i tried. so hard. to do fluff. but all that came out was angst uh...happy birthday, neeks.
i guess.
Nico took a long, shaky breath, trying to get it under control. A shudder ran through his body, leaving tremors behind in his nerves. He managed to press his hands into his abdomen, unsteadily, wincing at the sharp pain it brought with it.
He could feel the blood- his blood- seep between his fingers, staining his hands red and leaving a hot, red trail as it slid down his arm. He barely registered it dripping into the crook of his elbow, before slipping down and dropping onto the ground, adding to the small blood puddle at his feet. The ground seemed to lap it up eagerly as if the dirt and plants were so starved they'd drink anything in their desperation.
Nico was going to die here.
Alone.
The realization hit him in the chest, full force. It pressed against his ribs, stealing the too-thin oxygen from his lungs and leaving a cold, dark feeling in every corner and crevice of his already ripped heart. A suffocatingly thick lump formed in his throat and he pushed harder on the wound. It was all he could do not to sob.
The tightness in his body constricted and he took another breath, this one loud and painful, reaching out to try to hold on to whatever could keep him alive. He shuddered, again, and it felt like his bones were rattling in his body, everything shaking out of place. He felt like he was disconnecting from his body; like he was hanging on by a thin string and it was pulling away from his fingers, slipping, slipping…
No.
He forced himself to focus on his breathing, on trying to get the bleeding to stop, on anything besides the easy way out. He had to live. Hazel was waiting for him and so was Will, and Reyna, and Jason, and Percy, and all of Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter.
He tried to ignore the fact that Bianca and his mamá and his dad and a bunch of others were waiting for him on the other side, too.
He leaned unsteadily against a tree, his hands trembling as his legs threatened to collapse from beneath him. He managed to crouch down and get settled onto the leaves that scattered across the forest floor.
He was somewhere in Arkansas, and he'd been trying to get a message to Frank and Reyna about a couple of Roman demigods Chiron had gotten word about. He would've Iris-messaged, but it'd been a while since the last time he'd seen his other friends, and he'd been excited to see his sister again.
He had shadow-traveled between states, stopping to rest when a hellhound had jumped in front of him. Normally, he would've taken care of it easily, except he was already tired. Nico had held his own for a good while before the monster had swiped a claw across his chest and almost ripped him to shreds. In a last, barely successful attempt, Nico had managed to kill the hellhound, leaving behind the smell of blood and gold dust.
Focus, he told himself again, painfully taking his shirt off. He rolled it into a ball and pushed it against himself, wishing, for the thousandth time, he hadn't dropped his pack into the river. Maybe then he'd still have a bit of ambrosia or nectar. He wouldn't be stuck here, bleeding out on the grass in the middle of a forest who-knows-where, with nobody around.
He murmured a prayer to his dad, almost unconsciously, trying to ignore the pain that rippled from his scalp to the tips of his toes, every time he so much as breathed.
He shuddered for the last time, exhaling shortly and closing his eyes.
