PJO/HoO Oneshots

Filling The Cracks (And Slowly, Slowly Healing.)

This is a special one! It's for our very own Nico di Angelo's birthday!

(Yes, I'm aware of the fact that I'm like five days late, but stiiill.)

No one was awake at the ungodly hour of four in the morning. Of course, with the exception of a certain son of Hades.

Nico walked through a concealed trail hidden in the outskirts of the forest, Stygian Iron sword swinging carelessly at his side.

He had woken up gasping for breath again, tears blurring his vision. It had become a sort of routine for him. Wake up from nightmares, an hour of panic attacks and crying, then drag himself up to clear his head.

He would often go to the arena to shred dummies to dust particles. Other times, he would be partially hidden somewhere: camouflaged on the roof of cabin 13, concealed by tree branches on the top of Zeus' Fist, deep in a cave by the beach. On the worst days, he would be curled up somewhere others could never find, rocking back and forth with escaping sobs.

Today, he had decided to familiarize himself with the forest.

They said that the forest was dangerous, but he didn't think so. After all, the forest was just as misunderstood as he was.

Nico breathed in the scent of nature as he leaned back against a tree, sheathing his sword and closing his eyes.

It was somewhat ironic how the prince of the Underworld could be comforted in the presence of constant life.

He mustn't dwell on the bitter. Something that Chiron and his father had both told him. It was his fatal flaw, to hold grudges. He was trying not to, not only for the sake of preventing it from becoming his demise. His memory was remarkable, and holding grudges made his dreams- nightmares- more lifelike. He saw the scene of Bianca being judged in the Underworld. He relived the agony of literal Hell. He woke up in tears from everyone turning his back on him; Percy, Reyna, Hazel, his father, Will.

Each one was worse than the last.

Nico pulled the rough leather of his worn aviator's jacket closer. The last thing he wanted was to catch a cold and have to spend another day in the infirmary. He didn't have anything against the Apollo kids, and the smell of herbs was rather soothing if he said so himself. But the feeling of vulnerability, of being weak, left him terrified. He wasn't ready to let his guard down, no matter how much he knew it was his paranoia talking.

Nico was interrupted from his thoughts as he felt someone watching him.

He kept his expression carefully blank, internally panicking about the leftover tear stains on his face. Slowly, he opened his eyes to look up at the still-dark sky. A covert glance from the corner of his eye revealed a mop of blonde hair from the edge of the forest, somehow bright even in the dark.

It was either Jason or Will. Nico decided he would ignore them, whoever they were.

He closed his eyes again.

A moment later, a warm hand on his shoulder had him stifling his instinct to draw his sword. Instead, he found himself staring straight into the beautiful blue eyes of a certain head counselor of the Apollo cabin.

He could stare at those eyes forever.

He restrained himself.

"What are you doing here?" He asked instead.

"I could ask the same for you." Will Solace replied, smiling that radiant smile of his. He took a seat besides Nico and wrapped an arm around him, pulling the smaller boy close. Nico subconsciously found himself leaning into the warmth.