He was always there every Christmas. He drowned in his own thoughts. He was just like a shadow, dark and unmoving.
And always in his hand was the abandoned black rose.
Jason Grace usually spent his Christmas with friends around the campfire or fighting a monster. He had never felt a wild desire to be alone with his own thoughts, meaning he had never spent his holidays alone. He thought he was the only one.
He was not.
"Alone, Grace?"
Jason's head snapped to the side as he searched for the speaker. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim light, and he could barely make out the silhouette of a gangly, thin boy.
"Nico?" was his reply. The boy neared, and Jason gave a start to see the coldness in his friend's eyes. "What are you doing here?" the Italian asked. The blond boy just shook his head.
"I- I needed to be alo-" Jason stuttered, at a loss for words. The possibility of Nico di Angelo being friendly to him was about as possible as the thought of Nico and Jason having a proper conversation without hysteria.
"Alone," the son of Hades scoffed. "I'm the son of Hades. Alone is my middle name, literally. You, on the other hand, are a son of Jupiter, all great and mighty and bow-down-to-me-because-I'm-the-coolest." Nico's dark eyes held his friend's gaze with a slight challenge, which infuriated Jason.
"I'm trying to enjoy my Christmas, di-shithead-Angelo," Jason said, his voice betraying none of his thoughts. The use of obscenity in his last name seemed to only amuse Nico. "Well, if you thought you could actually be BFFs with me by spending Christmas together, you're wrong," Nico answered smoothly. His voice was stoic as he walked away slowly and Jason could see the shadow taking a seat again at the other side of the beach. He carefully avoided Jason's gaze.
A string of obscenities made their way into the latter's head, but he pushed them away and glared at the horizon. Jupiter, why did that guy have to be such a jerk? This is a free country.
Without giving space for second thoughts, Jason hurled himself into the water. God, if only he was Percy, he could've summoned a hurricane of water and drenched Hades' biggest asshole of a son.
'Is that what you really want, though? Drenching Nico?' A small voice said at the back of his head.
Shut up, Jason told himself. He pulled himself out of the water, and took a second to look did not realise that Nico di Angelo had left the beach.
He also did not realise that the black rose Nico held earlier was right in front of him with a message sketched on the sand.
Merry Christmas, Jason-shithead-Grace. Consider this my present. About my mean words earlier, I won't apologise for it. Send Piper and Leo my Christmas wishes. Today, December 25 1989, will forever be remembered as Night of the Shitheads. Goodbye for now, Grace, and once again, Merry Christmas.
-N.A.
Maybe shithead was a misnomer for Nico di Angelo after all.
