Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Hi again. I was bein lazy and not writing, so I published that last chapter late!
^°^ yeah!
Don't gouge my eyes out with rusty spoons!

This one's early to make up for yesterday's! Yay!

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING ...I wish I did tho...be awesome huh?

Percy Jackson- Rick Riordan
Black Butler II- Yana Toboso/Square Enix

Warnings: Mild Cursing, OOC

Trigger Warning: Depression, Suicide, Mention of Past Rape
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Watching a sunset from thousands of meters in the air is rather nice. And distracting. Very distracting.

I sighed. After spilling my life story to the occupants of the Argo II, I was more depressed than usual. It was like I was being sucked into a deep, pitch black hole with no way out.

A single, lone tear made a path down my cheek. I missed Luka so damn much. I knew talking about him would put me in a shitty mood, but damn.

Now I'm seriously depressed. I know that I was diagnosed with depression. The doctors poked me with enough needles to figure that out.

Was there a proven medicine to fix me? I doubt it. Nothing could fix me now. I'm too far gone to be saved.

I shifted, pulling my knees to myself, hugging them.

Maybe I could stay up here forever, watching London pass beneath my feet. It would certainly be preferable to facing those people who just heard how disappointing I was. Perhaps I could jump from up here. It'd be over then so--

"Hey, Alois?"

Oh. Someone who wants to give me their blasted sympathy for my shitty life. Yay.

I wiped the tear off of my face, not caring if the visitor noticed. I hugged my knees tighter. Maybe if I didn't answer they would go away.

"Alois?"

Shit.

I rotated my head to the left a bit. An audible sigh was expelled from the mouth of the visitant.

No smiles. None. I can't fake it right now.

Darkness. Something warm and heavy was draped on my head. I tugged on it until I could see again.

And then I almost fell over. Nico was sitting next to me, dangling his skinny jean clad legs off the edge of the crows nest. I quickly realized he had thrown his fluffy collared coat over me, since, you know, his black shirt was now exposed.

A sword sat in a sheath strapped to his belt. Nico fiddled with a skull shaped ring on his thumb, messy black hair covering his eyes.

"I...understand how you feel about your brother. My...sister died a couple years ago. To protect me.."

Nico trailed off quietly, obviously nervous. An accent had filtered softly in his voice as he spoke. Italian, I think.

Hell, maybe someone does care. Or not. What if Nico's just trying to make me feel better? It's nice of him, but it's not working.

I looked over at Nico, studying his body language and posture. Nervous, hesitant, defensive, and secretive. I wonder what he was hiding.

I sighed again. Maybe I should explain so that he doesn't get offended. I'd hate to do so, of course.

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