[a/n] here's the promised update! thanks for reading! [the title is apparently too long so 'loneliness' is misspelled and that's gonna bother me haha XD]

WhovianGeronimo: i'm so glad you love this story! thanks for reviewing!

Marcus Bond: thanks for reading and leaving a guess! great guesses but i decided to choose a character that wouldn't automatically be associated with the color yellow. makes the guessing more fun :)

Ocean abyss: thanks for continuing to stick with this story! i did follow through on my promise to update within the week so there's that haha :) and good guess on which character this chapter belongs to but i felt Jason would've been too obvious to write for; he'll have another chapter, though! also, thanks for always leaving such long and detailed reviews! reading them makes my day and i'll continue to thank you for them haha! i hope you like this update!

Guest: yay you guessed the right character! shout out for you~

congrats to [Guest] for guessing the right character for the color yellow: NICO DI ANGELO.

hope you like this! :)

Significance

a.n. In which colors are so much more than hues of light.

YELLOW—The Acceptance that Erases the Loneliness

NICO DI ANGELO

The burnt drop of marshmallow melted off the edge of the stick. He watched in distaste as the glob of gooey, sticky marshmallow stuck to his ripped jeans, a white spot surrounded by worn-out black fabric.

Brushing the drop of the marshmallow away—grimacing as it only smeared sugar and stickiness across his favorite pants—Nico decidedly plucked the remaining marshmallow off of the stick, tossing it into the flames before the gummy mess got on anymore of his clothes.

A few days had passed since seven teenagers (along with Nico, a calm-and-collected Praetor of Rome, and a war-crazed satyr) had saved the world, and Chiron had felt a celebratory campfire (yes, another) was in order to revel in the new friendship between the Greeks and Romans.

Although Nico hadn't exactly planned to make a run for it and disappear from Camp when everybody's back was turned, he was still forced (read: dragged) to attend the campfire—which is how he found himself sitting in the amphitheater, surrounded by over a hundred loud, talkative, celebrating demigods, while roasting marshmallows.

Grudgingly, Nico had to admit the whole setup wasn't all that bad; yet, after such a grueling summer, a part of Nico (a huge part) wanted nothing more than to slink away into the shadows and deal with his problems alone. The only reason he stayed for the revelries and didn't disappear behind the door of Cabin 13—at least the only reason he would voice openly—was the crazy bunch of demigods he called his friends, who clearly made (and would obviously continue to make) efforts to include him and make him feel at home.

A smaller part of Nico felt compelled to stay for an entirely different reason: a chance to snuff out that nagging yearn for isolation, a chance to see if even an outsider like him could be welcomed with open arms.

The bag filled with giant marshmallows was passed around once more, and as it fell into Nico's arms he silently handed the bag to the next camper without taking one for himself, too lost in thought to bother.

The shadows surrounded him, encompassing him in darkness until even the little fire he'd started—a measly spark compared to the roaring bonfire at the half-blood camp—threatened to be snuffed out. Cold was seeping through his clothes and the fire did nothing in terms of warmth but he refused to return. That place was no home of his.

Nico grimaced at the years-old memory, at the reminder of the scared and hurt little boy he'd been back when every assuring word and sympathetic look seemed fake. He didn't need to dwell on the past, but as his eyes drifted up to the blazing fire in front of him, the past refused to stay in the past.

A single tear splashed down on the roses that lay on the ground, their yellow petals already wilting under his touch just as life wilts before death. The flowers had seemed like a good idea when he bought them—yellow roses, Bianca said, were supposed to mean happiness—but as his fingers left their fragile stems lying in the dirt their color seemed to dull meaningfully. His eyes found the chiseled words etched in the makeshift tombstone, and he hated how the flowers began to stand for something on the opposite side of joy.

Nico shook his head roughly, feeling the concerned blue eyes of Apollo's son beside him that he pointedly ignored. The memory of his sister—and the fact that she was no longer among the living—hurt, of course, but he refused to let the fatal flaw of Hades' children take control anymore. It was a grudge he'd long ago acknowledged and accepted, and he let out a breath as a weight was lifted off of his shoulders.

There were too many questions, too many problems, too many emotions that he didn't want to deal with, that he didn't know how to deal with. They had smiled and welcomed him but he knew they would turn him aside in a second. He was an outsider, someone who would never fit in no matter how hard he tried. So he didn't bother to make an attempt.

Nico tore his gaze away from the blazing campfire—now burning as bright and cheerful as the sun—and focused on the campers gathered around him. The smiles and laughs grew happier, and as the bag of marshmallows was passed around once more, he gave in to the insistence of a particular son of Apollo and grabbed one for himself.

Unable to hold a small smile back, Nico gave in to the memories. They could haunt him all they wanted, but shadows stood no chance against the glowing happiness that had enveloped him.

A pitiful fire, a bright blaze, a wilted flower, a lost burden, a seemingly forced grin, a false sense of safety, a family that stood by his side.

Yellow wasn't the little fire he'd created that served as the closest sense of comfort and warmth he knew anymore, but the blazing bonfire that lit up the amphitheater and chased away the lingering shadows.

Yellow wasn't the wilted yellow roses lying gently beside his late sister's grave, but the warm sense of relief that filled him as he finally let go of the grudge and guilt that had been dragging him down for far too long.

Yellow wasn't the overwhelming cheerfulness of the campers that only served to make him feel out of place, or the false sense of security hiding behind wide and assuring grins.

Yellow was the smiles of his family, the annoyingly-endearing hair of a certain son of Apollo, and a long-awaited feeling of happiness that welcomed him with open arms.

Yellow wasn't loneliness. Yellow was acceptance.

[a/n] next color is green! i'm on winter break so i hope to update soon (including some other one-shots i've been working on). leave a review with which character you think will be [GREEN] and i'll give the winner(s) a shout-out!

also - i'm accepting story requests if there's something you want me to write! leave a review or PM me with a prompt and i'll try to write it (see my profile for the types of stories i'm best at if you want~).

merry Christmas eve to anyone who celebrates it and happy holidays to anyone who doesn't!

-eira-