A/N: In this one Naomi is a daughter of Tyche, goddess of Luck and Fortune. Sorry this one's a bit short. Thanks for reading. Enjoy! And remember, I don't own anything except Naomi okay? Okay.
Naomi POV
"The creek. Midnight." He whispered into my ear.
And then Nico di Angelo was walking away from me without looking back. I stared after him perplexed. Why would Nico want to see me in private? The answer to my question would come at midnight, and pondering it wouldn't speed up time, so I decided to get on with my day at Camp, training and climbing and falling and getting hurt and failing. For a daughter of the goddess of luck, I was ironically unlucky. I kept ambrosia on me, and let's just say I needed it. I ate dinner in silence, making sure I changed my smoking long-sleeved top to a fresh one. I never wore t-shirts in the daytime anymore. It ended up in too many questions, and judgements.
I was anxious about that night, to see what the son of Hades wanted with me. After supper, I pretended that I had gone to bed early, changing into a big t shirt and pyjama shorts but keeping my hair up. I lay in bed, awake with my eyes closed, waiting for the camp to fall asleep. When I heard soft snores throughout Cabin 19, I slipped out of bed, pulled on a cardigan and my Converse, and headed out into the night at a quarter to eleven.
I wandered for a while, deeper and deeper into the forest, past Zeus' Fist. Eventually I heard the familiar gurgling noise and knew I had reached the reek where Nico would be waiting. I saw him, bathed in moonlight, standing at the waters' edge, staring down into the ripples the minnows made. I walked up in silence, and joined him in gazing at our reflections. Next to me, Nico looked like a ghost, with pale skin contrasted by dark eyes and shaggy black hair. Most found him creepy; I found him intriguing, interesting. I was small, and my hair, in its ordinary (falling-out) high-ponytail, caressed my face. The small bits that refused to be tied back floated about me, making me look like I hadn't bothered, which I hadn't. I watched Nico's reflection, and for a millisecond his eyes flickered up and met mine, but then he was staring up at the stars instead. I followed his gaze again, finding all the constellations in the patch of black we could see. Because stars were lucky, and I was a daughter of Tyche, goddess of luck, only I could see the lines connecting the small lights, and they were just as bright as the stars themselves.
Nico turned to face me quietly. Slowly, without a word, he pulled up the sleeves of his aviator jacket. I watched in awe and my eyes ran over his scarred wrists and inner arms in disbelief.
I thought I was the only one.
I saw his cheeks dark a little and his head dropped. I tipped his chin back up with my index finger gently, and pushed up the sleeves of my cardigan silently to reveal my wrists and forearms. His expression mirrored mine, and he took my right arm, tracing the patterns I had carved into my skin with his thumb. His touch made my skin tingle. I pressed myself into him, and whispered,
"I draw too."
A/N: If you didn't understand, Naomi and Nico both cut, but not boring old straight lines. And Naomi doesn't cut because she's suicidal, although Nico does. They cut patterns into their arms, and Naomi does this because she is mesmerised by what she can do to herself. They find similarity and comfort in each other.
They aren't the only ones.
Please don't cut.
