DEMIGODS. (Percico/Pernico)

˚‧º·Chapter Seventeen‧º·˚

After we finished up the song, we stood in my garage in silence, in awe of how well it went.

It seemed like our hundredth attempt at the song, and it went so smoothly, it could've been butter. I looked back at Nico to see how he felt about it. He withdrew his hands from the keyboard, meeting my gaze.

"That was perfect," he said, almost in disbelief.

"We're so gonna win!" Thalia cheered, whipping her guitar from over her head and setting it down on its stand.

Reyna, who usually calmed us down if we were being overconfident, didn't say a word.

I still felt chills. The guitars, the vocals, the keyboard, the drums, the song in general gave me goosebumps. We executed it perfectly, finally. I wished the competition could come sooner so I could see the look on Luke's face when we handed his ass to him.

He probably was doing something like Breaking Benjamin, or something. Not that I didn't like them, I thought it was just his style, but I knew we were better. We had to be. My future depended on it. Although I applied for other scholarships as a back-up plan, I needed this. We needed this. It would strengthen our bonds as a family, as friends. Thalia and I would exit our senior year as champions, and we would leave the legacy for the juniors and the sophomores, who would have their scholarships reserved for them when they graduated.

I hugged Nico, who tensed up in my embrace, but I didn't care. I was just happy.

"Thank you," I whispered.

It took a second or two for him to adjust and hug me back.

"No, thank you," was his response.

I smiled before letting him go. His face was redder than a beet, but it was cute. He was too cute for his own good. He nervously swept a strand of hair behind his ear.

I didn't realize I was staring until Jason cleared his throat. I returned to reality, turning from my crush and facing the rest of my crew.

"We're gonna win!" I exclaimed, and they all cheered.

After exchanging our comments and cheers, we picked up our equipment.

"Once more," I said.

And we played.

♩     ♪     ♫     ♬    ♭    ♮    ♯

"Dad!" Nico shouted into the house as he let his backpack slip from his shoulder onto a chair. "Dad! I need to tell you something."

He didn't receive a response. He huffed resignedly and kicked off his shoes at the door, prepared to run up the stairs to his office, where he spent long hours grading papers and projects.

He knocked on the plain, white door, listening for any sign that denoted his dad was in there. "Dad!"

"Be quiet, Nico," he said from behind the door. "Your mother is sleeping."

"She's always sleeping," Nico murmured.

Maria di Angelo worked long night shifts at the office, so he only got to see her on the weekends, and hardly even then. When she wasn't working, she was sleeping. Sometimes, it seemed as if he didn't have a mother at all.

"Are you busy?"

"Yeah, but you can come in."

Nico entered quietly. "I need to tell you something."