people were too afraid to follow him inside. He shrugged a shoulder in Valentina & Co’s direction. “Ask Cecil. This is his fault.”

Kayla spat a chunk of half-chewed toast out of her mouth from across the table. “Dammit, I told him not to push it!” She’d obviously known of the plot, and supported the cause, if not the method.

Will was still looking spectacularly befuddled. He’d likely forgotten all about Nico’s special talent for throwing trash away with his foot. Or at least, couldn’t imagine how it’d snowballed into this. Nico felt abruptly grateful for him, and patted his arm. “I can’t explain now. I’ll be back later.”

Will frowned and said something about how Nico had to finish eating, but it was too late. Nico lunged for his oldest companions, the shadows. He couldn’t actually shadow travel without draining himself, but he preferred to move through the shade beneath thick leaves and cabin roofs anyway. He slinked out of the dining area just in time to hear Val shout: “Hold on! I was supposed to talk to him!”

He smirked at the sound of her failure as he pulled himself through his cabin’s back window. Serves her right.

The Hades cabin was frigid despite warm air flowing in from outside, dark despite the sunny day. He wandered over to his bed and sat down, not sure what to do now that he’d succeeded in isolating himself. His sheets were still wrinkled and pillows askew from last night. They too were cold.

After a moment, his eyes strayed, as they always did, to the picture of him and Bianca on his nightstand, the two of them smiling at something behind the camera. It didn’t quite hurt to look at anymore, but he didn’t think it would ever stop eliciting an ache in his heart. He wondered what she would think of him now, fleeing from silly things like teenagers instead of deadly monsters. He touched a few strands of his dark hair, so much like hers in the way it fell around his face, only shorter and messier

Thinking of his childhood sparked vague images of Italy and his mother that were impossible to place. That was nothing new. His mind was full of a fog that desperately wanted to clear out, but had nowhere to go.

Only…this time, an unfamiliar memory tried to force itself to the surface.

Bianca, fiddling with a brand new green cap mother had gifted her. They were standing by the water, maybe waiting for someone. She gave Nico a proud look. “You might really make the team,” she said.

That was it. That was the entirety of the fragment Nico could dig up. He gritted his teeth and tried to recall even a second before or after, but got nothing.

His mood soured. He thought, why show me this now?

Then, before he could stop it, he thought something much, much worse:

Did she mean…the football team?

It was absurd. Nico should be smacked for even entertaining such an idea. It was just his dumb brain trying to connect things that had no relation. Bridge the present and the past in any way it could.

I should have stayed at breakfast, he thought. At least then it was other people ruining my day and not myself.

There was a knock at his door. His head whipped up. Speak of the devil.

“Come in!” he called out quickly. There was only one person who would be looking for him here so soon. And he didn’t exactly need Will alerting the entire camp of where he was hiding by loitering outside the door for 10 minutes.

Will stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “I know you said you’d come back later,” he said. “But I got a little impatient.”

Nico rolled his eyes, because it had barely been any time at all. Still, he gestured to the space next to him, inviting Will to sit. The distraction from his previous line of thoughts was not unwelcome. “You’re going to get me in trouble if you don’t work on that stealth,” Nico said.

Will flopped back on the bed, making himself comfortable. “Not in my nature.”

“Even someone of your nature can manage to sneak through a window,” Nico insisted.

Will met his gaze, and there was something soft in his eyes that suggested he was more worried than impatient. He reached up a hand to brush aside a bit of Nico’s hair, just as Nico himself had done moments earlier. It was different when Will did it, though. He did it not to scrutinize or reminisce, but rather out of simple admiration. Nico’s heart sped, just a little.

“Kayla spilled,” Will said. “And Cecil. And Val. Kinda. Why they all decided to become your personal soccer coaches after a single day of observation is beyond me.”

“Football,” Nico corrected.

That made Will smile. He sat back up, and his hair flopped into his face with the momentum. His white shirt and blond hair and freckled skin should have made him appear out of place in the dim Hades cabin, but somehow the contrast only made him more beautiful. “We’re in America now, honey,” he said smugly. “It’s ‘bout time you showed some pride.”

Nico made a face. “Disgusting.”

Will’s smile widened, then shrunk back into a pensive expression. “I’m not sure why Cecil told everyone who has ever interacted with you except me, though. I don’t get the point of any of it, honestly.”

Neither did Nico. “I guess he thought you might disagree with the whole hunting-me-down thing.”

Will bumped their shoulders together. “I did tell them to leave you alone. Don’t know if they’ll care.”

Nico shrugged. He still didn’t know how to deal with so much…attention. He knew now that it wasn’t always bad attention, but even the so-called positive kind was unnerving for someone who had grown accustomed to staying quiet and unseen. Especially since many of these people approaching him had admitted to once being wary of him. He always wondered how he might slip up and undo all of that trust in an instant.

“Besides all that though…” Will began, almost conspiratorially, “...Do you find it fun?”

“Huh?” Nico jolted out of his thoughts.

“You know, the scoring goals and whatnot.” Will waved his hand. “Like, if a bunch of people weren't bugging you about it, would it be enjoyable?”

Nico wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to be offended on instinct. He wanted to be offended by another person acting like this was a thing, when it wasn’t. But he forced himself to actually consider the question. He could admit that being naturally good at something outside of his demigod powers was a little cool. The fact that it was sort of his go-to defense to kick things away from himself was worth examining. And the way his limbs moved like he had years of experience…

You might really make the team.

“Will?” he asked, instead of answering.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think that maybe…even though my mind is hazy, my body still remembers things? From back then?”

Will sat up straighter as he pondered something he found genuinely intriguing. “Of course. Muscle memory. People’ll come back to an instrument they haven’t played in years, and their fingers will find all the old notes before they even try.” He paused. “You think you were a soccer boy back in the day?”

“Football.” Nico shook his head. “I don’t know. Just a thought.”

He wasn’t sure what it would even look like. His life before the Lotus Hotel was a blur—mostly a happy one, but he knew that couldn’t be entirely accurate, with Italy on the verge of war. If he concentrated really hard, he could maybe dredge up a few images of soldiers in the street or his mother praying for their safety. Surely it got worse than that. When would he have found the time to practice sports? Why?

He knew he was disregarding the obvious fact that even kids in difficult situations had fun with each other—just look at Camp Half-Blood—yet it all felt incomplete in a way. Like flipping through a file about an entirely different person who happened to share his name.

“It’s a good theory,” Will said. “What I’ve been tryna ask is: do you want it to end here? Or do you want to test it out?”

The rational answer was probably the former. Too much potential for uncovering something unsavory, too much room for disappointment or humiliation.

On the other hand, though…was it really that fucking serious? It was football. Kicking a ball with his foot. Nico was so used to everything being life-or-death that these simple decisions seemed to weigh the same in his mind. It took genuine effort to remind himself that his answer to this question would have little to no bearing on his future. It might even be interesting to give it a go.

“Might as well,” he said, attempting to be casual about it.

Will, of course, saw right through the act. “Oh, sure.” He stood from the bed and offered a hand. “Well, then let’s get to it, Skellington.”

Nico took his hand. It was a miracle something so warm could persevere in this place.

Except, he used it to drag Will closer instead of standing up. He leaned in to whisper: “Call me that again and find out what other violent moves I’ve forgotten I know how to do.”

Will laughed, in the musical way only Apollo’s kin could. Nico’s mood clawed itself a little out of the hole he’d left it in. He allowed himself to be pulled up and guided outside.

Not life-or-death. Just stupid football.

***

Will was a shit goalkeeper, as it turned out. He was fast enough, but too wary of the ball to commit to blocking it.

“It’s you, not me!” he claimed. “You’re kickin’ it like you want it to land on the other side of the country.” (Once again, Cabin 7 dramatics.)

The two of them had managed to find a ball and net stored in the corner of the Big House. They dragged it to a mostly uninhabited clearing of forest, though you could never truly be alone at Camp Half-Blood. Nico knew that well, as he’d spent the better part of the trip avoiding anyone who knew Cecil—which was everyone, everywhere. Fortunately, nobody made any genuine attempts to trail after him. Even Hermes' kids weren’t that bold.

The sun was high in the sky. Nico wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead. He’d worn short sleeves for this, a sure sign of dedication.

“You’re just a wimp,” he said, grabbing the ball.

He was secretly a little proud of his shots so far. Beyond getting it in the net, he’d tried aiming for specific areas, even the outer rim, and had no trouble at all. Perhaps Kayla had been onto something earlier, though he’d never admit that to her.

Will shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you. I was so happy you were investing in something that doesn’t involve injury for once, but clearly I’ve underestimated that thing.” He glanced at the ball like it was an active grenade.

“Nobody’s injured,” Nico argued.

“Not yet!”

Nico ignored him in favor of dribbling the ball around. Muscle memory. It was still surprising how natural it came to him, manipulating the ball like it was a creature he’d crafted out of bone. He found himself wanting a bigger challenge. He found himself looking forward to it.

“I might try starting farther back,” he said.

Will caught his true meaning about it being too easy. He studied Nico for a second, then said: “Look, I know you’re trying to avoid the spotlight right now, but we know a lot of people that can provide a lot of interesting obstacles. No reason to hold yourself back, right?”

“I guess,” Nico sighed. “I just don’t want to feed into Cecil or Kayla’s delusions about my skill level.”

Will made a very particular expression that he always made when he was refraining from pointing something out (a rare event already).

Instead of saying what he clearly wanted to, he concurred. “Yeah. Sure. So, we just get someone who isn’t in on it.”

Nico squinted at him, but ultimately let the suspicious evasions slide. “Austin?” he guessed.

Will frowned. “Nico, love both of you—but no. If you jammed one of his saxophone fingers, you’d never be heard from again.”

“That’s why I like him,” Nico murmured.

“I meant…Lou Ellen!” Will revealed, though the moment was over. “And it’s perfect, because I’m pretty sure she’s been stalking us for the past 10 minutes.”

Nico looked around in alarm. He considered himself pretty adept at both sneaking around and catching others sneaking around, so the notion of being clueless that entire time unnerved him. He’d been too concentrated on the game. That was why he never did stuff like this—not long ago, that sort of distractedness could have gotten him a knife in the side.

Lou Ellen appeared out of thin air, having disguised herself using the Mist. Her cheeks were flushed at the embarrassment of getting caught. Though, to her it wasn’t much of a surprise; her and Will had been friends for a long time, and he knew where to find her by now.

“I promise I wasn’t trying to be creepy,” she defended, hands up in surrender. She always had on about 1000 rings and bracelets, so it was a rather noisy movement. “I couldn’t resist. It’s so cool.”

Lou Ellen was earnest in a way that made it impossible to be mad at her. Besides, Nico was the last person with the authority to go calling other people creepy. He made a vague it’s fine motion.

Will, on the other hand, huffed. “And you decided to sit there and watch me fail? Rude. I could have used a little help.”

It was basically an invitation to join. She clapped her hands together, smiling (this was also very loud). “I’lll make it up to you, swear it. I have a bunch of spells that’ll level up this operation to expert mode.” She looked between Nico and their set up, growing more and more excited by the second. “Ooo! I could add a trap there, and there. Or, how do we feel about shortening the net? That way you’ll have to practice hitting at a certain angle…”

She rattled off some more ideas, and they did their best to honor her vision. In the end, there was so much junk in his path, Nico could hardly see where he was meant to be getting the ball. Not to mention the boosts Lou had given herself in agility as the new goalkeeper. Suddenly, Nico wasn’t so sure he was ready to move on from the basics.

Will tugged on his shirt as he walked past to sit on the sidelines. His wise words of encouragement were: “Good luck, you. Looks like you might need it.”

Nico scowled and re-centered his neckline.

Oh, whatever. He’d wanted a challenge, right? He couldn’t complain now.

Since Lou summoned all sorts of foliage and barriers on the left side, and she herself guarded the right, he was going to need to try to aim for somewhere in the middle. She’d followed through on making the net smaller as well, and she also made Nico start from behind a cone that was much further back than where he’d begun. He needed to focus.

Correct the angle, gather the strength, let it fly.

His first attempt was plenty forceful, but the ball landed right in Lou’s pile of ivy, wrecking the momentum. It was the first time Nico had missed so far, and he found the experience of awkwardly stepping over the obstacles to recollect the ball rather awful.

“You almost made it!” Lou Ellen called. “Try again!”

His second and third attempts were a bit better. Still, the constant readjusting was a harsh reminder about how easily he got frustrated. He saw the ideal course in his mind, but couldn’t, for the life of him, make it happen.

When they stopped for a short rest, he sat next to Will and told him, “I don’t know how people do this crap for multiple hours every day.”

“I’ve watched you practice fighting for about that long,” Will said.

“Yeah, but…” What? Fighting was important, and this wasn’t? Fighting was a basic necessity, not a nonsensical pastime?

“But niente,” Will cut in. “It’s not like you have a deadline or anything. Lou can keep at it forever. And if you do decide to give up in the end…I promise not to tell anyone important.” He winked as if that was an actual charming thing to say.

“Oh, how kind,” Nico snarked.

Will wagged a finger. “Listen up, pal. If you think I’m kidding you right now—“

“I am not your pal.”

“…Listen up…babe?”

“Goodbye.” Nico stood and brushed off his pants. As annoying as that delivery was, Will’s words were essentially a reiteration of what he’d been telling himself earlier about chilling the hell out—or, a test, even: would the first setback have him packing his bags? Did he actually care about improving this useless skill?

Yes. For some idiotic reason, he did. He knew it by the way he instantly returned behind his cone like a good little trainee, making no move to leave, to get Lou to toss aside a few obstacles. Expert mode, she’d called it. He wanted to live up to that. No shortcuts, no quitting.

He geared up for another shot.

In the end, it was a little over an hour before he made a goal, including multiple empty threats to kebab the ball with his sword, and a significant number of “breaks” that were just him glaring at a tree. At that point, he didn’t have enough spirit left over to celebrate the win. He watched the ball slip past Lou’s hands with a sort of distant relief. Praise the gods. I thought it was hopeless.

Lou Ellen was thrilled. She bounced up and down, cheering, “Woo! You did it! We did it!” She was probably more happy that someone had engaged with her spells for an hour than Nico’s success. Either way, good for her.

Will rose to clap. “There you go, Neymar. That’s a trophy winner right there.”

Nico reddened at the praise, but he was so damn sweaty that it was difficult to tell (thank Olympus). Now that his focus was broken, he was beginning to feel the effects of the exercise. Typically, all his legs did was transport him around while his arms did the important work (stabbing, bludgeoning, etc.) They weren’t pleased about the promotion.

He lowered himself shakily to the grass. “Alright” he declared. “That’s enough of that for…ever.”

Lou Ellen gasped. She ran over and said, “What? No. You’re basically ready for the big leagues!”

Nico looked up at her. “It took like 100 tries. And there’s nobody to play against anyway.”

Will joined them, forming a weird, lopsided triangle. “Now, don’t be a pessimist, di Angelo. You were great, and you know half the damn camp would sprint to join a soccer club if it existed.”

Telling Nico not to be a pessimist was like telling a fish to breathe air. “I’m not the sort of person that starts clubs.”

“And what sort of person is that?”

They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds in challenge. Lou Ellen looked between them like she might end up having two Christmases. Nico hated to be the first to relent, but displaying too much passion was worse. The opposite of love was indifference, and all that. He turned his head away.

“Oh, come on,” Lou exclaimed. “I thought we were all having fun here!”

“We were,” Will insisted.

Nico opened his mouth for a response—but at that instant, something hit him. It felt like a physical blow, the way the fog sundered all at once, wrenching a memory from the comfort of uncertainty into the bareness of clarity.

Bianca, grabbing his wrist too hard. Pulling him close and hissing, “You heard what mom said. The more we feed into this, the more the world is going to hate us. I know it’s just a game, but it’s not.” The lines in her face were too defined for a girl of her age. Her harsh tone was born from fear, not anger. The memory flickered away as quickly as it had arrived.

Nico’s first thought was Mythomagic. That had been a game, until it wasn’t. But then, with the context of everything else, he figured she must really mean football. Again.

Dammit. How could such an innocent sport haunt him?

“Nico?” Will asked, stubbornness replaced with concern. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, highlighting the crease between his brows.

Nico had no explanation to provide him with at the moment. Everything was breaking through with no definable sequence or shape. He couldn’t begin to understand it, let alone form it into sentences.

“I need to—“ He pushed himself back to his feet. Leave, think, be alone. “I’ll…I’ll be back.” It was a promise he often made, and less often kept.

Lou Ellen and Will exchanged a look. Both of them spoke in unison with protests: “Hold up.” “Wait—“

For the second time in one day, Nico escaped. He was sloppier this time around, uncomfortable and overwhelmed, and still so godsdamn sweaty. He should shower. Or cry. He slid down the trunk of a big, looming willow, wishing he could disappear beneath it. All he could picture was Bianca, Bianca, Bianca.

What were you warning me about? He begged the ghost of her that lived inside of him. Are you telling me to stay away or get closer?

She didn’t answer. She never did. Nico drew his knees up to his chest and let his forehead drop onto them.

Football was fucking draining.

***

Unity was a society’s greatest weapon. Occasionally, society decided to turn the blade inward and shred itself to pieces.

The campers banding together during the Battle of Manhattan to fight Kronos could be considered unifying. So could Luke persuading wounded kids to join his own cause. The line between rebelling and conforming was not always clear, though they presented as opposites.

Nico wished that something as simple as football would be left out of insidious political agendas. But for Italy in the 30s and 40s, that wasn’t the case. Sports were pride, sports were nationalism. Sports renewed faith in leaders who did not deserve it.

He was bent over a history book, drowning in shame. He wasn’t much of a reader (thank you dyslexia), but he knew where to find information. Unfortunately. Whoever said ignorance was bliss was right. Never before had he wanted so badly to shake his eight year old self and yell, why did you do this? Or that? Anything? Who are you and how can it be me?

He stared out the window; there was nothing to see. It was pitch black outside, long past curfew. Nico had eventually gathered the courage to go back and apologize for leaving…then apologize for leaving the second time. It saved him from having to skip lunch out of embarrassment, but it wasn’t great either. He was tired and it came out half-hearted. Nobody was mad at him, but nobody was pleased with him either. He hated battling against his reputation like this; it was as if he could see the instant someone thought: Well, what do you expect? It’s Nico.

Will thought highly of him, which made his dissatisfaction worse. Nico didn’t want to disappoint him by returning to bad habits over something so dumb. Yeah, I’m punching walls over football. Aren’t I just so well-adjusted?

He wasn’t sure he could sleep with all the realizations he’d had. It made him feel sick to think that he as a child might have fallen for shitty propaganda, blamed the ones who pointed it out instead of the ones who planted it. Bianca and his mom had seen it more clearly; they knew it was wrong to try and impress people who would only want him as ammunition.

He shut the book and crawled into bed regardless. Trying was better than nothing. If only he could pick and choose when his memory failed. This would be a nice night to forget…

Clink!

He froze. Something had hit his window. Why was it that the second he made contact with his bed, he summoned a person? And he was pretty sure it was another person. That sounded like a thrown pebble. Only a creature as dumb as a demigod would risk throwing a pebble at cabin 13.

Nico flung his sheets off and stomped over to the window.

He wasn’t easily frightened—but honest to the gods, he flinched when he saw what was waiting for him on the other side of the glass. Nobody should ever smile like that at 1 AM. Especially not while gripping a dirty ball.

He opened the window. The air outside was still warmer than his cabin.

“I thought that was someone’s head,” he said.

Cecil Markowitz’s grin did not falter. “Hi, Nico. Want to practice our rabonas?”

I am my own worst enemy, was all Nico could think as he followed Cecil out into the darkness. He didn’t know what the hell a rabona was. He’d practically sworn off football minutes prior. Yet here he was. Forever digging himself into a deeper hole.

“What about the harpies?” he asked.

Cecil shrugged from ahead. “I was assuming you’d scare them off.”

Nico very much could, but the utter lack of planning was still shocking. An Athena camper would die on the spot.

They stopped near the forest, but not close enough to get snatched by whatever lurked in there at night. Nico was glad he always carried a weapon, even in his wrinkly pajama pants.

“Were you sleeping?” Cecil asked.

“If you woke me up, you wouldn’t be breathing right now,” Nico replied.

Cecil laughed and dropped the ball to the ground. He pointed to it. “You were mad I told everyone,” he observed. “I said: hey, Nico’s a prodigy! And you were all: grrr now I have to live up to that. Screw that Cecil guy.”

“I thought much worse things than that,” Nico said. His eyes followed the ball. He hadn't come here to talk.

“Anger is fuel for athletes. I read it in an article once.”

Nico was about to say something rude about doubting Cecil read stuff, but before he got the chance, Cecil drove the ball straight into his gut.

Nico gasped and stumbled back, clutching his middle. A football wasn’t in the top thirty worst things he’d been hit with, but he was so unprepared that the sting of it unbalanced him, spread down to his already aching legs.

His hand reached for the handle of his dagger on instinct.

“Whoa, whoa” Cecil said, stepping away.

Nico jerked his hand back to his side. “I’m not going to—why would you do that?”

Cecil’s smile returned with a bit of a nervous edge to it. “I’m your opponent. You have to want to beat me.” He added, “In soccer, not up.”

Nico glared at the ball that had landed by his shoes, then back up at Cecil. “I was already pissed off by your impression of me. No need for more.”

“I had to make sure.” Cecil collected the ball and stationed it under his foot. He mimed a box with his hands. “And now, we put it to use. Goals are that fallen branch on my end, and…sure, the patch of dandelions on yours. First to 5 gets a kiss from Will, and you know I have the hots for medical personnel. Deal or no deal?”

Nico could hardly make out the detail of Cecil’s features in the dark, but he was sure they were sharpened with amusement. This was the sort of night that only the Stolls’ star pupil could arrange.

Nico figured he should say no deal. He liked Cecil well enough, and thought it was funny when he messed with (other) people, but he hadn’t exactly made Nico’s life easier in the past 24 hours. He couldn’t understand Nico’s internal struggles or hesitations. He had no visions of his dead sister warning him that his actions went past personal feelings.

But, on the other hand…that was kind of the point, no? Nico wasn’t living in the past anymore. Playing football at Camp Half-Blood had no meaning beyond that. He had no burden to be a stand-in for a message.

If all he wanted to do was beat someone who had wronged him, he could do that.

He might regret it later, but with fresh anger still clouding his judgement, it didn’t take long to weigh his options. He went to go guard his stupid dandelions.

“Deal.”

***

Nico just barely won. Cecil had not gone easy on him. He clearly had quite a bit of practice, and even Nico’s background with the sport couldn’t quite carry him.

Also, Cecil was super annoying. The boundaries of their game were so unclear that he would argue, that’s out of bounds! You can’t do that! No, no, it only counts when I do it. By the second half, Nico was purposefully aiming too high and hoping it whacked him in the head.

Nico did have to admit, though: he learned a lot. Things called stepovers, roulettes, and all sorts of other ridiculous names. Cecil would laugh in his face when he messed them up, which was a pretty strong incentive to be a fast learner. It took so much concentration, it was almost a relief to get away from his previous spiraling thoughts.

“Damn,” Cecil said through heavy breaths, as the ball passed beyond his branch. “I was having so much fun imagining what I’d tell people when I defeated you.”

Nico could feel every inch of his skin against the night air. He would be lying to claim he wasn’t a little triumphant. Winning against Cecil was a whole different level from working through Lou Ellen’s obstacles. He liked to see the person on the other side humbled. Particularly when they deserved it.

He imagined beating Cecil by an even better margin. Then realized that meant he wanted to play again.

The whole time, he’d kinda been operating under the notion that this was his final stand. He had thought of his mind as made up on the matter of avoiding upsetting sports that made him want to punch things.

However, hadn’t he done enough avoiding lately? He’d enjoyed it, okay? He’d enjoyed playing football. Will’s voice in his head asked: do you want it to end here?

No. He didn’t.

“Two things,” he told Cecil.

“What?” Cecil raised an eyebrow. “About to claim I was never going to defeat you or something?”

“No.” Nico stared him straight in the eyes. “One: thank you. You aren't so bad of a teacher. I wouldn’t mind playing you again.”

Cecil looked genuinely surprised. “Seriously?”

“Two,” Nico said. “Screw you. I’m leaving you to the harpies.”

Cecil’s expression made everything worth it. His eyes went wide at the words, then even wider with panic as he realized Nico was actually walking away.

“Wait!” he yelled. “I have my whole life ahead of me!”

Nico walked faster, and hoped he didn’t look as free as he felt.

***

“So,” Will began, “I heard you broke curfew last night.”

Nico glanced over at him. The infirmary was empty for once, so it was just the two of them sorting cabinets. The monotony was almost relaxing, and the blinding overhead lights were dimmed down for once, which was nice.

“Cecil told you?” Nico asked. Well, that meant he’d survived the trip back to his cabin.

Will straightened a stack of papers in one, practiced motion. “That’s how he rolls. Total blabbermouth.”

“He’s the one who showed up at my window,” Nico said. “I almost chopped him to pieces thinking he was a monster.”

“For real?” Will tilted his head. “He didn’t give me many details. The way he put it, sounded like ya’ll just happened to run into each other.”

Nico wondered what exactly Cecil’s rendition of their meetup had been. Probably lacking the bit where he attacked Nico with the ball, judging by Will’s mellow reaction.

Nico organized empty glass vials as he considered what to offer up on his end. Problem was, something about Will made him want to spill every secret in full detail. Which was inconvenient.

“He just made me play more football,” he settled on. “And gave a few strange speeches. It wasn’t…terrible.”

“Sounds like quite a meeting,” Will replied. “Should I be jealous or something?”

Nico snorted. “No, I should be. He was the one threatening to romance you if I lost.”

Will miraculously managed to make an expression exactly halfway between disgusted and entertained. Nico awarded him a small smile, and at the same time became suddenly twice as aware that they were alone.

“I would be forced to change my name and flee the country,” Will said. He straightened up a little to add, “But you already know how I’m about to ruin this conversation.”

“Don’t say it,” Nico sighed.

“I’m obligated to chide you about sneaking out instead of getting a full night’s rest…”

“And he said it.”

“It’s law, Nico. If I don’t point it out, my ancestors start appearing in my dreams and showing me visions of medical students 200k in debt as torture.”

“Boo. Tomato, tomato, tomato,” Nico droned on. This was one of those topics that they’d rehashed about a million times, so he knew his next lines: “Oh, and by the way, when was the last time you slept 8 hours?”

Will was abruptly dedicated to arranging the different stacks of sticky notes on the counter in rainbow order. He flat out refused to acknowledge Nico’s question, muttering about how he had important work to do and couldn’t be distracted by overly inquisitive Edward Scissorhands variants. Nico rolled his eyes and went back to his vials.

For a few minutes, he thought about how badly he’d felt sitting in his cabin last night, versus the pleasure of getting to try out new tricks a short while after. He still couldn’t tell which one was more true to himself. Neither his baggage from the past nor his hopes for the future could be let go of.

He didn’t want to do something Bianca wouldn’t want him to. But she wasn’t here to say what that was.

“My sister never thought I was the sports type,” he confessed into the silence.

Will didn’t say anything for a few moments. Then he breathed out a tiny laugh. “You are. Watching you play against Lou…I didn’t wanna scare you off, but damn.”

Huh.

Nico, for the first time, considered what his playing might mean for other people. He had been so caught up in untangling whether it was right or wrong to continue on in the context of his past, that he was neglecting to see the full picture.

Kayla had said he was impressive. Valentina wanted him to join a tournament with her. Lou Ellen had a blast testing out her magic. Cecil liked the thrill of facing off against him, going out of his way to push the both of them to be better.

Will…was probably just happy that he’d found a new hobby.

Either way, he’d managed to excite all of them without meaning to. While he was stuck brooding over textbooks, a community had formed around him. Maybe, as he finished sorting out his feelings, that would be enough. Maybe, as long as he kept improving their days, he could be sure what he was doing was good.

He grew tired of organizing. He freed his hands and leaned on the counter. “Hey,” he said.

Will had reached the green sticky notes. He set them down when he noticed the glint in Nico’s eyes. “Yes? Should I be scared?”

“You know…” Nico lowered his voice. “...You never did ask me what I won for beating Cecil.”

Will blushed like he already knew where this was going and made a visual effort to be cool about it. He turned to face Nico in full. “Let me guess. A yacht? A gold medal? A new bowtie for Jules-Albert?”

Nico walked up to him and placed a hand on his chest. “Hm. Close. Keep trying.”

“A pirate hat. A duplicate skull ring.” Will got quieter, perhaps a little distracted. “One million dollars in cash.”

Nico’s hand slid up until it cupped Will’s cheek, and the other found itself buried in blond curls. Will’s own hands rested on Nico’s waist, warmth seeping through his shirt.

“You’re all out of guesses,” Nico said.

“Then enlighten me,” Will whispered.

Nico pulled him into a soft kiss that gave him butterflies like the first time all over again. In such tender moments, his problems seemed to shrink into the background. Everything did. He couldn’t remember what a football was if he tried.

When they finally eased apart, Nico was smiling. His well of hope was filling back up, and he had an idea of how he might spend the next few days.

Time to go set up some nets.

***

“Nico! I knew deep down you were the type of person to start clubs,” Lou Ellen said.

“He just couldn’t act too eager,” Kayla continued.

“Would ruin his whole vibe,” Valentina added.

“Nah,” Cecil cut in. “All he wants is to defeat me again. Well, it’s not gonna happen!”

Nico crossed his arms without any real annoyance. If football was a team sport, that meant he was going to have to deal with other people, even these ones. Chiron had thought it was a good idea. Others had wanted in, too; kids from all different cabins, with all different skill levels. Right now, though, it was just the four of them, plus Will on the bleachers as an “unbiased cheerleader.”

“Cecil’s right,” Nico said. “Lou, be on my team.”

Lou Ellen pumped her fist and bounced into the goal. They had a designated area now, with clear boundary lines. The sky was an expanse of pure blue ahead. Wildflowers bloomed at their feet, and distant campers provided a background of cheerful voices.

Nico knew it would be a long time before he reconciled his actions in the past and the present, even longer before he felt 100% secure in his choices. Even now, he wondered if he might be making a mistake that would haunt him once more in the future.

But he had to accept that there was no way to tell. Bianca was not around to guide him anymore; he had to live to the best of his own ability now, and believe that would be what she wanted.

He lined the ball up to the opposite goal, meeting novice goalkeeper Kayla’s gaze.

“Destroy them, Nico!” his "unbiased" cheerleader whooped.

Nico grinned and sent the ball flying.