too much joy, i swear, is lost in our desperation to keep it.

— 17 November 2017

⬆️ leaving a Christmas party with Anais in Primrose Hill

“THERE ARE NO QUEER FRIENDLY COPS,” Heritage of Pride, New York City, June 2017

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

Maybe six months ago, Percy would've been startled by Nico suddenly materializing out of an afternoon shadow and collapsing next to him on his couch, but that was six months ago.

Now, Percy just shrugs and pauses CoD, setting the controller aside, out of the way.

"Yeah well, I'm sick."

Nico takes a breath and looks him over, eyebrows raised.

"I guess that answers my next question about whether or not Annabeth's home."

Percy hums in vague affirmation and looks over Nico right back. His hair is wet, he's in basketball shorts, his shoes are untied. He smells like soap and nothing. Percy feels a dark weight settle in his chest.

"You got out the door in a hurry."

Nico just hums back, a little mocking. The weight on Percy's heart gets heavier, and it doesn't let up until he's groaning into Nico's ear, mouth to the back of his neck. Nico's smell is still there, under the damp hair and toothpaste and whatever body wash Will must've picked out. Percy just has to find it, has to tear him apart like his body is a room and Percy's lost something important in it. He discovers what he was missing, the faint scent of green-apple vape smoke, chemical and sharp, on the skin at Nico's hairline. He lingers on the taste of cheap coffee at the corner of Nico's mouth, half off Nico's lips and half off his own fingers where they're hooked behind Nico's teeth, keeping Nico's mouth too open to suck because if Nico thinks Percy's going to let him do a damn thing more after he's shown up here on a Wednesday afternoon, already slick and open and ready, then clearly Percy's not the only one neglecting his education.