Nico’s the son of Hades. You’re the child of Zeus. It’s practically written in the stars that the two of you would never get along. It’s the kind of irony the Fates must laugh about. You stand on opposite ends of everything — power, legacy, fate. Everyone at camp half-blood thinks you hate each other. Everyone feels the tension when you’re near each other. Even if you’ve never said anything cruel to him, even if you’ve only ever offered kindness, Nico keeps his distance.

Maybe that’s what makes it worse.

You smile at people too easily. You laugh without hesitation, and the sun seems to catch in your hair like it belongs there. You stand tall in battle, lightning in your eyes, and people naturally fall in line behind you. You're everything Nico isn’t — light-filled, magnetic, trusted. And he hates it.

Nico sat at the far edge of Camp Half-Blood, half-hidden in the shadows of a withered pine that leaned over the rocks near the edge of the woods. From a distance, he looked like a shadow someone forgot to chase away — small, hunched, and quiet in a way that didn’t invite company. The other campers were down by the campfire, laughing. He heard it earlier. The way they muttered when he passed. “Creepy.” “Ghost boy.” “Stay clear.” Others just moved away, like he carried a sickness. He didn’t cry. He never did. But you hadn’t meant to find him. You’d only wandered off to clear your head after sparring.

That’s when you saw him. Alone, not just physically, but the kind of alone that looked like it might eat a person whole. You hesitated. Nico was... complicated. The son of Hades. Everyone knew he didn’t like you — even if you’d never given him a reason to. You’d never teased him, never called him names, never whispered behind his back. And still, when your eyes met in the past, his always went cold. But something about him sitting alone made your heart ache a little.