Percy had discovered, over the days, that Nico di Angelo's company wasn't so… oh gods, he never thought he'd say that: it wasn't so bad.

And no, you didn't read it wrong: over the days. In plural. Yes, seriously.

Yeah. He thought there were few things that would make him at peace (not happy but at peace) in the presence of the son of Hades. For example, if the boy suddenly arrived with the news that he had learned to make the dead come back to life, or if he brought Ares's head in one hand. In fact, it would be nice if Nico just knocked on the door with a DVD of Shrek 5, held triumphantly above his black hair. Any of these things would make him welcome to Percy.

But Percy hadn't imagined that be with him was the key to making the boy a bearable person.

Of course, as soon as Percy got home after inviting Nico into his house, the only thing he did was put his hands to his head and mumble "Idiot, idiot, idiot" at least fifty times. But there was no turning back. Then came the first movie, and let's not lie, it was weird. Neither of them quite knew what to do, a fact amply demonstrated when both Percy and Nico presented a wide (and apparently very well-planned) variety of junk foods, anxieties, and explanations. You did not understand? Okay, it's not that easy to understand anyway. It was all in the details. I'll explain:

Poseidon's son would never admit it, but he spent at least twenty minutes arranging things on the coffee table. Percy didn't even organize his fucking wardrobe, for gods' sake. Even so, there was the M&M's on the left, lined up with soda cups, whose colors eerily matched the popcorn jar. This, in turn, had been repositioned at least 5 times to match the position of the remote, the Doritos' package, and the 7 different situations that Percy made up in his head. Everything is in its right place — except, wait, since when did things this ordinary have a right place? At what point had he incorporated a fucking interior designer? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Besides, ridiculous questions ran through his mind, and most had to do with popcorn and corn. No kidding. Was it that Nico hadn't been turned into corn once? I mean, would he be offended… by the popcorn? 'Cause Percy was still quite uncomfortable around Hamsters... In the end, he just ignored it (even so, later he swore he saw Nico scowling at one of the popcorn jars. That alone lasted. very few seconds, so it could just be a shadow effect... well, that's beside the point).

Okay, okay, he could even admit some nervousness on his part, if he looked at it from that angle. Hey, don't laugh. It was the first time Nico had come here as a formal guest (He didn't know if formally would be the right term, because, well, he had accidentally invited him. Let's pretend it is, though). And well, he didn't want to make this any weirder than it already was (although you didn't have to be a Sherlock Holmes to see that Percy felt anxious and uncomfortable and-more-38-adjectives-that-will-leave-this- sentence-too-long).

After a section of nervous glances (Ridiculous; as if neither of them knew what to do... well, they really didn't. So nervous glances are valid at least, fine and thank you), awkward silences, and Percy choking with a peanut (don't ask, gods don't ask), they managed to watch the movie (Actually, I swear I'll stop to put parentheses here. But, I mean, that's so much going on with Percy right now. It's hard to not bring some extra information. For example, he was very worried about some dandruff, 'cause that Head & Shoulders weren't helping at all. Also, his hands were very sweaty).

At first, Percy thought Nico would be an unpalatable company for any event: eating ice cream, going to the park, killing monsters, by the gods, even breathing in the same damn room.

Well, for you to understand this thing about finding Nico minimally pleasant, we should start at the beginning: it is important to note that Poseidon's son was well used to people who didn't like movies, much less like himself. Friends of his, in more colloquial terms, didn't give a fuck.

William got lost all the time. He was the kind of person who even in a movie theater would poke you in the arm dozens of times just to ask "hey, what's going on?", even if what was "going on" was on a giant screen and was certainly very visible. Percy had never quite understood what William got distracted by, but he was willing to bet it was his thoughts. What was so important to think about? College exams? Mahi? Maybe salon dance? Jackson would never find out.

Jia, on the other hand, had no patience with movies. In fact, Jia didn't have the patience for anything. Normally, she would take out her cell phone and look at the story summary on Wikipedia if she was too stressed about the plot. She was always stressed out about plots. No, wait: she was always stressed, and period. According to the girl, that ended the annoying fucking thriller. And she was no use arguing, really, Percy had already tried. "Hey, but the movie is a thriller. There must be a thriller in it!", "Percy, this sucks just because it's a movie. Being a thriller movie only makes it worse." And that was it. There was no argument that Jia wouldn't win with a scowl and an eye roll, after all.

Mahi might not be so detached or impatient, but she didn't put down her cell phone. Never. Okay, Percy understood that the girl was super popular and knew half the campus, but she couldn't let them go for even an hour and a half? One day, and he wasn't proud of it, Percy spied on her in the movie theater to see who she was talking to so much. Turns out she was just playing Candy Crush, which led Poseidon's son to realize that, actually, anything was more interesting than a movie for her. Any. Thing. Even Candy Crush.

He had even tried to watch movies with Mr. Jansen, who, according to himself, was very fond of westerns. Percy got carried away: they went to the pensioner's apartment and put The Good, The Bad and The Ugly. Sometime later, while Clint Eastwood faced his opponents in one of the most classic scenes in cinema, Jansen slept face up, an empty dark beer can in one hand and a pillow in the other. Jackson could only look disappointed as he ate a sweet roll (which by the way was delicious).

The thing was, Percy liked having company to watch the movies, simply because it was nice to have someone to laugh with, freak out, cry with, or just talk to. But nobody collaborated very much. So, he had gotten quite used to doing this activity on his own.

But Nico, contrary to any expectations Poseidon's son had, was fine company; he was silent, paying full attention. He didn't ask for one in the exorbitant number of spoilers, he didn't ask a lot of obvious questions about the goings-on, and, gee, he didn't have a cell phone with a fucking Candy Crush installed. Nico exclaimed at the right times, made very brief comments about makeup, acting, actors, and the fantastic special effects. Percy could pay attention to the damn movie and look away when he wanted to see the boy's reaction in the best scenes, knowing those black eyes would be glued to the TV, not Wikipedia.

When the movie ended, Percy was thoughtful: he'd gotten some great company, but that company was that son of Hades, whom he'd like to keep as far away as possible for as long as imaginable. It wasn't anything personal, but Nico brought back those memories that made him want to lick the ground a giant had walked on (an act akin to shooting himself in the head, if you want to note). So, continuing this unlikely partnership was too much — and not in a good way. Right?

But as Lorde sang and the two of them had a brief conversation about the possibility of such a cruel reality show happening in real life (a small argument which Nico won with a "hey but aren't we technically a super cruel reality show for the gods?"), the boy asked if there was a continuation of the movies as well as the books.

"Hey, yeah, there's more movies. Tomorrow at the same time?"

Nico showed up the next night: another trip to the convenience store and another apprehensive look.

You have to understand a few things about Percy's completely adverse relationship with Nico. I mean, that boy could make everyone nervous with his son of Hades aura, those bizarre abilities to lift bones and blend in with the shadows. But Percy wasn't too bothered by that: Nico didn't intimidate him, at least not in that sense.

The thing is it was complicated. There was no other word but that to describe it. Complicated summed it up well.

Percy had done one mistake after another in his life and letting di Angelo live in the same building as him and then inviting him to watch movies was another one of those phenomenal mistakes. Because if Percy yearned so much to get away from his old life, and if he had every reason to do so, it was ridiculous to even talk to Nico. The boy represented not only a part of his past life but also a gateway: Nico could convince him to go back to the camps, to the utterly terrifying memories he tried to walk away from every day.

He had already stopped associating his current life with the 5 stages of grief. Famous and infamous 5 stages: Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.

Perseus felt a little lost because the only thing he didn't identify with was acceptance. The rest seemed to be united, to be just a single moment, like an indivisible and desperate mixture of feelings. And he couldn't just passively accept that he was just curled up in the fetal position at rock bottom, waiting for something to rescue his mind but not change the facts.

All the denial, one of her strongest points in those phases, was a daily, repetitive and exhausting process. It was like taking a deep breath and taking the rock up a hill, knowing it would roll back. Now Sisyphus (but for him always Bob, who was also an unhealed wound) was no longer doing that job. But Jackson did.

Nico could break everything he had built with a single word, which until that moment, by some miracle, had not been uttered. With him, the truth was about to emerge, and Percy didn't want the truth. Because being next to him (and any other camper as well, but especially him) was like walking on thin ice; you didn't know what time it would break, but you were sure it would. And you could drown in the freezing water of the process. Percy spent most of his time trying not to open his mouth or his heart. Trying not to drown. No one knew for sure what he felt inside, sometimes not even himself. All I knew was that if this was part of the reality show of the gods, it was indeed very cruel.

On the third day, Nico was there again. Uncertain pose, white bag in hand, and thin ice in Percy's stupid mind. But, as always, it was fun to have company.

He kept asking himself: was it worth sacrificing everything for movie nights, bullshit, and superficial conversation? It was fleeting, not stable, with no prediction of a happy ending. But then Mockingjay began, and that cheap philosophy didn't matter anymore, as they had Katniss to plug the hole the questions left. There were only small comments, short laughs, and apprehensive looks left when the characters went through very tense situations.

Nico ate chocolate bars while pointing out some differences between the books and the movies, and Percy commented on how over-the-top and a little hideous the makeup was.

Then time ran out, and there was only one movie left. Nico returned the next day. A less nervous but still uncertain look and a plastic bag with a small green, red and yellow logo. Same M&M's, same jacket. And Percy, without realizing it, had come to look forward to that moment. In those days — damn, he didn't want to admit it — but in those days, Nico kept him sane. Percy could work at that coffee shop part-time in the morning, wander around town in the afternoon, and expect a good movie in the evening.

When the last movie was over, they commented a bit on the plot and the best scenes. Then Nico said:

"Do you like old movies?"

"I think so?"

"Then I'll bring one tomorrow. If it's okay, of course."

So, the next night, Nico took The Hound of the Baskervilles. No Benedict Cumberbatch or Robert Downey Jr., but Peter Cushing in the detective role. It was kind of weird. Different. The acting was very theatrical.

Percy loved it.

In the blink of an eye, a week had passed: each day, a different session. Horror, action, comedy. Anything that could entertain them both for at least an hour and a half. Until, one Saturday, something unexpected happened: the power went out.

First, they weren't sure what it could be. Percy could have just forgotten to pay the bill, which would not be an isolated event. But then he stuck his head out the door and realized that the entire building was without light.

Nico didn't seem to know which the weirdest thing was: stay or go. As the two walked towards the fire escape window and sat there, watching the light traffic, Percy supposed the boy thought the second option was far weirder. It looked like they had returned some levels of that game: They didn't quite know what to do (which wouldn't be an isolated event either). They were just silent for a good few minutes waiting for some mysterious force to bring the light back. Failing a miracle, Poseidon's son got up, fetched the popcorn, and sat down again with Nico.

Nico stuffed his hand with popcorn and popped it into his mouth as if he didn't want to talk for as long as possible. Percy appreciated the effort, as he didn't know what to say either. A few minutes passed, and the street noises sounded like a distant symphony. Until the son of Hades himself said:

"It's a little salty, isn't it?"

"What? Who?"

"Salty, the popcorn. What do you mean by who?"

And that was the beginning of a long conversation. At least by their standards, of course, which meant at least ten whole, civilized minutes. Yes, seriously: Percy Jackson and Nico di Angelo having a long, civilized conversation. If that's not weird enough, here goes: it had a friendly, laid-back tone. Like a chat between neighbors or longtime colleagues. How long had it been since he'd talked to someone in his world like that? (Of all people, Nico. He couldn't believe it).

It was a normal conversation, full of very short smiles, welcome detours, and brief, thoughtful silences: they started out talking about the salt in the popcorn, yes, but then it unfolded to pasta, Italian stereotypes, history, college, China, Gyoza, and junk food.

Interestingly, Percy didn't know Nico could be such a chatterbox. The boy from Hades, always so quiet and so averse to food, talking about so many historical facts and.. food? It even looked like a joke.

"Speaking of, you know, fiber and nutrients, when was the last time you ate something that had any of those things?"

Percy rolled his eyes.

"Yesterday, okay?"

"Lettuce?"

"Sure. I like lettuce. You know, it's got fiber and vitamins and... And stuff like that."

Nico raised an eyebrow.

"If it was inside a hamburger, then we don't count."

Percy stared at the street for a while, thinking.

"Dude, then you got me. So I have no idea the last time I ate something with nutrients, no."

Nico smiled. The teeth weren't showing, much less like that day on the terrace (by the way, they pretended it never happened). But it was the most real smile Percy had seen on that boy's face that week. His cheek dimple was almost showing, giving signs of existence.

"If some monster doesn't succeed in ripping your head off, I'm not sure which would take you to the underworld first: heart attack or acute gastritis.

Percy made a face of indignation.

"Did someone never teach you to respect your elders?"

Then he smiled back, completely oblivious to how awkward this meeting could be. Oblivious to how things would eventually break like thin ice on a lake.

(And it wasn't until two more days later that Percy noticed that both the bags and the coffee table were getting less and less elaborate. Curious, no?)

"(And it falls and it breaks and it turns into something new)

I say don't let me go
And you say "why can't we be friends?"
And all night I watch it burn
And you say "why can't we be friends?"
And talk to me and tell me how this one goes
I need a taxi"

Why can't we be friends? – The Academic