Angel of the Sun (The First Kiss)

Nico

"I'm not hungry. Don't even try," I said, slumping on a chair next to him. 

Will pouted and I almost laughed. Almost. His hair looked particularly good today (of course, I didn't tell him that). His golden locks were brushed off to one side, effortlessly falling over his forehead.

It was the fifth – no, wait – the sixth day I sat at the Apollo Table in a row. Not that I strictly wanted to. It was just better than hanging out alone at the Hades table. Besides, sitting there was "doctor's orders" after all, so I couldn't say no. Will said that it was so he could keep an eye on the healing, which made sense, except the battle had ended weeks ago. 

I'm not sure why Will wanted me there, to be honest. Right after the battle, the tables already looked morbid enough with a bunch of our fellow demigods having perished. I'm not sure why he would want the child of the god of death to sit with him. I suppose he felt bad for me, alone at the Hades table. No-Friend-Nico, the pitiful, creepy zombie guy whose sister died. A charity case.

I don't think the Apollo kids were happy about it, but they kept up appearances for my sake. Well, for the most part. The newbies still shoot me these furtive glances, like I'm a grenade waiting to explode. They think I don't see it, but I sure do. And it hurts a little – just a tiny bit – but I'm used to it. When you're the son of Hades you have to learn to live with that kind of stuff. Anyway, even though they might not agree with me staying here, there was nothing they could really do about it. Will Solace can not be reasoned with. I learned that the hard way. Earned me three extra days in the infirmary.  

"You're not fine and you know it," Will said, dumping a bag of chips in front of me. "Now eat. Doctor's orders."

"But–"

"Do it."

I furrowed my eyebrows and glared at him. Will didn't flinch. "Fine," I grumbled.

I nibbled on a chip as I pretended to be interested in Austin's babbling about his saxophone. He might be dating the thing and it wouldn't surprise me. After fifteen minutes of his insufferable talk, I completely zoned out. 

I only paid attention again when the conversation flow switched with Kayla mentioning Jackson. My stomach dropped and I looked down, avoiding anyone's eyes. Will noticed and was going to ask about it, but I shook my head. He frowned but didn't say anything. 

Jackson. Percy Jackson. The Percy Jackson. Percy, as in the guy who broke my heart. The Poseidon's Son with black hair and emerald green eyes. And Annabeth's Seaweed Brain. Annabeth's. 

Yeah, that Percy. I mean, what other Percy is there? I used to have a crush on him (to speak of it lightly), but it passed. I still feel bad when people mention him, because... well, because he was yet another person to hurt me.

Love sucks. It's not for me. I could never imagine myself falling in love again. Percy would be the extent of my love life because it hurt. A lot. 

These past years had already been the worst years of my life. And I've led a shitty life, so that's saying something. First, there was the fact that I'm apparently 80. Then, Bianca's death. Oh, and also Percy shattering my heart into a billion pieces. Ha. I'm a lucky guy, aren't I? 

Anyway, it was all too much to handle. Will's overprotectiveness provided a good distraction, it was good to have someone care about me. It was the first time anyone did that since Bianca– I brushed the thought aside. It was too painful to think about. 

***

Once supper was over, I dragged myself to the Hades Cabin. I was halfway there when Will caught up with me, panting. 

"Where are you going, Death Boy? It's not even eight," he said, swinging his arm over my shoulder. The touch sent a wave of electricity through me, so, naturally, I got away from him.

"Don't call me that," I muttered. But that wasn't what I was thinking about. I was thinking about the touch, how even the touch of his arm against my shoulder had thrown my heart into a frenzy. 

 "As you wish, Ghost King," he laughed. 

The sound of his laugh made my heart flutter and, at that moment, I realized something. 

I realized something that made me terribly mad at myself. I don't know why I was so oblivious to it before, and I don't know what about this evening made me take notice of it either.

As it slowly dawned on me, a tiny voice inside my head started screaming "PAIN! BAD! GET AWAY! LOVE! BAD! GET AWAY! HURT! GET AWAY! PAIN! GET AWAY!" 

My heart raced and my eyes widened. I turned my back to him and ran as fast as I could. I ran away from him, away from that feeling, from all of it. I couldn't risk getting hurt again. 

"Whoah! What was that?" Will said, catching up with me. "If that's about the nickname, I'm sorry. I didn't know you took it so seriously. I'm sorry."

Before I could stop myself, I yelled, "GET AWAY!" 

Heads all around turned to stare. Will, stunned, jumped back. 

"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR, SEE, OR THINK ABOUT YOU! I DON'T WANT TO SIT AT YOUR TABLE JUST BECAUSE YOU THINK I'M A CHARITY CASE! I DON'T NEED YOUR PITY! GET. AWAY. FROM. ME."

Will didn't move. I could see he was on the verge of tears. "Nico, I'm sorry, I–"

"JUST STOP IT! SMETTILA! UGH! CAN YOU JUST– ALLONTANATI DA ME!" 

Will looked stunned, confused, even. My quick slip into Italian startled him. He frowned and his bright smile was long gone. Hurt. Guilt flooded through me. He opened his mouth to say something but I had already left. I was mad at him for being so fucking lovable. I ran into the cabin and shut the door behind me as I forced myself not to spill tears. I clenched my fists and screamed into the pillow. 

I love him.

Crap.