Saltwater

Nico

When I next opened my eyes, it was raining, completely dark save for brief flashes of lightning, and Percy was still with me, his chest steadily rising and falling with his breath. I put a hand flat onto its left side,  just to feel his heart slowly beating through his shirt. What he had said... It made me wonder just what it was that he'd been through, what kind of pain he's endured. It wouldn't be my place to ask, but he seemed so... Confident, like he always knew just what to do. But knowing that it hadn't always been that way, that there was a time when he was left terrified and powerless... I wanted to know. I wanted to comfort him, the way he does me.

This hand seemed to have a life of its own, migrating upwards towards his face, its fingers tracing one of his scars, which stretched all the way from his left temple to his right jaw. I felt so tempted, then, to do something unthinkable, unnatural, unforgivable.

I wanted to kiss him.

I bit my lip, almost punishing it for yearning another man's touch, and I cast off the blanket and sat up on the bed. I needed to use his toilet anyway. 

Looking down at my feet, I remembered my fall last night, and wondered if I could even make it that far on my own without incident. My chest still hurt when I pressed hard enough on it, and my head felt light. Surely, though, I could. It was right in front of me. The door wasn't even closed. I forced my legs to stand upright, and tried not to make too much noise as I clamored to the toilet. As soon as I shut the door, however, I put my back to it and slowly slid down onto the floor, my knees still bent, groaning and breathing heavily in the completely dark room. So much for standing up, then. 

My head was pounding, and my stomach began to growl very loudly and angrily, gnawing and gnashing and counterintuitively threatening to vomit, even though I had just eaten a full meal before I went to sleep. I never even used to feel like this until five or so days in. After all, after spending god knows how long only being fed just barely enough to keep you alive, a day or two spent the same way felt like nothing.

I pushed myself off of the floor and stood just long enough for me to pull my drawers down before sitting on the toilet and relieving myself, when my stomach decided to go through with its warning. I tried to hold it in, but the rough waters rocking the boat didn't allow for that, and I spilled my guts all over the floor, wiping my mouth on his sleeve. My head was about to split in two, and it was hard to focus on anything but my pain. 

I heard a knock on the door. "Nico, are you alright in there?"

I couldn't do anything but groan in response.

"... Do I need to come in there?" He asked, waiting for a moment before taking my silence as a yes. He opened the door, the dim light of the moon illuminating my surroundings. "Nico, what happened?"

I shook my head, too weak for words. 

He sighed. "... Do you think you're done?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Alright, let's get you cleaned up then. I'll go fetch you some water, and a new shirt while I'm at it. You just sit tight."

I smiled a bit and watched him run off, glad that I was in his company and not that of fellow royalty. He was forgiving when it came to this sort of thing.

When he got back, the first thing I did was drink the water he gave me, just to wash the taste of vomit out of my mouth, and ease the pain in my head, though it didn't erase it completely. I already had my pants down, so I went ahead and took my shirt off. 

"... Nico?" He asked, staring just below my face.

"Yes?"

"You... You're hurt."