Chapter 8

Nico's point of View

Percy knocks on the door. "Can I talk to you?"

Well this can't be good. But I sit up in my bed and tell him to come in over the sound of thunder booming in the distance.

He does. His green eyes find mine; they look unusually serious.

He approaches the bed. "Can I sit?"

I nod, a lump rising in my throat. "What's up? I ask, with unconvincing nonchalance.

He sits down at the end of the bed and folds his legs up to his chest. He opens his mouth and then closes it again, like he's still looking for the right words. "I think I know what's going on. With you, I mean."

A chill that has nothing to do with the cold spreads throughout my bones. "What- What are you talking about?"

Best to feign innocence.

"We've all been trying to figure you out for a while. You know that."

"Yes. I also know that you're all wasting your time. I'm fine."

He raises his eyebrows at me. "Maybe. But I found something, last night, in the bathroom. I was hoping you could explain to me what is."

I shrug. "Okay," I say, as a wave of nausea crashes over me, leaving me feeling hot and panicked.

He reaches his hand into his pocket and pulls it out a minute later, his fist closed. He holds it out to me, his forearm facing up. When he opens it, a flash of silver catches my eye.

My stomach drops.

Hold it together, Nico.

"It's a razor," I say in a voice that sounds too strong and clear to be my own.

But then his eyes- the eyes I've known for so long- search me. He won't find answers that I don't want him to find. He never does, god, he's so oblivious. But my stomach is in knots and my heart is hammering and it hurts, it really hurts, and I want him to know. I want him to know how much it hurts and I want him to know how much of it is his fault. I can't say anything, though. After all of these years I still can't help but being hopelessly tongue-tied around him.

So I start to cry.

Not just because I'm sad. Not anymore. I'm overwhelmed. I'm hurt and I'm afraid and I'm angry, I'm so fucking angry, and it's impossible to feel this goddamn much. Isn't it? Someone can't hurt this much and come out alive, can they? I need it to stop. The only way I can ever get it to stop is by digging that blade into my skin and bleeding it all out. But now Percy knows, and he's going to tell, and they're going to make me stop. They won't understand that all I ever wanted was the pain to stop.

Someone places a hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, Nico,"

I hit it away. Or I try to, at least; through my tear-blurred vision, I end up hitting Percy right in the nose.

"Oh, god, Percy-"

He stands up and backs up. He looks angry, but when he speaks, his voice is calm. "All anyone wants to do is help you, you know. But you're still so set on pushing everyone away. What are you going to do if we all decide we're done trying?"

"Don't you get it, Percy? That's what I want! I don't need help. From anyone. But especially not you."

He doesn't answer for a moment. Then he says, "If this is about Bianca…"

"What else would this be about?" I shout.

He doesn't answer, so I speak again, my voice calmer this time. Calmer, but smaller. Broken. "You promised you would protect her."

"I know." His voice is smaller now, too. Smaller than I've ever heard it sound, and it makes me feel bad, for a moment. Percy is not supposed to sound that way. "It was just a party. A party. Fun. Nothing bad was supposed to happen. Nobody was supposed to… to…" He trails off. "I spent the longest time blaming myself. Almost as long as you." In spite of himself, he chuckles. "But I was asleep when it happened. Yeah, maybe I shouldn't have been drinking. Neither should she have been. Maybe I should have followed her around the whole time like a lost puppy. But these are all just maybes. Maybe there was more we all could have done. I wasn't the only one at that party, you know."

His eyes are intense. His jawline is set. His breath is ragged, like waves crashing against rocks and then receding back into the sea. Standing there like that, he reminds me of another time.

Suddenly, I'm in a memory. I'm small, even smaller than I am now. I'm sitting on a swing, kicking my legs back and forth. The sky grows closer as I get higher and shrinks again as I fall back, my eyes closed, feeling like I'm on top of the world.

But then a rough pair of hands pushes against my back and I'm falling, falling, falling, until I hit the ground. I hear a bone crack in my arm and laughter. Laughter all around me, closing in on me. The wood chips are digging into my skin so I sit up. A drop of blood trickles onto my lip and then down my chin and onto my lap. I look at my arm- it's bent at an awkward angle and it hurts worse than anything I've ever experienced. I'm surrounded by pointing fingers and cruel, jeering faces. I begin to cry.

The kids only laugh harder. Then they start shouting things. Stupid things, but they hurt. I forget all about the pain in my arm as they confirm all of the horrible things I've ever thought about myself.

Crybaby.

Freak.

Faggot.

Loser.

I am ten years old and I am sobbing and I am alone. Bianca is nowhere to be seen and I am all alone in a world full of people out to get me. I try to make myself look smaller. I try to disappear, but I can't. In this moment, existence is too real and too heavy a burden.

Until he comes. His eyes are sea-green and his hair is as black as a raven. He's bigger than me, though not too much older. He looks like a real hero, like my favorite game, Mythomagic, brought to life. The minute his eyes lock with mine, I trust him.

I watch from the ground as he pushes his way past the circle of kids surrounding me.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asks. His language shocks me, but I'm more in awe of the fact that he shows no fear. He somehow silences the crowd without saying or doing anything else. Then he kneels down and offers me my hand.

"Are you okay?"

I nod. I nod because I want to be brave like him. I dry my tears.

He helps me up and the crowd parts as we walk by. I try to hold my head high, like his. He walks me to the office, and when the principal comes to question us, he does the talking for me. He waits with me until my dad comes to pick me up, even after Bianco finds out what happens and shows up. He lets me cry when I can't be as strong as he is.

And now here I am, six years later, crying just like I did that day. I look up at Percy, and I really see him for the first time. He's not the hero I thought he was when I desperately needed one. But he's not a monster, either; he's not a killer. He's a person, and he wants to help me. And I need to tell him the truth.

He's staring down at me, confused.

"Sit down, I tell him."

"What?"

"You heard me."

He continues to look around, completely bewildered, before finally doing what I say. He sits farther from me, this time, like he's afraid I might hit him again.

"I'm sorry for, you know," I say.

His expression softens at the half-finished apology. "It's- It's okay. Just tell me what's going on."

I take a big breath in . "I loved you, you know." I spit it out as quickly as I can, before I can really think about it, and before I can talk myself out of it.

"Uh- What?"

"I was- I loved you."

"Wait. You mean-"

"Yes, Percy. I hated myself for it. I hated you for it. And Annabeth. I mean, I see now that you're not my type. But I loved you, and you loved Annabeth, and it hurt. And then I lost Bianca, and it was your fault. I thought it was your fault. I think now that I just wanted a reason to blame you. I mean, I couldn't blame you for not loving me. Just look at me." I laugh bitterly.

"But wait. You mean that you- you're-"

I can't help but laugh again, in spite of everything. "I'm gay, Percy."

His mouth drops a little and his eyes search my face, like he's looking for a sign that I'm kidding.

I want to meet his eye, but I can't There's still shame burning a hole in my chest. And I still can't believe I actually said any of that.

Oh god, what was I thinking? I must be crazy.

"Oh," he says finally, completely taken aback. "Well that's uh- I don't- not your type?"

I could be imagining it, but I think he actually looks offended. I shake my head.

A small, sly smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "So who is your type then? Maybe you're more into… blondes?"

I narrow my eyes. "I don't know what you're trying to imply, here,-"

"You've been hanging around with Jason a lot lately."

"We had a project together."

"You let him into your room Friday night. Yo refused to even talk to anyone else…"

"What's your point?"

He shrugs. "Oh, nothing."

I almost whack him with a pillow, but then I remember that I've already hit him once today and feel bad. Instead, the conversation fades into a drawn out silence, in which we can only hear the sound of my sniffles, the rise and fall of each other's breaths, and the thunder clapping every few minutes.

What he says to break the silence startles me and gets my heart racing again. "Let me see them."

"What?"

"Your arms. I want to see."

"I don't know what you're talking about, that wasn't- that's not mine."

"Nico. It was in your cabinet, under your mouthwash."

"That doesn't mean it's mine. I've never seen it in my life."

"Right," he says, nodding. "That's why you burst into tears at the sight of it."

"I've- It's been a long day."

"You haven't left your bed all weekend. Can we just be real here? Please?"

I sigh and close my eyes. Real. I don't know how to be real. I told Hazel I'm gay. I told Jason about Bianca. I told Percy I'm gay and that I was in love with him. I've had enough real these last few weeks to last a lifetime. But I've also cried enough for a lifetime just in these past few days, and I'm exhausted. My defenses are low, lower than I ever wanted them to be. I don't know how I let this happen. But when I open my eyes, I see so much care and worry in Percy's face, and I want to believe it. I really want to believe it.

I don't say anything as I begin to roll up my sleeves. I don't look at Percy. I don't look at my arms. I've already memorized every cut, every scar, every goddamn one. Their shapes, positions, colors. The story behind every one. But Percy's seeing it for the first time, and he gasps.

He gasps at the sight of me, the real me, even though that's who he asked to see.

But when he gathers his thoughts the tone he speaks in isn't what I expected. It's gentle, and kind, and concerned.

"Oh my god, Nico… I can't- I can't believe I didn't know. I didn't know you were in so much pain.

I quickly roll my sleeves back down; leaving my arms exposed makes me uncomfortable. Then I shrug.

He looks like he wants to reach out to me, to hug me, maybe, but he doesn't, and I'm grateful for it.

"I'm going to have to tell my mom, you know."

My head snaps quickly in his direction as a desperate "no" escapes my lips.

There's pity written all over his face. My stomach turns; I don't want pity. This is why I didn't want anyone to know. "Nico, this is serious. My mom can help, okay? I can't just let you keep doing this. You know that."

"No," I repeat, just as frantically as before. "Please- please don't. Just, wait. Please. I'll- I'll tell her. And I'll tell Hazel. She should- I think she should hear it from me. Just give me a little bit of time."

He's hesitant, but slowly, he nods.

"Besides, it's their anniversary tomorrow. I don't want to ruin it with something like this."

"'Something like this'? Nico, I don't think they'd mind. You're really important to her. To Paul, too. To the whole family. You shouldn't have ever kept something like this from us to begin with."

What can I say to that? How can I explain to him what it feels like to be so ashamed of who and what you are? Or what it feels like to think everything inside of you is worthless? How could he expect me to ask for help when the biggest problem is that I don't think I deserve it?

All I do is nod.

Then, it's almost like he can read my mind. "You're not beyond helping, you know. Even if you were, we'd still try. Everyone needs help sometimes, and that's okay. You're not undeserving of it."

I blink away hot tears rather than letting them fall.

"I was going to go out to the snow with Annabeth's family tomorrow, but-"

"No, go," I say.

"No, I don't want to leave you here alone. Hazel's going to that concert with Frank, remember?"

"Relax, Percy, I don't need a babysitter. Besides, I think I might have Jason over."

That's a lie. But I could do with a day all to myself and besides, I don't want to ruin his plans.

He breaks out into a grin. "Oh, good!"

I nod.

"So… Jason knows about all of this, right?"

"Yeah," I say.

He smiles again. "And he's still sticking around."

He winks at me before taking his leave.