I'm getting hickeys from my bed bugs I'm getting busy with a bad perfume I'm sticking kisses to a pen drug I'm making friction with a sad vacuum

Bianca's death shook Nico to the very core.

He would never be the same.

You knew that.

I'm getting jiggy with a rifle I'll pull the trigger with my eyes closed Hoping to hit you somewhere vital And when I miss, you come and kiss me with a smile

Not that you knew him much.

Only that he was a ten year old son of Hades.

A powerful individual in whose grief and raw bitterness you could revel in.

You didn't care how much his sister's death must've affected him he'd lower himself to this. You didn't care, nor when deep in the night he'd cry himself to sleep, nor when he kept trying to reach out to her soul, only for his tiny flame of hope to be extinquished over and over again by disappointment.

In the end, you were a ghost. A shadow of your once previous self.

Why would you care about anything?

You're not alive.

You're not the one grieving.

You're not the one feeling everything.

The only time I ever see her Is when she's behind me in the mirror Even from a distance I can hear her Try to listen, but her whispers make my ears hurt

Nico held grief and bitterness enough for two.

You'd whisper your advise and nothings to his young, naive child ears darkened by bitterness and the loss, and he'd never be able to separate your venomous under the honey and velvet words from the truth.

In the end, how could he? He's just a kid.

A kid whose power you could take such advantage of.

You knew you couldn't let anyone else guide him.

You didn't.

Otherwise, it might've ruined your plans..

And so, you distanced from and turned him against everything which stood in your way.

" .. A soul for soul? I.. I don't know. Yes, he did cheat death, but- "

And there he goes again, uncertain about trading Daedalus' soul for Bianca's.

As stubborn as he could be, you'd convince him in the end.

You always did.