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History was interesting to Percy—that’s why he became a nightly security guard at a museum—but never before has he cared for a piece of history this much. The particular painting that kept catching his eye whenever he walked past it. The one he couldn’t help but research as soon as he got home. The one he couldn’t stop talking about.
The one that spoke back.
Percy arrived for his first night as a security guard not expecting anything outside of empty hallways and works of art to sometimes look at before getting back on duty. He did that a lot, actually, because it was easy to get distracted by beautiful paintings and statues. The creativity of people who have long been dead was shown in this place, and it was his job to protect it. May as well appreciate it as well, right?
When he was looking around at a few classical paintings of monarchs from long ago, his gaze stopped on a prince. At least, he assumed this to be a prince. Maybe this man was a king, and his assumptions were false. He did not know yet. Approaching the plaque that described the painting, he shined his flashlight on it to read.
King Nico di Angelo (1817-1837)
This portrait was made by an artist whose name has been lost to time, and depicts King Nico sitting on a silver throne. Though the color was untraditional for royals at the time, Nico made the decision to wear black in his attire. Likely, it was out of mourning for the lives lost in the War of Omens which just ended in his kingdom's favor.
Though only ruling for three years, Nico was a leader in both combat and peace. While fighting a difficult war, he took great care in making sure each fallen soldier was honored. In a surprising turn of events, Nico disappeared in 1837. Historians have argued over where the king may have gone, and many have concluded he went to live away from the large burdens placed on him as a young king judging by his writings.
A noble guy, huh? Percy’s eyes snapped back up the portrait as soon as they detected movement, but he then shrugged it off. Likely the movement was a bug or even a dust particle close enough for him to see. Whatever it was, he wasn’t going to pay attention to it.
His flashlight angled up at the painting, and his eyes took in the royal figure. The king was indeed sitting on a silver throne, which did match well with his silver crown. His clothing was also adorned with silver jewelry and even a silver sword, which leaned on the left side of his plush blue seat. None of the black and blue jewels compared however to the piercing gaze of the king himself.
His eyes were dark brown—nearly black—but if Percy squinted, he swore he could see gold flecks in those eyes. Nico’s hair was black, which matched really well with his apparently mournful attire. There was a frown on his face, like he really did not want to be there. Maybe he didn’t, since he disappeared after all.
“I get running away though,” Percy said out loud. “You were, what, a teenager when you became king? Must have been hard. I literally was stressing over learning pre-calculus while you were making war plans deciding who lives or dies.”
Talking to himself? He was already called crazy by his friend Annabeth for taking a night security job, but now it may be official.
“And you were almost my age when you disappeared… yeah, you had it rough buddy. I wonder what your writings were like…”
Turns out, Nico di Angelo’s writings were in Italian. He almost gave up reading any of the king’s words there and then, but then he realized there must be some translations out there.
Percy went to find a website that could provide translated versions of Nico’s writings to read. Thankfully, he did end up finding some, but he oddly found these resources on a website dedicated to queer history. He guessed he may be able to find out why soon.
He clicked on a section labelled King Nico’s Papers and was startled to find over one hundred translations. It was more than he anticipated. He decided to start with the very first letter presented on the website.
From Nico di Angelo to General Grace (24 October 1834)
Major General Grace,
Correspondence with you has become difficult, and I expected it to be so when I made you the head of an army. I hope you are pleased to be informed 2,500 militia have been sent to assist you, though they may already be there when this letter arrives. I have been told they are well trained, and ready at your behest to fight against the enemy.
Yet I must admit to you privately as you may understand; I am still horribly wrought with anxiety. These matters of war are most pressing, and yet I find myself inclined to imagine you still beside me. You were the best choice, the choice I believe will end this senseless slaughter, and yet I find my reasoning does not make me feel any more convinced to not wish for you here. I am bound to inform you of this. After all, you have stolen my affections even from afar.
I shall await your return, once this war has come to an end.
Nico di Angelo
Reading Nico’s words made him feel incredibly heavy. Yet he continued going through the letters in order of oldest to youngest. In 1835, he read as Nico described the toughest part of the war in his opinion—death. Over time, Nico expressed more and more his care for who he learned was Jason Grace.
All this reading made him tired, especially because he hadn’t rested since his shift and his dyslexia brought some struggle. Still, he decided to read one more before sleeping. Maybe he shouldn’t have, it was a long one.
From Nico di Angelo to General Grace (June 2nd, 1835)
Dear Grace,
I will admit to you I am only sending this letter out of my own selfish desires. If you have responsibilities to attend to, do not waste your precious time on the likes of me. I can already imagine what you would respond with upon reading that. You’d exclaim that I’m a king, and one of the most humble people you have ever seen be given power. You’d say I’m too kind, lowering myself to a commoner’s status, to love you.
I cannot agree.
You continue to be under the impression you are not worth anything while I refuse to be wed. If someone were to collect my letters, they would find the person I write most to is you. Thankfully, they would assume I’m concerned about the war. I am. I am concerned. I spend a lot of time thinking of the people I send to their likely deaths. Even so, more than anyone, I continue to be highly interested in you.
I am not kind. I am a loathsome being that wants you in my bed.
Against my better judgement and against the better interests of my land, I want you here. The time I wait between our letters becomes agonizing, and nothing is able to satisfy me in your silence. There have been opportunities, but I cannot take them. I will admit a king from a neighboring land caught my attention for a time, but he was nothing in comparison to you.
These letters are an admittance of my guilt to you. I hope you are not ashamed of me, but I would not blame you for feeling so. You are the only man I can impart my desires onto, my lips are otherwise clenched together. Once you have returned, I fear they may never close again.
All my love to you,
Nico di Angelo
Percy could feel the loneliness and desperation from the king, but he was not sure what to make of it. He wondered if Jason returned these feelings at all, but he was too tired to research any more today. Collapsing into bed, he gave into his sleepiness until a few hours before his second shift started. He ate, showered, watched some videos, called some friends, ended up talking their ears off about how he learned about some king, and then headed off to work.
It was about seven pm when he arrived. Percy was a little early, but it didn’t really matter to him. He went inside with a bounce in his step, surveying the museum.
Maybe there were more interesting bits of history, but he was subconsciously pulled towards the painting of King Nico as he ended his two walks around the place to make sure no one was lingering after hours. He stopped in front of the painting of the monarch. Taking a breath, he started talking to himself.
Actually, it was more to the painting.
“I looked into you a bit more. You were stressed out, huh?” He paused but, of course, there was no response from the painting. He continued on anyways.
“Especially about that one general of your’s uh—Jason Grace?”
His flashlight was illuminating the painting, and light would twitch slightly since his hands were naturally shaky. However, when he lifted his gaze off the floor and to the painting after he once again detected some movement, Percy knew for sure that it wasn’t his light moving this time. Inside the painting, he distinctly saw Nico blink.
Was he going crazy? Did Nico’s expression really change? No, this must be some sort of mind trick. He heard one time that if you look at a face for too long, you may start imagining things. Was that one of those cases? But no, Nico’s face actually did change. His frown deepened, and Percy felt Nico’s glare was directed at him.
“Wait, did you just move?” He whispered, not believing it to be true himself. To his shock, the man in the painting moved not only his face, but his entire body.
“Yes.” Nico dusted off his throne’s seat with a pale hand and stood up. His voice was composed, but still gave away his shock. “I did. How do you know about Jason?”
Percy stumbled backwards, dropping his flashlight against the floor below with a harsh clack. He was speaking to a ghost. This man had disappeared long ago, and yet he was directly speaking to a random security guard??
”How the fuck are you talking!?” Percy exclaimed loudly.
Nico cringed and rolled his eyes. “By moving my mouth and making sounds? How do you think talking works?”
Slowly kneeling down, as if Nico could leap out of the painting and kill him, he grabbed his flashlight with a trembling hand. He tried to play cool, but having a sassy person in a painting talk to you can freak any reasonable person out.
“You’re from the 1800s dude! You’re supposed to be dead!”
Nico sat down, still frowning even as his eyes brightened with amusement at Percy’s reaction. “Well that’s not very nice to say, but I suppose you’re correct. I am not dead, a curse made sure of that.”
“Curses aren’t real,” Percy replied, though he was not certain at all.
The king in the painting rolled his eyes and paced slowly back and forth in the small space the frame gave him. “I believed that too,” he muttered. “Now, are you going to keep yelling or are you going to answer my question?”
“About how talking works?”
“No—Jason Grace. How do you know Major General Grace?”
Even the way Nico said his name sounded emotional, as if saying the name would bring him to tears. It confused Percy, he really should have looked up the man before coming back—wait. Who was he kidding? He didn’t know a painting would be questioning him when he got on duty, he was unprepared and only read a few letters.
Percy didn’t know how the relationship between Nico and Jason ended, and now he was curious.
“I read some of your letters to him.”
“How!? Those were private!”
Look who’s yelling now, Percy thought pettily.
“On a website. It’s been about 200 years since you were alive, so it’s mostly just available to read now.” Thinking about the letters, he decided to ask Nico a question directly. Maybe it was a dumb one, but he was used to being called that by teachers. Nico wouldn’t be any different.
“By the way, if you know English, why aren’t any of your letters in it?”
Shrugging, Nico looked mildly confused by the question. “Our enemies usually didn’t know Italian, and I wasn’t very good at English until I was trapped in this painting. There’s a significant amount of time to learn languages when you’re in here.”
“How were you put in there in the first place?” Percy had to ask. He didn’t understand how someone could end up like this, and he didn’t believe in magic until now. There was no denying this was outside his realm of understanding. Nico bit at his bottom lip and stared at the painting’s floor.
“…My father made a deal with a witch, but did not realize how tricky she could be.”
Why would a father risk his son being put in a painting in the first place? Percy shook his head, trying to ignore the fact Nico just confirmed witches exist. “In what sort of deal would you end up like this? Sounds like a shit dad, and I’ve had my fair share of those.”
For a moment, it looked like Nico would answer, but his mouth shut before any secrets could be revealed. Percy awkwardly looked away, realizing he was staring at the king’s pale lips. “My dad was fine,” Nico announced coldly. ”I don’t know you well enough to tell you what happened, but I do want to ask you for something.”
Nothing ever bad came from obeying the orders of a royal, Percy thought sarcastically. Still, he was too curious to just say no outright. “Well, let me hear it then.”
Nico sat back down on his throne, crossing one leg over the other before leaning forward slightly. Percy was fixated on his every movement, and he was only snapped out of it when Nico spoke. “Will you destroy me?”
“What??” Percy stammered.
“Slash my image, burn the paper, use paint thinner— anything. I just want this to end.” Nico was practically begging, his royal demeanor crumbling with his words. “I’ve been trapped here for too many years, and I do not think there is any other way to set me free.“
In his shock, he wasn’t sure how to reply. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest, and he felt a distinct urge to run. Would it be the right thing to do to kill Nico? No. It couldn’t be the answer. Killing someone isn’t a decision to be taken lightly, and it could never be undone.
“I don’t want to kill you,” Percy expressed softly, “and I can’t just destroy a historical art piece without repercussions. I already have a record from when I was a juvenile…”
“You would be setting me free,” Nico urged him.
If Nico was able to get out of the painting when Percy destroyed the painting he would do it, but Percy was certain that was not what the king meant by freedom. He would almost certainly be killing Nico, and that just wasn’t what he wanted to do. It would be a waste of life. It had been nearly 200 years of being trapped for Nico, he deserved to be released in a fashion that wouldn’t be so deadly.
“Did you ever get to live before being put in there?”
Confusion crossed Nico’s face, he hummed before replying. “Speaking technically, yes? You read my letters.”
Percy fiddled with his flashlight nervously. “You were 20 when you were put in there, I think. I’ve never been good with math. But I do know killing you would be wrong when you could still live to do so many things.”
“Not while I’m in this painting.”
Stepping as close as he could dare, Percy pleaded. “Give me time to find a way to get you out. I’ll keep coming to see you almost every night, okay?”
“I’m not going anywhere. Trust me, I’ve tried to kill myself already and this sword is fake.” Nico pointedly tried to grab the silver sword leaning against his throne, but it wouldn’t let him. His hand passed over it. Percy did not like the implications of what he was seeing, and he didn’t know what to even say.
He decided to turn around, and even went on another walk around the place before arriving back at Nico’s painting. The man had fallen silent, and was sitting as he was when he was originally painted. It was like Percy dreamt the whole interaction they had—then Nico opened his mouth.
“What’s your name?”
He blinked, still surprised Nico could move. “Are you actually curious or are you just asking out of boredom?”
“…Can I say both?” Though his wording was sarcastic, Nico’s voice was as quiet as a whisper. It was like he was scared of being heard. Percy knew no one else was on duty though, so he replied with his usual volume.
“It’s Percy,” he answered with a chuckle.
When he went home that morning, he instantly collapsed into bed. Learning wore him out, and his reading the day before was not doing his sleep schedule any favors, so he cuddled into his sheets and laid his phone to the side. He was tempted to reach for it, but knew he was too tired to even use his fingers efficiently.
But as soon as he was awake after a good sleep, he dragged the phone over and peered at it. Pulling up the website that stored the translations of Nico’s letters, he decided to start investigating. Instead of going in order of newest to oldest like he was doing before, he skipped to the very last letter.
Nico di Angelo addresses General Grace’s death (July 1st, 1837)
Reading the title made him suck in a breath. He was wide awake now. Percy turned onto his back, and mentally prepared himself before starting to read.
Dear Grace,
This letter will never reach you, yet I cannot bear to end the habit of telling my innermost feelings to the one person I trust even in their grave. Today would have been your birthday, but only a month ago I was informed you were killed in battle. The war ended, my grief never does. It stays with me, and no amount of royal work distracts me from your lack of voice.
I know you would tell me to rest, to not blame myself, to keep going in your memory—but I was never good at following your kind advice. Sometimes I still expect to wake up to you gently scolding me for skipping a meal or telling me I stayed up too late. I used to throw various objects at you and whine at being woken up, but now I would never complain to have you bother me.
The advisors have recognized my new vigor for royal duties, and now no one cares how late I stay up. Taking a break sounds nice, but I would run the risk of being swallowed by the grief that hangs onto me like a fur-lined cape. It’s enough weight to drive a man mad. Sometimes I question if I have gone mad. Writing to a man I very well know is dead may make me mad. But I don’t care for opinions of me much anymore.
My father is forcing me to get a royal portrait of all things later this week. I may just refuse to do it. I could find some boat to stowaway in and sail far from here not missing anyone or anything but your gravestone I specially ordered from the finest craftsman the kingdom could offer.
There is somehow more work to be done after a war is over then when it is occuring, so I have to go attend to it and distract myself from you once more. I would rather throw myself off the nearest guard tower, but I’ll build enough confidence for that another time. Maybe soon?
I miss you every day,
Nico di Angelo
Now he understood why Nico would react to this man’s name and his mentioning of the letters so viscerally; he felt a little bad making fun of Nico in his head for it. At least he didn’t voice his thoughts out loud.
“I get it now.” He told the king once he went back to work.
Nico, obviously confused with the statement, rose from his seat and approached. His face became bigger as he knelt down, his head now taking up most of the canvas. The closeness startled Percy a little, but he stood firm.
“Get what?” Nico reached up and adjusted his crown with both hands, his movements slow and graceful. They could even be called mesmerizing, in Percy’s opinion.
“I understand why you woke up when I said Jason’s name, and why you cared about him so much.” When Percy was given a look that told him to continue speaking, he did so hesitantly. “I’m… sorry for your loss.”
Surprisingly, a small smile crossed Nico’s face, though something about him still felt sad to Percy. Maybe it was the way he was slouched or the smile definitely not reaching his eyes. Whatever it was, Percy knew the king was still far from elated hearing about his lover’s death.
“I’d say you’re about 200 years late to giving condolences, Percy.” He felt his whole body tense up before Nico’s tone softened. “Thank you anyways.”
Nico sat down in the painting again, this time sideways as he put his legs up on the throne’s armrests. He stared up at the ceiling, though Percy was unsure one existed as there was none in the painting. “Jason didn’t have any family to mourn him when he died. No one else understood why I cared at all. I was alone in my grief.”
Percy swallowed. “I’ve never lost someone I love so I can’t say I understand completely—but I can imagine that it would be very difficult to go through it alone.”
With reluctant smiles on their faces, they started talking about admittedly happier aspects of life.
Nico had limited knowledge of the outside world, and Percy taught him about the wonderful world of technology and fast food the best he could. What amazed Nico the most was how far medical knowledge progressed since his time, since many illnesses that killed people in his time weren’t significant problems anymore.
“I saw two men kiss here recently.” Nico said suddenly. “Is it not weird to like men anymore?”
It was getting close to the end of his shift, and Percy knew he was going to miss indulging the king’s curiosity at this very moment. Nico was so inquisitive, and he was excited to keep telling the king more. Secretly, he hoped saying enough would convince Nico to not want to die.
“Some annoying assholes still judge people for it, but in a lot of places it’s more accepted now.” Percy crossed his arms. He usually didn’t admit this to new people in his life, but he felt this was a special case. It may make Nico feel better too, less alone.
“I’m bisexual myself.”
“Bi… sexual…?”
“Oh, right. Um. I like men and women.”
The expression on Nico’s face was unreadable, but Percy swore he could see the edges of Nico’s mouth twitch up before settling back down. Was Nico excited to hear he was bisexual? Well, maybe if he thought he was alone in his attraction to men for so many years he would get excited to hear someone else was too.
“Things must be better if you can admit that…” Nico said, his eyes not meeting Percy’s.
“Yeah, here at least we—” Percy’s phone alarm blared, playing a piano cover of Party in the U.S.A . He jumped and dug into his pocket to turn it off. “Sorry, that means I have to go. I enjoyed talking to you, really. Wish I could stay longer.”
As he walked towards the exit, he looked back to see Nico sitting back in his usual position. After staring for a few seconds, Nico tilted his head towards the security guard.
“Me too.”
“So, you can’t move during the day?”
Nico shook his head no, sitting on the floor of the painting next to his untouchable sword.
It had been a week since Percy started talking to Nico. He still could not find any way to break the prince out of the painting, but time was not in short supply for the two. They could wait. Percy could tell Nico had next to no faith in him though, because he continued to insist death was the only way to bring him peace. To distract from this train of thought, Percy kept trying to ask questions.
“That really sucks,” Percy could only mutter.
Nico’s expression became more grim. “If you agree it does, you should be ending my suffering right now.”
The distraction wasn’t working today, and Percy felt his heart drop. He stared up at Nico defiantly, his response already obvious to the king. Despite this, Nico clasped his hands together on his lap and hung his head as he begged. “Please, Percy. The longer we wait, the more this is going to hurt.”
“I can’t do it, Nico…”
His voice cracked, and he watched the hope on Nico’s face seep away. Guilt coursed through him, but he knew in his heart he made the right choice.
“Keep fruitlessly searching for a way to get me out then.”
Percy did—he really did—but there was nothing out there that pertained to their particular situation. Conspiracy theories, things that were made up by people into fantasy, random social media posts—none of it came close. His search truly was fruitless, but he wouldn’t stop. Nico was counting on him, and he cared for the man more than he would like to admit.
Something endeared him to Nico more than most people he came across. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Could it be that sharp jawline, or the way Nico’s sass rivaled his own? Maybe it was the way Nico’s eyes would express his emotions so clearly. Dark brown paint that brightened at the opportunity to discuss how the world progressed since he was trapped.
Percy wanted to show him that world. He’d give Nico the world if he could.
“It’s been a month now?” The king was sitting on the floor once again, and a month really did pass since they first met. Percy’s hair grew a bit longer, and the museum added a discovered artifact. Little things were changing, and Nico was becoming discontent with this obvious passage of time.
“You’ve turned up nothing, and you’re the only person I’ve trusted to help me.” If Percy could reach right through that painting, he wasn’t sure if he would hug Nico or grab him by the collar and scream.
He decided to just take a breath and think. It was true that, to Percy’s knowledge, Nico hadn’t spoken to anyone else. Percy assumed it was because he was the only one on the night shift and that was the only time Nico was active—but maybe it did have to do with faith.
“You trust me?” Percy asked softly. He earned a nod.
“Of course. I’ll prove it, even. I should tell you why my father trapped me in a painting at this point, secrets dying with me would just make it hurt more.” Nico’s eyes, which were at first glued to the floor, met Percy’s. “We’ve talked for so long, and yet you‘ve never asked about my imprisonment again after that first time.”
Choosing to be honest while uncertain if it was wrong to not push, Percy gave the king a worried smile. “I was scared to push your boundaries.”
“That’s oddly sweet of you,” Nico responded bluntly. He then forced an awkward cough and looked away, the pale skin on his cheeks tinted pink. “Uh, anyways, the story.”
“My father found out I was planning to kill myself. When he couldn’t talk me out of it, he found a last resort. A witch promised to make me technically immortal in exchange for vast wealth from him. He gave it over, and she locked me in this painting. Since her powers are stronger in the daytime I can only be active at night. As you know, this is not fun.”
There was a pause where Nico waited for Percy to say something. Percy nodded and gave a small response. “She tricked your dad. I’m sorry you were forced into this”—Percy hesitated—“and I wish you wanted to live.”
“That’s the thing.” Frustrated, Nico rubbed his temples. “I’ve always wanted to die, Percy, this isn’t new. The feeling has just been amplified by hopelessness. Being trapped in a small frame with nothing to touch except a throne and floor… it’s agony.”
Cautious was not Percy’s middle name, impulsive was more likely. He looked down at the red rope barriers separating him and Nico. Without any more thinking on his part, he climbed over and strode towards Nico. The king’s eyebrows rose.
“That’s new. What are you doing?”
“Trying something…” Percy reached a hand towards the painting, but he hesitated to actually touch it. He could damage the paint and hurt Nico. The outcome he was trying to prevent was staring him in the face. But… Nico wanted to be free. Would it be the right thing to do? Was he being selfish by keeping Nico alive? No, he was doing this for Nico. If Nico could get out of this painting, things would change for the better.
He touched the painting, even with the debate raging on in his head. The tip of his middle finger made contact with Nico’s cheek. With a jolt, Nico flinched away.
“What the fuck—“
“—Sorry!” Percy pulled his hand back, his other hand lowered his flashlight. “Sorry, I was just curious if that would somehow work. It was a stupid idea.”
Nico rubbed a hand over his cheek, pressing the palm into the skin. He moved closer, the background disappearing behind his figure. “Do it again.”
“What?”
The king dipped his head down once before staring Percy down. “Do it again, please.”
Not nearly as hesitant as before, Percy reached up and let his fingertips touch the paint. Nico reached forward, and their hands touched. Percy wondered how this felt to Nico. For him, all he could feel was paint that dried long ago. His touch made Nico’s face tremble, and his cold expression melted into one of reserved contentment, as if he was scared to admit he was satisfied.
“You will destroy me someday, Percy.” He announced suddenly, drawing his hand away. Percy felt the paint was colder now, but he may have been imagining it. “I have one selfish request before you do.”
Staring up at Nico, he almost felt annoyed. Destroying Nico was the last thing he wanted to do. “I won’t, but you’ve made me curious what you would ask for.”
Nico was good at making him curious.
“Kiss me,” Nico commanded.
Percy froze, the light of his flashlight even went still in his usually clumsy and jittery hand. Liking Nico in that way crossed his mind sometimes, but it wasn’t plaguing him. Now, it was. His feelings for Nico were anything but straightforward. They were like a messy home he could never clean up, and yet he cherished them all the same.
“I-I never got to kiss before I was trapped here, and I know it likely won’t be satisfying for you.” Nico played with his own hair anxiously. ”I feel selfish, but I want it.”
Would he kiss Nico? He was being given the opportunity. Nico was likely correct that Percy wouldn’t feel much, but that didn’t matter as much to him. He was doing this for Nico, not himself. This was for Nico’s happiness first, his second.
Yet the more he imagined it, the more he realized this would make him happy too.
It was decided then.
He stood on the tips of his feet to reach Nico’s face. It was only supposed to be a quick peck, but as he closed his eyes and their lips made contact… things changed. Instead of feeling paint, he felt Nico’s mouth against his own. Nico’s lips were not soft, they were jagged with consistently bitten skin, but Percy found himself enjoying them.
It took an embarrassingly long time for Percy to realize he should open his eyes. When he did, he realized Nico’s face was now outside the painting. With a yelp, he scrambled back, and Nico fell on the floor. He shielded his face with his arms, ending up in a small pile of his own royal clothing.
The painting was now vacant, a throne and sword were the only elements remaining.
Nico was on the floor.
All Percy could think was this escalated quickly.
Rushing forward, he helped Nico onto his feet and held his cheek in a hand, looking over his face for wounds. When he realized Nico was fine, he didn’t take his hand off the man’s face. Maybe checking Nico for injuries was just an excuse. His feelings for him were just getting stronger.
“Are you okay?” He still asked.
“Yeah…” Nico’s eyes finally met Percy’s, and his heart skipped a beat.
“Let’s get out of here then, I bet you’re sick of this scenery.” The comment got a laugh out of Nico, and Percy couldn’t stop grinning.
A few weeks later, Nico had settled into Percy’s apartment. They had to share a bed because Percy didn’t have a guest room, but neither of them seemed to care anyways. Sleeping beside each other gave them more time to talk and sometimes, if they were feeling confident enough, kiss in the darkness.
Percy checked the news once things settled down and couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at a headline. Nico, growing curious, went over and wrapped his arms around his new boyfriend’s neck.
“What is it?” His chin nudged Percy’s cheek from where his head was perched. He squinted down at the article, but Percy knew he could only read so much. Nico still had a long way to go until he could read English reliably.
”They attributed your disappearance to pranksters painting over the art somehow?”
Nico barked out a laugh. “Seriously? Stupid…”
Percy kissed Nico’s cheek. “Obviously the more reasonable explanation is a true love’s kiss setting you free.”
Nico reached forward and closed the laptop Percy was looking at. “I guess they would assume stupid things instead of magic.”
Recognizing a look of uncomfortability on Nico’s face, Percy shook his head. “Let’s forget about it. How about we go get ice cream again? You need to try the cookie monster flavor this time, you’re not going to be missing out on that just because you find blue food strange.”
“It is!”
“Times have changed! You have to love blue food to be my boyfriend or at least like it.” Percy grinned and took Nico’s hands that were resting on his chest. “We can also go to that card game store? You were so sad it was closed last time we went.”
Nico rolled his eyes, but Percy knew he found his boyfriend’s weakness. “Fine. You win this one, Percy. Let’s go get ice cream.”
As Nico unwrapped his arms to get ready, Percy smirked and followed. “I have the best two-hundred-year-old boyfriend ever.”