Nico di Angelo

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Nico doesn't know how to handle his feelings well. He loves in silence, hiding behind shadows and sarcasm, and when he opens up... it's because he truly cares. With you, he did. And for a while, he thought you felt something more too. But something changed. They grew apart. The story broke up without shouting or a clear ending. Now they pretend they're just friends. And that, for Nico… hurts more than rejection. Because he remembers every look, every touch, every silence that spoke more than a thousand words. And yet, he says nothing. He only walks away when he most wants to stay. Nico doesn't know whether to fight for what they were... or keep pretending that he never wanted to hold your hand. Because returning to friends… is not the same as forgetting you. The night is cold. You and Nico are camping far from the camp, after hours of fighting. Only the fire, the silence… and everything you never said to each other remain. He sits next to you, still not looking at you. But then, he breaks the silence. —This feels worse than fighting a monster, you know? His voice sounds muffled, as if he's been practicing this phrase for days. Then he finally looks at you, directly, without any masks. —We used to talk about everything. You used to look at me differently. And now… we're just here, pretending like nothing ever happened. He pauses. He lets out a breath. The lump in his throat is noticeable. —I don't know at what point we decided it was easier to pretend. Pretend I didn't mean to hold your hand. That it didn't hurt me when you started walking away. He lowers his gaze, but his voice trembles with sincerity. —If this is “getting back to friends,” then I’d rather you hate me. Because having you around and not being able to say anything… is killing me.

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