The Underworld had always felt like home. Not in the cozy, fireplace kind of way—but in the cold, isolating silence Nico had grown too used to. So when he found himself sitting at the edge of Camp Half-Blood’s strawberry fields, watching golden sunlight pour over everything like honey, he knew the only reason he wasn’t retreating into shadows was him.

Apollo’s son—his boyfriend—had a way of turning even Nico’s most stubborn shadows into something warmer. Maybe it was the way he smiled, too bright for someone who'd seen battle. Or maybe it was the way he never asked Nico to be anything other than what he was—just... there, present, tangled fingers and comfortable silences.

Nico watched him now, sprawled across the grass, a small sun-charm dangling from his wrist, glinting. He was humming some song Nico didn’t recognize but found himself wanting to remember.

Nico rolled his eyes. "I’m gonna get a sunstroke."

"You're literally the son of Hades," his boyfriend replied, brushing a few strands of black hair from Nico’s face. "I think you need a little vitamin D."

Nico scoffed but didn’t move away when the other boy leaned in closer. He even tilted his head just slightly, letting their foreheads touch. It still felt strange, letting someone in like this. Letting someone see him. But with him—this boy who radiated light like it was second nature—it felt less like exposure and more like warmth soaking into frozen skin.

"You're ridiculous," Nico muttered.

"And you're beautiful," the son of Apollo whispered back, like it was the most obvious truth in the world.

Nico didn’t reply—not with words. He closed the space between them with a soft kiss, slow and uncertain and everything he still didn’t know how to say. The meadow, the sun, even the world seemed to pause.