AN: Well. First, I want to apologize for this. Because a sequel to Experts At Not Talking About It was never meant to happen. And certainly not a sequel like this one.

Second, shout out to Taffeh A. Llama. Because there's one scene in this that I just know you're going to appreciate.

Third, I want to send special thanks to alex-the-prince over on Tumblr. Because alex-the-prince always leaves such nice, encouraging comments whenever I post about my fics. Especially last night, when I was freaking out over trying to finish this fic. You, Alex, are an angel. I would like to keep you.

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. Luckily for you guys.

Enjoy!

~THF

When you first notice the distance, it's nine months into your relationship, but you suppose it must have been there for a long time, since you don't just freeze someone out overnight.

You're sitting with Nico at the bonfire, fiddling with wires and metal plating, and Nico sits next to you in silence. And it occurs to you that his feet aren't in your lap.

It's such a miniscule detail that you don't know why you're noticing it. But you used to always pull his feet into your lap, laughing about how if he stayed curled up like that, with his knees tucked up tightly against his chest, he might actually melt away into the darkness one day and stay there.

You haven't pulled Nico's feet into your lap tonight, and now that you think about it, you haven't for the last two weeks.

"Nico." You set the wiring on the bench beside you as you look at Nico.

"Yeah, Leo?" he asks with a tired sigh, and he doesn't look away from the bonfire, which makes his eyes inky black, and more miserable than you've ever seen them.

You want to gently grab his chin and force him to look at you, but you don't want to cause a scene.

"What's happening to us?" you murmur, and your voice cracks over the last word. Nico looks over at you, finally meets your eye, and you wish he hadn't. Having that sad, empty look directed at you is worse than having him avoid your gaze.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says softly, but you don't know how he doesn't, because you used to be happy together, and now you aren't.

You think about the last few weeks, the last couple of months, and you note every moment where you could have told him you love him, or kissed him, or said something wry that you knew would make him laugh, but didn't. You think about the moments you didn't do any of those things. And you weigh them against the moments when you did, when you told Nico you love him, when you kissed him, when you said something solely because you knew he'd think it was funny.

And you find that, when you weigh the moments you didn't against the moments you did, the times you didn't out weigh the times you did.

So because you don't know how to explain that to Nico, you let it go.

When you kissed Nico for the first time, on board the Argo II en route to the House of Hades, you were tinkering with metal and wiring, and Nico told you that you were building a dragon, even though you couldn't see it.

On Nico's fifteenth birthday (you both estimated somewhere in January, so it was more like a birthmonth than a birthday), you gave him the automaton, kissed his cheek, and whispered in his ear, "Just like you knew this was going to be a dragon, I knew I was going to fall in love with you." You'd never seen a shade of pink so lovely, and never on Nico.

A couple weeks into the summer, when you break up with him, it's the first thing he throws out.

Jason tells you about it after the fact. He says he and Percy were there when it happened, and nothing hurts you more than hearing Jason describe the way Nico threw out everything that reminds him of you.

But you broke up with him, so you don't have any right to get upset. So you let it go.

"So, um. How was Nico?"

Percy looks up from his cards at you, eyebrows raised. Opposite him, Jason frowns. Annabeth shakes her head, pressing her lips together tightly, and Piper gives you a sad smile.

"He's good," Percy says eventually, and for once, his eyes are serious as he studies you. "He's keeping busy. He spends a lot of time with Hazel, Frank, and Reyna, and he's working at that coffee shop in New Rome."

You look back down at the cards in your hand, consider, then lay your cards on the ground in front of you. "I fold," you announce.

Piper and Annabeth exchange looks, and Annabeth tosses another chip into the pile.

The four of them—Percy, Annabeth, Jason, and Piper—returned from their group trip to Camp Jupiter last night. You would have gone with them, but you didn't want to deal with the awkward, upsetting tension of seeing Nico.

You can't help but wonder how he's doing, though. You miss him more than you care to admit.

"I raise you fifty," Percy says, chucking a couple of chips into the pile. Annabeth rolls her eyes, but Jason smirks.

"You're on, Jackson," he mocks, and matches Percy's gamble. Percy pokes his tongue out at him, but Jason only smirks.

"You two are children," Piper complains, but she matches Percy's fifty.

Annabeth shakes her head and tosses her cards down. "I fold, too."

"Bad cards, Wise Girl?" Percy teases, and Annabeth sighs dramatically.

"You know I could whoop your ass with my cards, Seaweed Brain." She rolls her eyes again. "No, I just want to be well-rested for the trip tomorrow. You should probably get some sleep, too."

Percy makes a face. "I don't like thinking about it. I just want to stay here for the school year."

Annabeth arches an eyebrow. "You want to miss your freshman year of college?"

Whatever Percy's response is, you don't hear it. You're already thinking about what it's going to be like this year.

This is Annabeth and Percy's first year of college. Annabeth is going to some fancy architectural school in Boston, and Percy is following her there to take some part-time courses at their community college. It's yours, Piper's, and Jason's senior year of high school, but Piper and Jason are going to live in Los Angeles with Piper's dad, and you're spending the school year with the rest of the rejects at Camp Half-Blood who don't have anyone to go home to.

You know it wouldn't be so bad if you and Nico were still together, because last year, when Percy and Annabeth went to New York and California, respectively, for their senior years of high school, and Piper and Jason went to Los Angeles for their junior year, it didn't hurt like this.

It didn't hurt at all.

Back then, you'd had Nico to keep you company. Of course, you missed half the school year, anyways, due to the fact that you both lost track of time when you were in the Underworld and didn't come back aboveground until Christmas, but it was much easier then. Then, you had someone to chase through Camp, to press up against trees and kiss senseless, to roll their eyes at your stupid jokes.

This year, you haven't got anyone. And you're not sure if that's your fault, or Nico's.

In November, Hazel, Frank, and Nico visit Camp Half-Blood.

The day they get there, you hide out in Bunker 9 with Nyssa all day. Well, Nyssa leaves after dinner starts and doesn't come back, but whatever. She's there with you most of the day. That's what counts.

You manage to avoid the three demigods for the first few days they're at Camp. It's on the fourth day that you run into them, when you're on your way back to Bunker 9 after an emergency food run (Nyssa refused to "encourage your anti-social habits any longer" by bringing you food and water, damn her). You're slipping out of the Hermes cabin with a soda can in either hand, a bag of Lays under one arm, and a McDonald's Happy Meal under the other—all courtesy of the Stoll brothers—when you almost plow Hazel over.

"Shit," you yelp, your body slamming into hers. Your soda cans go flying, your Happy Meal falls to the ground, and your Lays bag pops open. But you catch Hazel's arm before she falls over.

"Shit!" you repeat, dropping to the ground and frantically gathering up your food so that it doesn't spoil. (Bargaining with the Stolls is not easy—sure, you're friends and all, but those assholes are by no means cheap. You spent twenty minutes arguing with them because they wanted life-size dragon automatons and you refuse to make anything with dragons, before you and the two brothers came to a compromise of you building them freaking Star Wars droids.)

"Shit, shit, shit!" you chant, and you're not sure if it's because your French fries are scattered in the dirt, or if it's because you can literally feel Nico's eyes on your back from where he's hovering a few feet away.

"Language, Leo," Hazel admonishes, her tone playful as she kneels down and starts helping you gather your things. When everything seems back in order (except for your fries—it's too late for those), you finally look up at her and Frank, carefully not looking at Nico.

"I'm really sorry about this," Hazel says sincerely. "I didn't even see you coming."

Your cheeks flush as you climb to your feet. "I was kind of in a rush to get back to Bunker 9. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."

Nico scoffs, but you don't look at him. You know if you look at him, you'll break down and beg him to come back, beg him to tell you what you did wrong, and ask him what you did to make him so distant from you in the first place. You can't look at Nico without remembering how much you need him.

"Have you been in Bunker 9 all this time?" Hazel asks. "We've been here for a few days. I haven't seen you around at all."

"I've kind of been getting Nyssa to bring me food," you admit, and your cheeks are so hot, you worry you're accidentally going to flame up. You haven't accidentally lit your hair on fire since the first time Nico gave you a blowjob, but you still worry about it constantly.

"Big project?" Franks asks, and you meet his eye, shrugging one shoulder. Ever since you and Nico started openly dating, you and Frank have gotten along. You suppose he was more worried about you stealing Hazel away from him than having any actual dislike for you.

"You could say that." You don't tell them that the "big project" is you making every point to avoid Nico until he leaves.

"Oh." Hazel rocks back and forth on her heels, and Frank tucks her hand into his own.

"Hazel," Nico implores, and you feel yourself freeze up, because the last time you heard his voice—five months ago—he was cursing at you in Italian. "Come on, let's go. I'm hungry."

Hazel glances over her shoulder, but you still can't bring yourself to look at Nico. You can't bring yourself to say a word to him.

"You should go," you tell Hazel with a quick, jerky nod, and then you take your Happy Meal and your shaken-up sodas and your busted Lays bag, and you begin the trek back to Bunker 9.

Behind you, you can hear Hazel and Nico hissing at each other in low voices, but they fade out the farther away you get. You can't breathe easy again until you're safely back in Bunker 9, but even then, Nico's voice haunts you—so chilly and flat.

You know he probably hates you for leaving him, and you could spend all day talking about how he pulled himself away from you, how you pulled away from him, how eventually, when one of you woke up in the middle of the night screaming from nightmares, you just stopped trying to comfort each other. You could claim that it's Nico's fault you broke up, and you wouldn't be wrong. But you wouldn't be right, either.

It's not that black and white. There's so much more gray area than that. And yet, it's so fucking simple.

You and Nico never talked about anything. Everything that you've gone through together, all those nightmares and the screaming and the fact that almost everything you know about him were things that Hazel or Percy or Jason or anyone who wasn't Nico had told you.

The reason why you and Nico grew apart from one another, why you broke up with him, is simple. You and Nico never talked about anything. You never talked about the nightmares you both had; you never talked about the Underworld; you never talked about Tartarus; you never talked about the fact that the first time you slept together, Nico was gone before morning broke. You never talked about falling in love with each other, or the handjobs you exchanged, or that first slow, passionate kiss you exchanged that one night on the Argo II after Coach Hedge died. You never talked about that fucking dragon automaton that started your whole relationship.

You never talked about it. And sometimes, not talking about it can be the reason you have to say goodbye.

"Leo, I swear to Zeus, if you're just going to keep moping—"

You grunt, pushing yourself up on your elbows to give Piper a half-hearted glare through the IM. She shakes her head at you, propping her hands on her hips.

"But it's my birthday," you whine, "and you and Jason are in LA!"

Piper rolls her eyes. "I know, and I'm sorry we can't be there. But we can't just leave LA to come see you. We have school."

You poke your tongue out at her. "I don't think you should attend school."

Piper rolls her eyes again, but she smirks. "Leo, I have to go. I'm gonna be late for class."

"Oh, alright," you sigh dramatically. "Just leave me here to rot and die on my own, then."

Piper laughs. "You're wearing a pink tux in the casket if you die on me now."

"Oh, Pipes, you know pink is my favorite!" You grin at Piper, and she chuckles.

"Love you, Leo!" she chirps, raising her hand to end the IM.

"Love you, too," you say, smiling, and then she ends it. Then, it's just you and the wet sand underneath your ass and the water lapping at your feet and the chilly air. No one else is on the beach. Almost no one else is at Camp.

Last year on your birthday, Nico pulled you out of bed at midnight and dragged you to the beach to have a picnic. You maintain to this day that it was one of the best birthdays you've ever had, but you're pretty sure you only think that because, for the first time since your mom died, you weren't spending your birthday alone—whether in the physical sense, or the emotional one.

But this year, Nico is at Camp Jupiter, and you're alone again. Even though you broke up back in June, it still hurts. You don't think you'll ever get over Nico.

"Hey! Leo!"

You look over your shoulder at the Stolls, who are strolling towards you through the sand with matching mischievous smiles. The only way to tell either of them apart is their height difference—Travis being a few inches taller than Connor.

"Hey," you say, grinning and waving them over. They plop down on either side of you, both draping an arm over your shoulders and leaning into you.

"So, we heard," Travis begins.

"That today is your birthday," Connor finishes. You've never quite gotten over the creepy finishing-each-others'-sentences twin thing.

"You heard right, gentleman," you confirm, grinning at the two brothers. They glance at each other over your head, their smiles widening, and then they leap to their feet, pulling you along with them.

"Come on, come on," they urge in unison. "Let's go do something wild and exciting that could get us kicked out of Camp!"

As they drag you along, you know they're only doing this because they know that you don't have anyone else to celebrate with. But they're right—you don't have anyone else with whom to celebrate. So you let it go.

The Winter Solstice brings Hazel, Frank, and Nico back to Camp Half-Blood. If it weren't for the Stolls, you'd spend all of the Solstice hiding in Bunker 9 to avoid Nico.

As it is, the Stolls convince you to hang out with them. They've been spending more and more time with you lately, and you're appreciative of it, even though you're pretty sure they're only doing it because they pity you.

With some coaxing and the promise of free KFC for a month, they manage to drag you to Camp Half-Blood's annual Winter Solstice party in the dining pavilion. Everything is going fine until half-way through the night, when the Stolls disappear to talk to someone else, and you're left alone at the Hermes table.

"Leo."

Hearing your name spoken by that voice is so shocking, you're startled into looking at the boy who said it.

Except he's not a boy anymore. He's taller, though by no means taller than you, and he's got some stubble growing on his chin. His skin is regaining some color from his time at Camp Jupiter, and his form, while still lithe, is more muscular. His eyes are the worst part, though.

His eyes are still that deep, chocolaty brown they've always been, but they're a little harder now, if that's possible. At first, you think he's withdrawn even farther from the world, but then you realize that his eyes are so guarded because he's talking to you.

You still don't know what you did to warrant that look of utter distrust.

"Nico," you breathe, feeling your heartbeat stutter out for a second before coming back to life full-force, beating so fast, you can feel your pulse throbbing in your wrists.

"Can I sit?" He gestures towards the bench across from you, and you nod so fast, you're pretty sure you almost get whiplash.

"So." Nico looks around the pavilion, at the throng of year-rounders, and you wonder if this is it. If this is the moment where you finally talk about it. "I've been thinking a lot lately. About us."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Nico nods, casting his eyes toward his lap briefly, his cheeks coloring. "The way you avoided looking at me, at Thanksgiving. It got me thinking."

You think back to Thanksgiving. You can remember every word from that conversation with Hazel, and you can remember all the words you should have said to Nico but didn't.

I miss you. I love you. I need you. Please come back.

"You have no right to avoid looking at me."

And just like that, Nico's voice is all ice, and whatever hope you had is gone. Nico isn't talking to you because he wants you back. He's talking to you because he wants you to know how much he hates you.

"I don't have a right to avoid looking at you?" you echo, your voice numb and flat, and your eyes drop to the table. You can't look at Nico anymore, not when you keep picturing him writhing beneath the pressure of your thumbs, your open mouths sliding against each others', the press of bare skin and the scratch of denim as you pulled each other apart relentlessly, and let the pieces fall back together so seamlessly.

Except now that you think about it, you didn't pull each other apart. You ripped, yanked, tore, broke. There was nothing gentle about the way you and Nico fell apart in each others' arms. Just as, when you fell back together after, it was never seamless. The edges were jagged, splintered, and it didn't slide together like it should. You and Nico, you were always part of the same puzzle, but you were never side-by-side pieces. You were a corner piece, insignificant and tucked away, and Nico was right up front, the first thing anyone noticed. The center of your universe.

"How can you tell me I'm not allowed avoid you?" you demand, and your voice comes out so much rougher and harsher than it ever has been while you're talking with Nico. You meet Nico's gaze head on, lifting your chin defiantly. "I may have made things official, but you left me long before I left you."

You don't stick around to see Nico's reaction. You calmly climb to your feet, and you walk away. Because that's the only thing you know how to do—that's the only thing you can do without fucking it up beyond repair.

You're pretty sure you fucked Nico up beyond repair. But he gave as good as he got.

The first time you laid eyes on Nico, you knew. You could feel it—you were going to fall in love with him.

But it never once crossed your mind that he was going to break your heart.

It's summer again—June 14th. It's been approximately six months since you last saw Nico, and officially a year since your break up.

It doesn't hurt like it used to, but you can still feel it, always. He sits under your skin, farther down now than he used to be, but he's still there beneath the surface if you dig far enough. Everyone's told you that it's time you let it go, but it's not that simple. Some part of you is still convinced that Nico is your soul mate, and you don't have the heart to tell that part of you that soul mates don't exist outside of cheesy romance novels.

Being friends with the friends of your ex is awkward. Technically, Percy belongs to Nico, since they met first. But Percy acts like you're family, and you like that. It's been a long time since you felt like you had a family, and you have one here, at Camp Half-Blood, with Percy, Jason, Annabeth, and Piper. Even Hazel and Frank are friendly towards you when you see them, even though you would've thought they'd be too close to Nico to be anything more than polite.

But being considered family has its cons as well as its pros. Like the fact that Jason and Percy have made it their personal mission to set you up before the end of the summer.

"Come on," Percy says, slinging his arm over Jason's shoulder. "What do you like in a guy?"

"You know," you say, grinning at them even though you think they're being idiots (your inner black woman maintains that she does not, under any circumstances, need a man). "Tall, dark, and handsome. Every girl's dream."

"You're not a girl," Jason mutters, rolling his eyes.

"Shh, Jason." Percy presses a finger against Jason's mouth. "I think Leo is a beautiful Disney princess."

A moment later, Percy is yanking his hand away from Jason's mouth, keeping up a steady chant of fuck fuck fuck as he wipes his palm on his jeans. When he's done, he points an accusatory finger at Jason.

"You licked my finger!" he accuses, and you double over laughing.

Jason keeps his composure. "I had to lube you up."

Percy's face turns red—he's trying not to laugh, too. "Damn it, Jason, that's what the chicken grease is for!"

"No," Jason sighs, shaking his head. "The chicken grease was for Nico. Remember?"

Percy shudders. "How could I forget? Fucking Stoll brothers."

"What'd the Stolls have to do with chicken grease and Nico?" you ask, undeniably curious. Percy pulls his patented bitch face, and Jason's mask cracks as he starts laughing.

"Don't…ask…" Jason gets out around his laughter. Percy's cheeks turn bright red.

"Long story short, there was an incident with the Stolls and Nico and a bucket of KFC chicken over spring break," Percy mutters, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "Let's not talk about it. We're getting off track."

Jason sobers enough to straighten up, but there are still traces of mirth in his eyes. You wonder, if you and Nico hadn't broken up, if you'd know what Percy was talking about. Or would you and Nico have avoided talking about that, too?

Suddenly, you don't feel like sitting here talking to Percy and Jason about chicken grease or getting a boyfriend. You just want to be back in the Hades cabin with Nico, lazily trailing your fingers over his ribs as you plan your futures together.

When you and Nico used to talk about the future, you both pictured a quiet apartment in New Rome, going to school, adopting a kid or two from overseas. You and Nico were just kids—hell, you're still only sixteen and seventeen—but those plans were what kept you together for so long. They were the only things you really talked about.

Percy and Jason are still talking about some college guy Percy knows who would be "perfect" with you, but all you can think about is Nico.

You take a deep breath, hold it, and let it go.

You can do this. You don't need Nico.

You make the decision to go to an engineering school in Texas in the fall. You don't think you'll be missed at Camp Half-Blood, but before you leave, Travis and Connor find you and both plant a kiss on either cheek. They tell you to keep in touch, and then they send you on your way.

In October, you're on your way to class when a sense of unease sweeps over your being. Not like the shit, I just remembered there's a test in class today and I totally didn't study for it kind of unease. But the kind that usually means a monster is nearby.

You do a slow turn, taking in the surrounding area, one hand on your tool belt. You spot her across the street.

She looks like the Empousa, but you know she isn't one. She emanates much worse vibes than that—not that her vibes can get much creepier, considering she's dragging a little kid into a darkened alley by his arm.

Mormo, you think, remembering her name from all those afternoons Annabeth spent trying to teach you about Greek history. (Really, Annabeth is a saint for being able to teach you, Percy, Jason, and Nico about ancient Greece all at the same time. Like, she should get an award for that.)

You duck into the alley after her, and find her leaning over the screaming kid, her teeth sunk into his neck. You don't even have to try to summon flames.

The fight is quick. Once Mormo catches sight of you, it's all goes downhill fast. The kid escapes from her grasp and runs down the alley, leaving just you and Mormo. She bares her bloodied teeth at you, and the fire in your palm flickers out.

"What the…" you mutter, trying to figure out what happened. The fire has never just flickered out since before you got control of your powers. But then you remember what Annabeth said about Mormo—how she can control fire, as well as being a creepy vampire. Which means you're fucked six ways to Sunday.

You sigh. Here goes nothing.

'Here goes nothing' ends with you lying on the concrete, bleeding from the gaping wound in your neck.

Mormo isn't sparing. She ripped a good portion of your neck out with her teeth before you smashed her head in with a hammer from your tool belt. Now, she's a pile of gold dust, and you're lying on slick, grimy concrete, a thousand miles away from anyone you care about.

You close your eyes, coughing up blood. The pain is immense, shredding through your body, sending waves to your neck until you're throwing up blood.

So this is the end.

You dry heave until you can't anymore, and then you curl in on yourself. You don't bother getting ambrosia or nectar from your bag. It won't do you any good.

You close your eyes, take a shuddering breath, and let go.

You hate it in the Underworld.

Everything is dark and gloomy, even though you're in the middle of Elysium. Charlie and Silena welcome you into their house (not that houses are a very big deal—you're all dead, anyways), and that's where you stay. With the big brother you never got to meet while he was alive, and the girl he fell in love with.

"Leo."

You look up as Silena drifts into the room. Things are different, in the Underworld. There's no need for sleep, but in Elysium, there are these ghostly beds you can dream in. You crawl into one, and you dream. You dream of the days you could have had, or you dream of the days you used to have.

You hate the beds, because when you use them, you always dream of Nico—of the life you would have had with him if you'd just talked about things, and you dream of the days you used to have with him, when things were as simple as I love you and I love you, too, Darling.

"Silena," you acknowledge, and glance back out the window over Elysium. Being dead is listless. There's nothing to do with yourself. You miss the days where it seemed like death was going to be the sweetest release, because death is so impossibly boring, you want to kill yourself to escape it. Which obviously, you can't.

"Leo," she says again, her voice soft. She doesn't continue until you look at her. "There's someone here for you."

When you get down to the living room, the last person you expect to see is Nico Di Angelo in all his living glory. You stare at each other for a long time, and then his face crumples slightly.

"I felt it," he says, his voice cracking. "The moment you died. I felt it."

And then he's flinging himself at you, and if you were more than just a wisp, you would gather him into your arms, hug him around his middle, and promise everything was going to be all right. But you can't, because you can't even touch him without him moving right through you.

He realizes this, too, and steps away from you.

"I'm so sorry," he says, his voice quiet. You glance around the living room, but Silena is nowhere to be seen. "I never should have pushed you away like that. I was just so worried about losing you."

You reach out to brush your fingers against his cheek, but pull your hand away when your fingertips sink beneath the skin. You're the dead one, and it creeps you out.

"I wasn't ever going to leave you," you say, and if ghosts could cry, you're pretty sure you'd be sobbing. "We were supposed to grow old together."

"It's not the same, you being dead."

You're sitting across from Nico, playing cards (frustratingly enough, objects are no problem—you can hold things without them falling through your hands, but you try to touch a living person? Ain't gonna happen), when he starts talking.

"I know we weren't talking when you were alive," he continues, "but it just feels so wrong. It's like everyone lost a part of themselves when you died. Percy leaves the room whenever anyone mentions you, Piper cries a lot, Annabeth keeps snapping at everyone, and Jason is so distant these days. They miss you." Then, lower;

"I miss you."

You grin at him. "You're sitting right across from me, Ghost Prince."

Nico shakes his head. "It's not the same," he mutters, keeping his eyes on his cards. He arches an eyebrow. "Hey, do you have a 10?"

You look down at your cards, pulling out your only ten and tossing it at him.

"You're way too good at Go Fish," you complain. Nico smiles.

"You remember," he begins, "when you broke up with me?"

You grimace, laying your cards on the table face-down. "How could I forget?"

Nico sets his cards down, too. "I was really mad, after you left."

You scoff. "Understatement of the century."

Nico gives you an annoyed look, and you pretend to zip your lips shut and lock them, signifying that you're done interrupting. Nico rolls his eyes.

"Anyways. Look, after you ended things, I blamed you. I blamed you for a long time. And then at Thanksgiving, you couldn't look at me, and I just—I couldn't understand. You wouldn't look at me, but you were the one who ended things. I couldn't see how that was fair."

You open your mouth to protest, but Nico silences you with a glare.

"What I'm saying, Leo, is that I blamed you for the end of us until the Winter Solstice. When I approached you, I had every intention of fighting with you until you told me why you left. I didn't have to wait long, I guess. You came right out and said it."

Nico gives you a sad smile. " 'I may have made things official, but you left me long before I left you.' It took me a really long time to figure out what you meant by that."

He shakes his head, and you want to talk, but you don't want to interrupt again.

"All my life, I haven't been able to keep the people I care about safe. You came along, and at first things were perfect, but I realized that, just like everyone else, something was going to happen to you if I let you get too close. Consciously, I made the decision to try my hardest to keep you safe. Subconsciously, I was already distancing myself from you to protect you from harm and myself the pain of losing you."

Nico's eyes are so sad, you can't stop yourself from trying to reach out to grab his hand.

"I don't blame you," you blurt out, retracting your hand before it can sink through his and remind you of the distance between you. "I felt like I wasn't wanted, so I left. And I shouldn't have, I should have stayed, but I—"

"It's okay," Nico interrupts. "We were both wrong, but there's nothing we can do about it now."

You're not expecting it to hurt that much. You and Nico have been seeing each other like this for three weeks. You aren't expecting him to admit that nothing will happen between the two of you ever again, because you still haven't quite admitted that to yourself.

You pick up your cards again.

"You got a 5?" you ask.

Nico shakes his head. "Go fish."

As you reach for the card, you shake off the hurt. You're dead—it's not like you can expect him to remain faithful to you until he dies—so you let it go.

"I met someone, Leo. I think I'm falling in love with him."

You freeze, and you're not quite sure how to reply. Everything you've ever done with Nico flashes through your mind, all the plans you made for the future, all the long talks in the Underworld, all the kisses and the sex and that fucking dragon automaton. For a dead guy, you feel like you relive every second.

You and Nico aren't together, and there's not even the slightest possibility of you ever being together again. You know what you have to do.

"Okay," you say, your voice quiet and straining against your raging emotions.

You give Nico a sad smile, you take a deep breath, and you do the hardest thing you've ever had to do.

You let him go.