He used to be blue.
The most oceanic blue he had ever seen. And the threading of green algae swirling with the waves Percy Jackson’s eyes held was obsessing, sickening, addictive.
Staring too long at them made him seasick, the need to pour out his deepest, darkest feelings to the boy he idolized so much was almost wrecking.
But Nico didn’t budge.
He chose to sit tight, away from everyone else, and stare at their joy. He watched as they laughed, as they cheered, as they were praised, as they showed love. Suddenly, solitude became his only comfort, as looking at the way they cared for each other, Nico held true he would never receive such affection.
When he lost the blueish green he never truly had to a woman, he became frozen. A stinging iciness that hardened his heart, he could never be vulnerable again.
Crying for the family he once had, for the blue he once glorified, toughened his shell. Nico internalized the other’s depictions of him, his eyes were shallow, his attitude was harsh, his words were intimidating, his presence was darkness itself. Because being feared was better than showing weakness. And emotions were his biggest weakness.
The Nico who once wept for everything was long gone, he had accepted his eternal suffering and learned to live with the icy cold reality, to put it to good use. After all, if he was truly cursed to lose and lose and lose, then what was the point of rebelling? Of ever having someone?
At least his actions pleased his favorite sea green eyes. Knowing Nico was useful to him was enough. If he couldn’t have them for himself then that was as far as he could get.
But then the sun came.
Dawn crept up from the longest winter night he had ever experienced. A light he thought he would never see again.
Being trapped for so long in the void of the night sky, as the farthest star longing for company. Looking at the sun was a feat he thought imposible, but there it was.
Nico realized too late that the sun was a star as well, and he was forcefully pulled into its orbit. But it felt like it was meant to be, like they were meant to be.
The only difference between him and Will Solace was that Will shone brighter. Because he was open, because he was strong. Will was his guiding light, showing Nico the outside, like Orpheus who had stubbornly traversed the underworld so he could lead his lover to the mortal world, to his reality.
Nico’s own world was painted golden. Golden like those beautiful blonde curls. Painted like sketchy freckles for constellations. Handled by a different set of blue eyes.
Looking at them wasn’t sea-sickening, what invaded him instead was the warmest sensations he had ever experienced. To be able to love and trust.
Instead of oceans, he saw summer skies.
And Nico became golden too.
