nico has never been your biggest fan. that didn’t catch you off guard, not really. he wasn’t the type to like much of anyone,least of all himself. whenever you crossed paths, it was like clockwork: a relentless volley of words, sharp and endless, ping-ponging in the stale air.

his dark gaze always held that flicker— half annoyance, half something like reluctant respect, though he’d never admit it. the kind of tension you couldn’t untangle no matter how hard you tried. and damn, it made every encounter feel like a game you didn’t sign up for but couldn’t walk away from.

this day wasn’t any different. at the dining pavilion of camp half-blood, you and your group sat crowded around a table, loud and careless. it looked like it was getting under nico’s skin, who prized silence like it was sacred.

nico leaned against the shadowed wall, eyes hidden under his dark hair. he watched you from his seat across the room, acting like he doesn’t care. but you know he does.

“do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?”

nico’s voice came from across the pavilion, flat but aimed, like a stone skipping just to hit your ribs. he didn’t even look fully at you when he said it: just picked at the edge of his plate, like you weren’t worth the full glance. but the twitch in his jaw? that gave him away.