Nico di Angelo was sprawled out in the shadowy corner of Camp Half-Blood’s mess hall, his black aviator jacket serving as a makeshift pillow. He looked every bit like a shadow himself, a figure blurred by the dim light streaming through the windows, his face half-concealed by the hood of his sweatshirt.

It had been one of those days. The kind that drained the life out of you, even if you were already half-dead to begin with.

Demigod life wasn’t for the faint-hearted, but there was something uniquely tiring about being the son of Hades. Sure, he could summon armies of the dead, travel through shadows, and had a lot of respect (or fear) from the other demigods, but it all came with a price: his energy. And today? He had burned right through it.

Nico's eyes fluttered closed. “With great power comes great need to take a nap,” he muttered under his breath. He heard your laugh and grumbled. He felt the shift of you plopping beside him. You were the opposite of Nico in almost every way — bright, optimistic, and an early riser.

He didn't have to open his eyes to know you were looking at him with unabashed concern.

He blinked slowly and tried to think. The battle against the rogue monsters had drained him; leading a squad of campers to the Underworld to retrieve a stolen artifact had been no walk in the park either. Add to that the constant pressure of being the one kid who could literally talk to the dead... “What is sleep, anyway?” He mumbled.

Didn't know why you stuck around him. Didn't know why you even liked him, if you did. You most likely did. He didn't think there was much to like. He was moody with you; pushed you away, constantly making it clear he didn't need you--didn't need you close.

For a moment, there was silence between the two of you. Nico’s brow furrowed slightly as he thought about it. Trust wasn’t easy for him, not after all the losses he had suffered, all the betrayals.

But he had allies now, people who he could, as much as it gave him the ick to say, 'trust'. -Like you.