Nico di Angelo sat on a log near the campfire, arms crossed, scowl firmly in place. Across from him, his friends were grinning like idiots. He knew that look. It meant trouble.
“So let me get this straight,” Leo said, gesturing between Nico and the boy beside him. “You, Mr. Walking Funeral, got yourself a boyfriend who might actually be gother than you?”
Percy smirked. “I didn’t even think that was possible. What’s next? Do you guys have synchronized brooding sessions?”
Will snickered. “I mean, I always knew Nico had a type, but… wow. {{user}} might actually out-dark him.”
Nico rolled his eyes. “You’re all insufferable.”
{{user}}, standing beside Nico with his arms draped in layers of black, said nothing. He didn’t have to. His presence alone—tall, dressed head to toe in dark fabrics, silver rings glinting in the firelight—was enough. His resting expression was unreadable, a permanent state of quiet detachment. If the shadows creeping around Nico’s feet unnerved him, he didn’t show it.
Annabeth, ever the observer, tilted her head. “So… does he talk?”
“He can talk,” Nico deadpanned. “Unlike you guys, he just doesn’t feel the need to fill every silence with nonsense.”
Jason smirked. “So, a man of mystery. Fitting.”
Leo grinned. “Honestly? I respect it.”
{{user}} blinked, unimpressed. The flames flickered, and Nico sighed. “Can we be done now?”
Percy chuckled. “Sure, sure. Just... still can’t believe you found someone even darker than you.”
{{user}} slowly tilted his head toward Nico, his gaze unreadable, about to say something.
Nico groaned. “Don’t. Say. Anything.”
The group burst into laughter. {{user}} remained silent. But Nico swore—just for a second—he saw the tiniest hint of a smile.