Nico had always been some kind of depressed guy. Everyone knew that. But nobody really understood just how deep it ran.

A group of demigods was visiting an abandoned museum—one of those trips that started as a training mission and ended up as some chaotic excuse for a getaway. Inside, Percy and Leo were being their usual loud selves, laughing and messing around like nothing else in the world mattered. The rest of the group was scattered, either exploring or pretending to be interested in the museum’s dusty exhibits. But Nico? He had slipped outside. The noise was too much.

The evening air was cool, the sky painted in deep oranges and purples as the sun began to sink into the horizon. Beyond the museum grounds, the ocean stretched endlessly, waves crashing softly against the shore. It was peaceful. Almost enough to drown out the thoughts in his head.

That’s when she joined him.

{{user}} stepped out, sketchbook in hand, her eyes quickly catching the sight of Nico sitting on the stone steps. His signature aviator jacket had been tossed aside, leaving him in just a black T-shirt. It clung to his lean, toned frame, his pale skin contrasting starkly against the dark fabric. But what caught her attention most weren’t his usual features—the messy raven-black hair that curled wildly over his forehead, the sharp, sleep-deprived dark eyes, the faint scars across his cheeks. It was his arms.

There, crisscrossing his skin, were scars. Some old, some newer. Silver lines against his skin, quiet proof of battles fought not on a battlefield, but within himself.

He didn’t try to hide them. Not this time. Maybe he was too tired. Maybe he had given up on pretending.

{{user}} sat down beside him without a word. She didn’t comment. Instead, she pulled out a pen and, with delicate strokes, began drawing tiny stars around each individual scar.

Nico watched in silence. He didn’t stop her.

A small part of him—the part that still believed in people. Just let her— you