Disclaimer: I do not own Percy or Nico or any of the characters, they all belong to Rick Riordan. I don't own fan art I used for the cover photo, it was made by the lovely juliajm15. :)
Percy's never seen black eyes before he met Nico.
He's seen dark brown to the verge of pure black and gray but never pitch, honestly black eyes and he thinks that's what drew him in in the first place.
And the small murmurs and whispers of the rumors that he heard swirling around the school halls that Nico di Angelo used to have vibrant green eyes seemed to come back to the front of his mind as he watched the boy stumble into the classroom.
Nico doesn't speak when he shakily hands in his tardy note to the teacher who accepts it with slight annoyance which he just barely hides with a crooked smile and Percy watches as the black haired boy shuffles to the very back of the classroom. Percy catches a glimpse of his ebony eyes glued to dirtied tiled floors and the fragile hands on the, now raggedy, straps of his book bag shaking nervously.
Percy's first thought is he'd be fun to mess with.
Percy's never smoked before he met Nico.
Because it was disgusting and risky and unattractive and Percy was anything but those things.
But Nico did it in such a distinguishable, amazing way that he guessed he could change his mind.
His lips were pink when he bothered to look; pouty. The kinds that were typically described as "kissable" in novels and cheesy romance films and he felt slightly guilty for thinking it but he couldn't find it in him to stop staring at them as they held a small, burning little cigarette in between them; drooping a bit to the corner of his mouth where Percy could see a small bruise from God-knows- what.
He had a ghostly sort of appeal, if that made sense.
As he approached the boy, leaning up against the wall and lighting a new cigarette absent-mindedly—as if he had been doing it for years—and tossing a couple of pebbles across the field nearby, it began to surface to mind that nobody really knew what Nico did outside of school. When that final bell rang, it was like Nico di Angelo had disappeared completely. He didn't have friends; not even associates that were available to tell you and no one saw him catch a bus or walk in any direction. But Percy doubted anyone would know otherwise.
"Can I have one?" Percy asks.
And he can tell without having to try very hard that Nico thinks it's a joke; whether it's the little snort he lets slip out of the side of his mouth or the cocked eyebrow; he doesn't believe him.
And Percy doesn't blame him, really.
He's aware of what he looks like; what this would look like to people passing them by; some preppy boy with new a green top, shorts, and perfectly straightened hair with not so much as a strand out of place asking someone like Nico di Angelo for a cigarette.
Nico di Angelo who walks around school with a hunting knife in his pocket; Nico di Angelo who's late for every class on every day of the week; Nico di Angelo with the dead black eyes and pale, paper skin.
Yeah, he was out of place.
"You don't smoke." Nico says with a little laugh at the end and Percy frowns a little in response.
"How would you know?" he tests and the smirk on Nico's face disappeared just as soon as it had arrived and Percy could feel fearful chill run up his spine but he pretended he didn't.
A snarl begins to grow on Nico's pouty lips and he sneers his next reply.
"Because I know people like you." His eyes seemed to get darker, if that was possible. "Now fuck off." He damn near orders and it's more like a warning to Percy than anything.
But, contrary to what's passed around the halls, Percy was never one to follow orders or warnings of any sort. Perhaps he should start, though.
And maybe the next move he made was a stupid one—a completely idiotic one that could fuck up everything and maybe the smart thing to do was to leave and do what Nico said but he doesn't.
Because he didn't really think he could stop himself anyway. Not with those eyes boring holes into him the way they did.
So he takes it upon himself to take the halfway empty box that had been lying at Nico's side and take a cigarette himself, placing the cancer stick between his lips. And he can see the shocked and mesmerized look Nico gives him as he slowly bends down to his level; looking straight into hazy ebony eyes and he mentally confirms that they are, in fact, pitch black and he's hypnotized for only a few seconds when he thinks he see a faint hint of green flicker in them until he lights his cigarette with Nico's.
He lets the smoke fill his lungs and, as his eyes begin to water at the unfamiliar burning sensation, he lets out a weak cough that makes Nico smirk again.
But he lets him have another one.
Percy's never seen cuts before he met Nico.
He's heard about them in books and television—even seen actual pictures of them—some healing while others were fresh—when he strays to the wrong part of the internet but he's never seen them up close and personal, to the point where he could reach out and touch them and feel the rough scar.
Not like he's ever wanted to but it was just sinking into him that it wasn't a myth.
After that first cigarette, Nico had given him another one. And two cigarettes turned to three and around the fourth one, Percy had stopped coughing and hacking and the next day, Percy meets him in the same place, same time with just as much defiance and challenge in him as the first meeting and Nico decides to "put up with him for a while longer"—his words not Percy's.
He shows him how to blow perfect little rings of smoke in the air the next week—"just out of boredom" he grumbles and Percy still messes up—transparent rings eliciting from Nico's lips in a way that mesmerized him and smoke just coming out in plain little ribbons for him but still he tries—if for any other reason just to prove to Nico that he can.
And the week after he shows him how to sneak them into the school—since they get checked at the doorway and how to keep them at easy access—and where to buy the best kind at.
"The ones at those gas stations down the street are shitty. You probably wouldn't be able to tell but if you're going to get some, don't even think about going there. I'm pretty sure the clerk fucks with them anyway."
Percy's pretty sure this is going to hurt him in the long-run but it starts to become relevant to him that he's actually holding conversations with Nico di Angelo without getting a punch in the face; so he decides it worth it for the moment.
Besides, he likes messing with him.
He's found new ways to fuck with him now—as messed up as it sounds. But that was the plan anyway, wasn't it. Mess with him; see what makes him tick. It was a game he played when he was bored and Nicowas the perfect little play-toy. He doesn't open up much but it's the little things that make him see the green flicker through the ebony.
If you get too close to his face—like when Percy lights his cigarettes, he never takes his eyes off Nico's and he has to refrain from smirking when he sees a little red blooming in his face before he pulls away.
If you touch him, he flinches back from you—like a disease and sometimes, and only under his breath, he'll let out little curses or gasps that make Percy snicker. He still isn't sure what makes him do it but it's amusing to watch to say the least.
But, as he lets out another little winding ribbon of smoke, he forgets about the game for a minute.
"Here." Nico grumbles around a newly-lit cigarette and Percy looks down at what the boy is holding out at him and he sees a green lighter in the boy's pale fingers. He smirks a little when he sees the words 'Bianca' carved in the front of it.
"Who's Bianca? Your girlfriend?" he asks Nico, and the boy gives him a sideways glare. That was another thing that pissed Nico off; girls. He doesn't talk about them often but everyone always assumed he was straight.
"You gonna take it or not?" he asks, blowing some smoke out of the corner of his mouth and Percy shrugs playfully despite the slight surprise he was feeling. No punch?
"Maybe," he says. "I think I like the other way better though." He sends a cheeky smile Nico's way and he can't help but note the considerable flush that manages to creep its way onto Nico's face as the boy averts his eyes, Percy following them slowly. They're foggy now; unreadable.
"You're fucking difficult." He mutters, bringing his hand down and shoving the lighter back in his pocket in an annoyed fashion, black eyes hazy and he turns to Percy, using his lips to poke the cigarette out some more and Percy catches his first glimpse of the little puckered pink and red lines on Nico's wrist for a split second when he pulls his hand from his pockets, his long sleeves rolled up a bit.
He leans forward to light his cigarette before speaking again.
"Cat scratches?" he mutters just loud enough for Nico to hear, and despite the nervous thoughts racing in his mind, his voice was completely cool.
"Sure," Nico murmurs as he rolls up his sleeves quickly and Percy swears he can see some sort of cobalt glint in the boy's eyes as he folds his arms, hiding his wrists from Percy's view.
Percy doesn't speak on it further but he does think.
Fucking liar…
Percy's never gotten drunk before he meets Nico.
And despite the alcohol hidden in places that his mom seems to believe are totally out of his reach, he's never been tempted to try it either.
He's aware of its effects and its obvious popularity—especially amongst his classmates, his best friend Grover to name one, the boy always managed to stink of some sort of alcohol when he arrived at school and Percy's still stunned the teachers are fooled by that charming smile of his when beer is damn near radiating off of him—but he's never wanted it. And it's not because he wanted to wait, like some kids who took those educational "DON'T DO DRUGS" videotapes they showed you in primary school seriously, or he didn't approve of it; he just didn't see what was fun about drinking something that turned you into either a slut, a violent asshole, or an absolute idiot depending on what kind of drunk you were. Things like that never really appealed to him or were even mildly relevant in his mind.
But one day Nico brought it into consideration—not like he had a choice in the matter.
His black eyes seem lighter today for some odd reason or another and Percy has to blink twice before brushing it off as a trick of the light. There's a mysterious bottle in his hand and Percy is reminded briefly of brown eyes and curly brown hair when he can smell the familiar scent of alcohol on him and, while he usually scrunches his nose up in disgust when he smells it on Grover, he hardly seems effected when Nico approaches him, bending down to his level—hesitantly Percy might add and he sends a knowing smirk his way.
Nico ignores it but his cheeks are red.
Percy's winning.
"You know what this is?" Nico asks and when he waves the glass bottle around in Percy's face like a person would do a bone to their pet dog, he nods, and goes with it.
"Alcohol." He states almost like he's answering a question in science class and the little pause Nico has after he answers causes red to blossom onto his face for once.
"Such technical terms, Jackson." He still didn't call Percy by his name; his first name anyway and Percy supposed it's because he still didn't consider them friends and maybe it shouldn't have bothered him, but he couldn't stop the little sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. But he only returns it with nicknames of his own until Nico finally called him Percy, which he would eventually. "Neeks" and "Ghost King" to name a few; each one of them causing Nico to turn that lovely shade of red—anger or not, Percy got a point in his mind.
"Whiskey," Nico murmured as he slid down against the brick wall beside Percy, their knees just barely brushing against each other. "Italian whiskey."
Percy raises an eyebrow. "What's the difference between Italian whiskey and regular whiskey?" he questions skeptically and Nico only lets out a low chuckle.
"It's just better." He replies and Percy notices the boy strays away from reasonable answers often but doesn't bring it up.
He takes a long swallow from the bottle and Percy watched mesmerized, his lips just slightly parted in soft 'O' shape unknowingly to either of them as a little of it trickles down the side of Nico's lips and he licks it off greedily just before it can go any further, smiling a bit in satisfaction.
He's still stunned by that little action as the cuts become visible again when Nico extends the bottle to him and he doesn't show the sickening feeling he's having when the boy speaks.
"Your turn." He says blankly, as he does everything, and Percy gives him a cynical glance.
"You expect me to drink after you?" he asks him, his tone incredulous as Nico shrugs in response. Percy notices that nothing seems to really matter to Nico—nothing that happened around him was of any importance. The color in his eyes never changed; never flickered and the corners of his mouth never curled into a smile or droop into a pout—everything stayed just as lifeless and uncaring as his ebony eyes.
"Why not?" he asks, snapping Percy from his thoughts, his tone sounding as if it's so normal and Percy snorts before blowing out a ring of smoke that he had finally gotten the hang of doing after weeks of trying—if only to best Nico.
"Yeah, not happening." He scoffs in that tone that Nico so tauntingly began dubbing as "bitchy"; not like he cared, not really.
"The cigarettes are one thing; that's another."
It's silent for a moment before Nico draws the now halfway empty bottle back to him and Percy supposes he goes back to drinking it by himself when he can hear what's left liquid plopping to the bottom of the bottle loudly as Nico chugged it down.
What happens next catches him off guard.
"Dude!" Percy shouts when Nico snatches the cigarette from his mouth and tosses it into the grass without any warning. When Percy turns his head to glare at him, his expression obviously demanding an explanation, Nico's face stays solemn but his eyes flicker with something Percy can't quite read.
And it's honestly frightening. Percy knows this is his game, but Nico has this intimidating air about him—whether it's the dead eyes or the glimmering hunter's knife in his pocket, Percy doesn't know what it is.
And before Percy has a chance to make a smart little remark—anything to piss the boy off for turning the tables on him, Nico's hand is tangled in his hair, fingertips brushing against Percy's scalp and pulling forward and their lips smash together quicker than Percy can process.
Needless to say, he's dazed. So much that he doesn't even dare to move; barely even breathing as his wide, startled green eyes stare into Nico's teasing dark ones; it's like they're looking into him and Percy feels way out of his comfort zone—where he's vulnerable and the play-toy and where Nico's eyes are smirking at him in awareness of that. They seem to be almost challenging him to pull away but Percy doubts that even if he wanted to, that he could with the death grip Nico has on his, now messy, black hair.
He makes the mistake of gasping when Nico bites his bottom lip and before he knows it, Nico's tongue is flicking against his and the taste of Italian whiskey is spreading throughout his mouth like wildfire.
When he lets out a small little whimper of protest, he can practically feel Nico snickering into his mouth; creating little vibrations that send chills throughout his body and he grabs onto the collar of Nico's shirt to keep from moaning—he wouldn't give Nico anymore satisfaction than he was having right now.
He doesn't really count this as officially getting drunk but he can feel his eyes beginning to close all on their own and his body beginning to go limp as Nico sits down the bottle and wraps his arm around Percy's waist, his fingers teasing the few centimeters of bare skin between the top of his jeans and the hem of his dress shirt with the tastes of smoke and Italian whiskey filling all of his senses.
Nico pulls away right before it can escalate any further and Percy gasps at the feeling of fresh air.
"What was that about not drinking after me?" he whispers and Percy can't even give him a proper smack after that.
Percy's never really had secrets until he met Nico.
Percy Jackson didn't have things to hide; no dirty lie he's ever told in the past or some crazy stunt he did and never spoke of again. Everything he's done is out and the open and what people make of it is entirely their concern; not his. He got rid of secrets because it was too much work trying to keep them.
But what he and Nico do after school is strictly confidential.
They don't speak to each other in the halls; they don't sit too close in the classes they happened to have together; they didn't even so much as glance at the other if they happened to be in the same place—alone or not, nothing happened between them behind the steel doors of the school. Here, they weren't even alive to each other—not relevant or important at all.
And it was a bit of a silent agreement, there was no day when Nico or Percy just got up and said, "Hey, don't tell anybody about this." Or "Don't talk to me at school." It was just something that they just kind of did automatically and neither of them really objected, just went with it and when the final bell rang, they were both behind the school, talking around the cancer sticks in their mouths and going back and forth in this little game that only Percy knew about.
And Percy never really thought much of this little routine until Grover—fucking, drunken, trashy idiot Grover Underwood—decided to fuck with it.
"He's kind of weird, isn't he?" Grover said to Percy under his breath one day at lunch.
It had been a week since the kiss and Percy was still recovering.
They both sat at the circular table in the corner of the lunch table, it was the broken one with a crack going down the middle, symbolizing the riot that had occurred here a few years back. Percy supposed it was "their" table so to speak but he thought it was only because no one else wanted to sit at it. It started with only him and Grover until the middle of the year and the other two chairs seated at the table became occupied.
Annabeth Chase, ex-cheerleader and Percy wouldn't have even spoken to her, even acknowledged her existence and probably just brush her off as another whore like the rest of them if it wasn't for the fact that the only reason that she was an ex-cheerleader was because she punched the quarterback, the fucking quarterback of the football team, for flipping her skirt. Percy had respect for girls who didn't take shit like that, so why not sit with her?
Frank Zhang was another regular as well and if Percy had any word to really describe the kid, it'd be fidgety. He kept a permanent blush on his face and, ever since he cut his much longer hair, it was more visible and Percy could make more fun of it than usual. He wore his jackets and zipped it all the way to the very top and Percy was sure, that if it wasn't for Grover living next door to him, he'd show up at school with his pants up to his nipples and little red suspenders to make it all the worse. His hands shook in a way that reminded Percy of a certain little black eyed devil as he lifted his carton of milk to his lips.
Percy took a deep breath, averting his eyes before his thoughts went to a place they were not supposed to wander to.
"Who's weird?" he mumbled, curling up his lip in disgust as he poked at the cold spaghetti on his tray absentmindedly to which Annabeth snickered at.
Grover motioned his head to somewhere across the cafeteria, a small smirk almost identical to Percy's appearing on his lips, as Percy followed where he was looking.
"Nico?" he questions and his heart thumps a little at the realization that he just called the boy by his first name with such familiarity.
He's mentally praying that no one caught that but it's obvious luck isn't on his side today as Annabeth and Grover's eyes immediately snap to him, clear shock and confusion in them. Frank is too engrossed in trying to figure out who Nico was to even acknowledge Percy, thankfully he thinks.
"You know him, Seaweed Brain?" Annabeth asks and Percy flinches a little at her tone. He liked Annabeth, she was his friend and at one point—when he was twelve and just discovering the female species—he had small crush on her but it faded after about a year (and when she punched him in the face after he asked her out but that wasn't important).
But the way she spoke and how she, like someone he knew, refused to call him Percy made images flash through his mind and he bit his lip to keep from showing what he felt.
"No," he lies, voice calm and smooth from years of lying to his parents thanks to Grover's influence. "I just heard his name before, that's it."
Annabeth nodded but he doubted she believed a word that came from his mouth but he was fine with that—as long as she didn't bring it up anymore. Grover shrugged it off similar to Annabeth and spoke up again.
"Yeah, him. He's a little strange, isn't he? I don't think I've ever seen him talk to anybody." He mutters and Percy, knowing Grover since diapers, knew it wasn't at all because he cared—more like intrigued much like the way Percy was and still is.
"I'm sure he talks to some people." Percy says, pushing the tray of cold food away from him and what he says wasn't a complete lie if he thought about it. He did talk to him after all.
"I doubt it," Annabeth scoffed. "I heard he cut the shit out of Jason with a fucking hunting knife or something when he tried to make a pass at him." Percy saw a little grin beginning to play on the girl's lips as she recalled the incident.
Her and Jason never did get along; not since primary school when he cut off one of her pigtails in art class and him pushing her off the monkey bars two days after sure didn't help the relationship one bit. And, even now, they'll bicker in the hallways and classrooms—anytime they saw each other, shit just blew up and everyone kept their mouths shut unless they wanted to get dragged in the middle.
Percy could hear Grover chuckle under his breath and he noticed that he never took his eyes off the boy not once the entire time. He didn't know what it was but he really didn't like the look in his eyes.
"Interesting…" Grover mumbled, a mischievous smile coming into full view and Percy didn't notice how tight his grip was on his fork until he felt an icy cold hand fall on his arm and it slipped from his fingers, bent slightly.
His eyes met Frank's concerned, brown ones and he couldn't help but imagine black as the boy began to speak, just loud enough for Percy to hear as Grover and Annabeth were distracted.
"Are you okay?" he whispers and Percy's heart is thumping in uneven beats as his breath hitches.
His eyes.
"Yeah," he murmurs. "I'm fine, Frank." He turns his head to avoid looking at him any further, the inside of his lip bleeding from biting it to refrain himself—from what, he still wasn't sure.
He could almost feel the pout forming on Frank's face before the boy lets it go, pulling away and, while Percy is positive it meant absolutely nothing, he could feel Frank drag his fingertips across his skin as he does and it causes butterflies in his stomach.
Fuck.
Percy's never was really unsure of anything before he met Nico.
Of course, there were some algebra problems he got stuck on for about ten minutes on his homework every once in a while and there were the few times where he had to do a double take before he could clearly understand whatever the hell Grover was slurring when he staggered in his house at god-knows-what-time in the middle of the night—or maybe it was the early hours of the morning, he couldn't tell anymore. He just knew if his parents were awake, they'd be pissed.
But, it was the other things that he never had to question.
Like his feelings about things—was he in love, who was his friend, could he trust this person or where he was going in life; what he wanted to be, what he wanted to do. Everything seemed so obvious to him and so simple to answer, no questions, no hesitation.
He guessed he just kind of had it all figured out from the start.
It was kind of inevitable with the way his parents hammered down on him all the time. Being the oldest meant setting an example; being responsible; being something he wasn't just for the sake of image.
"Tyson looks up to you."
"Don't disappoint me."
"You're the oldest, act like it."
He could feel his teeth sinking deeper into the flesh of his lip as he thought about it.
And, to be completely truthful, it never really bothered him until now.
It never really mattered to him that they basically threw everything on him and just expected him to mature and become this amazing, flawless, do-no-wrong young man that he supposed they always wanted to claim as their son and he took the responsibility without much protest or issue but, as of recent, it was becoming harder and harder to maintain it.
He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol messing with his brain cells like the public service announcements always said it would do or if it was just those typical teenage issues that he saw and heard of on TV and in the never-ending gossip of the student body finally, finally hitting him after sixteen years but his mind felt hazy about everything—school, friends, family, reputation—he didn't know what he was doing or even thinking anymore now and he felt lost.
And his only solace could be found in the only person to blame—because certainly it was never Percy's fault, was it?
And even then, he didn't know what the hell he was doing.
The next time he saw Nico, he could see his eyes glinting with something unreadable—a cross between mischief and anger and what could only be perceived as lust—which one, it wasn't sure but it made his heart thump in both fear and anticipation.
He almost felt the need to turn around and run away right then and there when he the crunching sound of the gravel underneath his shoes made Nico turn his head—he was never startled, never jumped or particularly surprised and was always calm about everything despite his fragile appearance.
He took a nervous gulp as dark eyes began roaming over him; examining him like he was some sort of science experience from his russet hair to his poker-face scowl and disheveled school uniform and Percy felt funny under his stare.
But, in his mind, this was still his game so he continued to walk closer as he always did since Nico had this thing about personal space and Percy loved to piss him off.
He kept his face just as emotionless as Nico's but Percy didn't know if it was perfect due to the million emotions he was hiding behind it.
"Your hair is messy today." Nico states when Percy slides down the wall and takes a concrete seat on the ground beside him, just close enough so their knees are touching and Percy isn't aware that Nico doesn't flinch anymore.
He snatches a cigarette from Nico's pocket and lights it with a lighter this time much to Nico's interest and surprise.
"I couldn't find my straightener, sue me." He grumbles in reply to Nico's earlier statement, blowing smoke out of the corner of his mouth as Nico stifled a laugh poorly, smirk still forming on his face.
Percy gives him a skeptical glance.
"You're awfully chipper today, Ghost King." He mutters, earning an uncaring shrug from Nico.
"I'm not allowed to be?" he questions and Percy almost wants to blurt out "NO! BECAUSE YOU NEVER ARE! THAT'S MY FUCKING JOB!" but decides that'd be a bad idea so he shakes his head instead.
He notes the air is pretty awkward with them.
"No, it's cool." He says and it's an obvious lie as he holds his hands up in defense. "Just a bit…weird."
He mutters the last part but Nico visibly catches it as an unfamiliar smile etches onto his face, lighting it up in a way as Percy can clearly see all the features in the boy that he had missed before. His skin isn't as pale and white anymore—like a ghostly porcelain, it's tanner now, not too much but enough and he can see little red freckles along the bridge of his nose and the black bangs of his hair poking out from under his cap as Percy notices he's let it grow.
But most of all, Percy swears he can see cerulean green in his eyes.
He blinks before it's gone.
"Yeah, I guess it is." Nico replies around the cigarette and it's silent for a brief moment between them, Percy still mentally pondering what he just witnessed, before he speaks up again.
"Your friend had a little talk with me, today." He states, the tone in his voice casual and blank. Percy feels something inside him twitch when he says that but he follows along.
"Which friend?" he asks, tone perfectly identical to Nico's but he's pretty sure he has a good idea.
"The curly-haired one," Nico says. "Grover, I think. He's quite the flirt, isn't he?"
Percy isn't sure what it is he feels building up in his chest but his knuckles are turning white as he clenches his fists and he's pretty sure he's about to tear the cigarette in his mouth from biting so hard.
"He charmed you, huh?" he asked and he tried to make it sound like a joke but it came out more gritty than he intended.
"Nah," Nico says after a while, dropping his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it, rubbing it into the gravel with blank eyes. "Not my type, to be honest."
Percy doesn't know why he's so surprised when Nico says that, but he was.
"Not your type, huh?" he laughs and Nico nods, a small grin on his face—no doubt from the whiskey he's drinking beginning to loosen him up but it still makes Percy's hear thump just a little bit.
Mischief is flickering in Percy's eyes now as he remembers all the things that make Nico blush and he scoots closer to the boy, his hands moving discreetly up his arm and a devilish grin plastered on his face as he whispers the question into his ear.
"What is your type then?"
He can't help the little satisfied chuckle when Nico shivers. He knows Grover could never do this.
Percy decided to count this as payback for that little unannounced kiss Nico managed to slip in on him a few weeks back but he's caught off guard when Nico begins to snicker before rasping his reply in a voice that made Percy's breath hitch.
"Maybe that little cute cheerleader he brought with him."
Annabeth's image flickered in his mind for one split second before he reacted thoughtlessly; hooking his fingers under Nico's collar and literally slamming the boy into the brick wall behind them. He's only slightly fazed by the chinking noise he hears as soon as Nico makes impact into the wall and the blade he can feel against his Adam's apple.
They're glaring at each other for a long while—words being spoken through their eyes but not voiced with their mouths—before Nico breaks it and Percy takes notice that his eyes looked darker than he'd ever seen them.
It gave him chills.
"What's your deal, Jackson?" he almost sneers and Percy returns it with a question of his own.
"What's yours, di Angelo?"
It's about to be another stare-down before Nico begins to smirk.
"You're jealous…aren't you?" he seems almost close to laughing after he asks the question and Percy can feel the nerves in the pit of his stomach going crazy now but he doesn't show it—not much anyway.
"Jealous of what?" He plays dumb.
Nico's snickering now, a bitter kind of edge to his laugh before he speaks again, tone low and teasing.
"You like Italian whiskey, Percy?" he taunts and Percy knows exactly what he means.
His eyes grow wide and as he pulls his hand back, fist clenched and he's not even thinking anymore as he brings it down full force.
The knife swipes at his face and there's a brief stinging sensation on what feels like his cheek before he releases the boy and slaps his hand onto his face.
When he draws back, there's a long crimson stain in the lines of his hands; reddening his fingerprints. He glares at Nico immediately and the boy is just grinning at him, obviously proud of his work.
Percy remembers he looked like that when he cut Jason's too, but Jason's cut was far worse.
"Fuck you!" he shouts as he feels blood trickle down from his cheek and Nico cocks his head.
"What time?" he responds and Percy doesn't even have a clear reply to that as he just gapes at him.
There's about a foot between them as they just glare at each other, Nico's clothes now dirty and unkempt from the dirty school wall and Percy's grip on them and the red liquid from Percy's gash was now dripping onto the concrete, mixing in with the rainwater that had yet to fade in the potholes on the concrete.
Percy isn't sure who made the first step and shortened the distance between them but he felt as if his game had truly began to twist and turn into something else.
He doesn't even try to stop Nico when he rubs his thumb across the cut, the salt from his fingers making Percy flinch but he doesn't move his hand away at all.
Percy can't see the expression in his eyes because he's refusing to look at him, his head turned and big green eyes glowering at his reflection in the puddle. He looks like a mess; worse than he ever has.
"That hurt?" Nico's tone sounds somewhat concerned but his hand feels nervous on Percy's skin, shaking slightly.
Percy takes a slow glance to what he can see of the little slits on Nico's arm, darker now and some having faded but they were still scary to look at.
"Probably not as much as yours." He murmurs and Nico doesn't even try to hide them now, just gulps a little as he lets Percy fingers trace over the cuts on his wrists.
"…I'm sorry." He whispers and Percy nods in reply; maybe an apology of his own but they don't speak on it.
"…What's going on here?" he asks, and he isn't sure why he thinks Nico would know—like he had all the answers but Percy supposed someone had to.
They just had a fight, so to speak—Percy was bleeding right now and Nico probably had bruises on his back from the impact it made with the brick and now they're touching like none of that just happened, like they were friends, like they actually gave a damn. They weren't supposed to care.
Percy felt sick.
This was crazy; all of it.
"Not sure," Nico replies honestly, shrugging as he did so. "You wanna stop?"
When Percy doesn't respond, still staring at the cuts and mind racing with thoughts that maybe he should've considered from the start, Nico tries again.
"Percy."
Percy blinks before his eyes go wide at the realization that Nico didn't call him "Jackson" and he whips his head around to face Nico, seeing his dark eyes again which looked softer now, lighter and mesmerizing him and making him feel weak so he responds. He still isn't sure whether or not he regrets the answer.
"No."
Percy feels drunk again when Nico pulls him in.
Idiot.
Percy's has never been anything but a winner until he met Nico.
And the realization doesn't hit as hard as he thinks it would.
His hands trace over the cuts again the next time they see each other. And they're both marked up this time with purple bruises decorating their necks and even more hidden by their clothes and Nico only flinches a little bit at the sudden touch.
"You never told me where these came from." Percy says to him, voice sounding intrigued and he's noticed that they're fading now to a soft pink that almost blends in with Nico's skin tone.
"You never asked." He replies and Percy glares at him.
"Well I am now."
Silence. Then a sigh.
"It's stupid but," Nico starts, setting down the whiskey bottle and finally rolling up his sleeves to the elbow where Percy can see each and every one of them—angry, jagged red and brown lines from the wrist up and it made his stomach sink.
"I was pissed at everything. I hated school and I hated people; the feeling was obviously returned. I didn't know what else to do and there was a razor right there so, why not, right?" he laughed bitterly at that and Percy averted his eyes. He felt sorry for even asking now.
"But I don't need to cut anymore, so, it's not even important now." Nico adds casually, picking the bottle back up and bringing it up to his lips.
It was silent as Percy pondered what Nico said, watching his movements as he always seemed to do with blank eyes and his lip between his teeth thoughtfully.
"Why don't you need to cut anymore?" he finds himself asking—just out of curiosity he thought.
Nico pauses for a moment, swallowing the last bit of the alcohol before dropping the bottle, a piece of it cracking but not shattering completely.
He smirks.
"Because I screwed you."
And despite its obvious double-meaning and Percy's cue to hit him, Percy couldn't help but gasp at the sight of grass green—the green he heard about in songs, in books, in movies—in Nico's eyes.
Percy didn't have time to wonder if it had been there the entire time or if this was some sort of magic before the taste of Italian whiskey was back on his lips.
His last thoughts were that he had actually lost.
A/N: Some of the characters here are OC. I'm sorry. Hope you enjoyed it, though! Please review. :)