Chapter Text
How many five-foot-six goth boys can there be in LAX in January? Or, rather, how could a five-foot-six goth boy hide in LAX in January?
Will needs to find Nico, quick. It’s been over a month since they last saw each other– over a month since they kissed, then Nico flew across the country, then they called each other three times and in each of those conversations they never mentioned the kiss. It makes Will want to explode. It makes Will want to find Nico as fast as possible so he can hug him hard enough to pop his eyes out of his head.
In other words, Will has been lonely without Nico.
From behind him, Apollo clicks his tongue. “That wasn’t here last time we were here.” Will turns around to see him pointing at something he doesn’t care about because it’s not Nico.
Hyacinth hums. At least he’s still looking out into the crowd for Nico. “That’s what the Olympics does.”
“The Olympics were four years ago.”
“They were hosted here, and then because Reagan was coming into town–”
“They hosted the Olympics in an airport?” Apollo smirks as Hyacinth smacks his chest with the back of his hand. They’re sickeningly in love, and normally Will would be all for it if not embarrassed by it, but today, the person he is sickeningly in love with is in this airport but he doesn’t know how to find him.
“Do you think he got lost?” Will asks, eyes still scanning the crowds. Apollo and Hyacinth could be noisly making out behind him and he wouldn’t notice. Still, Will doesn’t need to say Nico’s name for them to know who he’s talking about.
“That’s a possibility,” Apollo says. “LAX is one of the busiest airports in the world.”
“But we’ll find him,” Hyacinth says. “Something tells me Nico has been in an airport before.”
Apollo hums. “He has air sign energy.”
“I was going to say–”
The world pauses. The five-foot-six goth boy Will has been losing sleep over for a month has appeared. “Nico,” Will says in disbelief. Then, the name explodes out of him: “Nico!” Passersby raise their heads, but Will doesn’t care.
Nico responds immediately to his name, eyes immediately finding Will and a grin following suit. His legs begin to push him towards Will, and no one minds when his one piece of luggage flies out of his grip and spins on the terminal floor. Now that his hands are free, Nico throws himself at Will, who was wholly prepared. Their bodies link together, arms wrapped around each other like they were forever intended to be that way, and whoever or whatever separated them was the one at fault. Nothing stops their momentum, however, and they crash to the ground with a thud.
“Will,” Nico laughs into his ear. “I can’t believe it.”
Will squeezes even harder. (He meant it when he said he wanted to hug Nico hard enough to pop his eyes out of his head.) “It’s you,” he whispers. His back presses into the cold tile floor, and his eyes tear up, and his breath stills.
“It’s you. ”
“I thought you–”
“I was so worried–”
“I missed you–”
“God, I’m so glad to be back.” Nico lifts up his head. Their noses are touching. His eyes have remained as brown as ever (and they have strengthened their ability to melt Will). His hair has been cut (probably Hades’ plan to make him more sophisticated, or even punish him, but the hair still flops into bat wings around his ears). His lips are chapped (from the six hour flight, of course, and it leaves Will wondering if a kiss would make it better).
“Pictures!” Hyacinth cries from above them, snapping them back to reality. Nico rolls off of Will quickly, eyes jumping around the space. None of the LAX passersby pause their speed-walking to notice them, but Will still feels the fear of witnesses now that Nico’s body heat isn’t seeping into him. All the while, Apollo is pulling Nico’s abandoned luggage over, and Hyacinth is fiddling with a camera. “Come on,” he says, “I need a picture. And, hello, Nico,” he finishes sweetly.
“Hello,” Nico says nervously. “Uh, Mr Papadopoulos? And Mr Papadopoulos.”
“Just Apollo is fine,” Apollo says, handing Nico his luggage. “The ‘misters’ get confusing. And, hello, Nico.”
“Thank you.” Nico takes his luggage and stares at the bright silver zipper on top of it. “Thank you for meeting me here, Apollo and Hyacinth. And for letting me stay with you–”
“Nico,” Will interrupts with a whisper. That immediately calls Nico’s attention. A month prior, Will would have felt no qualms about grabbing Nico’s hand at this moment. It would have felt natural– necessary, even. It would have been painful to not grab Nico’s hand. But now, after over a month of separation, under the gaze of Will’s new family, the instinct has become timid. So Will doesn’t reach out for Nico’s hand. He just smiles. He hopes he doesn’t look like a serial killer.
Hyacinth raises his camera, shaking it slightly. “I still need my picture.”
“Nico just got off a six hour flight,” Apollo says. “He’s probably tired. Hungry, too, right? I know about airline food.” Despite Apollo’s attempts at camaraderie, Will doesn’t miss how he keeps his hands in his pockets and his shoulder close to Hyacinth’s.
“Will your food be any better?” Hyacinth says. “Mister chicken caesar salad.”
“I’ll take a picture,” Nico mumbles. Then, clearer: “I’ll take a picture. It’s okay.”
“Oh, good!” Hyacinth. “Okay, boys, get close together, I know you’re friends. I’ll print out the picture soon, you two can keep it.” He snaps the picture before he finishes talking, the flash blooming and shrinking in seconds. “Okay, thank you, Nico.”
“Thank you, Hyacinth.”
Will’s hand finds Nico’s without his eyes helping (and maybe with some odd hand fluttering). Neither of them look at the other as they hold hands. “Apollo is going to drive us to our place,” Will says to Nico, staring at the floor tile Nico is standing on. “And you’ll be staying with us for a bit.”
Nico squeezes Will’s hand. He is staring at the floor tile Will is standing on. “That sounds good. I need to, uh, be at the boarding school tomorrow afternoon, though.”
“Yeah, we have that covered,” Apollo says. “I’ve got the car outside. Are we ready to head out?” The way he tosses his thumb over his shoulder is way more casual than anything else he has thrown on in this airport. Now that Will thinks about it, he realizes: Apollo has not been very casual at all today. Not in the car, not making their morning omelets, not waking Will up before his alarm. Apollo has been carrying himself with a very stretched out energy today, and he is trying very coolly to pull it back to one piece. For Nico.
“Yes, sir,” Nico says, voice stretched out.
Apollo smiles, stretched. “Just Apollo.”
“Okay. Thank you, Apollo.”
So the group walks. It’s Hyacinth’s job to figure out where to exit based on the overhead signs, leaving energy for Will to worry over what’s going on in Nico’s head. They’re holding hands, and their fingers still lock into place like they did walking through LA for the first time, but what if too much time has passed? What if those weeks in DC reshaped Nico’s heart so it didn’t need Will to fill it anymore? Will’s heart definitely needs a Nico to fill it, but that was pre-Hades-reunion/pre-DC-isolation/pre-Percy-Jackson-interrogation. What if this Nico won’t fit into Will anymore, whether it be out of stubbornness or disinterest or plain incompatibility?
That scares Will. It scares him so much that it makes his palms sweat, and what if Nico is feeling that sweat and thinks Will is gross? Maybe Will is gross, because these past few weeks in LA have made Will realize just how little he has changed. When he opens his eyes in the morning, he looks out his window and expects to see the rural farmland on the Solace estate. Now, he finds a brick wall just a few feet from his window, facing another window. Once, Will opened that window, hoping to find the person living behind that other window, but, so far, he has never seen the curtains on the other side ripple.
The kids in Will’s new LA school are nice, but they’re too normal . On his first day, one of them asked hey, I haven’t seen you around before, where are you from? And Will said with a smile, oh, I’m from Texas! And the kid said, oh wow, how did you get all the way here then? And Will’s tongue became thick, and he spent a bit too much time racking his brain for a normal way to summarize his runaway adventure.
But those kids– the ones who don’t wear cross necklaces and talk about musicians like LL Cool J and Beastie Boys– are too strange. Will doesn’t speak their urban West coast language. His new school is ten times as big as his Texas one, and seeing unfamiliar faces no matter where he turns is overwhelming. He has to police himself– his actions, his voice, his personality– every time he talks to anyone in his school, in case that person finds it odd that this boy named Will Solace acts peculiarly like a girl.
It’s exhausting. Nico would get it. Nico is the only person on the planet right now that Will could possibly share his exhaustion with and have it be understood.
He is holding Nico’s hand, and he is so far away.
Apollo’s car has remained exactly where they left it. It looks stretched in this light, with this visitor. Will has to let go of Nico’s hand as they slide into the back seat. After he buckles up, he first finds Nico’s hand waiting, resting on the cup holder between them, palm up. He then finds Nico’s eyes, big and asking, looking into his.
Will places his hand in Nico’s easily. He is not exhausted at all.
Hyacinth is usually the one to turn on the car radio, but today, the ride begins without music. “So, Nico,” he says as Apollo drives them out of the airport parking lot. “How are you? It’s been so long.”
Nico’s fingers twitch in Will’s. “I’m alright, thank you. How are you?”
“You are so polite,” Hyacinth says with a laugh. “We’ve missed you.”
Nico stares out his side window. “Oh, thank–”
“I’ve missed you,” Will intercedes. “I have.”
This succeeds in dragging Nico’s eyes from the window. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers, just for Will.
The car rides along in silence for a few minutes. Apollo finds the highway and Hyacinth does not move for the radio. “You’re going to start a boarding school, Nico?” Hyacinth asks. He shouldn’t be craning his neck this much to see through the rearview mirror.
“Yes,” Nico says without much emotion but with much politeness.
“How’d that get worked out?” Apollo mumbles.
“Well, uh,” Nico begins, “my dad needed somewhere to send me. He didn’t want me around– uh.” His eyes flit to Will. If Will knew what to say, he’d say it in a heartbeat, but he knows that any words that come out of him right now will be of no help to Nico. “My dad,” Nico continues, “wanted me out of his hair, and I wanted to be in LA. There’s a boarding school in the area that caters to political kids, so my dad made a few calls and here I am.” Once finished, Nico looks to Will, head fully turned, eyes fully set. Will returns the look with a smile.
“Political kid?” Apollo says. His interest isn’t stretched, but it’s too perplexing to be casual.
“My dad is the mayor. Of DC. And he’s preparing his Congress bid. And, uh, he has been in politics for a while. Law stuff.”
Apollo nods. Will only knows this because his attention has been fixed on Apollo’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Cool.” That one word is stretched to infinity. Will adjusts his grip on Nico’s hand, pulling it closer and wrapping it in both of his hands, protecting it from the chilled air flying through the car from the cracked open windows.
“Are you excited?” Hyacinth asks. Will looks immediately to Nico, expecting to find him rolling his eyes or something equally irritated. Even Will can’t stop himself from cringing at Hyacinth’s mom-tone. But all he finds is Nico staring right out his window.
“Yes,” Nico says. He has on a mask Will has never seen on him before, though it looks familiar, like it must be a feature on other people. Will doesn’t like looking at Nico (his runaway buddy, his life partner for a week and a half, his best friend) and seeing someone else.
Will should say something. He has been too quiet this car ride. The pressure of quietness on him is closing his throat. If he doesn’t speak now, he never will again. “Nico is going to Saint Expeditus Academy, right?”
“Right. Yes.” Nico clears his throat imperceptibly, like he’s cleansing his next few words from any offending blockages, anything Hyacinth and Apollo wouldn’t like to hear, anything Nico wouldn’t like them to know. “I’m excited. They have a big music program that I’m excited for. I was in my school choir and orchestra back in DC. I might join those at Saint Expeditus, if they’ll have me.”
“That sounds nice,” Hyacinth says. Will can’t see his face from this angle, which gives him more room to realize that he doesn’t even know what instrument Nico plays. There’s probably so many people in DC who know what instrument Nico plays, but Will isn’t in on that knowledge. He is on the outs.
He squeezes Nico’s hand in both of his. The car rides on in silence, so different from their first car ride together just over a month ago. He knows their runaway time together wasn’t all sunshine and roses. Most of it was troubleshooting and worrying about their next turn. But now all that’s over, they made it to LA. All the loose ends are tied. Except Bianca’s.
Nico never said her name on their brief phone call. Will felt the heavy lack of it.
Apollo pulls the car up outside his Hollywood apartment. Hyacinth, Will, and Nico get out, but Apollo stays. “I’m putting the car in the garage,” he says, both hands on the wheel, gaze stretched.
Hyacinth walks up the stairs ahead of Will and Nico, leaving them the perfect opportunity to hold hands. This walk up is much quieter than their first, the air raucously different. The door to apartment 4C has not changed since Nico last walked out of it.
As Hyacinth unlocks the door, Will says, “Can I show you my bedroom? I’d like to.”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” Nico says in one breath. The click of the door unlocking makes him jump. “I’d like that.”
“Great!”
“Great. Okay.” Nico laughs. They’re still holding hands.
Will notices Hyacinth opening the door for them. “Let’s go,” Will says, his heart squeezing.
He can’t help but examine apartment 4C, eyes zoning in like lasers on everything he steps past. Nothing in the apartment has changed since Nico last walked through it, but Nico has changed. Now, would he judge the yellow wallpaper, the windowsill with various plants, and the fridge with some Christmas cards and tourist magnets attached? Would Nico judge him for how he moved into what used to be the office?
The doorknob to his bedroom feels cold under Will’s hand. “It’s all thrifted,” he says before he turns it, as if that statement will stomp out any resentful judgements Nico has. But, oh, Will remembers that Nico comes from quite a rich family, and, oh, the door is already open, and, oh, Nico is already stepping inside.
“Cool,” Nico says quickly. Did he even have time to process everything he saw? The forest green quilt and sheets (ten dollars for the set), the purple rug (three dollars), tiny red wood dresser (fifteen dollars), long oval mirror in a pink frame (four dollars), old man book shelf (eleven dollars), desk with weird stain (seven dollars), sky blue floppy curtains (four dollars)-- they all rest under four narrow dusty pink walls. Will envies them for being inanimate objects and, therefore, not understanding self-consciousness. He has the childish urge to ask do you like it? , then he chastises himself for that, then he chastises himself again for having such an urge in front of his runaway buddy.
Will is so focused on hyper analyzing his new bedroom that he doesn’t notice Nico until he taps him on the shoulder. “I like it,” Nico says. He’s smiling. “It’s very you.”
“It’s all thrifted,” Will says very bravely.
“You’ve said,” Nico says. Will’s bravery deflates. “It’s nice,” Nico continues. He offers a little squeeze to Will’s shoulder. It feels so familiar on his skin, yet so foreign in this moment. “I can see you’re, um, living in it. It feels like this is really your space. I like that. This is Will Solace’s room.”
Will’s laugh cuts through his nerves. “Thank you. That means a lot. Come.” He lightly squeezes Nico’s fingers, leading him to his bed. They sit. The green quilt sinks under them. Someone’s grandma made it, and she wasn’t Will’s. “It’s nice,” he says, staring off into the middle distance. “Back in Texas,” back home, “my room was under my mom’s total control. Not even in a dictatorship way, more like a you are a girl and I will do everything in my power to keep you that way–”
“That’s a dictatorship.”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s just, ah, your mom sucked. Sucked. I’m glad you’re here.”
Will smiles. It warms him to his core, and it’s like Nico never vanished to DC in the first place. It’s like he’s popping over to apartment 4C on a visit, stopping by from whatever boarding school he’s going to to deliver some news on The Lost Trio’s latest show. Now, at this moment, the last few weeks and the miles that stretched between them melt away.
“So,” Nico says. “Uh, what is that?” He points to the desk with a weird stain. Will fears that he is pointing out the famous stain, but he says, “Your friend,” and Will knows.
“Oh! That’s Carl.”
“Carl?”
“Yep. Hyacinth brought her home one day–”
“What is she.”
Will laughs so hard he leans forward enough to nearly fall off the bed. “She’s a troll doll. Have you never seen one before?”
"Not so close."
Will momentarily fears that the runaway buddy he fell in love with has been dragged down to a DC basement and replaced with everything Will was running away from. But then he sees the smile on Nico's face, and that image washes away like dirty suds down a drain. He stands and grabs Carl in two steps, before holding it out to Nico, cradled in his two palms. "Come closer."
Nico accepts Carl. He stares into her big eyes. Does he see his reflection? Does he recognize himself?
Will sits tentatively in his previous spot. The curtain flutters as a breeze passes through the open window, bringing in the far away chatter of passerby.
"I like her hair," Nico says.
"Pet it," Will responds. "You can."
Nico laughs, surprising himself, then turns to Will. Their thighs are touching on the forest green quilt. "Can I kiss you?" he says, voice too loud. Will can't stop the image in his mind of Apollo and Hyacinth in the kitchen. "Sorry–"
Will waves his hands. "No, it's okay–"
"I'd like to–"
"That sounds great."
"--Kiss you. Wow, yeah."
"Yeah." Will laughs. Nico follows.
"How do we do this?" Nico whispers. He must have the image of Apollo and Hyacinth in his mind, too.
Will scoots closer. Nico places a hand on Will's cheek. Will feels very warm. Nico keeps blinking until he takes a sharp inhale and presses their lips together. They bump noses in the process.
All doubts of Nico's identity flee Will's mind, like wiping dust off a table. Only runaway buddy Nico would dive into a kiss while gripping a troll doll he met less than five minutes ago.
When they pull away, Will and his bump-sore nose gently takes Carl out of Nico’s tight fingers and places it on a bundled up hill of the forest green quilt. She tips over, but no one minds; Will is too busy leaning forward, placing a gentle hand on Nico’s shoulder (where it belongs), and catching Nico has he lets himself tip into the kiss.
This is one of the most vulnerable moments of Will’s sixteen years of life. He’s holding his heart, still beating, in his hands, and Nico is there for it. He’s not taking it, just holding it with Will. This is vulnerability. Nico is here for it. And Will is finding himself holding Nico’s heart, and it’s heavy, and his eyes are tearing up at the sheer joy of loving Nico di Angelo.
Will loves Nico, and he doesn’t mind. He’s glad for it. But he pulls away when a tear slips from his eye. Wiping it away with a single finger, he smiles at Nico. Nico is smiling back. It’s his best smile: the one where he doesn’t care he has an (adoring) audience. His eyes are a bit wet, too, and that doesn’t hurt at all.
It’s amazing how much love the human heart can hold.
“Hi,” Will says. It makes Nico laugh, which, of course, is a success.
“Hi,” says Nico.
“Where do we go from here?”
Nico doesn’t move away from Will. “Uh, I don’t know. Do you, uh, have any questions?”
Will laughs but quiets when a question pops into his head. “Nico, are we boyfriends?”
“Oh.” Nico turns red. He fixes his eyes away, but doesn’t turn. “I don’t know. How does that work?”
Will takes a deep breath, focusing on the air filling his lungs instead of how warm he feels right now. “I think we go on a few dates and then, if we like each other–” I already like you, Will thinks, please already like me– “we make it official and call ourselves boyfriends.”
Nico nods and returns his eyes to Will. “Cool. Uh, have you thought about that a lot? I mean, I’m sorry if you have–”
“Jason gave me a lecture on it.” How could Will feel any warmer? “It’s not my original thought.”
“Oh.”
“Though I haven’t not been thinking about it.”
Nico nods, swallows, and blinks. “Okay. Uh, I also haven’t not been thinking about it, too.”
Will smiles. “Good. That makes two of us.” He finds Nico’s fingers and squeezes them. It feels like they’re trying to walk through an empty room to an exit, but there’s a wind so strong that it stops them from walking in a straight line. They have to push back, and the exit is right there, but the wind is so strong. Will just wants Nico to be his boyfriend.
“Does Jason know about us?” Nico asks.
“What?”
“I mean, do Jason, Piper, and Leo know that we are– uh. That we kissed. And confessed. How much do they know?”
Now Will doesn’t need to worry about feeling warm. Now he feels cold. “Do you not want them to know?”
“Wait, no, Will–” Nico squeezes Will’s hand before he could pull it away. “It’s fine if they know. Really, it’s fine. I just want to know how they know.”
“Yeah, okay. Well–” here comes the heat rising up Will’s neck– “I told them when I first saw them but they were very curious about us– and you– and they were pestering me. They just wanted to know you were safe, and I told them what I knew. And how we love–”
“How did they react?” Nico blinks. He has yet to stop squeezing Will’s hand.
Will covers Nico’s hand with his own. “Of course they were nothing but supportive. And Leo said he knew we had some chemistry.”
Nico’s laugh starts off as a sharp exhale, before he drops his chin to his chest and lets the laugh overtake him. “Yeah. Of course they were supportive, they’re The Lost Trio. But what did he mean by that?”
Will shrugs and laughs himself (because Nico’s laugh, despite his protests, is contagious). “Beats me. Nico, are you okay that they know? I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by telling them.”
Nico pops his head back up. Will wonders if it hurt. “No, no, you’re fine. Will, stop worrying– I’m sorry, it’s me, I’m nervous.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Will, swiftly, brings both hands up to gently touch Nico’s cheeks. “Let me help you.” Then he presses a quick kiss to Nico’s forehead, then his lips. When he pulls back, he finds a smile on Nico’s face. (He’s trying to hide. It isn’t working.)
"Will," Nico says quietly, which isn't any louder than he needs to be.
"Nico," Will says.
"What constitutes a date?"
Will inhales through his nose. "I… don't know."
"Jason didn't explain that one?"
"No. Leo didn't either."
"Why doesn't the only gay couple we know know about the intricacies of dating?"
"Maybe this can be a date?"
"Will."
"Nico."
Nico breaks into a grin. "Your dads are a room away right now."
"Oh, so this isn't romantic enough for you?"
"Please–"
"What about Carl?" Will bumps his forehead against Nico's. "Is Carl ruining the atmosphere?"
"Yes, yes, she is. Come on, Will, let's go on a date." Nico begins to blush here, maybe without realizing it. "A real date."
"Fine, I'll take you out on a date. There's a smoothie place nearby that I've been getting into."
"That's the most LA thing you've ever said."
Will winks. "I'll rub off on you."