He still felt his hands on his body.
He showered for hours and hours. He wore new clothes, and old ones. He tried talking it out but the words wouldn't roll off his tongue.
Nothing got rid of the feeling. I might as well try to cut it out now.
Nico di Angelo hesitated, sitting on the edge of his bunk in an otherwise empty cabin. He had a razor against his skin, but hadn't drawn any blood or made any marks yet.
He took deep breaths and states at his forearm, afraid of how wrong this could go but remembering the temporary relief it gave him. He needed it, craved it. It helped him when nothing else did... and could do the same now.
Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He huffed in irritation but was too tired to hold onto his temporary anger. He picked up the phone and saw it was a text from Hazel, 'Hey, you okay? You're supposed to be at the dinner party.'
He sighed sadly. How can I do this to her? To me?
But the thought wasn't his fault and neither was this... was it? He couldn't tell, and quickly stopped caring.
He put the razor to his skin again. "Hope I don't go too deep, then..." and he started at his old routine.
YOU ARE READING
Nico di Angelo One-shots
FanfictionI love Nico di Angelo, as you may have noticed. I have one-shot books for him on Tap, he's a main character in AT LEAST half of my stories, and is one of my FAVORITE characters Rick Riordan created. To sum it up, I'm a fangirl. So, I now present to...
