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It was a quiet afternoon in the Monster High library, with the only two occupants seated at the far table. Nico di Angelo had some homework to catch up on, and Twyla Boogeyman had offered to help him. Normally, Nico would have refused such an offer, but as the homework was on Monster History, and Nico was still new to the monster world, he could begrudgingly admit (at least to himself) that he needed the help. The study session had started out normal enough, with Nico mainly doing things on his own, and Twyla just chiming in when he made a mistake or needed help. But after struggling with a particularly difficult question about the difference between spirits and ghosts that Twyla claimed was easy once you know the theory, Nico gave an annoyed scoff and snapped, “Well of course it’d be easy for you; you’re a ghost.”
Twyla tilted her head in confusion. “What are you talking about? I’m not a ghost.”
Now it was Nico’s turn to be confused. “You’re the daughter of the Boogeyman, aren’t you?”
Twyla nodded.
“Well that makes you a ghost,” Nico continued. “In Italy, L’uomo Nero, the Italian Boogeyman, is a ghost, so therefor, you are a ghost.”
Realization dawned on Twyla’s face. “Ah, I see. Nico, there are many different kinds of boogey monsters, and while I do have some Italian cousins who are ghosts, I myself am alive.”
Nico felt a blush of embarrassment start to crawl up his neck. Admittedly, as the son of Hades, he should have known she wasn’t a ghost, but here in the monster world his power to sense the dead wasn’t as sharp because the dead were all around him, so he had never even considered that Twyla could actually be a living monster. Still, he wasn’t about to admit to any of that, and he wasn’t about to just take her word for it either, so he decided to respond skeptically.
“Prove it,” he challenged.
Twyla raised an eyebrow. She reached her hand over as if to take his, but she stopped just shy of touching. That was one thing he liked respected about her; she never touched him without permission. He wasn’t sure how this would prove that she was alive, but his curiosity got the better of him. With a raised eyebrow of his own, Nico moved his hand towards hers, allowing her to grab it. But from the moment her hand touched his, he knew it didn’t even matter what her intended proof was; just from the touch itself he could tell that she was alive. If there was one thing he knew about the dead, it was that they were all stone cold to the touch. And while cold hands didn’t automatically mean someone was dead, (he knew that he himself had hands as cold as ice) no dead being ever had warm hands. And despite the cool, shadowed appearance of her hands, Twyla’s touch was as warm as a blanket. He was so distracted by the warmth of her touch that he didn’t notice her positioning his fingers on a spot on her wrist until he felt a steady thrum beneath his fingers. It was then that he realized what her proof was: she was showing him that she had a pulse.
As the son of Hades, he was used to the dead and death, which made life even more precious to him. But as most of the living feared him, he never got the opportunity to experience something like this; being able to feel the steady beat of life right underneath his fingertips; it was truly indescribable. It wasn’t until a few moments later that he realized that he kept his hand on her wrist for longer than was strictly necessary. He quickly pulled his hand away and sheepishly muttered a quick “You’ve proved your point,” to which she just smirked before going back to her book. And if Nico’s face was slightly warmer than usual, he would blame it on the radiator.