At the start, no one seemed to realise. It would be a little grin over there and a short hug over here. Or at least that's what Nico thought. He thought no one noticed how he had changed, how they had changed him. His friends, a word that had once sounded bitter on his mouth, made him happy.
Nico di Angelo, the boy that once was told by the goddess of misery that he was perfect because he couldn't be more miserable, the boy who wasn't from this era, the son of Hades, the misfit, the ghost king, the boy who walked throw Tartarus alone, the boy who had wanted to die so many times, the boy who suffered the same torment that the God of War had had millenias before, for the first time since her death, he was happy. Thought he didn't show it off that often, little grins and his eyes glowing a little, everyone noticed. Everyone noticed when his pale olive face blushed because of Will's constant annoying attemps to flirt with him. Everyone would notice how comfortable he was around Hazel, how he could smile watching over her shoulder while she drew. How the bromance between him and Jason was growing strong and how he would sometimes throw jokes. He would laugh when Annabeth and Percy fought stupidly about silly things and he would smile when he was near Will, hand on hand, skin touching skin and the skeletal butterflies that had been on his stomach ever since he saw those blue eyes.
Nico di Angelo wasn't really off the verge of his depressive self. Sometimes it would fall hard on him and drown him but every time he had someone to relay on.
And he was suddenly glad he had survived Tartarus. Glad he was alive.