❛ 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 ❜ - 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐨 𝐝𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐨

[ 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 ]

    You see, when Nico was three years old, something started to grow within him. Something rotten and sick, something morbid and twisted. Something that everyone ignored. The only person who ever made a comment on it was Bianca.

     Nico didn't know where it came from, the urge to rip out the wings of insects, the urge to torture them instead of kill them, because what was worse than being born with wings and suddenly having them ripped out?

     She had seen him capture a butterfly, had followed his movements as he plucked the wings from the body like petals from a tulip. She had stood up, marched over and pulled him to his feet.

     "Uccidilo. Kill it.", she said, the tone in her voice making the small boy shiver. He had wrung in her grip, but it was hard as stone.
"Perché? Why?", he had whined and tears sprung to his eyes at the force with which his sister's nails dug through his shirt.

      "Perché hai appena distrutto la sua vita, Nico, e ora mostri pietà. Giocare con la loro vita non è qualcosa da fare con un sorriso. Because you just destroyed its life, Nico, and now you show mercy. Playing with their life isn't something to do with a grin.", she had snapped and because Nico didn't do anything, Bianca stomped onto the writhing body on the ground and marched off, face sour. The splotch on the ground had haunted both of their dreams for months to come.

      You see, when Bianca was three years old something started to grow within her. Something rotten and sick, something morbid and twisted. Something that everyone ignored. Until she started school and everyone ran away from her with tears in their eyes when she showed the glittering wings of a dragonfly and the still squirming body to her friends at school.

      Bianca had learned to stop the urge to destroy lives, the urge to hurt so badly that there would be begging rather than just kill. And she didn't want for Nico to hurt like she did.

But where Bianca's rottenness disappeared, Nico's grew like his bones. He hid it, behind his back in clasped hands, and the pockets of his trousers, but it grew steadily.

     He managed to hide it for so long, that it became natural for him to squeeze the blood out of his fingers when the urge to destroy became too big. Fingertips were scarred to a point where it didn't seem like he had a fingerprint.

     Nico hid his nature his entire life, and when he didn't have to do it anymore, he didn't even notice. His scars faded slowly, went from the clawing red to a pale rose shade until they were a gentle white.

     "Why do you have those scars on your fingers, Neeks?", Lil asked him once, and Nico looked down to find the angry gashes that had once decorated his skin gone.

     He had cried, then, and he had told his companion everything. Liliom had only gathered him in his arms and had told him it didn't matter, that he only wanted Nico to stop trying to cut the bad out of himself. That he'd love him without or without that something.

      When March rolled around, and Nico came to visit, he noticed the change in the atmosphere.
"What's going on?", he asked Lil in a whisper, hand grasping for his. Liliom had only sighed and said:"Spring is about to come again, and Mama is fighting with Hades, like always."

      Nico would've slapped himself. How could he have forgotten? When did the time go by so fast? Panic had begun to seep through his bones and he could feel the skeletons around him start to rattle.

     "Hey, don't worry Neeks. It's only a few", Lil winced,"months. I'll be back before you know it. Now, come on and help me pack, I have no idea what kind of mythomagic cards I should bring."
They both knew it was a lie. It wasn't just a few months, it was half a year, and Liliom knew exactly which cards he wanted to bring.