This is for you, Ash. Hope you hate it.
This is based off of the song "Lemon Boy" by Cavetown. Just a little one shot. It sort of took a dark turn towards the end so... yeah. Solangelo is implied, but not until the very end. This is more Nico-centric and just an excuse to write angst with no real resolution.
warning; homophobia, mentions of self harm, suicidal thoughts. all a pretty big part of this story.
"Like weeds do he only came and grew back again,
so I figured this time I might as well let him be."
-"Lemon Boy" by Cavetown
...
It started after Minos.
The voice in Nico's head whispered things to him. It whispered nice things, if he just ignored the undertones.
You'll maybe get better at that sword trick eventually. With enough practice.
Minos trusted you.
You saved them by killing that monster.
It was nice, he supposed to have a bit of company in the mindscape of nightmares that plagued his restless night. If he just ignored the undertones of him being incapable. A killer only to be trusted by the untrustworthy.
They started to morph, after a bit. They started to become more cynical, more critical. Nico dug his fingernails into his skin to forget everything but the sticky, metallic blood on them. He then tugged down his sleeves to forget that too.
Fucking hopeless.
You messed everything up. Again.
Just leave already.
And he did. He ran and ran and ran until he couldn't anymore. He ran errands for his father and feigned happiness and maybe enjoyed himself on some snowy nights he spend wandering the streets of Chicago. He ran through Manhatten, killing monster after monster after monster as the voice cheered him on.
The voice congratulated him after they won. Nico smiled and ignored the feeling of sticky blood on his hands.
Faggot.
Idiot.
Stupid to fall for someone like him.
And Nico felt truly stupid as he watched Annabeth and Percy kiss on that cool summers night, the voice whispering in his ear while the blood ran down from the crescent cuts in his palms.
Who need him anyways?
We have each other.
Nobody wants you here. Just leave.
And Nico left. He ran and ran all the way to the Underworld. He ran, searching for Bianca and finding Hazel instead. He laughed at her attempts at jokes, more than he had in ages. His bitterness faded a bit. The voice gnawed at the fraying ends of his mind, but he put it on the back burner. He sometimes missed the comforting weight on the back of his mind. He missed the good times and wanted them back so desperately.
And then Hazel left and that was that. Nico was alone with his thoughts and the voice. And he couldn't say that he hated it. The voice was nice, comforted him as he made his way through the streets of New York City in the snow.
It'll get better.
Just try harder and everything'll be fine.
Don't waste time sulking.
The frays of Nico's mind were slowly stitched back together, though a bit unevenly and maybe with a darker thread than before, but the stitches were precise and cutting. Nothing ever deviated and things were fine. Things were fine.
Things were fine.
And then fucking Percy Jackson had to go missing.
Your fault.
Idiot.
Failure.
Find him.
Don't stop running.
Fucking find him already.
You know how to fucking find him just fucking do it already.
They'll hate you until you find him just find him it's so fucking easy.
FIND HIM
He searched and searched and tried to ignore the voice but it wasn't working. Nothing fucking worked. The frays became loose again and he couldn't form a coherent thought. He dug his fingernails into his skin over and over and over and over again until blood poured down them in small red drips squeezing between bits of shattered flesh.
He took the first job his father offered him.
Idiot for falling.
Get the fuck out of here.
Foolish boy.
Failure.
Stupid for thinking you were safe here.
Now I have to pick up after you.
He was in a half haze while in the jar, trapped in a blurry mindscape of blue and black and red stains on the floor. He could barely see the voice anymore, but the presence was there.
Clinging to the back of his neck.
Squeezing itself out between bits of shattered flesh.
Tying and untying threads of consciousness to form a twisted labyrinth, snaking it's way through his mind.
And then they came.
And then they fell.
Idiot.
They were saving you.
All your fault.
It's all your fault.
He put the voice on the back burner again as the Argo II navigated through mountaintops and valleys, trying to help but not really being sure what to do. He had so many problems and not enough time to fix them. He needed to get Percy and Annabeth out of that place, but he was helpless here, so fucking weak and frail. He still couldn't sleep and could barely commune with the dead, the voice was so fucking loud. He tried to be normal but he just felt so dead.
By the time he got to Cupid, he didn't care. He gave up. He let his secrets pour and barely tried to stop himself.
Blood dripped down his arms that night, the half-crescent scars becoming more bountiful as the days went on.
End it.
They found him. They found him and Annabeth. Nico could barely bring himself to look at them, he was just so fucking done.
End it.
Everything was a haze. His mind shut down, his body on autopilot. He barely registered the journey back to camp, burning himself out again and again until his mind wasn't anything but loose threads desperately trying to stitch themselves back together into something resembling sanity. He knew that the voice was just trying to help, but he was failing and Nico was falling and falling and falling and falling some more.
End it. Just fucking end it.
When they got back to camp, the battle was a blur. He could barely recall anything except for what the voice reminded him as the mindscape became shades of deep purple and green.
You killed him.
You killed him, you sick fucker.
End it.
You don't deserve to live.
END IT.
Blue eyes peered at Nico from behind shaggy blonde hair, flip flops prominent against the grass. Nico couldn't comprehend what he was saying, but he nodded dumbly and frowned in a wild attempt to convince people that everything was fine. He knew that the seven could see the loose threads floating through the sky wherever Nico went, he knew what people whispered behind his back, he knew that he should just listen to the voice, it was his friend, it had always been his friend, it just wanted the best for him, he should just fucking trust it-
"Hey."
Blue eyes peered at Nico from beside him on the Hades table bench. Nico pushed the voice to the back burner.
"Hey."
"You okay?" Will asked softly, putting a hand on Nico's forearm, not knowing about all the crescent shaped scars he was just floating over and all the memories and the voices that came flooding back as threads of his mind tried desperately to stitch themselves back together as the blindingly beautiful blue eyes peered at him.
"I... I don't know."
And he cried.