[PJO][Jasico] It's Sunday in a six-day war

It's Sunday in a six-day warUntitled part

"Does it hurt?"

Thinking back, Nico probably shouldn't have gone on with a question he was so sure would lead to unpleasant discussions. But again, Nico had never been one to seek nice things. All he saw had been cruel and ugly, he forgot how to look for those that were not.

Jason's eyes shifted to him from where they were tracing the lines of the textbooks - a litany of numbers and English that Nico could barely grasp with his picked-up language skills and five-grade education. The only thing he understood was that it made Jason happy. Happy - as in the way that Nico regretted he had become a burden to it, the absence of weights vanished the moment Nico entered the picture.

"Does what hurt?" Jason asked gently, carefully. He had left his pen in between the pages, a half-written sentence abandoned between the lines. The glasses glinted when he casually adjusted them, fractures of light that made his azure eyes suddenly so much clearer. All of his attention was on Nico now, as it always was, always looking out for him.

Nico started to regret speaking up in the first place. He stared down at the table, where their mess of books, notes, teacups, and mugs was scattered across in such a careless manner it felt almost peaceful. The sky had the mercy to be simply breezy today, with just enough sunlight for a day out on the outdoor patio that was supposed to be relaxing. But Nico's mind had never understood mercy really well. Wringing his hands, he briefly wondered if he could take back the words, swallowing them down with the tea he couldn't taste, and let their afternoon drag on eventless as usual. It was just a stupid thought of his, Jason shouldn't be bothered.

But Nico knew, better than anyone, Jason would be worried nonetheless. He would never force Nico when he didn't want to, yet Jason's kindness just had to keep collecting every shatter that broke out of Nico as if they were too much of a beautiful vase he couldn't afford to throw away despite its ruined state. They hurt him - Nico knew they did. How could they not, with all those sharp edges and ugly shapes? - but Jason never let go. (Before, Noco had never understood why. Now, when he was at least aware of the reason, it was exactly why it hurt all the way more.)

His attentive gaze fell heavy on Nico, just because the son of Jupiter made it seem like Nico was the only thing he wanted to see - as if he was the sole star Jason liked watching amongst all the insignificant clouds even when Nico himself felt like a black hole most of the time. It made Nico want to curl up into a tiny ball and disappear, like a dot carelessly put at the end of the line. Unnoticeable. Anything to escape the weight of the other's care. Anything to not be a smear of ink in Jason's untainted sky——

"Nico," a soft voice called, "Take it easy. Everything would be alright."

Jason said as though he would make sure of it no matter how dire things could get once a particular son of Hades was involved.

Nico hadn't realized his hands were trembling.

Curling his stiff fingers inwards, Nico clawed on the thick fabric cladding his thighs, forcing the quivering to stop. He took a few deep breaths as Hypnos had taught him, counting his slowing heartbeats.

"Are you hurt?" Jason inquired, and then smiled encouragingly when Nico shook his head, "Okay, what is that you want to ask?"

His eyes were so sincere. Nico willed himself to look into that azure color, where his own reflection shone as if they hadn't been something horrific, and searched for words that hadn't been lost under the pages. He needed to know this.

"Does it hurt - to be with me?"

He blurted out and then watched as Jason frowned in a soft sternness Nico had come to associate with the son of Jupiter.