The darkness of the Underworld reminded me of how I died.

Long, dark hallways reminded me of my throat, course and silent no matter how heavy the atmosphere, how loud I wanted to scream.

The drip-drip-drip alongside the etched walls reminded him of the air he couldn't swallow.

Nico, with his hand tugging Percy, holding on tight shamelessly, reminded Percy of how no one was there when he died, but all he wanted was a hand, any hand, that same hand, to take his and pull him up.

Pull him up to shore.

Drowning was no way for a son of Poseidon to die... but he did.

He died in the water that was his birthright, and buried next to it, he assumed.

As Nico hurried him around corners, through a maze he never knew existed, he felt his lungs closing and the room between him and Nico getting smaller.

Once Nico had stopped speeding away, slowing to a full pause, Percy bumped into him. Nico turned around and Percy's face was hollow and paler than usual, with patches of skin succumbing to unnatural blues and purples. This is how he looked when he died, Nico realized. He then noticed panic in Percy's eyes, and breaths hitching.

"Are you okay?" he asks Percy, unsure if it was illusion or genuine in that moment.

Percy nods nonetheless, "Let's go see the sun again. The real, not a fake weird Underworld sun, sun."

With that, Nico nodded and continued leading the way, not letting go of his grasp on Percy's fingers and palm for a second.