Okay guys, I'm really really sorry, but I have this super big exam that starts in August and it will decide my fate. Not kidding at all. So I have to take leave for a while—once again, I'm really really sorry, but I have to do well for this. I will still write stories after this big exam but now I need to focus on my studies. Hope ya all understand! (This will be the last one for a while)
The lone child of Hades stepped out of the shadows in a deserted kitchen.
Nico Di Angelo is not upset. No. Not at all. He isn't furiously wiping away tears as he spots a birthday card propped up against a cooking book. He isn't bawling like a baby when he takes in the birthday decorations. No. None of that is happening.
Nico reaches down and sets the birthday card gently aside, then flips the cooking book open. He trails his finger down the table of contents, one long, elegant finger stopping at chocolate cakes. The pages blur as Nico flips past to the page he wanted. "Page 243. Ah!" The pages fall open.
Nico leans over the book. He eyes a picture of a delicious looking chocolate cake, but his mouth doesn't water, unlike usual. Instead, pain hits, taking his breath away. It still hurt, so much, after so many years.
Bianca.
His sister.
His dear, very much dead sister. And he pictures her in is mind's eye, feeling familiarity rush through him at the sight of her features once more.
She has black eyes that are like his, so beautiful, always gleaming with kindness and love, and silky dark hair. He loved to run his fingers through it when he was a kid. She is lean, slim, and about average height. He had always teased her that one day, he would be taller than her. She had always ruffled his hair and retorted, "Well, not any time soon!" She never got to see him grow up.
She has olive skin, and always used to wear a floppy green hat that hid her face. Perhaps she was shy, he never knew. And will never do.
And then he pictures her after she leaves him. She has the silvery aura all Hunters have after she pledges herself to Artemis, and doesn't hide behind her cap anymore. She pulls her hair back into a braid like the other huntresses. Her skin glows silvery.
And she was so different, it hurt so much to admit that she was no longer his sister. She wasn't, not anymore. She was now an official member of the Hunt, and no amount of begging and pleading will get her back.
Ever.
But enough of these gloomy thoughts. Nico tries to turns his attention to the recipe, but no, he couldn't.
And then the pain, full force, races through him and Nico dimly wonders why it didn't come sooner. The pain is crushing, the pressure coming in all directions, and he curls into a ball. Dark thoughts taunt him, "You're so weak, so useless, you couldn't even save your own sister, your own full-blooded sister!"
And then he turns into a sobbing, wailing mess, fingers clenching into fists that he beats against the counter, and he just wishes that it would all stop, that it would go away.
And strange enough, it does.
He stands up shakily, and rests his head against the cool surface of the counter.
He knows it is no good to bottle the pain up, but he can't help it. He can't cry in front of Thalia, she was no good at emotions, and would probably just pat his back awkwardly and tease him about it later. Percy…that guy was so protective, he would leap up to help him and gently coax the answer out of him. But he doesn't want that to happen, all he wants to do is to cry the emotions away.
And by the time he's free to cry, the reckless emotion has gone away, with him feeling the tears inside that won't come out even if he drags out the painful emotions. (This 2 paragraphs was kinda based off a part of my diary—I thought it was what Nico might feel, edited it, and put it up here.)
He focuses on the recipe, he knows he only has an hour left. He traces the ingredients with his fingertip, and turns to the cupboards. He pulls out flour, sugar, eggs, chocolate—they even had a huge bar of it in there! He snorts. Guess this is what happens when you go to a famous professional baker's kitchen and use it when they're out.
Nico takes the weighing scale out.
They always baked a cake together. Always chocolate,, always in the same pan. But no, the pan in their hotel suite at the Lotus Hotel was gone, and it would never again be used to bake a birthday cake for a child of Hades again.
His hands speed up as he wills himself not to cry, cracking eggs and weighing flour. As he threw himself into baking, he could almost feel the gentle, soft touch of his sister, guiding him.
And perhaps, just perhaps, that touch relieved some of that aching pain.
-Lines can't be overworked! Let's give them a break!-
He pushes the chocolate cake batter into the oven and he relaxes, looking down at his hands, smudged with flour and smeared with chocolate. He looks at the mixing bowls on the table and sighs. There is a long wash ahead of him.
As he rinses out a bowl, he takes the opportunity to think. Bianca… He had forgiven Percy for not bringing her back, but somewhere deep inside him there was still that small little voice yelling, "You forgave him so easily! No! What about Bianca? HE KILLED HER!" That voice would shout so loudly he felt like his head was echoing with the force of the words.
Everything inside of him begged and pleaded and screamed for him to hate Percy Jackson but he just couldn't. It wasn't because he loved Percy, he had done his best to get over that childish crush. No, however, it was his child of Hades's instinct, to hold grudges, that told him not to forgive, to hate with a passion so deep it stretched into Tartarus.
He fought that instinct to the best of his ability, but there is no way you can deny your own nature, and his will was crumbling, bit by bit. It was at times like this, when he was most fragile, did he miss Bianca. Bianca didn't care whether he was gay, whether he hated his many time savior with a passion—she loved him for who he was, not because he was powerful or a child of Hades or even his brother—she loved him for who he was, imperfections and all.
Done with washing up, he sits at the edge of the counter, legs dangling, staring off into space, not doing anything. He relishes the moment—he has been so busy recently, keeping a watchful eye as the judges of the Underworld (Are they called that?) to make sure punishments were dealt out accordingly and saviors went to Elysium. It had been so chaotic, a group of ghouls had managed to escape from the Fields of Punishment and it had been so difficult to catch them all, a task which Hades, of course, had entrusted to him. It was rare he got such moments of peace.
And gods, then he missed Bianca more than he ever had, he missed their easygoing relationship, he missed the peace they had, and, he knew that she would love him no matter what he became or what he was. He could laugh easily with her, without any of the bitterness he hides now—
"Ding!" The alarm on the oven rang. "Thanks for interrupting my moment of peace, oven," He grumbles as he slides off the counter. He grabs a kitchen glove, recounting with a bittersweet smile when he had once been so excited he leaped to open the oven and how he had screeched in pain as his pale, white flesh touched the hot oven. Bianca had scolded him for days.
"I've learnt my lesson now," he murmurs as he pulls the cake out, wincing at the heat. He lays the cake down on the counter for it to cool and puts the kitchen glove back before inspecting the chocolate cake.
The chocolate cake is fine, a rich dark brown. The aroma curls invitingly into the air—his stomach rumbles. He grabs a knife and cuts it into half. The cake is small, the same size as the other chocolate cakes had been whenever he and Bianca had baked it. He cuts himself a thick slice, almost drooling.
He races for a fork, eager to devour the slice. He can almost imagine Bianca smiling at his enthusiasm, giving him a dirty look when he comes back with only one fork. He deliberates, staring at the other side of the table, and grabs another fork. He cuts a thick slice and even puts it on a plate he grabs for her.
"To chocolate cake and dead sisters," he raises the fork in the air, imagining Bianca smacking his arm playfully on hearing the 'dead sisters'. He then stuffs a bite of cake into his mouth, relishing the chocolate flavor. It doesn't taste the same as the ones they used to make together, but it doesn't matter. It is close enough for him.
Within half a minute, he has demolished that slice and cuts another for himself. He can almost imagine Bianca sitting across from him, shaking her head disapprovingly as she eats slowly, delicately. He knows Bianca has gone for rebirth, that she isn't here with him—she can't be, but just for a second, he smells her clean scent and hears her tinkling laugh.
He hears sound and freezes. Holy Gods of Olympus, he had lost track of time! The mortal is back! He grabs a plastic bag and stuffs the rest of the cake inside. He looks over at Bianca's plate—the cake on it is gone, and the fork looks used. He stays frozen for a second as footsteps draw near, then shakes his head, hurriedly puts the plate and two forks into the sink, and he shrinks back and melts into the shadows as the door opened. The only proof that someone had ever been there was the cutlery in the sink and a smudge of flour on the counter.
Kay, last one—down! Sorry if there are any errors, didn't have time to proofread. That's all, guys, wait till me exams are over for more!