PERCY

Mokena- Real Friends

He's still in my arms when I wake up.

I'm completely shocked to find him there, curled up against my side and fast asleep. I half expected…no, I fully expected him to be gone by the time I woke up, along with the other bottle of vodka he'd brought. But, apparently that wasn't the case.

I crane my neck to the side carefully, not wanting to shift too far and disturb him. I catch sight of the alarm clock. It's only 8'oclock, still pretty early considering how late it'd been when he showed up.

I sigh and bite my lip, unsure of what to do.

Part of me wants to stay here forever, surrounded by all these impossibly comforting sensations. The weight of his head on my chest. The scant amount of warmth rolling off his body. The soft puff of his slow, deep breaths against my neck. I'd forgotten just how good it felt to sleep next to someone. It'd been months since…since…

No. Deep breaths…don't think of her. Think of him, focus on his breathing and his presence right next to you. You don't want to wake him up, right?

But…but he'll have to wake up eventually and I could take this as a chance to do the right thing. I still have time to slip out of bed and run down to the dining pavilion to grab two plates of food, for the both of us because gods know we need to eat. And I could run them back up here with the hope that Nico won't wake up while I'm gone. And then…we can talk? I can try to convince him to stick around?

I don't even know if that's possible at this point. He's been gone for so long, and not just the past few weeks. He's always been a wanderer, always in and out of camp, never quite fitting in or getting used to the routine.

I just don't know I can find the words to make him stay; I don't know if anyone can. If anything, maybe Will could convince him…but that would me turning him back towards Will…and away from me.

And for some reason, that makes me feel sick.

I take a deep breath before finally making up my mind. I'm gonna go get food and I'm going to sit Nico down and convince him to talk to Will so that he'll stay at camp where he'll be safe and where…where maybe I can talk to him too.

I slowly shimmy out of bed, glad that he's the one closest to the wall. He barely seems to notice I'm gone, only grumbling a bit when I have to pick his arm up off my chest. Without me in the bed, he flops over onto his stomach, legs kicking weakly under the blankets as he gets comfortable again. I should probably make this fast…

I walk over to my dresser and fish through the drawers until I find a set of clothes that aren't too dirty. I turn to look over my shoulder one last time, just to make sure he's still asleep, before stripping and changing.

I slip out the door, making sure to shut it quietly instead of letting it slam like usual. There don't seem to be a lot of people around the cabins at this point, so they must already be eating. Ideally I would've woken up just a little bit earlier, just in time to grab some food without having to face basically the entire camp. But there isn't much I can do about that now.

Nobody approaches me at first, and I'm left to fill up my plates in peace. Well, people are watching me, of course, but that's kind of expected at this point. I fill up my own plate, though the portion size isn't close I used to eat. Still, it's pretty impressive that I'm willingly eating breakfast, even if it's because I know I have to as opposed to actually being hungry.

I'm not entirely sure what to get for Nico though, so I fill the plate up with toast and fruit. I feel like I'd seen him eat that before, but they seem like safe options regardless. Who doesn't like toast?

I've neared the end of the buffet line before Jason gets up to talk to me. He stands awkwardly near the little boxes of cereal, pretending to be interested in the brightly colored stacks, like he's trying to choose one.

"Hey," he tries, obviously unsure of how to approach this whole mess. It's been days since I last saw him. I end up nodding in response.

His eyes narrow in on the two plates in my hand, one piled with bacon and eggs, the other with toast and fruit. It's not really a lot of food to most people, but I can see why Jason would be a little confused at me eating so much. But I'm not about to reveal Nico's secret, so I'll have to come up with a lie.

"Just…hungry is all," I answer lamely, shifting my weight from foot to foot, trying not to seem too awkward.

"Uh, that's good then," he replies, briefly making eye contact with Piper, who was sat down a few tables away. She raises a questioning eyebrow in return.

"See you around," I stutter quickly, steering myself down the center aisle while his back is turned. It's definitely, well, frowned upon to take food out of the dining pavilion, but people tend to do it anyway. At this point, I'm even more liable to get a pass on it.

By the time I made it back to my cabin, Nico's already awake, curled up on his side, facing the door.

"I brought breakfast," I say, awkwardly holding the plates up a little.

"Not hungry," he mumbles,

"Believe me, I get the whole 'not being hungry' thing, but you should really eat something," I reply, brow furrowing with concern. He definitely looked like he could use it, and it's not like I've brought him a massive breakfast. His plate is just toast and some fruit, that's all.

"I said I'm not hungry," he mumbles again, burying his face in my pillow.

"C'mon, at least try."

"I really can't," he chokes out, . "If I ate that much…it'd just come back up."

"I...wow. H-how long?" I ask, throat going all thick as I sit down next to him. He scoots up into a semi-seated position to join me, body still wrapped up in my thick comforter.

"Dunno," he shrugs, dropping his eyes in shame. "Haven't been normal about it in a long time, but it got…it got a lot worse after Tartarus. Couldn't keep much of anything down after...after basically starving and well…still can't."

I glance at him again, my eyes scanning up and down his body. It's the first time in a long time that I've gotten to see him in decent light without any other distractions. Sure, he's thinner than I ever remember him being. And he's always been a small kid but...but the way his collarbone, exposed beneath the neckline of his baggy t-shirt, strains against the pale skin can't exactly be considered healthy. Still, it doesn't seem to add up. The image in front of me doesn't exactly line up with someone that's gone nearly two months without a proper meal.

"I do eat," he mumbles defensively in answer to my unasked question. "Just…not a lot…and not often. And…it's mostly just ambrosia. That's the only thing keeping my body from going totally haywire, according to…to Will. It was supposed to be a temporary fix until we could start reintegrating food but…yeah."

"You know that's kinda crazy, right?" I reply, unsure of what I could possibly say at this point. What he's doing is absurdly dangerous, but it's not like I have any better advice. If Will thought it was a decent plan, then it couldn't possibly be that bad. Still, I snatch a piece of dry toast off his plate and hold it out to him, urging him to at least try.

"I don't even know why I'm telling you this," he sighs under his breath, nibbling at the corner of the toast.

"Because…you probably need some to talk to," I venture after a long pause, sparing him another quick glance. I really don't want to presume why he's here, but I have to try something,

"Yeah, and who have you been talking to?" he bites back, a hint of venom seeping into his voice.

I frown at that because honestly...it's not like he's wrong. I know that I've been shutting myself out and that it's probably not the best thing for me to do. I...I know that nothing I'm doing is ever going to help me move on. I just don't feel like I have anyone to talk to anymore.

"Sorry. I…shouldn't have snapped like that. I'm just…I don't know," he trails off, listlessly gesturing with his hands. Sighing again, he leans over the edge of the bed and scoops up his abandoned backpack. After a few seconds of pawing through its meager contents, he pulls out a battered carton of cigarettes and a Zippo. He smacks the pack against his palm a few times before slipping one out and immediately depositing it between his parted lips.

"Want one?" he mumbles around the cigarette, shifting it to the corner of his mouth for a moment while he shakes out a second.

"Nah, I'm…uh…good. I've never really tried."

"No better time than the present," he replies offhandedly, placing the cigarette in my hand regardless of whether I actually wanted it in the first place. I roll it between my fingers for a moment while he fumbles with the lighter, which doesn't seem to be working. After a couple tries he gives up and curses softly under his breath. He tosses the lighter away in annoyance, metal clanging as it skids across the hardwood floor and hits the far wall.,

"I don't suppose you have a lighter?" he ventures, groaning as he leans his head against the wall.

"Uh, gimme a sec," I reply, hauling myself off the bed. I'd hidden the weed Oliver had gifted me weeks ago at the bottom of my dresser drawer, too paranoid to keep it anywhere else and entirely too nervous to use it. I fish through the contents of the outer Ziploc bag and pull out the lighter. It's a cheap, plastic Bic one, but it'll get the job done. I toss it towards him, and he expertly lights the cigarette with a practiced hand.

"Thought you don't smoke," he muses, eyebrow raised, as the first puffs of smoke swirl above him. He holds the second out to me, it's tip glowing softly.

I settle back down next to him, our knees bumping together awkwardly. I watch him, side-eyed, for a minute as I try to memorize his motions. Once he's taken a few drags, I try to mimic what I watched him do. I thought it would be fine; it couldn't possibly be that hard.

I was wrong. Instead, I end up hacking up a lung, gasping for breath.

And he chuckles. He actually chuckles at my misfortune. It's weak and throaty and devolves into soft coughing by the end, but I'm immediately taken aback by the sound. It's not the kind of thing that should be coming from him. Nico doesn't laugh; he doesn't even smile most of the time.

"Guess you weren't lying," he wheezes, shaking his head as the last remnants of his laughter fade away. He takes the time to explain the actual mechanics of the whole thing. It takes a few more tries before I get the hang of it, but eventually I manage a drag with minimal coughing. By that point though we'd settled into an easy silence.

I've noticed that about him, the silence. He doesn't feel the need to fill these interactions with words. We can just…exist together. And it should feel good, having him there for company. There's no pressure anymore, since he already kinda knows about everything.

But I don't have time for silence right now. There are so many questions floating through my head. Mostly I just wonder…why. Why, after weeks with no contact, did he suddenly show up in my cabin in the middle of the night, drunk no less? And, more importantly, why come to me and not Will?

"What are you doing here? Really?" I ask, breaking the quiet air of the room. All I get in response is another noncommittal shrug.

"Are…are you going to see him?" I ask tentatively. I know I'm playing the pronoun game, but he must understand who I mean.

"I…I don't know," he confesses, raking a hand through his tangled hair.

"He's, like, completely lost without you," I try to reason with him. It isn't a lie. Lately Will has been shutting himself away, just like me, just like Nico. I'm sure it's at least partially in order to recover from his concussion. Chiron and the rest of the campers agreed that he really shouldn't be overexerting himself, so they let him take a break from his infirmary duties, but that doesn't explain the skipped meals or the constant naps. Nico just…leaving…like that must have screwed with him emotionally.

Still, all I get is an exasperated scoff.

"No, seriously. He doesn't actually remember your fight. All he knows is that you guys fought, that things got out of hand and that…that you just suddenly dropped off the face of the planet without saying goodbye,"

His brows knit together in confusion. "H-he…doesn't remember?" he asks, eyes finally flickering up to mine.

I shake my head and watch as a dozen different emotions fly across his face. Confusion, then sadness, a flash of anger and a wave apprehension. He bites his lip, cigarette dangling loosely between his fingers.

"Do…do you love him?" I ask tentatively, trying to steer the conversation. Honestly, I don't even know how I want him to answer. I just want him to be happy, and if that means him being with Will…well, then I can't be mad. If it'll get him to stay at camp…then I'm in no position to keep him from Will.

Still, he looks apprehensive. Admittedly, I don't know a lot about their relationship. I think that, on a surface level at least, Will seems to love him a lot. I think that's clear from the way he kissed him that morning, from the way he's mourned Nico's sudden departure. But he…he also hurt Nico, whether he meant to or not. I don't know if I'll ever be able to forget those bruises on his wrist, stark against his pale skin. I-I couldn't image hurting…hurting Annabeth. And I'd loved her so much, once.

I swallow hard and glance over in his direction. Finding the right words is…difficult. I don't want to push him back towards something toxic, but I also don't want him to needlessly ruin something that could bring him genuine happiness.

"If the answer is even maybe, I really think you should go talk to him. I mean, you still can. He's still here; you still have a chance to fix things if…if you think they can be fixed, that is," I finally manage.

"I-I want to," he answers shakily, throat constricting his voice in a weird way. Whether that's an answer to loving him or wanting to fix things, I'm not sure.

"Then you have to try," I assure him. Even though it's a bit early, I lean over him and grab the partially empty bottle of vodka from last night and pour him a shot. Hopefully it'll give him a rush of confidence.

"C'mon, take the shot and go. Everyone else is at breakfast, so you'll probably be able to get him alone," I urge him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Steeling himself, he tosses back the shot with a grimace and shoves the glass towards my outstretched hand. He opens his mouth, as if to say something, before closing it and hauling himself off the bed. He makes a beeline for the door, leaving behind all of his stuff.

He hesitates at the doorknob for a moment, hand trembling like he's trying to force himself to grip it properly. He looks over his shoulder, like he's asking for one final reassurance.

"Go," I urge him, my own voice going tight as well. A small part of me isn't sure if this is the right decision. That part of me…it's telling me to keep him here forever, where he's safe and won't be forced to deal with his situation. But he can't keep running forever.

And..and I know Will is probably his best chance at being happy.

At least…I think so.