Pairing: One-sided Percico (Because EVERY single author just liked to point the one-sided part. Cruel people)

See my profile for personal comments on how this fic came about and why the characters are such.

Heartbroken words never reached anyone

There should be a limitation as to how much one can hate himself, Percy pondered. Being a demigod – regardless that he was deemed the Hero of Olympus – does not exactly excuse him from committing to mistakes and flaws; many of which only dawned upon him then.

Nico's death strike him excruciatingly in the heart, unsurprisingly the same in magnitude, as he recalled the younger teen's once broken expression upon breaking the news of his sister's death. He had failed to protect Bianca. Now, he had failed to protect Nico.

All casualties affected him equally, as he placed their lives as his responsibility. Or rather, he thought he had weighted them all equally. The pain was there – the devastation from the loss. He generalized his emotions. His mental state could not keep up and classify every single raw emotion as everything drew to a close.

Jason shattered that conclusion – of deaths being of equal value – as they gathered by the Hades cabin the day after the burial ceremony.

Technically, it was not exactly a burial in any sense. The gentle rocking of the gondolas as they were eased out onto the Camp Lake, ablaze and consuming the bodies that rested almost peacefully within each, seemed to sing a lullaby for the dead. A simple burial was unacceptable; an insult. To bury the dead on the very cause of their death – the Earth – was an insult, they all gathered mournfully.

Go out in a blaze of glory. It was respectable, but undesirable. Too young, many whimpered. They had all been too young to die.

Many paid respect to the son of Hades with none voicing out any complaints of how the younger teen was clearly favoured above all. It was only reasonable how Hades and Poseidon and Hazel adorned the demigod's death bed. Poseidon, in gratitude of his sacrifice in order to preserve the sea prince's life, and Hazel, to represent her unconditional love for the brother she had come to know, even if only for a while.

Hades, though unspoken, grieved with an intensity that he had not come to show until then. His son, that scrawny kid that had devoted himself completely, whose father's pride for him was the greatest happiness he could ever ask for, and whom selfishly asked nothing for everything he had to offer… Hades' unspoken pride and joy, the last of his very flesh and blood. Hazel was his daughter, even if only his Roman persona, but Nico… Nico was…

Nico was the splitting soul of his mother, Maria. Nico was a breath of fresh air in that barren world of discrimination and hatred. Nico was his breath of life, like Persephone was his soul.

Hazel grieved for the loss of her brother. Her usual bedazzling golden irises were now lacklustre, and if not for Frank and the presence of others, she might as well have joined her family on the realm of the dead. Jason took Nico's demise just as much; if not, more so than Hazel. Jason's grieving was reflected by the sky, thunder and lightning resounding and flashing on the sky. There had been an unspoken, brotherly bond that existed between the two ever since Croatia. Though presumably one-sided for Jason, the manner by which Jason mourned for the son of Hades – with all the frustration and devastation – was painfully reassuring to Hazel. At the very least, her brother did not die alone, as she saw it. Percy questioned the bond that existed between Nico and Jason, but his mind could not even formulate any thoughts at that point in time as his eyes gazed with remorse at the burning gondola, tiny sparks of flame ascending towards the sky as if welcoming the souls up above. Heaven was non-existent, but Percy would like to believe that an exception could be made for the son of Hades.

So when they gathered in the Hades cabin, Jason hissed – as if his conscience was playing a sick game of tug-of-war on him; his expression torn – of things Nico left unsaid, all dam had collapsed. 'Nico has always loved you', Jason spat 'you' as if his existence was a slap of reality to Jason, as if he was undeserving of the, till then, unspoken love. To Percy, it truly was a slap of reality as every single word tore down all his beliefs.

'He would give the whole world just to make sure that you would live and be happy. No matter how you treated him like a piece of crap, he selfishly devoted his life for you. You, who never glanced at his direction. You, who mindlessly slapped him on the face every single day, flaunting your love and happiness.'

And Jason would have gone on and on, fists tightly clenched and shaking in uncontrollable anger, if not for Annabeth and Piper's attempt at calming him. Attempt being the keyword, as it might have worked if not for the former. Jason snapped.

'You will never know what his emotions or thoughts were like. You were never there when Cupid forced it out of him. I saw everything from his emotions, to your distrust and obliviousness – I saw and experienced the painful details of his life in your presence. He gave you everything, down to his very life. What have you possibly given in return?'

What has he given in return?

Frank, Leo, and Piper were remorseful and silent. Annabeth's expression was unreadable; her stormy grey eyes swirling with dozens of fleeting emotions. Hazel's expression was of complete devastation, as if every word spoken had had her doubt the faith she had on the hero. In Hazel's eyes, can this person still be a hero?

Percy's was… shattered. No word could describe how hollow his eyes were, how broken they appeared to be, much more so than what the damage of Tartarus could have offered. He wished he had seen what Jason had seen; that he had been there at Croatia instead of the son of Jupiter. He could have– He would have–

What would he have done?

'What's worse is that he told me that he could never hate you. I can't come to hate you or Annabeth for being so blind by your love. But that doesn't make it easy for me to look at either of you and relieve the pain in his eyes.'

Jason promptly exited the cabin, and Piper would have followed but Jason needed the space to calm himself just as much as she needed the space to digest what they had found out.

Too late, was a mocking whisper in Percy's mind. Too late.

Percy vaguely recalled himself whispering in a broken voice his apologies and remorse to Hazel, but the camper could not even look him in the eye.

'Go. Please just go,' she croaked in between her sobs and tears, and he could do nothing but walk mechanically out from the walls that seemed to close in on him.

He abandoned Annabeth in front of the cabin, ignoring her worried calls, as he sprinted like a madman towards the lake where the deceased rest in peace. Or so he would have liked to believe.

Nico.

The mere thought of his name had him kneeling before the water, his hands clutching at the cloth atop where his heart rested as his lips parted in a silent scream. Sea-green eyes trembled at the intensity of the pain whilst he grasped desperately for his voice.

Agonizing strings of 'I'm sorry' and 'Please come back' reverberated throughout the vast open space. He pleaded desperately, hoping that a god would be merciful enough to grant the very last thing his heart could ever hope to desire.

'Please give him back.'

But gods were not merciful. Nor is life.

What he would give to take all the pain he had inflicted back. What he would give to sacrifice his life for that one person who had given his entirety for him.

Nico would give him the sun, the moon and the stars if he would have coveted for them. Nico had loved him with an intensity that neither he nor Annabeth, or anyone for that matter, could have loved.

It was excruciatingly beautiful and selfless, and lonely, and so much that Nico was.

Heartbroken words never reached anyone, exactly as his apologies would never reach the boy who had loved so much.

We do not hang onto false pretences of hope as isolation shields us from the pain of complete abandonment. In a way, not hanging onto something was the best way to hang onto oneself. It gives you a twisted sense of wholeness that even love can never conjure.

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finisce l'amore