Disclaimer: I dont own these characters, Rick Riordan does.

Please follow, favorite, and review! Sorry if there are any errors, was written on my phone with auto correct.

The boy lay in his bed practically motionless.

His inky black hair surrounded his head and flipped out at odd angles onto his pillow. His skin was so pale, it was almost transparent. You could trace the veins on his arms and chest like rivers on a map. It was flawless too, he didn't have any blemishes or freckles to make him seem real. The only off putting thing about his face were the eggplant purple bruises under his eyes. It looked like makeup, but for those that knew him, it was a constant reminder that the boys troubles kept him from slipping into any state of peace. His long eyelashes cast shadows onto his cheeks and his thin rosy lips, normally set into a frown or pout, were expressionless.

His nose sloped down and slightly turned up at the end.

That nose didn't fit with the rest of the boy. It was the type of nose that you would expect an innocent child to have, which was the problem. The boy should still have his innocence, but like everything else in his life, was taken away from him far too young. His cheekbones stood out, not from his natural Italian features, but because the boy hardly ate anything. When he was forced to eat, he couldn't hold it down and would eventually throw it up later. People choose to ignore this though and pretended his skinniness was natural. It's not natural to see every rib, to count the vertebrae in someone's spine, or to see the bones in a persons hand. He was a living Skeleton and yet people ignored it.

He was beautiful though, the kind of dark beauty that only some people truly appreciated.

Some couldn't get past his deathly aura and some were to intimidated to even look at him. They only saw a skinny figure, with hunched shoulders. It always looked like he was carrying the world on his back, which to him, he was.

They saw the black in a sea of oranges and purple.

They saw the iron sword stick out against the bronze and gold.

They didn't see a tattoo or necklace marking where he belonged.

Most probably don't even know what he looked like.

Nico di Angelo.

Son of Hades.

Brother of the courageous Hazel Leavesque.

Jason Graces charity case.

Freak.

That was how people identified Nico di Angelo.

A island in the ocean, a stain on a white t shirt, a piece of gum stuck to someone's shoe.

They ignored any signs of the boy suffering, they had more important problems.

Would they be the victim of the next prank pulled by the Hermes cabin? Who would be captain during capture the flag? When would Chiron let them go on a quest? Would they finally be asked out by the child of Demeter they had been crushing on for months? Obviously these things are far more important than worrying about an anti social freak who had anxiety attacks, depression, and preferred the dead over the living. It never occurred to them that maybe this kid might actually need help. Even the people Nico was closest to don't really stop and notice. He acted like he didn't want it or need it but, couldn't that all just be a cry for help?

The boys calm was soon interrupted. It always started with his forehead creasing, drawing his eyebrows together and his lips sinking back into a familiar frown. Then needy and scared whimpers escaped his mouth. It was the sound a baby makes when it needs its mother, unsure if what to do in its first weeks of life. The whimpers evolve though, becoming louder until its screaming.

The screams are terrifying, they radiate so many emotions that when they reach anyone's ears, it makes them want to impale themselves with a sword, or launch themselves into Tartarus. The boy thrashes as he screams, kicking out at anything and clawing at his own skin. He often reopened unhealed self harm scars, drawing blood that would later stain his sheets. The scariest part about the whole thing was his eyes were open. The obsidian orbs frantically searched the room, seeing things that weren't really there. This would continue for a few minutes until his blond super hero came and saved him.

Jason rushed in and immediately stripped Nico from the blankets that were restraining him. He straddled Nico, and held down his arms so he couldn't scratch himself or Jason. He tried his best to ignore the screams and instead focused on calming Nico down. He forced Nico's eyes onto his and would began to count down from 100. It was one of the few successful methods in distracting Nico from his fears.

On good nights, Nico would start counting at 60.

A lot of nights, he wouldn't tune in until 30.

It's happened before where Jason would have to start over. The screaming would stop but Nico would be too paralyzed to react to anything.

Tonight, Nico counted with Jason at 47.

When Nico's raspy voice replaced his screams, Jason released the death grip he had on his arms. Making sure Nico was still, he went to get Nico some water and fresh sheet and bandages. Nico laid on the bed, softly counting to himself until Jason finally came back.
Picking Nico up like a child he placed him on the floor and stripped the stained and sweat soaked sheets.
Nico was still counting.
Jason made the bed and added extra pillows for himself. He then wrapped gauze around Nico's wrists and took off his shirt.
Nico had started back at 100.
Jason wiped the sweat from the boys face and smoothed back his hair. "85,84,83,82,-"
"Shhhhh, drink this..."
Jason raised the bottle to Nico's lips and payed close attention to see if Nico really was drinking. Sometimes, Nico would get panicked and they'd have to start the whole thing all over again.

After the boy finished drinking, Jason picked Nico up with ease and laid him on the bed, quietly humming an Italian lullaby Nico had taught him.

The first night this all started, Jason had left only to come back an hour later to more screams.

Now, he climbed into bed with Nico, always in the same position. He would tuck Nico under his arms and used his body like a shield, protecting him from the darkness of his cabin.

The first time Jason did this, Nico woke up in the morning extremely embarrassed and wouldn't look at Jason for a few days. But, when Jason rushed to his side the next week and laid in bed next to him, he didn't protest.

At this point Nico always started to cry. He never let anyone see except for Jason. They had a bond that no one understood, a mutual trust. Piper and Leo were curious, Jason could tell, but he never brought it up. He also noticed Percy would stare and watch them every time they hung out or talked. Jason didn't know if he was jealous or suspicious but he always made sure Nico never saw him watching. As the boy cried, Jason rubbed soothing circles on his back and continued to hum the lullaby. Eventually Nico's sobs became sniffles until the room was only filled with his labored breaths and Jason calm ones.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
Nico stayed quiet for a long time until he finally shook his head.
"Maybe tomorrow..." He yawned and nuzzled himself closer to Jason, pressing his face into his collarbone. Jason smelled clean, he never had a distinct scent, like Percy did.

Some days he smelled like rain or laundry detergent.

Other times he smelled like the cologne Piper buys him or like her, honeysuckle.

They were good smells and Nico found comfort from them. Sometimes when Jason wasn't there, Nico would lay on the side of the bed that belonged to Jason and inhale deeply. He didn't have a crush on him or anything, the smells just calmed him down.

As Nico drifted to sleep, Jason stroked his hair and adjusted him so that he fit perfectly against his body. It was an intimate position, and Nico didn't doubt that Piper sometimes laid in his arms the same way.

Nico knew Jason worried about him, how he hardly ate or slept, and how he didn't have anyone to support him. He knew Jason was trying to fix him, trying to get his mental state in the same place as the others. They were all messed up, 2 wars are too much for 16 year olds. But Nico was the worst, so far gone it made Jason wonder if he would ever come back. But Jason was persistent and wouldn't give up on Nico. No matter what, he would always be there for Nico, to rub his back and whisper comforts to him when no one else will.

Nico wanted to be left alone, sometimes he even wanted to be hated.

And most of the time, people did.

No one talked to him unless they needed to, and people irrationally blamed him for things. And Nico thought he was happy with that.

But Jason knew that wasn't what he needed. He needed love, support, friends. He needed Jason and Jason needed him.