Fatal Flaw: Empathy (Nico di Angelo)

Chapter Twenty Eight

Long-Story short, Nico passed out.

Short-Story-Long, that's a good thing because the moment he woke up, he was refreshed and said something about the red string in the water. Or that might be a bad thing. Since he see's a red string in the water leading somewhere far far away and none of us can see it. I look at Annabeth in confusion, but she's busy looking at Namjoon in confusion, who's busy looking at Jin like somehow Jin knows something he doesn't and Jin is looking at Nico all smug as Nico starts frantically paces across the deck. Clarisse is regretting all her decisions.

"Jinnie," Namjoon asks.

"Yes, babe?"

"You know something."

"Yes, babe."

"What is it?"

"I'm surprised you haven't heard of it, since it's in like ninety million fanfictions and stories and just overall references everywhere," Jin boasts, a smug look on his face. "But the string Nico is seeing attaches him to Aletha. It's a soulmate string."

"Can... you see it?"

"I can see all the soul mate strings. It's part of my shipping powers. Percy's and Annabeth's strings are attached, yours and mine are attached, Clarisse is a single pringle."

"Oh, fucking thanks," she scowls at being called as such.

"There's someone for you, too, darling, just they're not on the boat. Hold your damn war horses." Jin mutters to himself. "I think Mom knocked him out; she must have some intense shipping with Aletha and Nico."

Namjoon looks at Nico curiously. "Nico," he calls.

"Hm?" The younger responds, eyes fixated on a place in the ocean that doesn't seem visible to anyone else.

"Where are we headed?"

"Wherever the line ends."

"And do you have a general vicinity?"

"Italy. The singing is in Italian, and it's fucking familiar, but I don't know who's singing it, and I'm beginning to get impatient." He pauses for a beat before turning to me. "Percy, be honest. I'm the only one who doesn't know who I'm looking for, aren't I?"

I glance at everyone else but end up nodding instead of paying attention to whatever curs they may have been giving me. "Yep."

"And part of this... part of this is your fault, right?" My heart flattens against my stomach and I nod again. "Can you explain.. a little?"

"Long-Story Short. The girl you were dating has this powerful thing, and Zeus felt threatened. But then it was all good, except her godly parent," my dad, Poseidon, who isn't sending us sea monsters for the sole reason that I'm sitting on this boat, "wanted you to prove you were good enough for them. Is what Dad told me."

Annabeth speaks up, a wise-girl-glimmer in her eye, "and I think this quest is about all the people close to her. Percy and her are like siblings, Clarisse is her best friend, Namjoon and Jin act like her parents, and you two... well, you're in love."

"Also," Namjoon adds. "It should be good to note she probably doesn't know anything about you either, in fact, less than what you know."

Nico shakes his head in confusion. "I didn't hear anything but what Namjoon said. Try saying it again."

Namjoon sighs, "I don't think this is going to work. It's obvious you aren't supposed to know, and whatever is making you like this is adamant in keeping your memory gone for as long as possible."

Nico scowls, a look that he wore pretty often and pretty well. "Well, that's just great." He turns back to the invisible red string.

And he lightly sings as we all slowly return to chilling, honestly. "Sono il tudo soldatino,
non ti dimenticherò."

Jin smiles slightly at his words. "He says, 'I am your little soldier, I won't forget you.'" He pauses to listen to Nico.

"Sto venendo per te, ragazza della corda rossa."

"I'm coming for you, girl of the red string."

Namjoon looks at Jin in confusion. "You speak Italian?"

"That transcends mere words, love. I don't speak Italian, but he," Jin nods in Nico's direction, where he incoherently plays with his pinky and twangs at a string that I cannot see, "he speaks the language of the truly inspired, the truly whipped, and the truly insane. The language of love~"

"That was a crap of a monologue," Clarisse scoffs.

"You'd say that, single pringle."