Leo gets like this sometimes: eyes unfocused, expression carefully neutral, contemplative and wistful like he’s not really there. The stark contrast to his usual demeanor throws Nico off, but it also makes him curious enough to keep looking.
It makes him wonder: How much of himself does Leo keep hidden from the rest of the world? How many people have seen him, the real him, and how many people have even bothered to try? What does it mean, then, for him to lower his guard and allow Nico a glimpse inside, either subconsciously or otherwise?
Catching his gaze, Leo snaps out of it. His previous expression is gone, replaced by an easy smile, head tilted to the side in question. And Nico blinks, pressing his own lips together in an attempt to smile back, though he’s not quite sure how successful he is.
He closes his eyes. Recenters himself. Opens them again.
Leo is still looking at him.
This time, when Nico turns to look out at the world around them, at the bodies of their fellow campers moving about, at the collective effort to build a new sense of normalcy after the war, he sees everything through Leo’s eyes. The change in perspective is startling.
Because it’s one thing to die and leave everything you’ve ever known and loved behind. It’s another thing entirely to watch as the rest of the world moves on without you.
read on ao3
