Samson came to my bed Told me that my hair was red Told me I was beautiful and came into my bed. Surprisingly, it goes in. The way he's looking at Nico, like he's never seen him before - or that he has. Maybe the Romans decided that he would make the perfect punching bag because of it; maybe no one could get close to him or understand him because he was skinny and weird-looking and he didn't even bruise. Nico doesn't think it's been that long, but when he thinks about it - yeah, it really has.
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You're going to get flattened here. In the end, he doesn't end up telling Percy anything, but when they're lying on their backs and huddled together, stargazing, Percy starts to remember. It's caused me nothing but trouble and I don't want it. She's not going to waste time on that thought. I'm sorry," he whispers.
What do you want to convey to the world?
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It isand it is in Rio, that you earn your first gold medal: first place in the meter freestyle.
In the living room, Haruka drapes a sheet over the mirror.
He doesn't seem to know what to make of her. Nico can't be jealous. Standing in front of his empty canvas, Haruka squeezes blue paint onto the palette.
A sudden grin jumps to Percy's face. Especially not with the guidance of the dry, warm fingers enclosed around your wrist.
Oval-shaped face, sharp chin, blue eyes, pale skin — Really, though.
Percy stands there, looking exactly as he did before. This stranger somewhat resembles Percy Jackson, but he looks harsher, older, he looks like he's seen rough times and his hair is inexplicably longer. The Roman camp has changed him indelibly.
With broad, sweeping strokes, he erases the sketch of his self-portrait off the canvas.
And that, right there, it why he couldn't understand love, because the sad truth of life is that you can only love as deeply as your pain has cut you, as deeply as you let yourself feel.