I have nothing to do-_-…
Disclaimer: Brittany silently watched her best friend talk to Lathan, the boy she was currently infatuated with, though it would probably change within the week. Lathan was different than the other boy's though. He wasn't swayed by her weird tendencies or the fact that Livi was very likely crazy. He never got mad at her teasing, or the fact that she seemed to enjoy punching his arm, or even the ridiculous nicknames that young Livi deemed upon his poor soul. He was also different in the sense that she was older than him and Livi never like younger guys. Brittany sipped her root beer in amusement, remembering the "Would you tap that" conversation they had, had at her house the weekend before, which ended when Livi said she would tap Sirius Black from Harry Potter. Apparently she liked her men old and on the run. At least, she mused as Livi and Lathan started impersonating chickens, at least she didn't own PJO.
"Momma's Boy"
…
He missed his momma. He missed her bad.
He also missed his sissy, his other half.
They were gone. Both of them, leaving him alone in the world.
He missed the way his momma would tuck him in at night, kissing his forehead, telling him 'sweet dreams'.
He almost forgot the way she smelled (parsley with a pint of lemon).
He most of all missed the way she would pluck him from the ground and sit him on her petite hip, while he wrapped one arm around her skinny neck and used the other to hold Bianca's hand.
There was no one to pick him up anymore, though, if asked if he missed that, he would deny saying that he was too old for being held. Bianca's voice would ring in the back of his head, 'you're never too old to be comforted'.
Now, all he had left of his little family was an action figure and green hat.
He missed the way that when he would get a nightmare, he could crawl into his momma's bed and curl up into her side, while she stroked his hair lovingly, whispering stories of heroes and magic too him. He missed the way Bianca would hold his small hand if he was nervous, making all his fears leave.
He missed her black hair, the way it would tumble down her shoulders and he could lay his head on her shoulder, wrapping his thin fingers in it, just to know she was truly there.
He missed her accent, the way the z's and r's rolled off her tongue, creating a beautiful melody.
He missed everything about her. His heart would ache; it was too much for a twelve year old boy too take.
So, young Nico di Angelo, for the first time since Bianca died, crumbled to the floor and sobbed. He sobbed for his momma, the woman who died because he was born. He sobbed for his Bianca, the girl who died trying to get him something. And he sobbed for himself, the boy who would have to grow up without a home and love.
Yes, Nico di Angelo was a Momma's Boy.
And he was damned proud of it too.
…
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O.o Livi Lou o.O