#since ive always done things from nico's side

[peggingmegamind]

William Andrew Solace is okay. He has always prided himself on his ability to shake off the negative things in his life. His therapist, teachers, and mother all hailed him from a young age for being “resilient.” His mother used to call him her sunshine; during one of her particularly bad episodes, she took a sad little eight-year-old Will by the shoulders and said to him, “C’mon Sunshine! You’re the only one in this family who’s happy! We’re all relying on you, Don’t let your smile slip!” And since then, he was always sure to remain strong for his family. After Lee’s death, after Michael’s death, after losing countless patients during the Titan and Giant wars, he never slipped, never faltered. He was the strong eldest brother all his siblings needed. It didn’t matter to him that he was just going through the motions, living through profound numbness and fog, so long as he could keep his family at camp safe and stable. That was all that mattered. Taking care of people was all that mattered. 

Three days at the infirmary. Pretty typical, especially given everyone at camp is recovering from a war. Rather short, honestly, in comparison to some of his other patients. Will does what he’s always done. He stays steadfast and hardworking. Nico isn’t his only patient, not by a long shot, but somehow in the blur of IV fluids, ambrosia, and bandages, he manages to stand out. It might be his smart mouth and hatred of being cared for and under chthonic power arrest. More likely, it is Will's persistent crush on the guy since he arrived at the battle of Manhatten flanked by three gods. But who’s to say, honestly? 

It’s a moot point anyways. He’s got a clinic full of injured kids and a cabin full of siblings who need his guidance. He really does not need to add a pathetic, one-sided crush on a two-time war hero to his plate. It’s almost too much, but he can’t bend, can’t show himself struggling to juggle his responsibilities. He just needs to get through this month. It doesn’t matter that he’s been saying that since before the titan war. It’ll be true this time. He will heal everyone who needs to be healed, ensures his siblings are all okay and taken care of, and then everything will be fine. He will feel fine. 

Kayla keeps looking at him. It’s that weird combination of soft eyes and hushed “Dude, are you sure you’re okay? I can hold down the fort if you need a break.” But he doesn’t need a break. He especially doesn’t need to pawn this responsibility and duty onto his younger sister. He’s got this; he always has everything under control. 

Austin’s next. He’s more subtle. He brings Will food and eyes him with that same soft, careful gaze as Kayla. It’s infuriating. Austin takes up more boring jobs around the clinic, filling out discharge forms, cutting bandages, and making sure none of the Ares campers have a cow over being admitted to the clinic for what they call ‘minor injuries’ (It doesn’t matter how many times the Will says it, they insist broken ribs and concussions are injuries that can be fixed with an ice bath and some vics vapor rub). Will wants to protest having his little brother take over these tasks but honestly? He’s just grateful he doesn’t have to power through his forming carpal tunnel to get the records on par with his standards anymore. 

Really he should’ve anticipated Chiron having a talk with him. With everything going on, something had to give, and Kayla confided in Chiron that Will was working himself like a dog. 

The talk was awkward. Will had never been much for lying; quite frankly, he didn’t feel like he was lying. He felt fine. Or at least. A little under his base level of shittiness that he knew he could get out of. Probably. It was disconcerting to have a concerned adult staring at him, prompting him to share his feelings, unwilling to just let him loose and tie up the situation with a nice bow. 

“Sir, with all due respect, I am doing just fine. We’re just busy with all the injuries, and I’m trying to keep all my siblings in check.”

Chiron, compacted into his wheelchair, studied Will’s sleep-deprived face. His eyes were crinkled with knowing concern, and his lips pursed into a thin line.

“Will, your sister came to me concerned about you overworking yourself. Now I know you are tasked with many responsibilities, but I am still here to offer assistance when needed.”

“Yes, but-

“Please, I am not asking about the other campers right now,” Chiron held up a weathered hand, silencing the young healer. “I want to hear about how you are doing. You do not need to carry this burden alone.”

Usually, those words wouldn’t have impacted Will. Usually, offerings of support or help stuck about as well as water on a duck's back. But standing in the big house, exhausted, worn down, and disrespected by the very campers he was trying to take care of, he caved. He broke down. He told Chiron about how he felt he couldn't rely on anyone, how he felt like a ghost walking through life, and how he felt like an outsider just trying to keep everyone satiated and happy. He’s mortified, unloading all of these feelings on an activities director with whom he has a semi-friendly but not close relationship, but he just can’t seem to stem the tidal wave of emotions that spill from his lips. He tells him about what his mother said all those years ago. About how he must always be strong and happy for his family. To be the guiding light that leads them out of the darkness. It’s all so personal, and he feels naked and vulnerable, but he feels. Opening up feels like a gaping knife wound across his chest, but there is some modicum of relief because at least someone else knows. At least someone else was there to witness his pain. 

Chiron sits through all of it. He listens. And when Will finally ramps down from his word-vomit speech and says,

“Oh Gods, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to just unload all that onto you.”

Chiron scoffs good-naturedly and levels him a kind smile, and says,

“As I said before, you do not need to carry this burden alone. You have people here who care about you. I am always here to listen to you, Will. You need to learn to trust your siblings. They worry about you, and your refusal to talk with them about what troubling you hurts them worse than you know.”

They sit and talk a little longer. Chiron recommends some readings to help Will proceed from where he’s at. And then Chiron pats his hand and sends him on his way. 

And it’s not all better. Not by a long shot. He still feels numb and sad. He’s exhausted, and his eyes are swollen from crying, and his nose is raw from the kleenex they have a camp. Things are still as they were. But he feels a little lighter. Like maybe the world won’t end if he lets Kayla and Austin take over the infirmary this afternoon so he can nap and have a good meal. And maybe sometime after the hectic aftermath of the war has dispersed, they can talk about everything.

[kc5rings]

Devil May Cry FF14 AU.

Not where they are in that setting, but post DMC5 where they play together as a group.

Preliminary thoughts are

Dante: Dark Knight (duh)An incredibly competent tank who nevertheless occasionally jumpscares people with cleaves and semi regularly shirks onto his brother for fun. Can play any role fairly well and is a particularly good Sage since in his words it’s the only healer with style.

Vergil: Samurai (also duh) “parse is the only true measure of a warrior Dante, “greed” is a concept for those who cannot grasp true power” this is usually the point said cleave or shirk kills Vergil, more than one physical fight has broken out over this. Also is an omnicrafter but only makes his own gear and refuses to use the marketboard at all. Will absolutely steal every LB3.

Nero: Gunbreaker and Red Mage. Gunbreaker is a pretty obvious fit and he almost always off tanks for Dante, also a very competent tank but occasionally gets frustrated if Whig’s something or lets someone else get killed. Won’t shirk onto Vergil but will occasionally graze him with a cleave just to keep him on his toes. Enjoys the in and out gameplay of Red Mage, especially the melee burst. Is on a continuous search a good RDM weapon glam that looks passably like Red Queen.

Kyrie: White Mage and Reaper but has all 90’s. Along with Nico, she’s the one who got everyone else into playing the game. Both her and Nico have been playing for ages and started playing together after they met through Nero. Is a scary hood healer who will balance a tanks health on a knife edge while racing the DPS on damage. Nero is the tank she made him and they work extremely well together. When Reaper came out she took to it immediately and is an absolute terror, the amount of damage a near miss teleporting she does actually earns her Vergil’s respect. He thinks she can do better than Nero.

Nico: Machinist but truly an omincrafter main. Like Kyrie has been playing forever, since launch in her case. Is the kind of crafter main to have fully melded gear day one and has the static kitted out the day after that. Has done just about every bit of content there is to do and enjoys chasing down every side quest. Big in the modding community for making some of the best aesthetic stuff available.

Lady: Machinist/Black Mage. Wanted to start the game as machinist for the guns, picked black mage to use until she could unlock machinist but got caught up in the thirst for Big Explosions. Still likes machinist but always plays black mage for serious content, her rotation is down to a sweet science and she never gets tired of seeing Fire IV go off. Has threatened to shoot both of the Sparda brothers for standing in her leylines, has actually shot Dante for it.

Trish: Monk and Dancer, prefers classes where she can move freely and also help out a little here and there. Monk is her preference because she likes to get in close and mix things up, enjoys keeping the LB3 from Vergil. Glam game is always on point and has all 90’s to have access every piece of armor just in case there’s a look she likes.

[peachscribe]

Explain to me how if you’re my guard why I’m the one always saving your life? Prince Nico to the rescue of royal guard Will Solace... maybe

i actually felt so inspired by this (after so long - have you forgotten about this already?) that i wrote this in one sitting. hard to believe since it’s an absolute monster (not really, but 5332 words is a lot to write in one siting)

it’s late where i am, and so im going to be bad and not review this like i should,, forgive me if things don’t make sense or if there are typos. perhaps tomorrow (later today) i’ll post the edited/revised version on ao3

without further ado:

“Well, this is certainly a sticky situation,” Will said, because he was at the moment stuck to a wall. A rather archaic trap, but effective, apparently.

No one laughed at his joke, but he figured that was fair. He wasn’t laughing either, but he was smiling like a lunatic. An unfortunate side effect of a dizzying concoction nerves and confidence born of escaping many sticky situations without too much trouble.

“Gentlemen,” Will said conversationally, casually trying to pull his sword arm out of the tar his entire front side was glued to. “I’m sure we can talk this out.” The scent of it was pure awful, burnt rubber invading not only the nostril that was fully submerged, but the free one as well. He was already mourning his natural scent of sawdust and daisies that he always thought made him seem quite fetching. Now he would smell like the lovechild of a (non-romantic) fire and one of those monstrous machines that were becoming quite popular with Prince Nico’s Uncle Hephaestus. Fabulous, really.

It seemed the nice gentlemen didn’t want to talk it out because one of them wrapped his filthy fingers in Will’s (previously) freshly washed hair, yanking him back and causing a wonderful tearing sensation to begin to take root in the skin and hair stuck in the tar and the skin and hair that wasn’t stuck in the tar.

“Where’s the prince,” he growled in his ear, making the phrase seem much more like a statement than a question.

“Interesting that you should ask that,” Will said, wincing when the man pulled harder and actually pulled Will’s face out of the tar. He wondered vaguely if his eyebrow had survived. “I’m starting to wonder as well.”

The man slammed Will’s face back into the tar rather harshly and then spat tobacco on the side of Will’s face that had previously been clean.

“We’re not going to get anything out of him,” one of the other men said. “He’s trained by the Royal Guard.”

“That is true,” Will pointed out. “And I could tell you wonderful stories of my times during training. You know, there was this one night when my cohorts and I snuck out-”

“Could someone please shut him up?”

“I wish whoever the brave soul is luck in that endeavor,” Will said because he’d just caught sight of a lingering shadow in the one window that was in his line of eyesight.

The same filthy man from before (Will recognized him by his pungent scent of garbage that had fermented in the sun for a couple of days) leaned in again, his foul-smelling breath mixing with the already foul air of the tar. “You got something up your sleeve, pretty boy?”

“You think I’m pretty?” Will asked just as the front door of the cabin exploded.

Chaos ensued, although much of it Will was unable to see. He heard the familiar growls and barks of Nico’s three headed wolf and the screams of the men that had been holding him, and he assumed enough.

When a heavy silence descended over the room and only the heavy breathing of the wolf heads remained, he ventured to speak. “Well, I must admit that you’ve saved me from a rather sticky situation.”

He heard a sigh. The sheathing of a sword. “How many times have you made that joke since getting stuck to the wall?”

“Only enough to be annoying,” Will responded, and in the quiet that followed, Will imagined that Nico was smiling. “Do you have a suggestion on how to free me from my current prison?”

“Mrs. O’Leary,” Nico said, his light feet moving about the room, “please take care of this buffoon.” Mrs. O’Leary, the previously mentioned three headed wolf, bounded over to Will immediately, her three pink tongues digging into the tar surrounding him and lapping it up like it was a particularly nice treat.

“So,” Will drawled as Mrs. O’Leary went to town on his tar-covered trousers, “how’d you spend your hours free of me?”

“The theatre,” Nico responded, followed by the swishing of rope, “followed by a tavern that serves the greasy foods that Persephone’s mother so hates.” More rope, followed by the casual sliding of dead weight on the wooden floor. “And then tracking you down.”

“How exciting.” Mrs. O’Leary had made quick work of his legs and had moved on to his torso. It was torture to resist laughing. “Tell me, my dear prince, was it worth it?”

Nico grumbled something unintelligible, and then seemed to purposefully lose himself in the work of tying up the culprits (all of which were still breathing, despite the drama they’d all fussed about it) and gathering them all together.

At last, Will was unstuck from the wall, and he stepped back, stretching out his neck and admiring the Will-shaped hole in the tar. Much still clung to the front of his clothes and the side of his face, but it was better than being stuck. Mrs. O’Leary propped her paws up on his shoulders and slobbered happily over his face.

Will was a relatively smart man, and so he kept his mouth firmly closed during this ordeal, although he kept an eye open and observed the prince.

He was standing, back straight and positively regal, against a wall. He had unsheathed his sword while waiting for Will to be freed and was polishing the pure black metal with a cloth that Will knew he kept in his bag. His face was tired although his body didn’t seem to be, and his hair looked as if he’d just rolled out bed, directly contrasting the awake posture. There was no crown adorning the messy curls, and Will suspected that was on purpose.

When Mrs. O’Leary had finished with Will’s face and had moved on to the side of his head where (hopefully) hair remained, Will dared to speak.

“I told these nice men that I was the prince, but they didn’t seem to believe me,” Will said, gesturing to the tied up men and crossing his arms as Mrs. O’Leary made his hair stand up only on that one side.

“You look nothing like my father,” Nico said without looking up from his sword. “It’s no wonder they didn’t believe you.”

“Really?” Will asked. “I’ve always thought my nose was quite similar to his.”

Nico finally looked up at him then, dark eyebrow raised. Will could see it took a lot for him to maintain that expression and not break into a fit of laughter, no doubt at Will’s expense. “It seems the tar has had a fight with your eyebrow,” he said, confirming Will’s worst fear.

“Who won?” Will asked, touching the offending eyebrow and immediately knowing the answer. Only a few hairs were left.

“The tar. Most definitely.”

“I’ve sacrificed so much for you, Prince Nico. How much more are you and your dastardly schemes going to cost me?” The was the second time in as many weeks that Will’s glorious (if he did say so himself) appearance had suffered because of Nico. First it was being forced to cut his long, luxurious hair to just around his neck, and now it was this. One whole eyebrow. Gone.

“It wouldn’t be so bad if you could save yourself, William,” Nico said, sheathing his sword once more and stuffing the cleaning cloth into his black leather bag. “What’s the good in being my personal knight when I’m the one saving you?”

“You say this as if the reason you’re having to save me isn’t that you are constantly putting me into bad situations,” Will quipped, and Nico scowled

“Is that any way to talk to a prince?”

“I suspect not, but I’m mourning the death of my best eyebrow, so you must excuse me.”

This is what made Nico’s face crack open into a crooked smile. Will thought it belonged right beside the stars. Nico ducked his face, quickly controlling his errant facial muscles and clearing his throat. “We must alert my father immediately concerning the kidnapping attempt,” he said, all prim and proper business as he straightened out his peasants’ shirt.

“These men will have to accompany us on our return to the castle,” Will responded, catching Nico’s stride in conversation and rolling with it. “Mrs. O’Leary will prevent them from leaving while we go and summon a carriage and a pull cart for the prisoners.”

They walked out of the cabin together, Nico having changed back into his princely attire and directing Mrs. O’Leary to stay behind. Will still wore his tar-stained white knight tunic, and he had picked up his golden sword from where it had been tossed when he had first entered the brawl with the unknown gentlemen. He was sure he was quite a sight with half his head all slobbered on and one whole eyebrow gone.

“It doesn’t look that bad,” Nico said, a sad attempt at reassurance tinging his voice as he pulled his golden crown out of his bag and fit it atop his curls.

“Well, if you’re saying that, then I know it’s bad.” He tried in vain to comb his wet hair covered in hellhound spit over the empty space, to no avail.

“You’re right. It’s hilarious.” Delivered in a deadpan. Nothing less of the prince, Will supposed.

“Speaking of bad,” Will said, eager to direct the conversation away from his missing eyebrow, “let’s discuss your habit of running away while in my care.”

“I’d rather not,” Nico grumbled.

“I’ve avoided telling your father,” Will continued as if Nico hadn’t spoken, “for your sake as well as my own, but I believe that it has become an excessive and needless problem.” Will cast a sideways glance at Nico as they entered the outskirts of the town. “The other knights say you’re perfectly behaved in their care. It’s only me you despise so much.”

“I don’t despise you,” Nico said, but that was as far as he got because they were then swarmed by townsfolk, demanding to know if it was truly the Prince of the Underworld standing before them. The reached out to him, but Will stood in front of him, hand on the hilt of his sword and eyes narrowed.

“This is indeed the prince you speak of,” Will said, making the line of the crowd push back a few steps. “And so you shall treat him with the respect he deserves.”

They all dropped to a knee or both knees, murmuring their prayers and praises for eternal life and prosperity. For Nico as well as themselves.

Despite Will being certain that Nico was quite embarrassed with this display, he jut his chin out and looked down his impressive hooked nose he’d inherited from his father. “Rise,” he said, and they did. Will stepped to Nico’s right side, hand still on his sword for the purpose of safety. Nico regarded the crowd with his deep set eyes, and then he spoke again. “My knight and I require a carriage for the purpose of returning back to the Underworld. We will also be needing a prisoner’s cart.”

The crowd looked around at each other. “We don’t have a carriage fit for a prince,” said a man with enough authority and sympathy in his voice for everyone to agree.

“A carriage fit for two people, whatever status, will be perfectly fine,” Nico replied, and the people sighed in relief. “The carriage will be returned, and a reward will be paid to its owner, as well as the rest of the town, for your hospitality.”

A chorus of praises rang out, and Will and Nico were escorted to the finest inn to await the preparations of the carriages and the prisoner’s pull cart.

Once they were alone enough, Will looked over at Nico, smiling broadly at him. “So you don’t despise me,” he prompted. Nico scowled.

“I’ll have your other eyebrow shaved off in your sleep.”

The men, after an interrogation conducted by Will that lasted far less of a time that he thought it would, were low-level criminals hired by an unknown person to kidnap the prince. For reasons unknown. What a great help they were, truly.

Will’s eyebrow grew back slowly and painfully, and he found himself checking its progress everyday in any mirror or flat surface of water when he had the chance. It had finally reached acceptable levels when Will was caught preening at his reflection in the waters of a fountain that stood in Persephone’s garden.

“One Narcissus is enough,” Nico said, and Will stood up from his perch on the fountain, saluting him and then breaking into a grin.

“At least I wasn’t making kissy faces at myself,” Will said, relaxing as Nico sat down on the fountain ledge and raised an eyebrow at him.

“You were far too close for my liking.”

“So what is to your liking?”

Nico’s eyes fell to his lap, and he turned away from Will, facing the fountain waters. He seemed almost like he had started counting the amount of golden coins that had been thrown into the magical waters.

“What brings you through the gardens in such a late hour?” Will asked, making Nico lose count of the coins.

“Well,” Nico said, still not looking at him and instead fiddling with his thumbs. “I was planning to sneak out.”

“Ooh,” Will cooed, sitting beside Nico at a safe distance for the both of them. “And you’re actually telling me as opposed to keeping me in the dark?”

“I’ll run now if you continue being strange about it,” Nico snapped, and Will laughed.

“Sorry, pretty prince. I’ll stay quiet.” Will mimed zipping his mouth shut. The pretty prince glared at him, pale face ablaze with a pink blush.

“There’s a festival Upstairs that I’ve been wanting to attend,” Nico continued, not breaking eye contact with Will, probably out of spite. “My father doesn’t like the idea because of the hitmen from that time-”

“Smart man.”

“-And I know he’s warned the knights about being persuaded by me-”

“This is true,” Will admitted with a nod. Hades had made the announcement earlier that day.

“-But I know that you have some things that you’d prefer my father not know,” Nico finished, expression blazing and determined. Will couldn’t help but laugh.

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“Yes,” Nico replied without hesitation.

“Prince Nico,” Will said, smiling a shaking his head, “if you wanted to invite me to the festival, all you had to do was ask.”

“So you’ll take me?”

“Sweet prince,” Will said, patting Nico’s cheek. “Absolutely not.”

Nico blanched, his perpetual scowl turning fierce. “But you just said-”

“That I’d be delighted to accompany you on a nice date through a festival, yes,” Will said, standing up and stretching out his limbs. “However, as much as you think I’m an idiot, I still believe in my duty to you and you father.” He offered a hand to Nico, which he took, and he helped the prince stand. “I swore to never purposely put you in harms’ way, and I plan to stand by that.”

“Why is it now that you choose to be valiant?” Nico asked, dropping his hand and shaking his head.

“Oh, little prince, I’ve always been valiant,” Will said, planting a hand on the small of Nico’s back and guiding him out of the gardens. “You’ve just never given me a chance to show off.”

Will took him back to his bedroom, making sure to keep his feet safely outside of the threshold. “Please sleep, Prince Nico,” Will said as Nico glared up at him. “Perhaps next year I can accompany you to this festival you so desire to attend.”

“Yeah, next year,” Nico scoffed, and then punched Will so hard in the jaw that stars danced in his eyes. He fell to the floor, and all went black.

Will woke up to a splitting headache and the familiar rumble of a carriage. Except the rumble was making his head rumble, and that was neither familiar nor pleasant. He groaned. His jaw throbbed.

“It’s good that you’re awake,” a nice voice said. Prince Nico. “We’re almost there.”

“You punched me,” Will said, opening his eyes and glaring over to Nico, who sat leisurely across from him.

“And cast a sleep spell on you,” Nico said, as if this wasn’t extremely offensive and criminal.

“For what purpose?” Will asked, sitting up and rubbing his aching jaw. He noted the warmth and weight of Mrs. O’Leary beside him with her heads resting in his lap. He gave her a pat.

Nico looked out the carriage window, scowling.

“I’ll find a way to turn this carriage around,” Will threatened.

“I’m never allowed freedom,” Nico muttered after a small space of silence. “Always guarded, always protected, as if I was never taught to defend myself.”

“You’re the only heir to an important kingdom - arguably the most important,” Will said. “What do you expect?”

“My father can walk outside of his kingdom, and he can do it without a bodyguard or a knight in shining armor.”

“Your father is also objectively terrifying.”

Nico’s sharp gaze turned on him. “Are you saying I’m not?”

“I must admit I’m biased,” Will said, and Nico rolled his eyes.

“Everyone is always preventing me from going out because of some mysterious threat,” Nico continued, shaking his head. “As if I won’t be threatened for my entire life. These things happen, and they happen, and they happen, and they never stop happening. And I’m told to cower in the face of things happening.”

Will pursed his lips. “What are you trying to prove, Prince?”

Nico turned his steady gaze to Will, all sharp angles and contrast. “That I’m not afraid to have fun.”

Having fun with Nico was probably the best thing that Will had ever semi-chosen to do. Nico was dressed in his peasants’ clothes, and he forced some on Will, too, and so they blended into the crowds of festival goers.

There were bright lights hung up on strings and stalls that glowed with the promise of prizes or food or both, and it was divine to hold Nico’s waist while attempting not to lose him in the crowd and pretend.

Pretend that they weren’t a knight and a prince. Pretend that they weren’t bound together by duty. Pretend that things were very different.

They took a break from the games at an empty picnic table, the spoils of their dominating the festivals games stuffed into cheap moleskine bags that they put by their feet. In front of them was a single plate of something fried and sweet with strawberry sauce, and already their fingers were covered in sugar and grease. Mrs. O’Leary sat upright, begging for a taste, and Nico let her lick three of his fingers.

“Now you know what you missed out on every time you abandoned me,” Will teased. “A good time with lots of laughs.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Nico said, swatting at the air. He didn’t look annoyed or angry, though, and in fact looked as though a smile was fighting its way to the surface.

“It’s okay to do that more often, you know,” Will said, lost in the pretend.

“What?” Nico asked, looking up from the plate of sugar. The smile was there, caught in the phase before its birth, right when it started to sparkle in his eyes.

“Smile,” Will said, pretending it didn’t take his breath away when the smile broke across Nico’s face. “It’s quite stunning.” Brighter than the festival lights, that’s for sure.

“And you wonder why I always ran from you,” Nico said, shaking his head and hiding his smile with another mouthful of the sugary sweet.

Will was still trying to figure out how to respond when someone yanked his head back and cold metal was pressed against his throat. Given that it was sharp and uncomfortable, Will guessed it was a knife. Nico stood, unsheathing his sword in the same breath as when the knife touched Will’s throat but more attackers surrounded the table. Mrs. O’Leary leaned close to the ground, growls low in her throats.

“Move and he dies,” said the person holding Will’s hair.

“What business?” Will asked, putting on his best imperial voice and tilting back his head to look his attacker in the eye. He was wearing a mask, a ridiculous one from the festival, and it wasn’t hard for Will to metaphorically look down his nose at him.

“We’re here for Prince Nico di Angelo of the Underworld, renowned dark sorcerer, heir to King Hades,” said one of the other attackers, also wearing a festival mask. That must’ve been how they were able to slip under Will’s radar, disregarding his distracted state.

“This is he,” Will replied coolly, and the group of attackers advanced. Nico opened his mouth, but Will shot him a look.

“The smaller one looks like him,” one of them commented, and Will rolled his eyes.

“We are wearing glamours,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That one is my white knight, disguised as me in the case of this kind of event.”

The attackers shifted uncomfortably. “You’re lying,” said the man holding the knife to Will’s throat.

“Am I?” Will challenged. “See how quickly he drew his sword. See how he is ready to defend me although there are so many of you. He only stopped because I started talking.”

Will was sure Nico would slap him for this later.

None of the attackers seemed to be able to argue with his logic, but none of them were willing to take it at face value. The knife at his throat pressed harder. “Why would you expose your ruse if you are the prince?”

“I would like to survive the night,” Will quipped. The knife dug in harder.

“That’s not enough.”

“And I love him,” Will blurted out, acting as if the words hurt him to say out loud. They did, but in a different way than what he was portraying. He cast his eyes downwards. “I love him, and I would rather be taken than allow him to fall by your hands.”

The attackers laughed, and Will raised his eyes to lock gazes with Nico. He was surprised, he could tell, but Will didn’t bother wasting precious facial expressions when he was being so closely watched.

“Please,” he sobbed, squeezing his eyes shut. “Take me and spare him.”

“Don’t do this, Prince,” Nico warned.

“My only wish is for you to be safe, my love,” Will said, opening his eyes and leveling a look heavy with meaning at him. “Safe and happy.”

Nico seemed to be relaxing into his character. His sword hand dropped, and he leaned forward, pleading and open. “How could I ever be happy without you by my side to protect?” he asked, and Will actually felt his heart squeeze in response.

He turned his face away. “Do not make this harder than it has to be, darling. Let me go.” Nico was a really good actor. He looked as though his heart was breaking.

“What a show,” the man holding Will’s head snarled. He yanked Will up so that he was standing, knife still pressed against his throat. “Beck and Selina, stay behind and take care of the knight. The rest of you come with me.”

Will was paraded off, the knife coming off from his neck as they entered the crowded parts of the festival and taking its place at the small of his back. “Scream, little prince, and I’ll make sure your death is slow and torturous.” Will nodded silently.

He was unceremoniously shoved into a carriage, a blindfold tied around his eyes and a gag stuffed into his mouth. The tied his wrists behind his back and took away his sword. And then they laughed and talked about normal things, as if they were normal and not currently kidnapping someone.

About an hour passed (Will had counted), and then he was paraded off the carriage and into someplace cold, and then to someplace cold and dark, where he heard locks clicking and the laughter fading. He counted, and prayed Nico was okay.

A day passed on the floor of the cold cellar - surely it must’ve been a cellar with how cold and damp it was - with no change. Will was hungry, but not starving, and although he was cold, he wasn’t freezing. All free thoughts were spent praying that Nico had made it to safety.

He was less sure the more time passed.

Another day passed, and then another. He was dehydrated and weak and probably the worst situation he’d ever been in because of Nico. But he didn’t blame him. He only begged the gods that he’d made it home safe.

It was during the third day that Will was forced up and poked and prodded through hallways and up staircases until his was panting with the effort to keep his balance. And then a hand shoved at his back, and he was forced to catch himself with his knees on hard, cold floor.

“Remove the blindfold,” said a rasping, cold voice that fit right in with the atmosphere. The blindfold was removed.

The bright light of day was harsh on Will’s sensitive eyes, and he was forced to close them right after he opened them. Slowly, he opened his eyes again, though they watered and burned, and he raised his face to stare at his captor.

It was a man withering away. Centimeters from death, though it looked as if he was closer to simply turning to ash. His hair was long and gray and brittle, seamlessly blending in with his beard, which matched the color of his robes, which matched the color of his skin. The only hint that he was alive at all was the surreal glow of his golden eyes, disks of color pressed into a statue of a dying man.

He sat on a throne made of gold, and the rest of the room was a mess of black and white. But Will spared only a glance at that. He focused on the man’s eyes, defiant without saying a word.

“You’re glamour has lasted a long time,” the old man said, as if it was a joke.

“No less quality expected for a prince,” Will replied, his voice rough and grating without an ounce of water to smooth it out.

“Where is the prince?”

“You’re looking at him,” Will replied, and there was a kick to Will’s back that made him double over in an attempt to catch his breath.

“He knows you’re lying,” said the voice of the man who’d captured him.

“Luke,” the old man chastised, “let’s be nice to our guest.” The golden disks had never left Will. He knew this even though there were no pupils to speak of. “I will ask you again. Where is the prince?”

He was asking it so nicely, but Will felt the aura of power and dread. He wasn’t a fool.

“Perhaps you should listen to what I’ve told you,” Will said, catching his breath. “You’re looking at him.”

“Tell us where the prince is, and your life will be spared,” the man said, sounding bored.

An unexplainable hope barreled through Will’s traitorous heart, and he found himself saying: “The prince is here.”

The man sighed, waving a frail hand. “Take him away.”

The one called Luke hauled Will to his feet rather roughly, and then shoved him to the door. And then the door burst open, and Will whirled, kneeing Luke between the legs and diving to the side as Prince Nico barged into the room, slashing Luke with the knife so quickly, the boy had no time to dodge the blade as it tore open the skin of his face. Luke cried out, falling to the ground and pressing his hands over the bleeding gash.

Nico stood like a knight, black sword unsheathed and sharp face positively warrior-like as he stared down the man in the chair. The air crackled with power, and then Will laughed.

“I told you,” he said, and then Nico helped Will to his feet as he continued laughing. The man said nothing.

“I will be taking what’s mine now,” Nico said, throwing out a hand and making the shadows of the room circle around each other to make a portal. He was just about the push Will through when the man spoke.

“I will find you again, Nico,” he said, calmly, patiently. “And when I do, you will be giving me what I want.”

“You’ll find me again, Kronos,” Nico said, just as calmly. “But I’ll find you first.”

And with that, he pushed Will through the portal and then jumped in after him.

When Will woke up, Prince Nico was resting his head on the hospital bed, fast asleep even as he clutched one of Will’s hands in his own.

Will had been catching up on the nutrients he’d missed out on while in captivity, and on sleep, which he’d been doing most of the hours of the day. Nico had visited over the past couple of days, but this type of vulnerability was uncommon. Will nudged him awake.

“Hey, pretty prince.”

“You’re feeling better,” Nico grumbled shifting and rubbing his face with his free hand. Will noticed that he didn’t let go of Will’s hand, and he tried not to focus on that too much.

“You’re entirely correct,” Will said, voice quiet even though he had his own personal room. But it was still dark, and it felt wrong to speak too loudly. “I feel ready to take on a few hydras and perhaps some greasy food.”

“You’ll throw it all up,” Nico replied, his voice rough with sleep.

“You sure know how to talk sweet to me,” Will teased, and Nico looked away. “But you’re correct. I would probably throw up all the hydras.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Nico said, and Will laughed, keeping it low in his throat, closer to his heart.

“You should be more clear with what you mean.”

“You first,” Nico quipped back.

“That’s fair,” Will said reasonably. “I meant that hydra skin is so tough and an absolute hellion to cook, and so eating it at present would be-” He stopped, laughing again when he saw Nico’s scowl. “Kidding.”

“I don’t know why I saved you,” Nico grumbled, burrowed his face into the hospital blankets.

“Well, technically, I saved you first,” Will said.

Nico shifted so that he could see Will, and one of his starry smiles pulled at his lips. “Then that makes us even.” He squeezed Will’s hand, and Will’s heart skipped a beat in response.

“You’re entirely unfair,” Will whispered, and the smile spread over Nico’s face, lighting up his eyes and showing his teeth, almost against his will.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Will squeezed his hand and brought it up to his lips, where he pressed a kiss to Nico’s knuckles.

A beat of stunned silence. Nico’s face was blazing.

“And you’re calling me unfair,” Nico said. “What was that for?”

“Saving me,” Will said, kissing Nico’s knuckles again.

Nico blinked, his breath hitching. “And that one?”

“Because I wanted to,” Will said, pressing another kiss to his knuckles. “Because I meant it when I said I wanted you to be happy and safe.” Another kiss. “Because I meant it when I said I loved you.”

It was a confession. A dangerous one, and they both knew it.

But Nico just ducked his head, pulling their conjoined hands down to his lips, and pressing a kiss of his own to Will’s knuckles. “Because I meant it when I said I couldn’t be happy without you by my side.”

It was dangerous. It was probably looked down upon. But when they fell asleep again, dawn close and warm, their hands were still together, and smiles rested on their lips. The waking sun didn’t wake them, but it welcomed them with open arms.

thanks for reading!

[etlunainmorte]

🌙 EtLunaInMorte's 🌙

🎻 Fanfiction Music Masterlist 🎻

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1. Led Zeppelin's The Immigrant Song

"We're almost there." Nico told him, her move to turn off the speaker finally blessing his ears with some much needed peace. "To be totally frank, I've never been in this part of the city before. This place has a reputation, ya know."

"Reputation, you say?" V repeated the word as he curiously looked back at his female companion.

Nico waved a single hand as her eyes rolled. "The place is nice, so are the neighbors. But, ya know, this place was rumored to be cursed. Had an endless chain of unfortunate events since the 1900s."

"Like what kind of unfortunate events?" This really caught his attention.

"Oh, nothin'. Just a few deaths here and there, rich neighbors goin' bankrupt all of a sudden, wives being left by husbands due to third party relationships, wives being left by husbands permanently, if ya know what I mean. Yeah. That kind of thing." Nico explained with slight amusement in her tone. "But, I believe none of them curses. Or in fate. It's just how ya live yer life. If ya do good, then no harm could be done to ya. If not, well," the woman chuckled as she sucked on her cigar once more, making V duck from the smoke she just blew. "... shame on ya."

~ I. The House At Swan Lane

2. Little Big Planet 3 Covers' Mister Sandman

"Mister Sandman? Really?" Griffon sassed, slightly irritated at the song's cheesy lyrics.

"Hey, it's better than nothin', 'kay?" The woman answered as she went back to rearranging the mysterious wires that were scattered on the floor. "Or do ya want me to put in Zeppelin again?"

"NO! STOP! I BEG YA! PLEASE!"

"THEN, QUIT COMPLAININ' AND HELP ME HERE!" Nico screamed at the bird as she pointed a strange looking radio at him.

"AYE!" The bird obliged, swooping down on the floor near the wires to fix them.

~ IV. First Night

3. The Chordettes' Mister Sandman

"Okay, Shakespeare! We better hurry! Something's really wrong about this place! I can't - "

"W - wait! P - please,..." He heard V stutter under his breath.

"Wait, what?"

"(Y/N),..." V muttered, his voice hoarse and broken. "Please,..."

"What the f - ?!" Griffon drew back, confusion now taking over. He slowly and cautiously looked up to where V was staring at and found, attached to the rotten ceiling like a spider waiting for its prey,...

... a woman with long blonde hair dressed completely in white.

For a few moments, Griffon was stuck where he was, unable to form coherent words or even make a sound. But, the moment she slowly turned to look at him, his eyes widened and his beak dropped open and it took him a few more seconds to finally make a move and grab V by his collar.

"FUCK!" The demonic bird howled in fear as he carried V away from the room and the menace of that blonde creature, who just dropped on the floor and went after them in all fours, its speed frightening the hell out of the, otherwise, powerful familiar. "FUCK! FUCK! FU - !"

"Mister Sandman! Mister Sandman!"

"FUCK! TURN THAT THING OFF!" Griffon howled helplessly as V's radio alarmed with the distorted song once more. Again, another hour has passed. "V, WAKE THE FUCK UP! WE'VE GOT A CCCRRRAAAZZZYYY WOMAN TO BURN! VVVVVVEEEEEE!"

~ VIII. Second Night

4. Air Supply's All Out Of Love

"Victor!" She called. "Victor Blake!"

And then, V finally saw him as he turned.

Wavy shoulder length hair as dark as the night. Gentle, and yet deep and intimidating, eyes that gleamed like a pair of emeralds. Hollow cheeks that formed dimples when he opened his mouth in awe of what he just saw.

It was him.

The supple lips of the poet named Victor Blake formed a mischievous, and yet endearing, smirk as he left the group of women who was barraging him with a lot of requests and questions to make his way closer to where V, Daniella, and (Y/N) were.

And as he playfully twirled a familiar - looking metal cane with his long and slender fingers and made his way to them, he began quoting.

"The modest rose,... puts forth a thorn,... the humble sheep,... a threat'ning horn." He recited, his voice pure honey to everyone's ears. "While the lily white,... shall in love delight,... " He, then, stopped right where (Y/N) was as he looked down at her. " ...nor a thorn nor a threat,..." The women squealed in delight while some snickered in envy as Victor Blake kneeled before (Y/N) and gently took her dainty hand in his huge and calloused ones. " ...stain her beauty bright." And as he ended the poem, he placed a chaste peck on the back of her hand, making her cheeks red and her eyes widen.

~ IX. Victor Blake

5. Louis Armstrong's Dear Old Southland

V smiled to himself as he watched the couple speak their vows and how they slid the ring on the other's finger. And when the people began cheering for them, Victor cupped (Y/N)'s cheeks and gave her a very sweet and gentle kiss that lasted for at least a minute.

The atmosphere changed once more and V saw (Y/N) dragging Victor upstairs towards her bedroom. He followed closely behind them and noticed the girl taking a folded stationery from her pocket and giving it to Victor. She, then, pressed a kiss against two of her fingers and pressed them on the note on Victor's hand. She smiled, stood on her toes, and gave the man a chaste peck on the cheek. She waved good night and opened her door, went in, and gave him another smile before finally closing it.

Victor didn't wait a moment longer and unfolded the note, and what he read there made his eyes widen. He abruptly knocked on the door, and when (Y/N) opened it, he hastily engulfed her in a tight embrace.

V felt his heart swell as the lovers shared a very passionate kiss.

Hands caressing and exploring. Lips moving in a rhythmic pattern. For a moment, V saw himself as Victor.

For a brief moment, he saw himself passionately kissing and caressing (Y/N).

The girl stepped backwards, leading Victor inside but never breaking the sweet kiss. After a while, V's eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he saw Victor's, his, metal cane flying from the room to the hallway, along with his cravat and one of (Y/N)'s shoes. Victor came out a few seconds later, looking so in love and excited, to retrieve the items. Then, he entered the room and closed the door.

~ XI. (Y/N) And Victor

6. Sergei Rachmaninov’s Sonata For Cello Andante as played by Narek Hakhnazaryan on cello and Noreen Plera on piano

July 27, 1898

My dearest and humblest poet, Victor,

I will never forget the very first time we met. You kneeled before me, took my hand, then you kissed it, reciting to me a very sweet poem as you looked into my eyes.

I will never forget the days after that, of our little talks, of our how are yous and how's your days, of the way we embarrass each other when we caught ourselves looking into each other.

I will never forget the first time I sang for you as you played the piano, of the sweet melody that conveyed how I felt towards you. I will never forget the days, and nights, we read poetry together. I will never forget those mornings we have to sneak away from father to have little chats and laughs in the garden.

And most importantly, I will never forget those nights we wrote to each other and passed those notes through that crack in the door as you sat just outside my room while I waited on the other side.

Such little trivial things that other women might have done for you that I will always remember. You may forget me in the future when you meet others more memorable than I' am. You may tell them amazing stories as you did for me. You may find other reasons to laugh and smile with another as you have laughed and smiled with me. You may play the piano for another belle who would sing willingly for you. You may find more pleasure reciting and reading poetry for someone else. You may call another your "Little Wanderer", "Evening Star", "Beloved Muse", "Little, Innocent One", and "Little Lamb".

And most importantly, you may exchange little notes in the middle of the night with someone else.

All of these may happen when you finally meet the one for you, and you may fall for them just as easily as I have fallen for you.

I'm aware of all these things. How could they not love you? How could anyone not offer their heart to you?

We will part ways within a month, maybe a week, as my father has decided to enroll me in a boarding school in Paris. But, I want you to know how honored I' am to have met you. Of how grateful I' am when you indulged my foolish fantasies.

Of how thankful I' am that, in a very short time, you have made my dull and unhappy life meaningful and filled with hope.

Please, don't forget me, my dear, humble poet, and of those times we spent together.

I will cherish those moments for as long as I live.

I will never forget May 11. I will never forget I have met the most wonderful man in the whole wide world.

I will never forget you for as long as live, V.

Yours truly,

(Y/N), your Little Wanderer, Evening Star, Beloved Muse, Little, Innocent One, and Little Lamb.

P.S.

I Love You

~ XII. Christopher Lancaster

7. Alessandro Moreschi’s Ave Maria

"Day twenty - one: Bloodletting and purging."

V heard Lancaster's voice in the phonograph a few seconds later as the atmosphere around him changed one more time.

And what he saw next made his stomach turn.

Three nurses wounding (Y/N) on both arms with a knife as she was restrained on a metal chair inside a sickly bright room, letting her blood stain the perfect white floor. He turned and saw Lancaster speaking to the cylinder of his phonograph as the poor girl screamed in pain and begged him to stop.

"Please, stop! I beg you!"

"Internal biochemical relationship was behind mental disorders. Bleeding, purging, and vomiting will help correct these imbalances in the body and would help heal the physical and mental illness.”

"I'm not insane! Please! Pl - !" (Y/N) screamed before one of the nurses stifled her howls of pain with a gag.

"One trait of mental illness is denial. The patient often finds itself unable to grasp what's truth and what's not. At times, they would even go as far as hurting the people they love. And worse, themselves."

V looked away, wishing the visions to stop plaguing him, to stop showing him these painful memories,...

"Day forty - six: Hydrotherapy."

The poet looked once more, and this time, he saw the nurses tying the girl's hands and feet and throwing a sheet over her head, twisting it roughly around her throat so she would not scream. They, then, put her in a bathtub filled with what looked like ice water.

"This turn of the century technique proved to be highly effective in reducing the patient's agitation by submerging it in cold water, especially during manic episodes. I will keep her submerged for extended periods of time, instructing my assistants to add more - "

"ENOUGH!" V howled as he chased the visions away.

And with just one blink, he's back to his own reality.

~ XIII. Descend To Madness

8. Wojciech Killar’s Mina Dracula

"These letters," V began as he looked back at the poet's grandchild. " ... Victor,... tried to get your mother back?"

"Indeed. He told me he wanted to raise her and give her the life she once promised to (Y/N). But, as you can see, Lady Daniella refused. Victor admitted to burning and discarding all of (Y/N)'s mementos in the past but, he regretted it later. Lady Daniella, on the other hand, hid everything, including those documents and the old photographs. She may have refused Victor his very own child, but she refused to burn the last remnants of her best friend's happiest memories on earth. She showed them to my mother before she died.

"And those letters you have in your hand? They were the only things left that reminded Victor of his relationship with (Y/N) and the child born out of their love. That was,... all he had,..."

The woman wiped her tears once more and went on.

"So, I made it a point to bring these photographs the next time I visited England. I showed them to him, and for the very first time, he looked really happy and emotional. He refused to let go of these photographs. He told me everything that happened between him and his beloved (Y/N), of those little letters passed in the middle of the night, of the times they played music together, of those times when they read poetry together, of that one time she confessed, of that very first night he shared with her. He told me all of those with tears, and he told me that he regretted every foolish decision he has made in his miserable life, of leaving her, of hurting her, of marrying another just to forget her.

"He had his marriage to the American woman annulled just to take his beloved under his wing. He took her to England. Despite his own disability, he took care of her, fed her, bathed her. He did everything he can to make up for his own mistakes. But, due to her own disability due to a lot of complications and trauma, she was never able to reciprocate. She died in his arms a month later in the year of 1899. He became even more depressed and crippled with pain and regret and guilt. He slowly lost the ability to walk, and he lost his fame as a writer due to the Lancaster scandal that was forever linked to him. He died without even seeing his daughter in person."

V and Roman watched with difficulty as the old woman wept for her grandfather, and V actually felt sorry for the poet. He may have hated him for what he's done, but he realized that all his life, Victor did everything he can to make up for his mistakes.

But, he knew that the poet was too late.

~ XIV. The Lovers' Grandchild

9. Kenny Rankin's Haven't We Met

"Come here, V!" Roman said with a huge smile ( still unaware of what's happening to the wedding cake ) as he took the poet's arm and dragged him towards the center. V arrived just in time to see Avery dragging the lucky girl who caught the bouquet towards the center to where he was. Avery looked up at V, smiled at him, and moved to the side, revealing to him the girl who was now holding her bouquet.

And as he looked at the girl, he couldn't help but get mesmerized and emotional at the same time. The girl, who laid her (E/C) - colored eyes on his green ones, felt the same as some kind of unknown emotion started to form in her chest.

She brushed a wayward (H/C) lock away from her face and placed it behind her ear. She, then, gave him that smile that V was longing to see once more.

And with an achingly familiar voice that he thought he would never hear ever again, she spoke to him.

"Haven't we met?" She asked him.

"My,... Evening Star,..." V whispered as he smiled at her,...

~ Epilogue

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🌙🎻

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[still-love-the-moon]

Ghost Of You

Prologue

The first time she sees a ghost is after her cousin Luna almost drowned her. She is nine and she is skating and yer younger cousin is dancing near the pool. One minute she is lost in her thoughts, the music playing in all the garden and, the next, she is gasping for air and trying to pull herself on the surface with Luna screaming her name at the top of her lungs- which is a lot for an eight years old, but she is not gonna complain.

The second she is out and wrapped in her aunt Monica's hug- and a towel- she can see things- person- that shouldn't be there and no one believes her. Which, she understands that is the most realistic option, but still she is offended and she will be petty about it for the rest of her life.

Sharon thinks is a brain injury- Ámbar bites her tongue to not tell her that she is a brain injury because she knows that the price for that comeback wouldn't be worthy- and wants to bring her to a doctor, Alfredo dismiss the thing by saying that it's probably just her childish imagination but she should still be checked by someone and Miguel says that she should probably see a therapist since she almost drowned and could be PTSD. Monica- Ámbar will love her forever for that- close the discussion, telling them all to shut up and let her rest for the day because she doesn't need other things to stress about.

The ghost of an old lady behind her snorts- in a total, not lady-like way that Sharon would hate- saying something along the line of 'That's my daughter'. Before she can even see a therapist's studio she shut up about the ghosts, pretends that the incident never happened- hard when Alfredo doesn't let her near the pool for the rest of the summer- and that ghosts don't' exist.

Her family goes back to normal and she learns how to live with her gift- last time she called it a curse a ghost wanted to slap her in the face and the only thing stopping it was the fact that they pass through humans- without letting others noticing.

Then Ramiro Ponce dies and starts to haunt her because she is the only one that can see him.

And she wants to kill him again.

i.

Ramiro Ponce is an idiot. A fucking idiot and a spineless coward that can choke on a fork- or he could have done it since he is dead now.

He had a car accident and Ámbar wants to scream that she always told him, million of times, that he always went to fast, but she reprime herself because she is grieving him. Even if he doesn't deserve it, even after everything he did.

They grew up together, friends since they were little idiots running around in the garden of the mansion. With their group, they ruled the school- and the Jam & Roller and everywhere else they went because they were that iconic.

He was always the funny one, the sunshine of the group. Hell, Ámbar always thought that he was the only one of them that judged people without being a complete jerk.

Then he skipped Luna's funeral and then they found out that he flew out of the town without even having the decency to tell them or call them or paying respect for her cousin.

That's probably where everything went to shit because if he didn't care for his friends then they shouldn't care about him, right?

No, because they all care for him, even if they are still pissed. And now Ámbar is crying for his death in Matteo's living room with the rest of her friends, hugging Jazmin tightly to support her. He doesn't even deserve them after the little stunt at Luna's funeral.

He shows up one hour later they found out- of course, he had to do it- standing in a corner and watching everyone with a pale face and guilty expression- serves him right.

She wants to get up and punch him but it would be a little weird since no one else can see him- she wishes that she couldn't see him either.

He turns her head to watch her and when he realizes that she can see him, he swallows. Then the bastard tilts his head to the side, a smirk on his face as he realizes what's going on, and wave his hand in her direction.

That's when she realizes that she is fucked.

ii.

"Does this dude never stops talking?"- he asks annoyed without moving his eyes from the dude he is referring. The priest. He is referring to the priest that is holding his funeral as an annoying dude- "It's like blah blah blah, Jeez just shut up and let them mourn me in peace."

He is standing right next to her and he's making really bad jokes that only she can hear.

Would it be weird if she opened the casket and slapped the body of Ramiro with the excuse that he deserved it?

"Shouldn't you be crying?"- he asks leaning towards her face and pretending to not notice that she is done with him and just want to be left alone- "You know, mourning me or something like that?"

Ámbar wants to laugh in his face- how can she mourn him when he is standing right in front of her and he's annoying her with his jokes?- but it's not the best thing to do since they are in a graveyard and someone is dead. At least for everyone else.

She hates that place because they are always more people around that they should be- but there are never the ones that she needs- and now she has to stand him too?

"Not a single tear? That's hurt Ámbs, makes me think you hate me"

She does, but at the same time, she doesn't. It's complicated.

Ramiro was a pain in the ass when he was alive but still, they grew up together, they were best friends. Then everything happened so fast and she wanted him dead. She never meant dead like this, more on metaphorically way.

Matteo grabs her hand, holding tightly and trying not to cry- he fails, memories crossing his minds too quickly to stop them- and Ramiro shut up for a few seconds, knowing that he can't do anything for his living friend.

It takes Ámbar a few minutes to realize that the Chilean is gone, disappearing the second Matteo breaks down against her shoulder.

iii.

She thinks that is the end, that Ramiro I'm-the-asshole-that-didn't-showed-up-at-Luna's-funeral Ponce will leave her alone and she would just add his name to the people she is mourning and then will move on.

He saw his funeral, the guys that a long time ago were his friends and he can move on to his next life or the white path or whatever he wants to do because she doesn't care for him.

Sadly it's not the end, at least not for her.

Ramiro is in her apartment, waiting for her on the couch, sitting upside down like he used to do at the mansion.

HE IS FUCKING HAUNTING HER.

iv.

She ignores him for two days straight- two longs day of bad jokes about death and annoying questions- before she eventually breaks and confronts him.

"Aren't you suppose to move on?"- she doesn't really know how it works because she never died- inside doesn't count apparently- and most of the ghosts don't even know that she can see them- "So you can finally leave me alone" "Well it's my first time as dead, I don't know what to do"- the boy smirks, thinking that is funny and she is gonna laugh- "Aren't you the one that talks to ghosts?"

Does he fucking think she has a manual or something like that? Do her memories fool her and he is actually fucking dumb?

"I don't talk with them and they don't talk with me, which is a really great deal for both of us"- she wonders if Ghostbusters are real? Maybe she could check on the Internet, that would be a really good idea.

"That's depressing"

She wants to ask what's his deal, what's his unfinished business with the world. There must be a reason why he can't leave her alone, but she tells herself that she doesn't care for him. She does, even if she doesn't like it.

"You are a shitty ghost-talker"- he sounds serious but his smile tells her that he is not.

"You are a shitty ghost"

There is a high chance that he might die again.

first act

When Ámbar Smith was younger and dumb, she had a crush on Ramiro Ponce. He was sweet, charming and funny.

It was her little secret, her own dirty, little secret.

Then she realized he was a fucking idiot.

v.

She founds out that having a ghost as a roommate is not that bad- most of the time.

They don't leave the toilet seat up after they peed as Matteo used to do, they don't eat her favorite yogurt like Delfi and they don't steal her precious and beautiful clothes to go on dates with Nico- Jazmin could never be trusted again after that.

But then again her roommate is the ghost of Ramiro fucking Ponce, so it's definitely bad.

He is a pain in the ass and he wants to make sure remembers it every second of the day.

He complains about what she eats ("You've been eating the same meal for three days straight" "I really fucking like salad, okay?"), what she watches on TV- if she is the one that can touch the remote, she is the one that chose what to watch- he annoys her when she is reading something and he makes faces behind the people she's trying to talk to.

If he was human she would have thrown him out, but he's a ghost and she can't touch him.

vi.

"I won't talk for three days and I won't show up either but, please, for God's s-"

"I thought you were an atheist. Death made you change your mind?"- she teases him, putting the DVD of Titanic on and getting ready to enjoy her film.

"For someone's sake can you please, pretty pretty please, not watch Titanic again?"

She pretends to think about it- she will never says this out loud, but she does think about that because she can't stand him anymore and would do anything to make him shut up- then she simply says 'no'. A little word but it's not like he can do something to change her mind, it's her choice.

"Why can't we watch something else? You always pick the movie!"

He can't stand another evening watching that movie, that's his own personal hell, but the girl seems to love it endlessly.

She looks at him in disbelief- is he seriously asking that?- stopping herself from reminding him that she is the only alive, human being in that house.

She doesn't do that, though, because it would be too insensible even for her- he doesn't deserve kindness but she spent too much time with Simón after Luna's death and he made her soft.

They watch the movie together like always and, surprisingly, he doesn't complain.

At least, not that much.

vii.

The thing that Ámbar learned with time, is that seeing ghosts is not that bad once you get used to it.

You learn that is not as poetic or beautiful like in movies because the ghosts are not pretty. They are paler then they were in real life with sad expressions on their face, they leave this tiny dust wherever they go- that disappear in a few seconds- and the longer they stay on Earth, trying to fulfill their porpuses the shadest they get. She saw one of them one time and it terrified her in ways that she can't, yet, elaborate.

It was just a black silhouette standing on the corner of the road, watching a kid playing basketball with a sad smile of his face, or what was left of a face.

She saw family members watching the others, at least for a few seconds, before vanishing and she wished she had those moments too.

When Luna died, the first of the long list, she never visited her for saying good-bye or checking on her and it broke her heart knowing that she didn't care about her feelings, then her mother died and did the same thing- but she is not surprised that Sharon Benson didn't think of her.

Her biggest lost, hower, is without a doubt her grandad Alfredo that died a few weeks before her twenty-one birthday, leaving a grieving girl behind, breaking her heart when she realized that he wouldn't have come visiting her. But again, why would he? He was already with his favorite niece.

They never showed and she is still waiting for them.

viii.

They live like that for a few weeks- well she lives, he just ghosts around the house- before it happens.

She was particularly moody that day- blame Matteo that kept her up till 3 am- and Ramiro was joking around, pushing her until she exploded. Of course, he forgot that it was Luna's birthday- or it would have been if she was still alive- he doesn't care how much time pass or what day is, he just care to haunt her until she is even more miserable than she already feels.

So when it happens everything became a battlefield and, later a greek tragedy.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

Ramiro is a little taken back- it's the first time she doesn't respond with a sarcastic comeback- not knowing exactly how to handle an extra mad Ámbar, mostly because he doesn't know what's going on with her.

"For once in your life can you shut up and leave me the fuck alone?"- she means all of that- being haunted is not something that she likes- but at this point, she is mad, and hurt and just want to be left alone for some time and he is pissing her off, so she doesn't care if she hurt his feelings in the process. She just wants a fucking break from everything.

"What's wrong with you today?"- the blonde ignores how his voice sounds hurt because she is not gonna deal with a sad ghost right now- she never wanted to deal with a ghost in the first place.

"What's wrong with me? Well, for starters, I can see and talk with ghosts"- she starts explaining- "Two, the one guy that I considered my friend left me alone the day of my cousin's funeral without even having the decency to call me and third, today is said cousin birthday and everyone is constantly asking me to go out with them because they are scared that I'll do something stupid"- exasperation fills her voice and she hates herself because she doesn't want anyone to see her breakdown- even if he is a ghost.

Everyone is constantly expecting her to explode like a bomb and Ámbar doesn't want to, but it's hard mourning someone when you are still waiting for them to visit you.

The conversation dies there because Delfi shows up unexpectedly claiming that she fought with Pedro- is just an excuse to talk with Ámbar and stay with her- and Ramiro disappears is a second.

He knows that he screwed up, but he wants to make amend.

ix.

"Hey Ámbar"

"I thought you disappeared"

"Do you think I'm still beautiful, even as a ghost?"

"You were beautiful when you were alive?"

x.

He thinks they are cool then, or at least until she calls him in her room two nights after their fight. He wants to make some jokes about inviting boys in her room at night, but he stops himself. She is crying and he doesn't know what to do or how to make her feel better.

He never saw her cry- well, maybe when they were kids but she almost broke her arm it was normal- and he doesn't even what's going on.

She is a mess- beautiful and complicated, but still a mess- and usually, she would handle things alone but this time she can't anymore.

For the last years of her life, she tried to handle everything and everyone in her way- Luna's death, Sharon's death, and Alfredo's death- trying to not make anyone worry about her or her feelings. She had been there for everyone but she ignored her feelings until they became too many.

He looks at her from the frame of the door, still not moving, still trying to understand what's going- why did she suddenly breakdown?- when he notices that she is holding Luna's old diary in her hands.

Well, that explains a lot...

"I'm sorry for yesterday, I j-just couldn'-"- she can't even talk and she feels pathetic- what would Sharon think of her?- but it's not like Ramiro care if she is crying. He is more worried about what could happen if he leaves her alone.

"It doesn't matter Ámbs"- it's just a whisper but she hears it anyway and that makes her cry even harder, to his surprise.

He sits on her bed, trying to hug but trespassing her and giving her chills while he feels warm under the hands- he hasn't felt that in a while.

He listens to her for the whole night. Listen to how she blames herself, how everyone is copying and she can't move on, like the moment Monica told her that Luna was dead is stuck in on repeat in her head. She tells him about her ex Benicio and everything he put her through, she opens up about why she is always so mad. When she is over he tells her about the Adrenaline, how they put him in bad habits that he tried to quit them, but only got worse after Luna's death. Which is why he could go to her funeral, because he felt so ashamed of himself and that Luna would have hated him.

They fall asleep together, facing each other and maybe- only maybe- having Ramiro around is not that bad anymore.

second act

When Ámbar Smith was an innocent little girl she had a best friend, Ramiro Ponce. Then they fought and she hated him. Then he died and he started haunting her.

That's how the tragedy started.

xi.

Turns out that after that night a lot of things change.

He is not a little shit anymore and staying around him is actually funny- she feels like they went back to be kids. They watch movies and spend days talking. Until Jazmin's knock on the door of her apartment to talk with her. She hasn't been much around lately and her friends want to check on her.

The blonde sips her tea while her friend shows her some magazines with the latest trends, Ramiro realizes that no matter how much time passes, Jazmin is always gonna be Jazmin- and he loves her for that.

"Are you gonna go back to the mansion one day?"- the redhead asks in a moment of silence, almost making the other girl choke on her precious tea- it's green tea and Ramiro teased her about that too.

She never really thought of it- yes, the mansion has been her home for her whole life but she is haunted by the memory of Luna there- and, for the first time in her life, she is not sure of what to answer. She misses that place, but mostly she misses the memories she had there- she misses who used to live there.

"I'm not sure of it, why?"- it's a simple question and yet Jazmin sighs, making her furrow her eyebrows. Both of them know the answer, one of them just don't want to accept it.

"You haven't been around much lately, not since Ramiro's funeral. We are worried for you"- she is whispering- why everyone always whispers? Is that a secret move that she doesn't know, is there an actual reason or people can't raise their fucking voices?- and she is terrified to make her mad.

Everyone knows that talking to Ámbar about her feelings it's like walking on a mine-strewn and it would be better to leave her alone, let her think about everything alone- like always- but then they remember. Remember how miserable she was after Luna, how she couldn't even get up from the bed for a whole week. Her screams whenever she had a nightmare and when she finally broke down, trying to keep herself together but failing. How hard it was to convince her that she wasn't broken, she was grieving and it was okay. They don't want that to happen again.

Ámbar understands her point of view but it's hard grieving for the boy that she can see standing in the hallway with a sad smile on his face.

xii.

The morning of her birthday she wakes up with Ramiro already by her side, looking at her and waiting to start the day- to piss her off.

"You are creepy"- and if he was still alive she would have pushed him down the bed and called the police but it's just her roommate ghost- "Couldn't you wait for me in the kitchen?" "Happy birthday Ámbs"- he states, completely ignoring what she said before- "What are we gonna do today?"

"Gas told me that Teo threw me a party. Seriously is sad how that guy can't even keep a secret"- she is rambling, he knows because she keeps moving her mouth and he can hear words but he is too busy watching her face. He feels sixteen all over again when they talked about everything and he got lost in her eyes. When he used to spend hours wondering what would feel like to kiss her and hold her in his arms. Except that he is twenty-two and he is dead now. But it could be worse, right?

"I would ask you to come to the party but- "- she doesn't end the sentence, she doesn't need to because Ramiro understands.

He is dead and no one would see him. No one will see him ever again.

"We can always watch a movie, but I'm gonna chose it this time"

She laughs and he follows her. None of the two notices that their smiles don't reach their eyes, and they won't know that it's for the same reason.

He is dead and nothing can change that.

xiii.

She missed her friends. And she realizes it as soon as she steps in the room and the group is there waiting, smiles on their faces and birthday's gift on the table near the lemon cake that she loves. A cake that was probably made by Matteo since he hates buying the in the pastry shop- and that's definitely not because he fought with the employer.

She missed them so much and yet, she can't shake the feeling that something- or someone- is missing. Maybe she is just so used to have Ramiro around that is weird being without him, even if it's only for a few hours.

They drink and party all night, feeling like they are seventeen and rebels all over again and maybe- only for one little second- they are. They don't have to worry about the friends they lost, about the family that they lost. They just care about the moment and for a few hours, they are free.

Then it all ends just as fast as it started. Ámbar is slightly drunk- she is wasted but she is denial- and Simón offers her a passage home- her apartment is on the way.

Pedro and Nico fall asleep in the car and the girl would make fun of them if she wasn't too busy looking at the stars from the window.

They have small talks- it's not like drunk Ámbar would have a whole conversation- and he found ironic how she can still be her usual smart-ass self even when she is that drunk.

"I'm just stating that 12 is definitely the worse multiple of 4, everyone knows that"- she exclaims while he tries to carry her to her apartment, trying to know laugh at what she is saying- if he could record her when she is like this he would, but then she would kill him and that's not a really good thing.

"Yeah, silly of me to forget it"-he replies and luckily she doesn't catch his sarcasm in that moment because otherwise, he would have to listen to her complaining- and this is not a good moment.

He opens the door and he can't see Ramiro standing in the corner, looking worried at the scene. Maybe he is a little disappointed that he is dead because he can't carry her like that, or just touch her in general, but he is not gonna admit it out loud.

"I want to sleep"- she is drunk and he smiles because she is adorable and cute and everything she can be and she is looking at him. Yes, could only be spaced out and not in her right mind but she is looking at him, not Simón.

"You are going to sleep bonita, just give me a few seconds"- he brings her to her bedroom and Ramiro follows them closely, making fun of the nickname under his breath. It's not like he would hear him anyway, which is good because he completely loses his shit when he sees Simón struggling to remove her high heels- it's not that hard, he is just really tired, ok?- cursing them under his breath.

The Mexican looks around the room, looking for something that could keep her warm- he has no intention of undressing her.

The ghost opens his eyes when he notices the hoodie his friend is putting on her. It was his, from one of the last time he visited the Mansion, long before he screwed up everything- she kept it? Even after everything he did. He left it in the mansion the day they graduated- the best day of his life for many reasons.

The boy that is alive kisses her on the forehead- lingering a little too much to be only a friendly kiss- before closing the door of the room and turning off the light to let her sleep.

Simón is alive and always had chemistry with Ámbar. He is dead and disappointed her too many time. In his mind, that's a battle that he has already lost. In her's, there was never one.

xiv.

The next morning Ámbar is in hangover and Ramiro tries to cheer her up for three hours before she goes to sleep again.

"Last night was fun, uh?"- he sarcastic question when she groans against her pillow.

"Shut up"- she replies annoyed, trying to understand where the buzzing comes from- if her neighbor is masturbating again in the bathroom at 9 am she is gonna throw hands at her husband because he can't make her cum- "Have someone ever told you how much you are annoying?"

"You did it, for all my life and even after"- he answers quickly before remembering what happened last night with his old friend- until he has answers about where those two romantically stands, he is no longer gonna call him by his name- "What happened last night with Romeo?"

"Who the fuck is Romeo?"- he realizes from the skepticism in her voice that maybe is not the best thing to be petty and not say his name.

"Our beloved Mexican, you idiot"

She doesn't answer immediately and his heart would miss a beat if he still had one, then she snorts and starts laughing.

"He just gave a ride home. You know he is always nice with everyone"

He doesn't kiss everyone like that, though.

He talks with her until she falls asleep and he disappears in the kitchen, looking at the note the boy left for her the night before.

'You must hate me because I've let you sleep in that dress but at least I gave you the hoodie. Hope it was comfortable- Simón'.

Ramiro rolls his eyes, throwing himself on the couch. 'At least I gave you the hoodie' you would say something like that? A moron, that's who.

That could have been him if only they didn't screw up so much in the past.

If only...

third act

The last day of school Ramiro Ponce kisses Ámbar Smith against a tree and it's not exactly like neither of them imagined it but it's still perfect. Then Luna dies and he skips town and she fucking hates him.

He had always been selfish to the core, she should have noticed that earlier.

xv.

"This is a setup date"- Ramiro exclaims while Ámbar is looking in the mirror, trying to pick up a dress- "I can't believe you haven't realized that"

"It's not. Delfi and Jaz wanted to go out with Pedro and Nico and offered me to go with them so Simón wouldn't be alone. Now which one"

He snorts. Is she playing dumb or she doesn't realize anything about her romantic life anymore? She is smarter than that, he knows that.

Maybe she likes Simón.

"The light blue one matches your eyes"- she smiles, putting the pink one in the wardrobe and looking in the mirror to imagine the make-up she could wear. There was a nice color in a palette that Jazmin gave her for her birthday, maybe she could use that.

"Do you think I'm pretty?"- she suddenly asks, surprising the boy- he always thought she was the most beautiful girl in the world.

Her younger self would laugh at her, her ego bigger than the whole mansion at that time, but now she only the fragile ghost of who she used to be and she doesn't feel pretty enough.

"Ms. My-ego-is-bigger-than-my-house, are you asking me if you are pretty?"- the sarcasm in his voice makes her roll her eyes and, weirdly enough, smile at the same time. Why did she ask him anyway? He used to kiss everyone who had an heart-beat.

She goes to the bathroom to get ready, giving him the middle finger before leaving the room. He laughs for a few seconds, then he remembers what she told him. How Benicio used to treat her, what he always told her to keep her with him, how he dared to make her feel less than she was because he was scared to lose her.

He let himself fall on the couch, hating that guy with every fiber of his body- well, of his soul because he doesn't have a body anymore- and waiting for her to get out of the bathroom to speak with her.

"Hey bonita"-he mocks his friend as soon as he notices blondes hair in the hallway, stopping as soon as he takes a good look at her.

She is always being gorgeous, at least in his eyes, and that dress on her is just wow. And he can't shake the ugly feeling in his chest that tells him that he should have been the one.

"Stop making fun of him!"- she complains throwing the purse at him, realizing too late that it will trespass him- "Shit!"

"Well I was about to compliment you but now I'm hurt"- he jokes, ignoring the fact that she looks so pretty and she is going on a date with Simón.

Fuck, he used to like that guy- he still does, he is just jealous- but now every time he thinks of him he just gets angry- at himself, because he never told her how he felt, at their destiny because it ripped away every chancè he had and at his friend because he is alive and has a possibility with her.

Ámbar shakes her head, laughing silently while taking her purse from the couch and fixing in on her shoulder.

"I'm gonn-"- "You look beautiful"

They are in silence for a few seconds that someone knocks at the door.

That's another thing they will never talk about.

xvi.

Simón is a really nice guy, she always knew. She always has fun with him and she doesn't feel like she is a complete bitch near him because he brings out her best part, but he also ignores her darker self. He always focuses on the good and pretends that the bad in the world doesn't exist. So she smiles and for a few minutes she tries to be like him, but then they face the world and she can't pretend.

She can't pretend that she doesn't notice the way a ghost looks at her with lust trying to get closer until she glares at him, or the way a drunk man cat calls her from the other side of the street.

The truth is that she liker Simón- everyone does- and they have a great time together but then she remembers dark curly hair under a stupid baseball hat, the guy that stood up for her in every situation- no matter how fucked was- and she realizes that he is not the one for her.

And the realization is just a cruel joke on her because her one love is now dead, and she never told him anything. They never had a possibility or maybe they did and they wasted it. What if they had more than one and they threw them all away?

At the end of the night, he kisses her on her cheek, and she thinks that it's a nice feeling, but her mind can't help but wonder how would it be if he was Ramiro.

xvii.

The next day Ámbar is making cookies while Ramiro is sitting on the counter laughing his ass off. She has always been a terrible chef but seeing her trying to cook while also dancing to the ABBA's song 'Lay all your love on me' is something that he never thought he would see in his life. There are already some cookies in the oven and there is a countdown that is running out of time, even if neither of them knows.

It feels natural like it's always being that way, like it should be this way for the rest of her life.

Like is them against the world all over again and they are teenagers one more time.

The blonde slides next to him, ending in front of him and both of them laugh at the once Queen of the rink. She used to be so perfect in everything and now she is tripping because of her white socks.

The atmosphere in the room change as soon as the two of them stops laughing and they look in each other's eyes. Their smiles fade away slowly but they can't look away from the other's eyes- why is it always the eyes?

Ramiro moves his hand against her cheek, forgetting that he is not gonna feel anything if not a warm sensation under his palm.

The cold from the contact sends chills all over her body and she wishes, with every fiber of her being, that she could feel his skin against hers, that she could kiss him in that exact moment.

"I wish I could kiss you right now"- he is whispering and she would really be pissed at him- he knows she hates whispering- if she wasn't too surprised to speak. That is the moment when she realizes that she had been waiting for what's about to happen for a long time- maybe since their first/last kiss in the schoolyard.

They both lean closer, forgetting that they won't ever touch or feel the other until they are the inches apart, still looking in each other eyes. They don't want to look away, almost as they're scared to kill whatever is happening. For a second they forget everything that happened.

It feels like the time has been frozen as they could stay in that moment for the rest of eternity, just the two of them.

But it doesn't work that way and they should know better.

The timer of the oven rings and the atmosphere breaks, bringing them back in the- cruel- reality. He is a ghost- in a few years he will become a shadow if he doesn't follow the light path- and she is a girl with her whole life in front of her. He is gonna finish his business sooner or later and will leave her alone, dealing with an heart-break she will never get over.

They were never meant to be together.

Ámbar moves toward the oven to open it, wishing to take back the last ten minutes because she wants to kiss him now, trying to erase the moment from her mind- and keeping it close at the same time.

Another song from the ABBA starts and both of them smile sadly at the irony without looking at each other.

Because of course, it started 'The winner takes it all', that's their fucking luck.

xviii.

Ámbar and Matteo visit Luna's grave but the blonde can't shake the feeling of loneliness from her. It's been almost two years but she still remembers everything vividly, like it was yesterday.

"Life is a fucking joke on us, don't you think?"- he asks trying to not cry, not in front of all these strangers- "I never told Luna I loved and you never told Ramiro you loved him"

It's different than this, she knows it too well. Too many evenings with her cousin, talking about boys, life and their future. All is useless now.

"Luna loved you too, you know? I always teased her because she was 100% sure you like someone else"- she chuckles at the memories the girl hiding her head under the pillow because she was making fun of her.

"Must be a family trait"- he states with a sad smile before turning to her to put his hand over her shoulder- "Because you never notice that Ramiro was in love with you"

But he is wrong there because she always knew, she was only scared to tell him that she loved him too.

xix.

Technically she could be in love with a ghost, it could work. Yeah, they could never touch each other but as far as now it worked, right?

It's not like she is gonna complain if she can spend the rest of her life with the guy she loves since she was fourteen. Maybe they stand a chance after all- maybe they are destined to be together.

xx.

He is completely and absolutely in love with her.

He loves her, it took him to die and haunt her for two months to fucking admit it out loud but he loves her. And she loves him back, the girl of his dreams loves him back.

Which is why he needs to leave, because he would keep her away from her life because they are a tragedy.

Because they were never meant to be together.

xxi.

As soon as she gets back home she notices that Ramiro is standing on his feet, against the wall and that's already weird since he is always on the couch. Then she realizes that he is whimpering and he is gonna cry soon.

"I lied to you"- she doesn't understand and she is terrified- "I know what's keeping me here. I've known for a while now but I wouldn't admit it because I'm scared to lose you"

What does he mean? Lose her? She doesn't understand anything and Ramiro is crying and she can't touch him to comfort him- can they go back and start the conversation all over again?

"I-It's you, it's always been you. I'm i-in love with you but I could never tell you and now I'm dead and-"- he stops talking when he feels something warm against his cheek, the feeling of her hand, and he hopes that he will remember it in the afterlife.

"I love you too-"- he stops her there, shaking vigorously his head- "I'm leaving. I can't do this to you, you deserve to be happy"

"You do too. You make me happy, please don't leave me"- She tries to hold to him, begs him to stay, letting all her pride shatter to the ground just to be with him- "I can't lose you too"

She refuses to add his name to the list of the ones she will never see again, to not being able to spend the rest of her life with him- to admit that they lost their happy ending.

"I love you, Ámbar Smith, I've always loved you"- she lets herself fall on the floor- "And I've been selfish for too long"

epilogue

Ámbar Smith and Ramiro Ponce's love was written in the stars.

What everyone seems to forget it's that nothing lasts forever and, eventually, even stars fade.

xxii.

Ámbar wakes up alone on the couch, after watching the last film with Ramiro, after seeing the guy she loves for the last time. She tried to stay awake to not miss a single second of the boy but, eventually, she fell asleep and he left. He left her with teary eyes and a sad smile on his face, kissing- trying to kiss- her forehead and then walking towards the light- technically was only towards the hallway but it was towards the light for him.

Suddenly the apartment doesn't feel like home anymore, it feels like four walls that hold to many memories that she wants to forget- it feels like she is back in the mansion after Luna's death- and she is suffocating, like if she is underwater. She needs to breathe and break free from some walls all over again.

She gets up and puts some shoes on, leaving the house in a few seconds, her mind going back, against her will, to the day of her first kiss with Ramiro. How perfect it was, the way his lips- she needs to forget, she can't deal with that right now or she's not gonna reach him in time.

She runs in the street, not caring about anything, not the drunk mans standing on the corner declaring their love to someone nor the rain that is falling over her with fury. She just wants her best friend Matteo at her side.

He was always there for her and right now that's exactly what she needs- he is the only one that can understand her.

She rings the bell multiple times until a really pissed Matteo open the door, ready to punch whoever is standing there- "It's fucking 2 am, what the fuc-"

He shuts up as soon as he sees her and his heart shatters. Her teary eyes, the wet hair, and clothes are the first things he notices but not the one that worries him the most, she looks broken. For the first time, he thinks- he feels- that he can't help her.

And he goes back when he lost Luna and thought he would never find someone else in his life when he needed someone but the blonde and Gastón were there for him even in his worst days.

"He's gone"- she cries out falling in his arms and losing the ability to stand on her legs, finally letting everything out- "He's gone forever and I love him" "I know Ambs"- she doesn't notice that he is crying too and that they are on the front porch of his house, under the pouring rain.

The next day Gastón will find them asleep on the couch, still wet and with dried tears still on their cheeks. He won't need to ask them anything, he already knows.

xxiii.

An eighteen years old Ámbar is hugging all her friends, happy that she finally finished school, thinking about all the opportunities that the future holds.

"We made it bitches!"- of course, Gastón had to do it and the professor of History gives him a side-eye, making the young boy shut up immediately.

The Chilean grabs her hand, pulling her behind him without the other noticing anything- Matteo does but decides to stay quiet.

He leans against her and steals a kiss under one of the trees in the schoolyard. A kiss that both of then wish could last forever, but that it won't.

"Can you believe I made it?"- he whispers against her soft lips smiling fondly before running towards Matteo, leaving the girl with millions of questions in her mind. And one hope in her heart that will be crashed in a few weeks.

xxiv.

Monica gives her a cup of tea, smiling sadly at the young girl with a broken heart. How unfair is life to young lovers, and she knows that is always gonna hurt.

"Do you wanna talk?"- she questions calmly, not wanting to push the girl over the edge and see her break down again in her arms.

"Not really"- it's a whisper and it's so ironic because she always hated to whisper but lately, it's all she can do, not founding enough voice to speak properly.

"Ok"- then they sip their tea in silence, lost in their thoughts on the same topic.

Some loves are not made to be lived.

xxv.

"What does it means that Ramiro left?"- the blonde asks, clutching her fists so tightly that her knuckles get paler than usual- "What the fuck it means Matteo?"

"I don't know"- he states simply trying to not lose control- "I can try to call him aga-"

"He is dead to me"- she cuts him off, surprising her best friend- "Call him and tell him that he can stay wherever he is because for all I care this is his funeral too"

She regrets saying that one second later, but her pride is stronger.

xxvi.

Ámbar laughs hugging Simón and kissing him to shut him up.

"I'm right!"- he tries to state but he is laughing too and his girlfriend is kissing him and he finds hard to resist her power.

Delfi, Jazmin, and Pedro smile at their friends' happiness while Nico and Gastón are challenging each other to see who can eat more marshmallow without stopping and Matteo is the judge. Jim and Yam are dancing in the living room while Nina records them for her their youtube channel trying to not laugh when she sees Nico falling from his chair.

It looks like they never been through the pain like they are the full group and nothing happened.

"Guys I have to tell you something"- it's Pedro that is talking and everyone already knows what he is about to say- "I'm pregnant and Delfi is gonna be father!"

The brunette girl massages her temples with her finger, wondering why her boyfriend is so damn idiotic and everyone else just starts laughing at the poor boy that doesn't understand what he said that was so funny.

"It's not a j-"- "Delfi is pregnant and you are gonna be a father"- correct Simón patting his shoulder before hugging him- "Congratulation man" The blonde smiles, hugging her friend and smiling at her belly- "Don't worry little thing, you will have an amazing aunt"

xxvii.

Ramiro stares at the phone in his hands, thinking that he could call her and explain himself. Jesus, he would rather hear her scream at him than to not hear her at all. Maybe he could show up at the mansion to explain everything to her. She won't forgive him immediately, he knows she won't, but maybe he could try to fix everything.

Maybe one day they will have another chancé but for now, he only wants to make up for being an absolute asshole, to be her friend again.

The traffic light turns green and he starts the car, not knowing that someone else won't respect the 'STOP' sign on the other side and their cars will crash into each other.

The day he was hoping for, that he was praying for, it will never come.

xxviii.

Ámbar stands on the balcony of the mansion looking at the stars while everyone else is partying for the news. She is happy for Delfi and Pedro, she is happy with Simón and she is happy for all their achievements. And yet, she is not fully, completely happy as she should be.

"I know you are there, I can feel you idiot"- she smiles sadly as soon as he reaches her, looking at the stars just like her.

"How many of those do you think are dead right now?"- is a simple question that makes her smiles sadly, not knowing which answer to give him- probably most of them.

"Alcohol?"- Matteo offers her a glass filled with vodka that he found in the kitchen- why it was there is a mystery.

She takes it and observes the object for a few seconds before raising it to the sky- "To the love we lost because we were too late and too scared to stand a chancé against destiny"- "And the love we found in our darkest times, so we could still believe in fate"

They drink it fast, smiling to each other as soon as they finish before starting to laugh.

Because in the end, every love story that was ever born is a fucking tragedy.

[buoyantsaturn]

so ive been dragged onto the stoner will solace train so i guess heres some headcanons since i havent done a list in a while

the demeter cabin has had a pact with the hermes cabin for a Long Time where the demeter kids grow the pot and the hermes cabin distributes it

once people realize that weed has medicinal properties also they start to cut the apollo cabin in on the business so they can use weed when campers have maxed out on ambrosia and nectar

anyway on to will

he’s a Wreck after the titan war. like, more so than everyone else. and there’s no longer anyone above him in the infirmary so there’s nobody to help him sort out his trauma so he goes to the demeter cabin to get some weed bc he’s heard that its helped like,, everyone else

theres like,, 20 kids in the demeter cabin and theyre hotboxing the whole place and katie gardner opens the door and doesnt even ask if he wants a hit, she just hands him the blunt and pulls him inside

Will is pretty much high for the next year straight. he never bothers to cope with losing his brothers and friends bc why cope when you can be high instead? his siblings dont know Just How Often he’s getting high bc otherwise they would stop him or try to slow him down at least, but he starts smoking right when he wakes up, always takes a few more hits if there’s anything super gorey in the infirmary that he has to deal with, and he claims that he can’t sleep without smoking even more, so yeah, he’s. always high.

he fights the red eyes and occasional scratchy throat with a little of his own healing powers, and since hes a 15 year old boy he figures that nobody will find anything out of place if he drenches himself with axe bodyspray

nobody really finds out how messed up will is inside bc on the outside he looks all happy and smiley and he laughs at the stupidest stuff. some people think that’s just how he is, others think it’s a brave face he’s putting on for all the injured kids in the infirmary. the truth is that he’s just out of his mind high

the morning of the battle against the romans, everything was happening so fast that he didn’t have time to smoke which means that basically the first thing he did sober was deliver a baby which was Not Great for him, but at least he was coherent enough to give Nico that weird gum instead of the joint he also had in his little medical pouch

he does a pretty good job of hiding his smoking from then on, considering after the second war, he’s got nico glued to his side in the infirmary just about every day - not that he’s complaining, but that did make it a little difficult to sneak away to get high in the middle of the day

when paolo loses his arm(s?) will tells his siblings that he has to run back to the apollo cabin to read up on how to reattach an arm when really he’s just gonna hotbox the bathroom bc he Knows he can’t handle that surgery sober, but nico ends up catching him in the act and gets Very upset with him bc when they started dating they had promised not to keep any secrets from each other, but now will is gonna go operate on a kid while hes high off his ass??

like,, will still does it, and paolo survives and regains use of his arm(s) but will still has to go find nico and apologize and explains himself and for the most part nico just thinks will’s a hypocrite for forcing nico to talk about his feelings when will never dealt with his

will realizes that hes been acting like a dumbass and eventually stops relying on weed and does finally learn how to deal with his trauma, so now he only smokes sometimes when he can’t sleep or hes like,, with friends around the campfire and just wants to relax a little bit

[dumbledearme]

chapter forty-one—king of the gods

read Child of Land and Sea here

Act V — Walking On Water

Part IV — I hope you're satisfied, but if you ain't, don't blame me. You can blame my friends on the other side...

They emerged in Central Park just north of the Pond. Nico looked pretty tired as he limped over to a cluster of boulders. "The Underworld has two major entrances," he told Andy. "You know the one in L.A."

"Charon's ferry."

Nico nodded. "Most souls go that way, but there's a smaller path, harder to find. The Door of Orpheus."

"The dude with the harp?"

"The dude with the lyre," Nico corrected with a grin. "But yeah, him. He used his music to charm the earth and open a new path into the Underworld. He sang his way right into Hades's palace and almost got away with his wife's soul."

"I remember," she said; Anthony liked telling her about Greek myths. "He wasn't supposed to look behind him when he was leading her back to the world, but of course he did. And so they died. The end."

"Pretty much."

"So this is the Door of Orpheus?" Andy tried to sound impressed but she wasn't really. "How does it open?"

"We need music," Nico said. "How's your singing?"

"Um, no. Can't you just, like, tell it to open? You're the son of Hades and all."

"It's not that easy. We need music. Now sing. I'm pretty sure you can carry some notes."

"Why would you think that?"

"Child of the sea and everything," he shrugged. "Mermaids. Sirens. Naiads. The sound of waves. All music."

"I'm fairly sure if I try to sing, all I will cause is an avalanche," Andy told him. "I have a better idea." She turned and shouted, "GROVER!" Her empathy link was tingling for the first time in months. Grover! she thought more insistently.

"Hmm-hmmmm," something said. An image came into her head. She saw him sleeping above a tree.

"Wake up," she told him.

His eyes shot open.

"What?" Nico asked.

"I got through," she said out loud. "He's... yeah. He's on his way."

A minute later, the tree next to them shivered and Grover fell out of the branches. "Blah-haa-haa!" he bleated.

"Are you okay?"

"Oh, I'm fine," he got up. His horns had grown so much they poked an inch above his curly hair. "I was at the other end of the park. The dryads had this great idea of passing me through the trees to get me here. They don't understand height very well."

"You remember Nico?" Andy said. Grover nodded at Nico then gave Andy a big goat hug.

"I missed you," he told her. "I miss camp."

"I was worried," she said. "Where have you been the last two months?"

"The last two-" Grover's smile faded. "The last two months?! What are you talking about?"

"We haven't heard from you. Juniper's worried."

"Hold on. What month is this?"

"August."

The color drained from his face. "That's impossible! It's June. I just lay down to take a nap and..." he grabbed Andy's arms. "I remember now! He knocked me out. Andy, we have to stop him!"

"Whoa, stop who? Tell me what happened."

Grover took a deep breath. "I was... I was walking in the woods up by Harlem Meer. And I felt this tremble in the ground, like something powerful was near."

"You can sense stuff like that?" Nico asked.

Grover nodded. "Since Pan's death, I can feel when something is wrong in nature. It's like my ears and eyes are sharper when I'm in the Wild. Anyway, I started following the scent. This man in a long black coat was walking through the park, and I noticed he didn't cast a shadow. Middle of a sunny day, and he cast no shadow. He kind of shimmered as he moved."

"Like a mirage?" Nico asked.

"Yes," Grover said. "And whenever he passed humans-"

"The humans would pass out," Nico finished. "Curl up and go to sleep."

"That's right! I followed the guy. He kept looking up at the buildings around the park like he was making estimates or something. I followed him into this grove, to the base of a big elm tree. I was about to summon some dryads to help me capture him when he turned and..." Grover swallowed. "Andy, his face. I couldn't make out his face because it kept shifting. Just looking at him made me sleepy. I asked what he was doing and he said he was having a look around. He said you should always scout a battlefield before the battle. And then... then I had to sleep a little."

Nico exhaled. "You met Morpheus, the god of Dreams. You're lucky you ever woke up."

"Two months," Grover moaned. "He put me to sleep for two months."

"We need to figure out what he was doing here," Andy said.

"He's working for Kronos," Nico said. "We know that already. A lot of the minor gods are. This just proves there's going to be an invasion. We need to get on with our plan, Jackson."

And he was back with the last name thing.

"What plan?" Grover asked. They told him and he started tugging at his leg fur. "You can't be serious. You cannot be serious! Not the Underworld again!"

"You don't need to come," Andy assured him. "We just need you to open the door. With music."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Andy?"

She avoided his eyes. "Please, Grover. Just open the door."

Grover whimpered but took out his reed pipes. He played a shrill, lively tune. The boulders trembled until they cracked open, revealing a triangular crevice. Andy peered inside. Steps led down into the darkness. She looked back at Grover. "Thanks, man.."

"I've got to rally the nature spirits if Kronos is going to invade. Maybe we can help. I'll see if we can find this Morpheus."

"Better tell Juniper you're okay first."

Grover's eyes widened. "Juniper! Oh, she is going to kill me!" He gave Andy another hug. "Come back alive." And he ran off.

"Ready?" Nico asked her. "It'll be fine. Don't worry. I'll keep you safe down there."

Andy liked the promise, but Nico sounded like he was trying to convince himself. She glanced at the stars, wondering if she would ever see them again. Then they plunged into darkness.

They emerged at the base of a cliff, on a plain of black volcanic sand. To their right, the River Styx. To their left, far away, fires burned on Erebos.

Andy shuddered and wished Anthony was there to hold her hand. Nico looked pale and worried himself. Not very heartening. "How do we do this?"

"We have to get inside the gates first," he said.

"But the river's right here."

"I have to get something," he told her. "It's the only way." He marched off without waiting.

Andy frowned. Nico hadn't mentioned anything about going inside the gates. Reluctantly, she followed him. Cerberus let them pass. Andy assumed it was because Nico was the boss's son.

Ignoring the lines of ghosts, they slipped through the security ghouls and into the Fields of Asphodel. They hiked over black fields of grass; Nico trudged ahead, bringing them closer and closer to the palace of Hades.

"Hey," she called him, "we're inside the gates. Where exactly are we-" A shadow appeared overhead. Andy recognized her immediately. "Mrs Dodds."

The Fury bared her fangs. "Welcome back, honey." Her two sisters swooped down and settled next to her.

"You know Alecto?" Nico asked Andy.

"If you mean the hag in the middle, yeah. She was my math teacher."

Nico almost smiled before turning to the Furies. "I've done what my father asked. Take us to the palace."

Andy tensed. "Wait. Nico, what do you-"

"My father wants to see you," he said without looking at her. "I'm sorry. He promised me information about my family."

"You tricked me?" Andy gave him a shove, but the Furies were fast. Two of them swooped down and plucked her up by the arms.

"He just wants to talk," Nico said apologetically.

Andy didn't say anything as the Furies flied her into the palace. Alecto dropped her like a sack of turnips at the feet of Hades. Persephone and Demeter were also there. They seemed to be having an argument.

"Andy Jackson," Hades said with satisfaction. "At last."

"Hmmph," Demeter said. "Demigods. Just what we need."

Nico appeared at Andy's side and knelt. "Father, I have done as you asked."

"Took you long enough," Hades grumbled. "Your sister would've done a better job."

Nico lowered his head.

"What do you want, Hades?" Andy asked.

"To talk, of course. Assuming you can talk. Last time you were here, all you did was shout."

"So this whole thing was a lie? Nico brought me down here to be killed. Awesome."

"Oh, no," Hades said. "I'm afraid my son was quite sincere about wanting to help you. The boy is as honest as he is dense. I simply convinced him to take a small detour and bring you here first."

"Father," Nico said, "you promised that she would not be harmed. You said you'd tell me about my mother."

Persephone sighed dramatically. "Can we please not talk about that woman?"

"I had to promise the boy something," Hades shrugged.

"I warned you, daughter," Demeter said. "This scoundrel is no good! You could've married the god of doctors or the god of lawyers, but nooo! You had to eat the pomegranate."

"Mother-"

"And get stuck here forever."

"Mother, please-"

"Enough, Demeter," Hades said. "You are a guest in my house."

"And what a house it is. This dump. It's August! We're supposed to be up there-"

"I told you," Hades said, grinding his teeth, "there's a war in the world above. You and Persephone are better off here with me."

"Excuse me," Andy broke in, "but if you're going to kill me, I would prefer you did it before forcing me to listen to this squabble."

All three gods looked at her.

"She has a bad attitude," Demeter said.

"Indeed," Hades agreed. "I would love to kill her."

"Get in line," Andy muttered.

"Husband, we talked about this," Persephone chided. "You can't go around incinerating every hero. Besides, she's brave and pretty. Much like myself. I quite like her."

Hades rolled his eyes. "You liked that Orpheus fellow, too. Look how well that turned out. Let me kill her, just a little bit."

"Father, you promised," Nico said. "You said you only wanted to speak to her. You said you'd explain."

"And so I shall," Hades glowered. "Your mother – what can I tell you? She was a wonderful woman." He glanced uncomfortably at Persephone. "Forgive me, my love. I meant for a mortal, of course. Maria di Angelo. She was from Venice, but her father was a diplomat in Washington, D.C. That's where I met her. When you and your sister were young, it was a bad time to be children of Hades. World War II was brewing. A few of my, ah, other children were leading the losing side. I thought it best to put you two out of harm's way."

"That's why you hid us in the Lotus Casino?"

Hades shrugged. "You didn't age. You didn't realize time was passing. I waited for the right time to bring you out."

"But what happened to our mother? Why don't I remember her?"

"Not important," Hades snapped.

"Not important? Of course it's important! It's the most important thing!"

Hades crossed his arms. "As for the lawyer who got you out," he nodded toward Alecto.

"I do lawyers and teachers very well," the Fury growled.

Nico was trembling. "Why did you free us from the Casino?"

"You know why," Hades said. "This ridiculous siren cannot be allowed to be the child of the prophecy!"

"You should be helping Olympus!" Andy told him. "All the other gods are fighting and you're just sitting here-"

"Waiting things out," Hades finished. "Yes, that's correct. When's the last time Olympus ever helped me, half-blood? When's the last time a child of mine was ever welcome as a hero? Bah! Why should I rush out and help them? I'll stay here with my forces intact."

"And when Kronos comes for you?"

"Let him try. He'll be weakened. And my son here," Hades looked at Nico with distaste. "Well, he's not much now, I'll grant you. It would've been better if Bianca had lived. But give my boy another year. He'll be eighteen and he will make the decision that will save the world. And I will be king of the gods."

"You're insane," Andy said. "Kronos will crush you."

Hades pursed his lips. "You'll be waiting out this war, child of land and sea, in my dungeons."

"No!" Nico said. "Father, that wasn't our agreement. And you haven't told me everything."

"I've told you all you need to know, boy. As for our agreement, I spoke with Jackson. I did not harm her, though I wanted to. Bad. You got your information. If you had wanted a better deal, you should've made me swear on the Styx. Now, go to your room," Hades waved his hand and Nico disappeared.

"That boy needs to eat more," Demeter grumbled. "He's too skinny."

"My lord Hades," Persephone said, "are you sure we can't let her go? She's awfully brave."

"No, my love. I've spared her life. That's enough."

Persephone shrugged indifferently. "Fine. What's for breakfast? I'm starving." She took her mother's arm and they disappeared in a swirl of flowers and wheat.

"Don't feel bad, Andy Jackson," Hades said. "My ghosts keep me well informed of Kronos's plans. I can assure you that you had no chance to stop him in time. By tonight, it'll be too late for your precious Mount Olympus. The trap will be sprung."

"What trap?" she demanded. "If you know about it, do something! At least warn the other gods!"

Hades smiled. "You are spirited. I'll give you credit for that. Have fun in my dungeon. We'll check on you again in – oh, fifty or sixty years."

[cxrruptus]

As she walked back and forth with organizing and sorting out medicines, her mind went through different memories of what her life would be like without certain events happening, even coming to Nanba Prison. Becoming a part-time nurse, spending her time making herbs and medicines to taking care of certain patients, especially Nico that she adored so much. Not many people may know but she used to be his nurse before coming Nanba and seeing him. Then hearing and seeing that he took off and not him him for almost a year, crushed her. But then after coming to Nanba Prison, not expecting him to be here too, she was glad to see him and be assigned as his nurse again. Then everything just somehow feel into place to where she feels like she’s- at home again- for once for what seemed like a long time- She flicked her ears to hear a door open and looks to see Seitarou and Nico walking in. Her smile perked up as she finished the last of organizing the medicine before padding over to Nico.

“Hey Nico, I see you’re doing well~ Ready for your daily check-up?”

Her smile grew as she looked up at him and flicked her tail happily. Her butterfly flew around a bit before landing on her head and fluttered gently. She knew what she had to do for today with Nico, knowing he’ll be here most of today and she’ll be by his side through it all.

“Ruuuuuthie-chaaaaaan!!”

A   ｄｅａｆｅｎｉｎｇ,  joyous, cry escaped from the boy, one crimson hue shining bright with excitement, as he leapt forward from the open doorway in a rather clumsy rush, sweeping the smaller in his arms. 

“I’m heeeeeere!! Hey, hey! What’s the flavor of today’s medicine, Ruthie-chan??”

The wide grin etched so deeply upon the inmate’s delicate features softened around the edges at the question. He was well aware, and quite familiar with the routine by now. Today was the day, not just for his usual check up and medicines, but the same day of each week that was always the very worst...A whole day of being stuck in an infirmary bed, of being administered his required drip feeds and IVs. How Nico dreaded these days...Dreaded them...and feared them. Being devoured by a sea of glistening tubes and wires, the manner in which they were just connected to him, how they buried themselves deep within his flesh, to give him sustenance, to give him life, always made Nico uneasy, shaken badly by the maddening sensation....It was a reminder, just like this body, that he was sick...that he would be sick, chained to a bed, chained to this frail frame, for the rest of his life. Nothing more than a burden...When enclosed by that endless sea of pure white sheets and walls and gowns, Nico couldn’t even pretend that he wasn’t... It would have been so much easier on these days, if he just had someone to talk to, some manga to reread, or his game console to play. Yet the doctor had always banned all those things during his treatments, not wanting Nico to get worked up. It was agonizingly boring...and lonely...Often Kaguya would sing to him, or let him rest in her lap for a while to soothe his rising nerves, but there were always other patients or paperwork to get done, so the inmate never had the heart to ask her to stay by his side all day. He just wanted....needed something to fill up that suffocating hush. Nico liked to talk, ramble on about anything but himself, and he spoke aloud a great deal. Those long, suffering, silences were the most anxious, a time where his mind tended to drift back to darker things and darker times...drowning in nothing but cold hands and unforgiving needles....things he would rather just not remember....ever again...

It was, at least, better than before...that was what he had constantly reminded himself as his vision would blur hotly, suddenly, with tears, but in the end, those words only went so far.

Yet, he had to admit, since Ruthie had come to Nanba, reunited after so long, and she had once again been assigned as his nurse, these insufferable days were more tolerable than before. Nico felt a bit more steady....and brave.

“Yes....I am....”

[menagerie-rpg]

「 MINHO LEE  LINCOLN BENNETT 」

STRATUM: Three AGE: Twenty-five OCCUPATION: Lion Tamer SUGGESTED FCS: Kim Ji Soo

CREATURE FORM.

GRIFFIN is a legendary creature with the body and back legs of a lion; the head and wings of an eagle. Because the lion is considered the king of beasts, and the eagle the king of birds, the Griffin is thought to be a powerful creature.

ABOUT.

Boy born in rags, adopted by riches. Constantly, are you reminded of how lucky you are and how you don’t belong. Your adoptive parents are politicians, Harvard graduates. Meanwhile, you’re degraded for having more heart than brains. They say that they scold you, push you, because that’s how people grow. Every step you took, each choice made, came with a shake of the head or a silent nod. Your lover was no exception, your relationship ending with an abandoned ring. So it’s easy to advertise yourself as a pillar of strength in front of Metzger. But they do not realize -- you’re crumbling too.

BIOGRAPHY.

All under the cut.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Abuse, Drugs.

A story, told in a serious of rings.

I. CHEERIOS, THE PLAIN KIND.

They are tasteless and soggy – he swirls them around in his milk with a shiny plastic spoon that came with last week’s takeout. His mom says the metal ones are for her and he shouldn’t touch them, so he doesn’t, even though he doesn’t know why she always leaves them on her nightstand. ”Mom,” he says quietly, and she looks up at you with tired, empty eyes, tapping the ashes into the nearby tray. “Mom, d’you think you could get the honey nut ones next time? Susie next door got some.” It’s not the first time he’s asked because she forgets a lot, and that’s okay. He kicks his feet under the table out of nervousness, but she comes over, wobbly knees and all, to kiss him on his head.

“Okay, birdy, next time, okay?”

And he can’t help but giggle whenever she calls him that – and sometimes, he turns into the funny-looking bird to make her laugh, too. She usually does, and she kisses him again. Every time, she makes him promise that he won’t show that to anyone else, because it’s a secret between the two of them; so he never does.

–

She has gone out to get Honey Nut Cheerios. He sits and counts the clock again, because he just counted nineteen hours and that can’t be right. He’s just learned how to count so he’s not sure if there are a few numbers he skipped – his stomach grumbles in protest and his eyes begin to droop, even though he tries to focus on the flashing television lights in front of him.

Eventually, he falls asleep, and when he wakes up, someone is holding him up. A man, with a scruffy red beard and a dark blue suit – he cries because he is scared and confused, kicks the man in his chest, but he is so small and they bring him into a car that flashes red and blue. He falls asleep again, and wakes up in a room he’s never seen before. There are people around him, whispering and all looking at him the same way Susie’s mom used to.

There is a strange light blue clock in the white room, and he counts the hours again since his mother’s gone out. Twenty-eight. They give him all the Honey Nut Cheerios in the world, and milk that doesn’t taste sour – he swirls them around in his bowl and waits for his mom to come back.

She never does.

II. GOLD – CLASS RINGS; A PERFECT PAIR.

There are two big, gold rings inside the library at the Bennett family home. They’re laid out, side by side, in a pristine glass box, small lights pointing towards the rings and they sparkle brighter than anything else he’s ever seen in his life. They call him Lincoln, and that’s okay, he supposes - even though it takes him a little while to get used to the new name.

“Link,” dad says (he’s still rather unfamiliar with the concept of one), “do you know what Harvard is?”

He shakes his head. Dad  always puts white gloves on whenever he takes out the rings, and when he does, he brings them close to Lincoln’s eyes, turning it side to side. “H-A-R-V-A-R-D,” he reads out loud, and his new father pats him on the head. He’s a good-looking man with a clean-shaven face, hair just starting to go a little gray.

“You’ll make it there someday, too, Lincoln. It’ll be wonderful. It won’t be anything like you grew up seeing, you know? There are so many out there like you, Link. You’re a lucky boy.”

The early years feel surreal – living in a home he would only see on television, with bookshelves as big as the tallest trees and stairs that go all the way up to the high heavens. His mother likes to dress him up in black-and-white suits, and on the day he turns nine, she brings him up to her bedroom and places his hands against her rounding stomach. And god - your new mother, she is so beautiful. Her eyes shine, and they are so bright; there are no marks on her perfect, thin arms and Lincoln is constantly fascinated by her, a goddess in his eyes.

“I’m going to be a big brother,” Lincoln smiles, pressing his forehead against her belly, and he begins to mold himself against those golden walls, the perfect marble countertops and crystal chandeliers. His fairytale beginning doesn’t last for long. But then again, fairytales rarely end so happily.

–

He writes his dad a birthday card (he’s spent all night writing it, drawing the cover from scratch)  but the card has fallen onto the floor, and nobody has even noticed. Everyone’s eyes are on a piece of paper and a letter. Lincoln looks up and sees his father’s hands shaking.

“They want us to take him to a different school? Do they know who we are? Are you sure you’ve talked to Katharine, because this - ”

“Of course I talked to Kathy, but she insists there’s no way he can keep up with their programs and do you blame her? Look at him!”

Look at him. Look at me. He’s not used to all this attention, and for the first time in his life, he wants to disappear for awhile. There’s a violin sitting on his bed, stacks of books on his desk and angry pencil parks across notebooks. His days are filled to the brim - he comes back from school and his math tutor is waiting for him on the stairs. He’s lucky if he manages a snack between maths and violin, before jumping into English and the rest of his homework. It’s not for lack of trying, but those coveted A’s rarely appear on his reports - they lock him up in his room for hours at a time, they tell him that he’ll thank them later.

He doesn’t understand.

At night, when he’s finally finished, his fingers sore from all the writing, he sneaks out of his room and goes to Jonas. Jonas has perfect rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes, and beautiful light hair - his little brother who looks nothing like him. He kisses his brother on the head and tucks him in, tells him a new adventure story he wrote out during his classes at school. The way Jonas laughs and gasps and asks him to tell him another one is enough for Lincoln to forget about everything else.

(He never makes it to Harvard.)

III. HANDCUFFS, AND FREEDOM.

They catch him selling drugs at a college party. To this day, he can’t decide if it was a genuine lapse in judgment or a way for him to rebel, to shame his supposedly perfect family name, but it’s fun, it’s easy, and it doesn’t take much coercing for him to agree to it.

The metal rings around his wrists are tight, but he can barely bring himself to care anymore. Maybe it’s the high, maybe it’s because there’s so much shame a person can take before it crushes him into nothingness. The red and blue lights keep flashing behind him as they bring him to his big, fancy wooden doors, his parents staring at him in horror. Out of the corners of his eyes, he can see cameras following him and the men in blue trying to chase them away.

The doors close. They scream and he doesn’t know why he’s used to this, why this has become his life. I tried, he wants to scream back, I tried, I tried.

“We’ve done everything for you! Do you know where you came from? You had nothing! Do you really want to go back to that?”

Yes – he thinks. Yes, because she wasn’t impossible to please. It was so much easier to make her laugh, his mother. With her sunken eyes and bony arms, with all her bruises and needle marks, she still laughed for him. He looks in the mirror and he sees her more than ever, with his own tired eyes.

“Yes,” he hears himself say, “yes.”

IV. DIAMOND (FIVE PAYCHECKS, AND STILL NOT ENOUGH.)

“What are you thinking about?”

“You. Us. This,” he laughs, slipping his fingers between his lovers’ and pressing his thumb against the ring. “You said yes.”

After he’s forced to leave his home, he spends his years floating, trying and not quite fitting in, always outside looking in. He’s working at a local pub as a bartender when he walks in. He has beautiful curls, and soft, gentle eyes, and Lincoln accidentally overpours his beer and scrambles to clean up the mess, apology pouring out from his lips.

But Nico laughs – god, he’s so forgiving and Link thinks he might have fallen in love right then and there. Later, wrapped up in sheets in his small one-bedroom apartment, Nico asks him for his name. He laughs again, though not unkindly, and tells him his name doesn’t suit him. It’s too posh, he says, and Lincoln feels his mouth go dry before the truth begins to spill out of him, about his past, about his family. He doesn’t know why he’s chosen this stranger to trust, but Nic presses his lips to his collarbones and calls him by his old name, and for a moment, Lincoln thinks he’s finally found home.

It was supposed to be a happy ending.

–

He supposes there was always a part of him that believed that if he was honest, if he didn’t hurt anyone and he was a good person, good things would follow. There are many ways he falls behind Nico – he’s not as smart, he’s not as quick or charming, but his fiancé (he could never get sick of calling him that) is ever so understanding, even as they move into a new two-bedroom apartment and Link can barely keep up with his share of the rent. There’s a part of him that believes it’ll get better, because he’s already suffered enough.

He still remembers it – November sixth, when Nico came up to him from behind and wrapped his arms around his waist – what’s wrong? It’s his own damn fault for believing in fairytales, for believing there shouldn’t be any secrets between them. They’re going to get married, and isn’t that what it should be about? There’s a foolish part of him that thinks it’ll be okay if he tells Nico, that he’s already accepted his past so this won’t be anything different.

There’s no way for him to predict the tears and the look of pure fear in Nico’s eyes when he tells him he’s not quite human - Nic doesn’t let Lincoln touch him, doesn’t let him come near him. Looking back now, he’s sure he must have seemed pathetic, on his knees and begging Nico not to go, that it doesn’t change anything between them, that he’s still the same person. But he still goes, his things gone with him, and suddenly, it’s like the two of them never even existed. Don’t go - please don’t go, I’ll be better. I’ll do better -

Two weeks later, there’s a knock on his door.

“Mr. Bennett? My name is Michael Metzger. I believe I have an offer that might interest you.”

V. CHAINS.

The two hours go like this. He sits there, chin high, for the first ten minutes. Sometimes, he shakes his head to get everyone’s attention, and paces around the cage once or twice. The cage is too small for him to spread his wings properly, but he flutters in a couple times, and once enough people have come around, he lets out a screech – loud enough for them to know he’s real, soft enough for them to be fascinated, not scared. They have no reason to be scared – after all, he is behind bars, with a heavy metal ring – a chain – wrapped around his right hind leg. It’s a pattern, and one that he’s gotten used to. It’s fine, it’s routine, but when his shift is over, he finds himself sitting behind the curtains, head between his knees.

The Menagerie is not what he imagined – the Menagerie is unlike any other place he’s ever been to and at times, he can’t help but wonder if it was worth it to leave everything behind. Perhaps his parents were right, perhaps all of them were right. Then the whispers begin – whispers he chooses to ignore at first, because it’s easier to not know. To forget. But Aladdin disappears, and though he pretends to not care, that nothing has changed, the nightmares get progressively worse and his fingers shake whenever he hears the metal door lock behind him every day.

He thinks it must be stress, that working so hard has made him sleepless; he think he might feel much better if he gets to see Jonas just once, if only to make sure his brother is doing okay. He thinks day and night about visiting him, wonders if he should go to Metzger to ask for just one day, one day for him to go see Jonas again. But he never does.

If he were to be honest, he might admit that the only thing holding him back is the fear of disappointing Metzger, a man who at least offered him a home. At least he’s good at something here, at least he’s enough for somebody right here, within these red and gold walls, behind the metal bars. So he smiles and tells Metzger that he’s fine, because he knows this is it. There’s nowhere else for him to go.

[demiboypercyjackson]

Please consider: trans will freaking out and giving a younger camper a long lecture after they come into the infirmary with bruised/cracked ribs from binding with ace bandages and after that incident you can get free binders at the infirmary if you need it

Will Solace had seen a lot of things in his days as head medic of Camp Half Blood, head surgeon on the battlefield, and head counselor of the Apollo cabin. A lot of those things had scared him, had scarred him, and had left him gasping for breath afterwards, waking from night terrors that shook him awake to stare at the moon as if asking for guidance. Most of these things included the sinew-y stubs of missing limbs, bloodied wounds left by claws and teeth, or insides that were, decidedly, no longer insides; things like that. There were other things, too, that shook him - these for an entirely different reason.

There were other things, too, that hit far too close to home.

To set the scene: it was a relatively quiet day. There hadn’t been any new campers for a few weeks now, so there were less newbies getting injured trying to “climb the totem pole” and impress people. No one had come back from any quests recently and likely wouldn’t for a week yet at least. There’d only been a handful minor injuries so far for the day. Younger campers coming in with scratched knees or aching tummies had been the most of Will’s worries for the majority of the morning and he was rather glad for it.

At least, until Mateo Herrera came into the infirmary.

Now, Mateo; he was a good kid. Mateo, in fact, was a very good kid and very rarely ended up in the infirmary. Mostly, Will knew him from the few times Austin could manage to drag his older brother to his music classes. Mateo played the trombone and was very good at it for a beginner. Will respected that. By Kayla’s descriptions, he was also quite good at archery - it was almost uncanny, in fact, how close the two sharp-shooters were in ability, despite Mateo being much newer to the craft.

Distantly, Will wondered when Apollo would hurry up and claim the boy. He was unclaimed and had been for the six months he’d been at camp. Surely it wouldn’t be much longer, right?

This was what Will thought often in regards to the younger boy, but was definitely far from his thoughts when Mateo whispered his reason for being there.

“Will,” said Mateo, his whisper fear-filled and a bit too loud. “My chest has been hurting and I think I know why.”

Normally, Will would chalk it up to growing pains, give dear Matty-boy an aspirin or something, and send him on his way out, but the way Mateo was holding himself seemed more serious. He was obviously very sore and seemed to have difficulty breathing comfortably.

“Why’s that, Mr. Herrera?” Will said as nicely as he could (though Nico told him often that his bedside manner when he was in “Doctor Mode” was oftentimes absolutely dreadful and usually hilariously so).

Mateo’s dark brown eyes looked down at his red and black sneakers, his weight shifting from his left side to his right. He looked up at Will in embarrassment, taking a hand up to smooth the dark curls growing out of his head. “Well,” he said. “I have kind of a... body issue. And the way I take care of it makes it ache.”

Will nodded seriously, hoping distantly that his eyes conveyed kindness. “What is this issue, Mateo?”

He coughed, which quickly died and turned into a wince, accompanied by a slight wince. Mateo admitted with difficulty, “I have breasts. And I... bandage them to make them less noticeable b-but-”

“Wait,” Will’s eyes grew wide and he knew he was showing a bit of teeth, but he couldn’t help himself. The look on his face was undoubtedly the same expression he’d made many an occasion - occasions such as, for example, the first time Austin said “bitch” and the first time Kayla admitted that she kind of wanted to join the Hunters of Artemis (but that was a story for a different time). It was a look of disappointment - the shocked, protectively angry kind of disappointment. “Bandage, you said?”

Face full of shame, Mateo nodded. “Yeah, ace bandages. They aren’t that good but they can make you pretty flat-”

Will put down the clipboard he’d been holding as carefully as he could. Without meaning to, he’d begun to grip it so hard that his knuckles had turned white and since he didn’t want to break it, it seemed wiser this way. “Mr. Herrera, will you follow me to the back? I’d like you to take those bandages off for a quick x-ray. This may be urgent.”

Mateo nodded, visibly sweating. “Okay,” his voice shook. “Yeah, no problem.”

In a few minutes time, Mateo had taken the x-rays, and seemed very glad to be out of the ace bandages, though Will could see those lines setting into the younger boy’s face that seemed to spell one thing, a thing Will knew very well; dysphoria. Will knew it wouldn’t be easy for poor Mateo, but he had to put his foot down.

“No more binding.” Will demanded. Mateo opened his mouth to protest but the blond shook his golden-haired head. “No. No buts and no whats. I’m the doctor and I say no binding, at least for a while. Ace bandages are not okay, Matty.”

Mateo looked down at his feet again, examined the light reflecting off of the three remaining aglets. His eyes shined too, only with tears.

Will sighed, his heart maybe breaking a little. “Mateo... I understand, okay? But there are better ways. Safer ways. Your ribs aren’t like normal bones. Those bandages can squeeze them all wrong, break them even. You seem to be mostly alright, luckily, it was smart of you to come to me, but... I’ll check the x-ray just to be sure.”

Mateo nodded. He rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand and sniffled. “Thanks. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Will said. “Be safer. I’m gonna have to ask you not to bind for at least a week. But, don’t worry. I won’t bind either. You won’t be alone in this.”

Mateo made a face, confused. “Wait, I don’t understand. What do you mean you won’t either?”

“I’m trans, too, Matty-man.” Will shrugged. “I don’t really hide it. But, after all this, I can help you get a real binder too. You’re a bigger size than me,” Will was a bean pole of a boy and Mateo was much shorter and a bit chubby. He’d definitely need a bigger size - Will was already theorizing his measurements, which, once he realized he was, was a bit creepy. “So I can’t lend you one of mine, but we can get them here easily enough.”

“How?”

Will shrugged again. “Mr. D is the genderfluid patron god of transgender and gender non-conforming individuals. I’m always surprised more people don’t know that.”

Mateo smiled for the first time since he’d walked into the infirmary. “Wait, really?”

Will nodded. “Yup. I would be, except I’m not genderfluid and also about a gazillion years too late.” Mateo laughed, so Will continued. “Some sweet benefits, though, right?” Giggling quietly, Mateo nodded in agreement, and Will let himself relax a bit.

It had been a long time since Will was in Mateo’s shoes, and had definitely been lucky to have Cecil’s mother, who was and always would be PFLAG to the grave and had immediately done everything she could to help this baby she had taken in, to help this boy she’d barely known be true to himself and to the people around him. As soon as Will had begun to have noticeable... unwanted developments, he’d gotten his first binder - a simple black tank that had meant the world to him. It was too small now, but he still had it. Sentimental value and all that.

If Mateo had been able to fit it, however, Will would’ve handed it over. No one had told him that ace bandages were bad, it was obvious. No one had helped him cut his hair, which was a mess of curls cut at short but varying lengths once you saw it up close. No one had helped Mateo be Mateo. And Will would do anything to give this kid the same kind of influence that his mama - and he would always call her that, Mama - had given him.

“Wait,” Mateo murmured. “You mean that? You won’t bind either?”

Will shook his head. “Nope. Think of it like... a blood pact. Except, instead of blood, it’s boobs. A boob pact.”

Mateo bit his lip to keep from laughing. “A boob pact?”

Solemn as he knew how to be, Will nodded. “A boob pact. A sacred bond between trans brothers. If you have to free ball it, then I will too.”

It was a moment that passed, in near silence, a kind of special care in the air between them, before Mateo tentatively smiled. “Thank you, Will.”

And Will smiled. “Of course, bud. Now.... Let’s take a look at those x-rays, huh? And then we can talk colors for your binder.”

“I like red.”

“Red is definitely your color. Absolutely yes.”

Maybe this encounter with Mr. Herrera wouldn’t wake Will in the dead of night, shaking. Making it wouldn’t bug him too terribly in daylight hours, even - the problem was solved, after all. But, when he would lay down for the night, pajamas warm and clean, blanket soft, pillows fluffed and cool, Will would be unable to close his eyes. He’d be stuck thinking of every home like Mateo’s, every home like the one Will had grown up in - if you could call those things homes. Every place and every transgender child with a sad face and a lie on their nametag. These are the things that stain his evening thoughts, that remind him of days long past. Things are better now, he tells himself. I’m safe now. I can help kids in ways more important than even I realize. Sometimes, it helps him sleep. The look on Mateo’s face when he sees his first binder... it helps. The look on Mama’s face when he tosses a golden drachma into a spray of rainbow mist just before bed, the yell of happy surprise when she notices the call... it helps.

But there is still work to be done.

-

sorry this got super weird and dark aksjda ive been having Thoughts and i wanted to add them here. to lgbt, mogai, or otherwise queer people struggling with accepting their identity - it may not always seem like it, but its does get better. maybe not all at once or all the time, but please, take it one day at a time. remember the people that come after us too. we have to survive. for people like us, we have to survive. keep the legacy alive, keep fighting for a better future, so people like us, so kids like mateo here don’t have to fight quite so hard. and for the love of god don’t bind with ace bandages and don’t double bind!!!!!!! be safe out there, you dorks! - mod will

[i-write-shakespeare-not-disney]

Warm Me Up pt 22

Songs I listened to: Mercy- Shawn Mendes, The Reason- Hoobastank, Already Gone- Kelly Clarkson, Love You Goodbye- One Direction, What Hurts The Most- Rascal Flatts, Breakeven- The Script

Click Here for Ch. 1

Click Here for Ch. 21

There was one ceiling tile that wasn’t completely aligned with the others. It had been driving Nico crazy since he woke up. But he found himself staring at it anytime he was alone. Which was often. Aside from the nurses and doctors that checked on him, no one else came in.

Ever since Will’s outburst, Nico had asked to keep visitors away. He couldn’t bring himself to tell his friends what had happened. Surely they’d heard it too. Surely they’d heard all the things Will said, all the things he’d called him.

The moment kept replaying in his head as he stared at the tile. Over and over. Even when he slept, he didn’t get a break from it. In the back of his mind, the shouts were still echoing.

“Ready to go home today?” Dr. Ass- something asked him. Nico shrugged. “I suggest you stay away from alcohol. You’re too young to give yourself liver damage.”

Nico rolled his eyes and pulled at the ends of his hair. “Yeah, well. Easy for you to say. You have your life made. Nothing to run away from. I’m trying to run away from everything.”

“Everything?” the doctor asked.

“I’m not suicidal,” he snapped, knowing that if he said the wrong thing, he’d have to stay longer and get checked into a psych ward. “I’m just saying… drinking stops the thinking. It always has. So I drink enough to forget.”

“Well what were you trying to forget this time? Because obviously it didn’t work until you reached unconsciousness.” Nico averted his gaze and stared at the IV in his arm. “Alright then. I hope I don’t have to see you back here with the same problem, Nico.” He nodded and watched as the doctor removed the IV and gave him some regular clothes that Percy and Annabeth had brought in for him.

One of the most infuriating things was that he couldn’t remember anything from the night he was taken to the hospital. He remembered seeing Will and kissing someone. But he couldn’t remember how much he drank, what he had done, whether or not that boy had been in his room, or at what point he’d stopped breathing. The guy had to have been with him. Who else could have called the ambulance?

The connotation in that made Nico even more anxious. If a guy was in his room with him at two in the morning, which was the time the doctor said he’d been brought in, then didn’t that suggest something? He couldn’t bear the idea of it. Not with Will occupying so much of his thoughts and how desperately he wanted him back.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Maybe he should just pretend the night, the last five days, hadn’t happened.

When he was changed into his clothes, he grabbed his phone, signed some final paperwork, and left the hospital. He called a cab to take him to the campus, but he didn’t tell anyone he was free. He wanted to be alone. He was scared to find Will, and he didn’t have the stamina to answer questions from Leo and the others.

Instead, he got his motorcycle, stopped at a McDonald’s for food to regain his strength, and then rode over to his dirt road clearing. He sat under a tree to eat, frustrated with the way the wind kept blowing his hair in his face. He made a mental note to get a haircut. Possibly that very day if it would stall going back to campus.

He ate slowly, his stomach still sore and uneasy after what had happened.

Vaguely he wondered what Will would do when he saw him again. Would he ignore him? Yell at him again? Nico didn’t want either. He wanted him back. He wanted to fall to his knees and apologize until Will believed him and took him back and kissed him again and again.

He just wanted Will Solace back.

At the moment he was in The In-Between as he liked to call it. He didn’t feel hopeless and empty the way he did when he hit a depressive episode, but he wasn’t happy and ecstatic and filled with energy like when he had his highs. He felt numb, stoic, and confused. He knew there were things he had to think on, to act on. But his brain wouldn’t let him think enough. So he was stuck. He was at that middle place, No-Man’s Land, where he was simply focusing on little tasks like eating and putting one foot in front of the other.

He supposed it was the best place to be, mentally. At least for him. He never enjoyed his highs as much as he should, not with that little voice warning him that the next depression low would hit soon. And he hated the episodes where he could barely get out of bed.

So he supposed his mental state at the moment was the best he could hope for after what had happened.

Suddenly his phone started ringing. He looked at it and saw Percy’s number. He ignored it. Then two minutes later, Leo. He ignored that too. Within the next thirty minutes, he had seven calls from Percy, fifteen from Leo, eight from Annabeth, seven from Piper, and ten from Jason. None from Will. He received texts, Facebook messages, WhatsApp messages, even GroupMe messages which he never even used.

He groaned and turned his phone off. He didn’t want to go back yet. Not until he was okay enough.

He clambered back onto his bike and revved the engine. It had been a long time since he’d bothered riding it here. He didn’t want to be reckless this time. He wanted to ride it right. He wanted to see how many times he could go around without falling, how long he could sustain the feeling of flying in such perfect weather.

He kicked off and all that filled his ears were the sounds of air pushing against him and the angry engine as it pushed him forward. Dirt filled the air as the motorcycle turned and sped along the path.

It was the best he’d felt in a long time.

Then he saw a figure at the end of the road. He nearly lost control of the motorcycle in the shock and confusion, but he steadied himself and squinted to get a better look. Golden hair glinted in the sun, and Nico’s heart stopped.

The closer he got, the more certain he was it was Will. Until he had stopped his bike in front of him and was staring at angry blue eyes that left Nico speechless and weak in the knees.

After about a minute of silence and staring, one in wonder and shock, the other in what seemed like hatred and anger, the latter spoke. “Percy and Leo said you disappeared. They went to see you at the hospital and they were told you’d left, and you weren’t answering your phone.” Nico continued to stare mutely. “Are you going to say anything?”

“Will,” he breathed.

Will rolled his eyes, but the apples of his cheeks tinged red. He crossed his arms and glared at Nico. “I’ll give you five minutes. Five minutes to explain the shit you pulled at the hospital before I tell your friends where to find you.”

Nico shut the engine off and hurried to stand, letting the motorcycle clatter to the floor, but never once letting his eyes leave Will. If he did, he might just disappear. “Okay, okay,” he said hurriedly. “Look, I know I said really horrible things when I broke up with you, and I know you think you’d never forgive me, but I didn’t mean any of it, okay?” Will rolled his eyes and turned away from him. “Will, please. I never once wanted to be without you. The truth is you make me want to be a better person, okay? I was a decent human being when I was with you. But that didn’t stop the depression from pulling me under okay, and that wasn’t fair to you. I was being selfish by staying with you. You deserve someone better, someone who doesn’t constantly need you watching over them, and I had to let you go, I had to be selfless for once in my-”

“Oh shut up!” He shouted, turning back to him. He stepped forward, digging his finger into Nico’s chest. “Don’t you dare pretend you thought of anyone but yourself when you did that! Don’t you pull that bull shit!” He turned away, and Nico followed after him, but he was still shouting at him. “The things you said were horrible! I trusted you!” He bent over and Nico didn’t have time to process what he was doing until he turned around, throwing something at him. “I trusted you, you asshole! I told you everything! And you left me!” Rocks bounced off his jacket and to the floor, as Nico tried to block them from sensitive areas.

“Will, I-”

“You left me! Not the other way around! Don’t- tell- me- you were heartbroken when this was your fault!”

“Ow!” he exclaimed as a stinging pain burst above his right eye. “Okay, I deserved that,” he groaned.

“You are a selfish prick, and- oh my God, you’re bleeding.” The anger dissipated and Will rushed over to his side, checking the wound. “Oh my God, you’re bleeding.”

“Well, you hit me with a rock,” he answered. Will ignored him and tore the bottom of Nico’s shirt. “Will, if you wanted to undress me, you could’ve just asked.”

“Not the time, di Angelo,” he growled. Nico clamped his mouth shut and Will pressed the cloth against his forehead, causing Nico to wince. “You have to put pressure,” he mumbled under his breath.

Nico glanced up, catching the expression of determination on his face. The furrow of his eyebrows, the concentration in his eyes, the lip bite. And the flush in his cheeks, splattered with beautiful freckles. “I don’t think I ever told you how much I like your freckles, did I? They’re mesmerizing.”

Will’s eyes flickered down to him, but his expression remained hard. He grabbed Nico’s hand and pressed it to the wound. “Pressure,” he said, ignoring him still.

Nico sighed and looked at him longingly. He began to pull away, so Nico decided he had nothing left to lose.

“One more thing,” he said desperately. “I know I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself for it. I know you probably hate me, and I don’t blame you. I understand if you don’t feel the same, but I have to tell you before you disappear forever, okay?”

Will’s eyes flickered back to him, curious and wary. “Tell me what?”

Nico swallowed and took a few breaths. “That I’m completely fucking in love with you. And it honestly scares the shit out of me.”

The change in his expression was immediate. Wide eyes, almost frightened, lips parted, his cheeks bright red. His hands fell to his sides, and Nico was afraid he’d scared him away completely. “What?” he asked, barely audible.

Nico took another breath and tried to ignore the dizziness that had overwhelmed him. “I love you. I’ve been in love with you. I never said it, and maybe I should have, but  I was scared. The idea of letting myself be so vulnerable to someone…” His voice broke, and he felt the tears that stung his eyes. But he didn’t want to cry. “I didn’t want to let someone have that much control over my emotions. So the best thing I could do was show you how much I cared about you and show my affection the best way I knew how to.

“I tried so hard to show it without feeling vulnerable. Without making it about me. I wanted to focus on you, I wanted to show you I loved you, but I’m not the best at emotions. But you have to know, Will…. I loved you as best as I could. I tried... to show you how important you are to me.” At that point, his voice was wavering uncontrollably, desperate and afraid. But he had to tell him everything. Will had to understand. “To show you how happy you made me even if I couldn’t always be happy. How much I appreciated you, without having to put all of my emotions out there. Maybe that's what you wanted. I know you wanted me to lay myself bare for you, but I couldn’t- I can't... do that.

“So I left you that way you could find someone who could. Someone who wasn’t so fucking afraid, so messed up in the head. You think I couldn’t see it in your eyes? The way you looked whenever you couldn’t fix me, when you couldn’t pull me out of the depression? I was selfish in keeping you with me, and I’m being selfish now by wanting you back. Because I know you deserve better, but I’m still hoping you’ll be okay with me.”

“Stop,” he croaked. Nico looked down and shut his eyes. “You’re right,” he whispered. Nico glanced at him, not understanding. His nose was red. Runaway tears had fallen down his freckled cheeks. “I hated you. I hated you so much for what you did to me.” Nico choked back a sob and looked away. “But how could you be so dense, Nico?” He didn’t look at him. “Don’t tell me I could’ve done better than you. I knew about your pains and your messes and how fucked up things could get in your head. I knew about you using alcohol to run away from problems. I know what each scar on your body means and where it came from. And how you can never let yourself be fully happy because that pessimistic voice is always there telling you it won’t last.

“And I also know about your determination, and defiance. I know what makes you smile. I know how gentle you can be, because you’ve always shown it to me. I know how strong you’ve been all your life and how strong you still are. Defensive, protective, and stubborn.” He stepped closer, keeping Nico’s eyes on him. He wanted to brush away the tears that kept falling down his face. Nico didn’t want to make him cry anymore.

“And I fell in love with all of it.” Nico took a sharp breath, and he couldn’t keep himself controlled anymore. The tears he’d been fighting fell down his face, and now he was crying in front of him.

Nico didn’t think he’d ever really cried in front of him. He’d gotten angry, he’d ranted, he’d been hurt, he’d been sick, he’d thrown up, maybe shed a few tears. But he’d never cried the way he was now. Not in front of anyone. Especially Will.

“I fell in love with the smell of cigarettes that stays in your fingers and your leather jacket.... The callouses on your fingers.... With that stubbornness and pessimism. With your voice. Your dark eyes that never fail to make me forget what I’m thinking. With your laughter which is still the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard and your smile because it’s rare, but it was always real when you looked at me. It always made me feel worthwhile.

“So don't tell me I could have found someone better. Because I found you, and I loved you, and I wanted you. I fell in love with the good and the bad that comes with you. I was willing to handle it. You’re the one that decided to call it quits. You’re the one that pushed me away and gave up on me, I never once thought about leaving you.”

“I didn’t give up-”

“Yes you did,” he interrupted. “I know I can’t make your depression go away, and I couldn’t help if I felt bad about it, okay? That’s something people feel, it’s empathy. But I wanted to make it easier for you. I wanted to be there to keep you from falling apart, or to at least help you pull yourself back together. I wanted to at least do that.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he sobbed, gripping his arms, afraid that he’d go away if he let him go. But he didn’t move. Nico was close enough to hear his breaths, uneven through the crying. He looked up, biting his lip. “Do you still love me?” he whispered.

“Of course I do,” he whispered. Nico cupped his face and pressed his forehead against Will’s. “Nico,” he breathed.

“Could you give me another chance? Please, baby,” he begged, soaking in the feeling of being so close to him again. His scent, his voice, his warm skin beneath his fingers. He missed Will so much. “I’ll do anything.”

Will’s eyes were solemn, his gaze focused on Nico. Conflicted. It made Nico nervous. Then his warm hand pressed against Nico’s cheek and he leaned into him slowly, pressing his lips against Nico’s gently. Nico forgot how to breathe.

The feeling of his lips was so familiar, so right. It made him weak. He wrapped his arms around him, kissing him harder. He loved him. He loved him and Will loved him back. They would be okay. They had to be.

His fingers were pressing into his side, pulling him closer. Nico’s hands were in his hair. He wanted to forget every other kiss that wasn’t with Will. He wanted to fall apart in his arms because he knew he could trust Will. He wanted to love him in every way possible and never let him go again.

Then Will pulled away and rested his hands on Nico’s shoulder, pushing him back gently. “I need time to think,” he murmured. “I can’t… I can’t think straight when you’re this close to me. When you’re kissing me and looking at me like that.”

“Think about what?” Nico asked incredulously, feeling his heart begin to shatter again. “Will?”

“I don’t know,” he breathed. “I don’t know. I just… I need to think.”

Nico swallowed and furrowed his eyebrows. “Is there… someone else?” He’d seen Will with Paolo and some other boy he didn’t know. He’d seen them together often. Had Will moved on despite loving him?

But he shook his head, and Nico was able to breathe again. “No, there’s no one else, Nico. I just need to think. About this, about what it means. Okay?” Nico hesitated, but he nodded. He’d hurt him enough. The least he could do was let him have time to understand what he felt, right? “I have to go…. You should call your friends and tell them you’re okay.” He cleared his throat and pulled away. “Will you need a ride?”

“N-No, I have my… motorcycle.” Will nodded and bit his lip. Then he turned away, and Nico tried not to think it was for the last time. When he heard the car drive away, he turned back to his motorcycle and sat beside it, trying to wrap his head around what had happened.

He didn’t understand. How could they both be so in love with each other and still be apart at that moment? They should have been kissing in the sunset, laughing and hugging and promising beautiful things. They should have been getting back to campus together, hand in hand, while onlookers stared with shocked expressions.

Instead, Will had left and Nico was confused and exhausted.

He turned his phone back on and waited for it to stop buzzing with notifications of people trying to reach him. When it finally did, he called Leo and winced when his voice burst through the speaker. “Where have you been! We’ve been worried sick, no one has seen you and-”

“Leo, shut up for a second?” he snapped. “I’m fine… I came to clear my head. I’ll be back to campus soon. I’ll let you know when I’m there.”

He leaned against his bike and touched his head again, wincing at the throbbing pain that came from it. He looked at his shirt and shrugged. He had tons of black shirts anyway. When he finally mustered the courage to go back, he righted his bike and rode it back to campus. He went to the café and messaged his friends. It was a little fuller than the last time he’d been there, though it made sense because some people were already coming back from break.

A spring break spent in the ICU. That was without a doubt the most idiotic way he’d ever spent a vacation. Though it beat being home.

He messaged Leo and Percy and within five minutes his friends were crowding him, inspecting him, asking him questions. Nico remained silent until they backed off. Then Percy moved his hair and frowned. “Why is your head cut? Honestly, Nico you just got out of the hospital.”

“Will threw a rock at me,” he answered tiredly.

They blinked at him and raised their eyebrows. “Well… let’s be honest, you kind of deserved it,” Leo mumbled. Nico rolled his eyes. “Why didn’t you let us come in to see you at the hospital?”

“Because I knew you’d all be asking me all of these questions. About what happened with Will, and what we said and what I’d do next and on and on. I just… I couldn’t deal with them. And I still can’t.” He took a shaking breath and leaned his head against his hand. He needed a cigarette, but his pack was in his room. And none of his friends smoked.

“Nico, we actually have something we want to tell you,” Jason said.

“No questions, if you don’t want. Just hear us out,” Piper added.

Then they all looked to Annabeth and she scooted closer to Nico. “Listen,” she started. “We haven’t been very good friends. We don’t know how to help you when you get depressed. And we shouldn’t be so oblivious to what’s happening with you that you end up in the hospital. We’ve been shitty friends, and we’re sorry. We should be helping you m-”

“Oh my God, please stop,” Nico grimaced. “Where is this even coming from?”

Leo bit his lip and rubbed his neck. “At the hospital, when Will left, he sort of snapped at us. He pointed out that we don’t really pay attention to you.”

“And that’s how I like it,” he protested. “If I wanted help, I’d ask. I didn’t even ask Will for help, he just… forced his way in.” He sighed and shook his head. “Look, you guys got me away from a party when I drank too much. My need to drink has nothing to do with you guys. And I didn’t even tell you guys what I was doing when I got checked into the hospital. There was no way you could have known. You’re not shitty friends, okay? I just stay distanced and I prefer it that way really. So please stop.” They frowned and looked at him uncertainly. Frustrated, he rolled his eyes and continued, “I asked the nurses to stop letting you guys in. And every day they told me you guys were back. Even though I tried to push you guys away, you kept coming back. My phone blew up with a million calls and messages because you didn’t know where I was. And you were all there the second you heard I was in the hospital. Shitty friends would’ve gone on a Spring break road trip anyway.”

He stood and squeezed Leo’s shoulder, glancing fleetingly at the others. “It’s okay, really. Thank you. I’m going to go sleep or something.” He turned away and started for his dorm, trying to shake off the exhaustion from everything about that day.

***

His head was spinning with the flurry of emotions he’d experienced in the last hour. He had chewed his nails so badly at that point that the skin was raw.

Will knocked on Paolo’s door a little too hard and tried to keep each thought in line. When the door opened, Paolo looked worried and Will wondered what his face looked like. “I need help,” he said.

“What happened?” he asked, letting him in.

Will took a breath and told him everything, from getting a call from Percy about Nico missing and finding him, to yelling at him and throwing rocks at him, to the sudden declaration of love, to running away. He was completely talked out, confused, and feeling both pathetic and hopeful.

Paolo had listened the entire time, his facial expressions speaking for him. Doubt and shock and suspicion and concern all crossed his face, and it didn’t settle Will’s nervousness.

“I don’t know what to think, Paolo. I know he said he didn’t mean any of the things he said, but he still said them. And then he decides to tell me he loves me and….” His voice quavered and he took a breath. “I still love him. But he hurt me.”

Paolo stood and put his hands on his shoulders. “It’s no surprise that you still love him, Will. Why do you think you hated him so much?” He bit his lip and sighed. “I want to be supportive. I want to say what you want to hear and tell you to go after him, to give him a second chance.” Will grit his teeth waiting for the second part of that thought. “But I’m afraid he’ll hurt you again. And that you’ll have to go through all of this again with the same person.”

“I’m scared too!” he exclaimed. “That’s why I don’t know what to do. I mean, now he wants me back, but what if he just goes back to saying I deserve better and breaks up with me again? I don’t want to keep going in circles and getting hurt. But I don’t want to give up on him either. Because I know he meant it. I know he did, Paolo.”

His friend furrowed his eyebrows and chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. “Do you have it in you to forgive what he did and try again?”

It was a long time before Will was able to answer. “I don’t know.”

“That’s a no that you wish was a yes.” Will let out a soft breath and shut his eyes. “Don’t force yourself to do something you don’t want to do. If he loves you, he’d respect that, Will.” He ran a hand through his hair and groaned as he sat on Paolo’s desk chair. “Part of me really wants to punch him in the face for springing this on you.”

“Trust me, I do too,” he mumbled. “This is too complicated. It’s not supposed to be like this. Love doesn’t hurt this much.”

***

The next day, Nico walked out to the café to get a breakfast taco and a coffee. He sat outside, smoking a much needed cigarette as he flipped through his song journal. He was on his third cigarette when the chair in front of him was pulled out.

“Can I sit?” Immediately, Nico put the cigarette out and nodded. “I thought you were quitting,” Will noted for what must have been the hundredth time since they’d met. Nico bit his lip, unsure of what to say. “So. I thought about this. You and me.” He took a breath and his blue eyes seemed faded as they looked at Nico. “I can’t….”

“You… can’t?” he repeated.

“Date you again.” Nico’s heart fell to his stomach. He couldn’t bring himself to form any words. “You hurt me too badly, Nico. I don’t trust you the same way I used to. I don’t want to date you again and spend half the time paranoid, wondering if you’ll break up with me again because you’re too upset. It’s too painful. I know that you have problems. I know you suffer with depression and it makes you do things or think things that you wish you didn’t. I get that. But it doesn’t give you the right to hurt other people, Nico.”

“I know what- I wasn’t- Will, please,” he begged, shutting his eyes, refusing to believe Will would walk away from this after everything. He bit his lip and motioned for Will to wait with his hands. He had to form the right words. “Look, I’ve… always believed I wasn’t worth loving okay? I always believed that I wasn’t worth the time, worth the effort for anyone to try. So I figured you never would, and I should’ve cut it off before you did fall in love with me. But that was stupid and I see that now. I know I messed up, but I can fix it. I’ll do anything to fix it. Just please don’t leave me.”

Will’s eyebrows scrunched together as he winced. “I didn’t. You left me. I don’t have it in me to try again when it still hurts this much.”

“I thought you loved me,” he whispered.

“I do. And that’s why…. Listen, I don’t want you to just disappear from my life again. We have this idea of either dating again or ignoring each other, and we don’t have to do that.”

Nico shut his eyes and put a hand against his forehead. “What, you mean the whole, ‘we can still be friends’ thing? Seriously?” Will sighed in exasperation and Nico opened his eyes.

He saw the raw pain on his face. It didn’t look right on him. He deserved to smile and be happy. Nico wanted to be the one to make him smile. To make him laugh again. He wanted that smile from the karaoke night. The smile from their first date. The smile from the first gifts Nico got him. He hated himself for causing this heartbreaking expression on his face.

Slowly, Nico reached over the table and took his hands. “Okay,” he whispered. “I don’t want you to disappear either. And as much as I want you back, I don’t want you to be hurting the entire time. I know what I did. And I know it was horrible. I’m so sorry, Will.” His eyes were focused on him, his cheeks pink from the contact. “Tell me what to do to get you to trust me again. Please. I’ll do anything.”

A small breath escaped his lips and a small, tired smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t know, Nico.” He pulled his hands away and rubbed his neck. “I have to go to my internship. I’ll see you around.”

He stood and walked away, leaving Nico to stare at the seat he’d been occupying in absolute defeat.

For a long time, Nico wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He didn’t trust himself to go back to his dorm. There was a part of him that was angry. With Will for saying that he loved him but not giving him another chance. With himself for having fucked up so badly that the kindest person on the planet couldn’t trust him anymore.

There was a part of him that blamed his depression. It was the part of him that told him he was right. He was unlovable. He fucked up too much. He wasn’t worth it. He ruined beautiful things.

Before long he was in his room, pacing angrily, trying to stop the thoughts racing his head. He wanted to shut them up. He wanted to stop them and stop thinking them because they’re what got him into the situation in the first place.

It was about three in the afternoon when Nico couldn’t stand it anymore. He opened his fridge and pulled out what he had left of his liquor. The first thing he saw was a bottle of tequila and he unscrewed it, pressing the bottle to his lips before the smell hit his nose and made him dizzy.

His hands started shaking and he stared at the bottle.

I knew about you using alcohol to run away from problems.

Nico was tired of running. Tired of giving in to these bottles. He wasn’t helping himself by repeating the same mistakes.

So instead of drinking it, he stood and began pouring the liquor down the sink. He stared as the clear liquid flowed into the drain, mixing with hot water. Then he turned and grabbed the other bottles, even the small collectibles, and dumped them too. He grabbed his wallet and cut his fake ID in half. Maybe that didn’t make it certain he’d stop buying alcohol in the future, but it did make it more difficult.

Then he turned on his laptop and ran his hand through his hair in anxiety and frustration. After a few searches, he finally found a number to call.

He dialed it on his phone and waited for the click. “Hello, this is LifeWorks, how can we help you?” a soft, feminine voice greeted.

Nico swallowed the knot in his throat and tried to ignore the thumping of his heart. “Um, hello. My name is Nico di Angelo and… I’m interested in starting therapy.”

Click Here for Ch. 23

[dumbledearme]

chapter twenty-seven—a childish game

read Child of Land and Sea here

Act IV — To Stop The Tide

Part II — It scared me out of my wits, a corpse falling to bits, then I opened my eyes and the nightmare was me!

The Demeter kids were sweeping out their cabin and making fresh flowers grow in their window boxes. The guys in the Hermes cabin were scrambling around in a panic, stashing dirty laundry under their beds and accusing each other of taking stuff.

Over at the Aphrodite cabin, Silena Beauregard was just coming out, checking items off the inspection scroll. She was nice, but an absolute neat freak, the worst inspector. She liked things to be pretty. Problem was, Andy didn't do pretty.

The Poseidon cabin was at the end of the row of "male god" cabins on the right side of the green. Andy dashed inside and found Tyson sweeping the floor. "Andy!" he bellowed. He dropped his broom and ran at her.

"Watch the ribs!" She asked as he crushed her with his big cyclops arms.

"You okay?" he asked. "I'm glad you're here, Andy. Now we can eat peanut butter sandwiches and ride fish ponies! We can fight monsters and see Anthony and make things go BOOM!"

"I dearly hope you don't mean all at the same time, Tyson..." Andy took a look around and sighed in relief. Tyson had cleaned pretty much everything.

"Oh, my," Silena Beauregard said, entering the cabin. "Well, I had my doubts, Andy. You kind of look like a slob. But you clean up nicely. I'll remember that." She winked and left the room.

In the afternoon, Andy had sword practice with Quintus. The guy was good! Andy was doing her best, but the guy always ended the fight with his sword at her throat.

"You're good," he told her. "But your guard is terrible."

"Have you always been a swordsman?" she asked.

"I've been many things," he answered looking over to where Tyson was playing with Mrs O'Leary, who he called the 'little doggie.'

Andy eyed the mark on his neck and realized it had a definite shape – a bird with folded wings, like a quail or something. "What is that on your neck?" It wasn't a tattoo, she noticed. It was an old burn; like he had been branded or something.

"A reminder," he said. "Now, shall we go again?" and he pressed Andy harder.

Andy was having trouble sleeping, so she sat by the window, watching the sea, until she noticed a strange light in the room. The saltwater fountain was glowing. Rainbow colors shimmered through it, and a pleasant voice was saying, "Please, deposit one drachma."

Tyson was snoring real loud. Intrigued, Andy tossed a coin through the mist. She saw the dark shore of a river and a boy squatted at the riverbank, tending a campfire. The flames burned blue. Nico was throwing pieces of paper into the fire - his old trading cards. He looked older than he actually was. His hair had grown longer; it was shaggy and down to his shoulders. His eyes bared no emotion, as if he was dead inside.

"Useless," he muttered, tossing another card into the blue flames. "I can't believe I ever liked this stuff."

"A childish game, master," another voice agreed. Andy couldn't see who had spoken.

Nico stared across the river and Andy recognized where he was: the Underworld. He was camping at the edge of the River Styx. "I've failed," he said. "There's no way to get her back." He raised his head, waiting. "Is there? Speak!"

Something shimmered. The form of a man, a shadow, a ghost. "It has never been done," it said. "But there may be a way."

"Tell me," Nico commanded.

"An exchange," the ghost said. "A soul for a soul."

"I've offered!"

"Not yours. You cannot offer your father a soul he will eventually collect anyway. Nor will he be anxious for the death of his son. I mean a soul that should have died already. Someone who has cheated death."

Nico's face darkened. "You're talking about murder."

"I'm talking about justice," the ghost argued. "Vengeance."

"Those are not the same thing."

The ghost laughed dryly. "You will learn differently as you grow older."

"Why can't I at least summon her? I want to talk to her. She would... she would tell me what to do."

"I'll tell you what to do," the ghost promised. "Have I not saved you many times? Did I not lead you through the maze and teach you to use your powers? Do you want revenge for your sister or not?"

Nico looked down. "Very well. You have a plan, I suppose."

"Oh, yes," the ghost said, sounding quite pleased. "We have many dark roads to travel. We must start-" The image shimmered. Nico vanished.

Andy stood in he middle of the cabin, listening to the ocean waves outside. Nico was alive. And he would come for her.

Next morning, Andy was having breakfast by herself, (Tyson had already finished), when Anthony and Grover sat with her. "He wants you to convince me," Grover was saying.

"What are you talking about?"

"The Labyrinth," Anthony revealed. It was hard to pay attention to what he was saying since all the other campers were stealing glances at them and whispering that the son of Athena was sitting at the Poseidon table. And Anthony was right next to her, touching her arm and everything.

"Campers aren't allowed to switch tables," Andy said softly.

"Forget that," Anthony said. "Grover is in trouble. There's only one way we can figure to help him. It's the Labyrinth. That's what Clarisse and I have been investigating."

Andy swallowed, trying not to blush. "You mean the maze where they kept the Minotaur?"

"Exactly."

"And... like everything else, it's here in America? Under some building?"

Anthony rolled his eyes. "Under some building? That's the best you can do? Please, Andy. The Labyrinth is huge! It wouldn't fit under a single city, much less a single building."

Andy thought about Nico. "Is it part of the Underworld?"

"No," Anthony frowned. "I suppose there may be passages from the Labyrinth down into the Underworld. But the Underworld is way, way down. The Labyrinth is right under the surface of the mortal world, kind of like a second skin. It's been growing from thousands of years, connecting everything together underground. You can get anywhere through the Labyrinth."

"If you don't get lost," Grover muttered. "And die a horrible death."

"Grover, there has to be a way," Anthony said. "Clarisse lived."

"Barely!" he argued. "And the other guy-"

"He was driven insane. He didn't die."

"Oh, joy." Grover's lower lip quivered. "That makes me feel so much better."

"Alright," Andy said. "What the hell is going on? What's this about Clarisse and a crazy guy?"

Anthony glanced over toward the Ares table. Clarisse was watching them. "Last year," he said, turning to Andy, "Clarisse went on a mission for Chiron."

"I remember," Andy said. "It was secret."

Anthony nodded. "It was secret, because she found Chris Rodriguez."

"The guy from the Hermes cabin?"

"Yeah," Anthony said. "Before he joined the Titan army, he and Clarisse were-" Anthony cleared his throat. "Well, last summer, he just appeared in Phoenix, near Clarisse's house. I mean, something obviously drew him there."

"I'm not sure I-"

"He was wandering around the desert, in a hundred and twenty degrees, in full Greek armor, babbling about string."

"Oh."

"He'd been driven completely insane. Clarisse hid him in her house so the mortals wouldn't institutionalize him. She tried to nurse him back to health. Chiron came out and interviewed him, but it wasn't much good. The only thing they got out of him: Luke's men have been exploring the Labyrinth."

"Why?"

"We weren't sure," Anthony said. "That's why Clarisse went on a scouting expedition. Chiron kept things hushed up because he didn't want anyone panicking. He got me involved because... well, the Labyrinth has always been one of my favorite subjects. The architecture involved-" his expression turned a little dreamy. "The builder, Daedalus, was a genius!"

"Don't geek out on me."

"Fine," he sighed. "The point is, the Labyrinth has entrances everywhere. If Luke could figure out how to navigate it, he could move his army around with incredible speed."

"But... It's a freaking maze!"

"Full of horrible traps," Grover agreed. "Dead ends. Illusions. Psychotic goat-killing monsters."

"Not if you had Ariadne's string," Anthony said with a grin. "She guided Theseus out of the maze. The string was a navigation instrument of some kind, invented by Daedalus. And Chris Rodriguez was mumbling about a string."

"So Luke wants the string?" Andy tried to keep up. "Why? What is he planning?"

Anthony shook his head. "I don't know. I thought maybe he wanted to invade camp through the maze, but that doesn't make any sense. The closest entrances Clarisse found were in Manhattan. I don't understand what Luke wants, but I do know this: the Labyrinth might be the key to Grover's problem."

Andy blinked. "You think Pan in underground?"

"It would explain why he's been impossible to find."

Grover shuddered. "Satyrs hate going underground. No searcher would ever try going in that place."

"Precisely," Anthony said. "However, it is dangerous. The Labyrinth reads your thoughts. It was designed to fool you, to trick you and kill you. Unless you can make it work for you."

"I can't do it," Grover hugged his stomach. "I'm gonna lose it all!" He stood up and ran away dramatically.

Anthony got up as well. "Come on, Seaweed Brain. Follow me."

Andy didn't ask where they were going. She just followed Anthony into the woods. As they walked, she told him about Nico.

"He's summoning the dead? That's not good."

"The ghost was giving him bad advice," Andy said. "Telling him to take revenge."

"Yeah... spirits are never good advisers. They've got their own agendas. Old grudges. And they resent the living."

"He's going to come after me," Andy mumbled. "And the spirit mentioned the maze."

He nodded. "That settles it. We have to figure out the Labyrinth."

"Maybe," Andy said uncomfortably. "But who sent the Iris-message? If Nico didn't now I was there-"

"What are you doing here?" Juniper appeared before them.

"What are you doing here?" Andy asked.

"I live here," she shrugged. "I'm a dryad."

"You live here?" Andy repeated. "In the boulders?"

"In the juniper! Duh."

"We came to see you," Anthony said quickly. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Juniper sniffled. "But Grover... He seems so distraught. All year he's been out looking for Pan. And every time he comes back, it's worse. I thought maybe, at first, he was seeing another tree."

"I'm sure he's not," Anthony assured her.

"He had a crush on a blueberry bush once," Juniper said miserably.

"Really?" Andy smiled.

"Juniper," Anthony took her hand. "Grover would never even look at another tree. He's just stressed out about his searcher's license."

"He can't go underground, Anthony!" she protested. "You can't let him!"

"It might be the only way to help him; if we just knew where to start."

"Try there then," the nymph said, pointing at a crack between two of the largest boulders.

"You want us to go in there?" Andy asked. "Why?" But Anthony simply grabbed her arm and pulled her with him. "It's too narrow!" She complained, but he ducked and started squeezing between the two boulders. Then he yelped and pulled, and Andy tumbled inside after him. Anthony hit the ground and Andy fell on top of him.

They were in complete darkness; their breathing echoing against stone. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes. You pretty much softened my fall." They got up but didn't let go of each other.

"It's a corridor," Anthony whispered. Andy started forward, but he stopped her. "Don't take another step," he warned. "We need to find the exit." He sounded extremely tense. Andy looked up and realized she couldn't see where they'd fallen in. The ceiling was solid stone. "Two steps back," Anthony advised. They moved together and he started patting the wall.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for the mark of Daedalus."

"The what?"

"Got it!" he said with relief. A tiny fissure began to glow blue. A Greek symbol appeared, the Ancient Greek Delta. The roof slid open and they saw night sky, stars blazing. Metal ladder rungs appeared, leading up.

They made their way around the rock and ran into Clarisse and a bunch of other campers carrying torches. "Where have you two been?" Clarisse demanded. "And if you say you were making out in some corner, I'll-"

Chiron trotted up, followed by Tyson and Grover.

"Andy!" Tyson said. "You're okay?"

"I'm fine. We're fine," she said. "We fell in a hole." The others looked at her skeptically, then at Anthony. "We were not making out!" she exclaimed. "Gods, people. Get a life."

"You fell into a hole?" Clarisse asked, suspiciously.

Anthony took a deep breath. "Chiron... maybe we should talk about this at the Big House."

Clarisse gasped. "You found it, didn't you?"

Anthony nodded. The campers started asking questions, but Chiron sent them to bed.

"This explains a lot," Clarisse said, watching them go. "It explains what Luke is after."

"You don't mean..." Andy shivered. "That was an entrance? An invasion route straight into the heart of the camp?"

Anthony turned toward her, his eyes dark with worry, but he didn't say anything else.