"He deserved more than that. More than a chapter, more than entire epics, he deserved to live, the Fields of Asphodel will never deserve someone as devoted and good as him. He lived for justice, he died for justice, but I would throw that justice at...
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We're All Going To Die
╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮
We didn't bother the Stoll household for much longer after me and Nico stepped out of the kitchen, both pale and troubled enough for Connor to take notice. After I'd convinced him I was fine, his mom had a quick conversation with him and he exited the kitchen ecstatic.
He was hopping down the aisle to come speak to me, laughing so happily that I felt a little sorry for him. Did he even know what he was getting into? I didn't try to dissuade him this time, and I smiled back at his genuine joy, chuckling with him when he hit his head, until I inevitably crossed gazes with Nico.
For once, the son of Hades too looked worried for him. He and me knew best that this wouldn't be some sleepover or camping trip. His forehead was contorted in a scowl, but it seemed like he was more angry at himself than at anyone else.
We went into his room and helped him pack. Besides the usual clothes and hygiene kit, he grabbed the cloves-based oil he used to polish his sword, climber's tape, water flask, a tin box filled with climbing chalk, and tried to sneak in a stuffed giraffe without me noticing. I pretended to not see it, while Gasper raised a brow at me.
Connor said goodbye enthusiastically to his mom with a tight hug, and she laughed as she made fun of his sloppiness, but as they sprinted down the stairs, I looked back and, for a single moment, I could've sworn I saw a tear on her cheek.
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"Nakamura, didn't your daddy leave you enough money to pay for hot water?" Gasper shouted from the bathroom. "Because it's cold as fuck!"
I groaned, tempted to storm into his shower and haul his ass through the open window and down three stories. Hopefully injuring him enough to disable him vocally. Keller's influence made my mind switch between suicidal and homicidal tendencies.
He'd changed a lot since the last time I spoke to him. Before, his ironic provocations were a way of showing his superiority, an exhibition of his power, knowing well that we'd do nothing to him even if he'd stepped on our nerve. But now, it felt as if the sarcasm and the petty jokes were more a defense than an offense, like he did it to forget about what might scare him.
"If you don't shut the fuck up, I will walk into that fucking shower and drown you in that cold water." I shouted back, as I laid another blanket on the couch I'd sleep on.
I kept on grumbling insults and death threats while Nico sat, legs crossed, on the floor between the couch and the living room table. He hugged a bowl of crackers, munching on them like a hamster. He had a blanket around him, and he'd thrown the pillows and cushions onto the floor so he could sit on them.
