#remembers the way his uniform blazer smelled when his mom had just washed it

[heich0e]

sometimes i listen to 'the view between villages' and i wonder if oikawa feels resentment when he goes home to japan

[rippedjeansandloudmusic]

elysian: capitolo due

chapter two of my soulmate au. don’t hate me if it’s shitty. and it’s a bit shorter, only by about 700 words though so calm down Chapter One: [x] 

Nico’s tattoo’s changed over time.

Most stayed the same; the baseball theme, the sun, and the pink string. Though, the string was one of the weirder one. It was never the same. At one moment was Happiness and the other Dimples. Family to Sunshine.

He loved it.

It was poetic.

He wanted to know what was one his soulmate’s arm. Maybe his sister? Mama? Maybe a music sheet. He wasn’t sure what he loved.

His seventeenth birthday was last month. February was brewing over the horizon, threatening to come and destroy his peace.

His father called. Not to apologize. Not to come back. To announce he had a sister; one in New York, Manhattan. Literally in the same city as him. He expected Nico to go and meet her at some knock-off chain or restaurants downtown.

He wanted to go.

But he didn’t want to give his father the satisfaction of knowing he still had an influence over him…

Though she didn’t deserve that.

When he woke up that morning he threw the covers from his body, wiping the sweat from his brow and climbing down the ladder. He was never sure why he sweat in his sleep, and it was pretty fucking gross. Though he couldn’t help it. It was like second nature now.

He didn’t have a shirt on, only a pair of gray sweatpants and one sock. The sock had so many holes in it, though, that he was sure it classified more as just a strip of cloth.

He opened the door to his solo bedroom (Percy lived on campus) and walked across the floor towards the kitchen.

He wasn’t that surprised to find Sally already at the dining room table.

She was passed out at her laptop, reading glasses pushed up her head. Her black hair was pulled back into a messy bun atop her head, though most of it had come undone throughout the night. She was still wearing her suit from the office, meaning she had gotten home and immediately went to work on her book. She’s been working on it for a while, Nico knows because she’s asked him many questions on how teenagers are nowadays and were on it constantly.

He admired her determination to get them out of this rickety apartment.

His hair was now long enough where he could pull it back easily, something he always loved. He was positive he was done growing (height wise, of course), now being around five ten (one hundred seventy-seven centimeters) with a lanky body. His arms were growing a bit once Sally had convinced him to join the track team. His go-to attire was a black-sometimes-gray shirt with black jeans, along with a black leather bomber jacket.

He walked barefoot across the table, prying the laptop from Sally’s unconscious body and grabbing a pillow from one of the chairs to tuck under her head. She might’ve been asleep, but he knew she would appreciate the gesture.

He tip-toed around the table, reaching into the cabinet above the stove and grabbed some things.

As he was preparing breakfast, something that he normally did on the weekends, he didn’t realize Sally was in the doorway until he was finished. He sighed loudly, over-playing how her presence frightened him (it didn’t) (she was too nice to be frightening) and showing a small smile.

“How was your night?” He asked, his Italian accent showing slightly. It was there, he wasn’t going to let it fade that easily, making his words sound a little suaver than most people in America.

“Crappy,” Sally replied, walking over and opening the fridge. “Do you know where the cream is?”

“Top shelf,” Nico replied, grabbing two plates from the rack in the corner and taking the food from the pan.

“What did Shef di Angelo cook for us today?” Sally asked, raising a brow. Nico rolled his eyes, though didn’t fight the smile from his face.

“Sausage omelets. Don’t worry,” he said at her exasperated face, “it’s not hard. Barely took fifteen minutes.”

She smiled shyly at him, taking the plate he held out to her and walking back to the counter. Nico grabbed their drinks (coffee, obviously) and followed her out.

“How’s the book doing?” He asked when they sat back down. Sally appeared to be trying to turn the laptop back on, but it was obviously dead. Even he knew that when he barely knew how most forms of social media worked. She huffed out in annoyance before digging into her plate.

“About three-fourths the way done,” she replied after swallowing her first bite. She smiled at him, pointing with her fork towards the plate. “How are you so good at making these?”

“Mama taught me,” he replied, picking at his plate as well before shoveling some into his mouth. “Said, ‘I want you to be able to treat your soulmate right, Nico. Be extravagant!’”

Sally smiled sadly at him. Nico didn’t talk about his mother much, Bianca neither. Mostly because no one really asked, truly. He wasn’t over their deaths - he wasn’t sure he ever would be, truly - but he was better than before. He could talk about them, how great they were, and how he wished they were still around.

“Your mother sounds like an amazing person,” Sally said.

“She was…”

They settled into a nice silence after that, just eating.

“Are you going to see your sister today?” Sally asked after a moment, causing Nico to pause in getting up.

“Not sure yet,” Nico said, taking his plate into the kitchen. Sally sighed, following Nico into the kitchen to continue their conversation.

“I think you should,” she said, standing beside Nico at the sink. “You’re not going to have another opportunity like this, Nico.”

“I know, I know,” he said, grabbing the dish soap. “I just - I don’t know how I’m going to react. I want to meet her - I truly do - I just don’t know if I could see her without seeing him. He did pick her over me.”

“Nico,” Sally said, grabbing Nico’s wrist and grabbing his chin, pulling it to look at her. “You know that’s not true. He just… well, I don’t have an explanation. Just, even if that is true - which it isn’t! - you shouldn’t let that stop you from meeting her.”

Nico huffed, twisting his jaw from in between her fingers and continuing to wash his plate.

“Do you always have to be right?” He asked, though his tone was muffled. He disliked (read: hated) telling people they were right, gave them too much advantage. Though Sally just smiled, patting him on the back and walking back into the dining room.

“There’s money in the drawer! Don’t take more than you need, Nico!”

+

Nico hated going outside.

He was walking down the street, towards the coffee shop he was supposed to meet this infamous sister in. His white converse hit the street in a rhythm he was trying to get lost in, trying to forget that he was going to meet his only living relative (he didn’t like to think of his father as alive) (at least, not in his head. Not to him, he wasn’t) and how he could easily make this relationship crash and burn. But, alas, the sound of bussing taxi’s and screaming children left his brain a mush or something he couldn’t keep up with.

He pulled out his headset.

He had an old and falling-apart music player he’s had with him since his fifteenth birthday. Percy had gotten it for him, saying That’s what brothers do for each other, Nico, and leaving the room.

He had downloaded all the songs he remembers Bianca used to like. And the ones his mother used to sing to him as he had a hard time falling asleep.

O Sole Mio

It was something he loved listening to. It might not have been his mother’s voice or her way of singing it, but the simplicity of the song gave him the comfort he didn’t know he needed. The basic tempo with the basic lyrics…

They were basically him.

When the doors to the coffee shop were pushed open he almost gagged.

It smelled like old coffee and paper. He could see stereotypical hipsters, alongside the normal college students and some normal people - though not many - stationed at random places throughout. He didn’t bother walking up to the front counter, just marching straight towards the back and stationing himself at a table near the window.

He wasn’t sure what Hazel looked like, and she him, just that he would be alone at a table near the back.

He stayed there for about an hour until she showed up.

He didn’t hate her for it. He actually enjoyed the time alone, spent sketching or writing on some table napkins. By the time she got there he’d gone through about twenty napkins, and was now on his last one, drawing a part of an eye.

“Uh, Nico?” He heard a small voice ask, causing his head to lift.

Holy shit, was his first thought. Followed by Those genes must’ve come from her mom because holy shit Hades isn’t that attractive. He wasn’t thinking of her as Zac Efron hot, more like the sister who you know looks better than you hot. 

She had long and voluminous (that’s a thing, right?) hair, streaks of blonde all throughout the brown. She was wearing what appeared to be a school uniform, a long pleated skirt that danced about her mid-calf with a blazer and a white shirt underneath. Her eyes shone gold and danced with curiosity, one that reminded him of Bianca, and she seemed to be biting her lip so hard that he was surprised when she didn’t draw blood.

“Yeah. I mean, yes, I am Nico di Angelo.”

She put a hand to her chest, breathing heavily. “Thank god. I was beginning to think I walked into the wrong shop.”

He smiled at her small attempt to lighten the mood, gesturing to the seat across from him. “Sit, please.”

She shouldered off a bag Nico didn’t realize she had, plopping herself in the seat across from him. Their chairs were pretty tall, and he could tell she was swinging her legs under the table. She was small enough to where it was easy for to do it when Nico could stand up easily.

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments.

“So, I’m assuming your Hazel?” He asked, inwardly cringing at how delicate his voice sounded. Hazel seemed glad that he broke the silence, since she obviously had no idea how, and nodded.

“Yeah, Hazel Levesque.”

“Well, what brings you to New York, Hazel Levesque?”

She raised a brow at his odd way of talking, though didn’t bother questioning him on it. “Uh, I go to a Catholic school about an hour from here. Marie thought it was a good idea to get me away from New Orleans.”

Nico raised a brow. “You’re Catholic?”

Hazel shook her head quickly, taking a hair tie from her wrist and using it to tie her hair back.

“No. Marie thought it would be a good idea to, quote, Get good influence on me before I turn into Piper.”

Nico raised a brow, twirling the straw on his tea (he’d gotten it about half an hour ago) to keep his hands from shaking. He was done with coffee for the day.

“Okay, question one: whose Marie? And two: whose Piper?”

Hazel thumped herself on the head, sighing loudly. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“It’s fine,” Nico reassured her, crossing his legs under the table and tapping his fingers on the table. “I’d do the same.”

She smiled at him, causing her teeth to shine against her light brown skin tone.

“Well, Marie is my mother. She likes to be called Marie. Says it ‘demands attention and focus’, whatever that means.”

Nico smirked.

“Piper’s my best friend. She goes to my school. She isn’t Catholic either, though this is the closest school her father could get for her since she’s been kicked out of so many.”

Nico snorted, and almost toppled out of his chair when Hazel shot him a warning look.

“S-Sorry. Just, uh, how many schools has she been kicked out of?”

Hazel raised a brow and sounded a bit hesitant to answer. “I think around four. What’s it to you?”

Nico bit his inner lip, trying to suppress a smile.

“I’ve been to six if it’s worth anything. Principals don’t really appreciate graffiti art on the sides of their offices.”

Hazel laughed, and Nico wasn’t sure what to do. He was never considered a funny guy; morbid, yes. Antisocial and disturbed, yeah. But, making someone laugh? That was new.

“Wow, I can’t see you doing that. Actually,” she took a closer look at his face, as though analyzing him. He shifted uncomfortably, as though her gaze was making him uncomfortable, but she didn’t seem to notice. “You have a mischievous glint. So, I guess I can see you doing that.”

Nico blinked for a moment.

“Wow. I didn’t know you could read people.”

Hazel shrugged, taking a sip of coffee she’d bought before coming back. “Yeah. Marie’s a psychic supposedly, so I guess it’s hereditary.”

Nico licked his lips, rolling his head to crack his neck. Hazel winced at the sound, though Nico didn’t notice.

“Speaking of that,” he said, placing both his feet on the ring of his chair. “How can we look nothing alike?”

Hazel scrunched her brow. “No idea. I like to think of Hades as the god himself; a selfish, uh, dude with no DNA and no cares.”

Nico was the one to laugh now. They were drawing eyes from around the shop but didn’t care, too invested in their conversation to care.

“You’ve never met him?” He asked, stirring his drink again. Hazel shook her head.

“No. You have?”

Nico nodded his head solemnly. “I hate to say I have.”

Hazel scoffed. “Why so?” She had an agitated tone, one Nico has heard many times before.

Nico looked up at her, though didn’t move his head from being downcasted for a moment. Slowly he sat back up straight. “He’s a selfish asshole that left me for dead.”

Hazel’s eyes shot open wide, suddenly sitting up straight as well. Maybe Nico was laying it on too thick, but he couldn’t find himself to care. He hated Hades. With every inch of his being.

“What?” Hazel asked, now seeming a bit confused and seemed to be seething a bit.

We may not have looks in common, he thought to himself, but we sure do have some matching personality traits.

“He hasn’t told you?”

Hazel shook her head.

“Well, I’m not from America, first of all.”

Hazel rolled her eyes, though not in annoyance, and smirked a bit. “I could tell, from the accent. What, Italy?”

Nico shook his head. “Venice, to be specific. There, uh,” he looked to Hazel. Was he alright to tell a stranger his entire life story?

Not a stranger, Nico told himself. A sibling.

“He lived with us. In Venice, that is.” Nico knew that was irrelevant, but he was trying to distract himself from the words coming from his mouth. “He lived with me, my mother, and my sister, Bianca.” Nico could tell Hazel wanted to interrupt, but she kept her mouth shut, letting him continue to talk.

“Let’s just say… I loved him. As much as I regret it, I loved the guy. He was my role model, someone I wanted to model myself after. Well, not entirely, but how he was so successful, and how he still made time for my mother and I even though he had a busy-ass schedule, he could still see us.”

Nico bit his lip and blinked repeatedly, trying to get rid of the tears threatening to run down his cheeks. No crying, he reminded himself.

“We lived in harmony. All of us except Bianca and him, anyway. Bianca’s my sister. Full blooded, not half, you know? Anyway, they always had a rocky relationship. They avoided each other, never talked often unless mama asked them both a question… I never fully understood. I remember,” he laughed bitterly, “how she would always tell me I was too young to understand. How, how she would tell me when I was older…”

He felt something hit his hand and looked down to see Hazel’s hand. She had spindly fingers, one built for a piano, not for comforting a crying teenage boy.

“Sorry,” he said, taking his hand from Hazel’s grip and wiping his eyes. “I’m a mess.”

“No,” Hazel said, taking both his hands in his and squeezing reassuringly. He stared at her for a moment, trying to process what was happening, before she began talking again.

“Continue. I’m curious.”

He smiled bitterly again.

“Anyway, it was a normal day, the day he left. Well, at least it started out normal. I woke up Bianca from our beds, we ran down the stairs and ate omelets, then we ran out to the town. Venice is different from here. America. We would run down the crowded streets, holding hands and singing songs at the tops of our lungs. Sometimes another person - a neighbor, or perhaps a student Bianca knew - and we would just… be ourselves. Bianca never sat back and watched. She got up and did. I loved her for that. So, so many other reasons, but that was… that was a major one.”

He cleared his throat again, and Hazel squeezed his hands.

“That night, our house caught fire.”

Hazel took a sharp breath, though didn’t tell him to stop. He dropped her gaze, instead studying her hands. He didn’t notice he was talking, only seeing how her hands weren’t calloused more boney. How she seemed like such a nice girl, too nice to be Hades, daughter.

Except for Bianca.

Bianca was the one exception.

“And, when they tried to contact him the next day, he was gone. No one could find him anywhere. Not even the fucking NSA could find him. But, apparently, they were looking in the wrong country…”

Hazel stood up from her chair, walking around and hugging him tightly. Nico froze. He didn’t get hugged often from anyone that wasn’t Sally. She buried her face in his collarbone, and he had to turn so they weren’t at such an awkward angle.

“I’m so, so sorry. And I know it doesn’t matter, what I say now, but god I’m sorry.”

“I live with my - I guess our - aunt at about a forty minute walk from here.” He sniffled. “She - she was the one to convince me to come here. No offense, obviously, but I was just scared…”

Hazel smiled sadly and pulled back to look at his face. He was shocked to see she was about to start crying as well.

“It’s fine. Piper and Leo were the ones to convince me to come, as well. I was scared that he would still be with you, and I would storm out - I just, I don’t get out much.”

Nico smiled sadly.

“Neither do I.”

+

Will’s life was getting a bit more exciting.

He woke up at the crack of dawn - like always - and threw back his covers. Austin was gone, on his final year of college, and Kayla was still asleep. He didn’t need to check to know that was the case.

He put on his clothes, which consisted of a ratty old red flannel and some white shirt from a band he didn’t know existed, paired with some old blue cut-off jeans he bought a few weeks ago. His hair was freshly cut, short against his sides but a bit longer on top, and his black converse.

Then he was out the door.

Will had to pick up multiple jobs to help his mom pay the bills; they were good, she would say, and Will knew that was always correct. Naomi was a nurse, so they were always good in the money department, but he felt like he was taking too much and not giving enough.

He worked at a small, family-owned restaurant down the street from his house. The family was amazing, though he felt like they were too invested with soulmates. They were constantly walking up to him, asking for a glimpse at his tattoo, since everyone in their family had already found their soulmates and they quote, Wanted to live vicariously through you as you search for your one and only true love.

Will still didn’t understand the hype completely, though he was beginning to understand.

He saw a couple at a McDonald's a few days ago. Weird, he knows, but just listen:

They were sitting, hands interlocked in the middle of their table, sharing a Happy Meal. As Will walked over, he thought they were just friends, though then he caught a glance at each other’s names on their arms.

And suddenly, he realized that he wanted that. Maybe not anytime soon, but at some point.

He just still wasn’t sure why he wanted it so badly.

Yeah, they were your soulmate. But, they’re just people. And yes, he loves his sister and his mother and his brother with all of his heart. He just couldn’t imagine feeling that and something more for another person.

It just seemed too unrealistic.

As he swung the door open to the restaurant, he was pretty surprised to find it already partially filled. They were mostly elderly couples, people who didn’t remember a time before their soulmates, and the occasional one with a grandchild. He could see one woman in the very back with her grandchild, a young girl who seemed to be in her early teens, probably only thirteen.

I can’t be more than three years older than her.

Will’s sixteenth birthday wasn’t that long ago, so it seemed like a logical estimate on her age.

“Solace!”

Will’s head snapped in her general direction, causing his neck to crack painfully. Lou Ellen, the owner’s daughter, came running out of the back bakery and full speed at him. When they crashed Will almost fell over, catching them both at the last second.

“Will! Solace, Will, we need to talk.”

“Oh god.”

Lou pulled him into the back room, away from unsuspecting eyes, and almost punched him when they got some privacy, but thankfully Will dodged.

“Lou! What the hell - ”

“Your tattoo.” She said, pointing at Will’s forearm. “Let me see it.”

“What makes you think that slapping me will get you anywhere in the soulmate department?”

She just glared at him. Will huffed, pulling back his flannel and showing his forearm. Lou jumped, grabbing his arm and inspecting it closely.

“Holy shit! You’ve got a new one,” she said, pointing at his arm. Will raised a brow, twisting around to try and get a glimpse of his mark. Apparently, all his tattoos shifted during the night, making a new face in his arms.

“Jesus Christ…” Will muttered, moving his arm around.

It was a picture of an attractive woman, one that was probably around Will’s age, with long brown hair and glowing gold eyes. The tattoo seemed to be constructed of stained glass, giving her a new, vibrant light beside the simply worded tattoos of the other two women. This girls name, though, was in English.

Hazel Levesque

She was a different skin tone to the other two - from what Will could tell, anyway - so they weren’t related. She seemed to be in mid-laugh, causing her face to seem much younger than it probably was, so Will wasn’t positive on her age, though he was probably around the correct age range.

“That’s…” Lou covered her mouth. “That’s amazing.”

“It is,” Will muttered, barely loud enough to hear himself, and continued staring for a few moments.

“Will! Lou! What the hell are you guys doing back here?” Lou’s father, an older, burly man, burst through the doors to see them both staring at his new tattoo, He sighed, waving the two off back to their jobs.

Will couldn’t take his mind off the tattoo.

It was different from the other two faces. It seemed new; refurbished. The other two seem warned down, as though older.

He decided the newest tattoo was his favorite one.

He left early that morning with Lou in tow. He was never positive why he decided to work before school started was ever a good idea, but nonetheless, he still had classes to attend.

Lou and Will didn’t have many classes together, only two, and they weren’t the most talkative people. Popular? I guess you could say that yeah. But willingly? Hell no. Will liked to stay in the background, play his baseball and get good grades so he could go to NYU’s medical program, and then maybe, maybe move there afterward. He’s always wanted to go to New York. He liked how the city never slept, that there was always something new to do or see. It was different from his suburban neighborhood, something he always thought he needed. Different.

Maybe he’d even find his soulmate there.

+

Will wasn’t the biggest fan of crowds.

He enjoyed being out and about, but not being surrounded by the same people every day after school.

He liked his teammates, don’t get him wrong, but it’s just… boring. He wanted something new. Something exciting. Something that would make his stomach turn and twist and make him want to vomit. But, vomit rainbows, and not his bowels.

He was practicing his swinging, something he was never good at. He was a better outfielder. But, of course, they already had more than enough outfielders, so he was left at either batting or pitching.

I guess it’s something exciting to put on my college application, he tried to give himself something positive to think of, but that just made it worse.

He wanted to leave, and he wanted to do it now. Not in two years, not in two months, he wanted to go now. He was getting sick of the same old house on the same old hill, with the same old friends and the same old school.

He was sick of the old.

He wanted something new.

But, for now, at least, he was just going to have to stay put.

It’s not like he gets to plan his own life out, anyway. And when would his mom let him go anywhere that wasn’t the same old house until college?

He didn’t have a choice.

So, he just swung his bat.

Chapter Three