Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Will was not happy with his brain. Or his Composition teacher.

Unfortunately for him, though a nursing major, he was still required to take freshman Comp and he currently wanted to die. Just a little.

The class required too much writing for his taste. Not that he didn't enjoy it on occasion or found it entirely pointless, but he just couldn’t understand how analyzing the actions of a man who stupidly murdered his wife for no reason was of any use to him.

He also just wasn't very good at essay writing.

Fortunately, the campus' library was a cozy enough space that Will found it a good spot to type away at his Othello essay. His head was starting to hurt though, and nothing he wrote seemed to make any sense.

The real issue with this was that the paper was due that evening. At midnight.

Okay, yes he was a bit of a procrastinator, but he thought the pressure would help him do better. To his dismay, that was not the case.

As the cursor blinked at him and the "Last saved __ minutes ago" in the corner of his screen started to rise in number, Will felt it in his heart to give up for the evening and turn the thing in late. He knew it would hurt his grade a little, but anything he managed to write then would probably hurt just as bad, if not worse.

Just as he was getting ready to close his laptop, he heard the squeaking of a rolling cart somewhere nearby. Casually and with bored curiosity, he turned to see where the sound had come from. Almost immediately, he was met with two dark beady eyes glaring directly at him.

Will startled and quickly turned back to his computer screen, unsure of what to make out of what seemed to be a deliberate stare down.

He tried to act as if he didn't notice. He was almost certain that he wasn't doing anything to break standard library protocol–if that was even a thing.

After what seemed like enough time for whoever was standing there to have gone their own way, he took another peek.

This time however, he was not only met with an accusing glare, but the boy wearing it had gotten closer and was tapping his delicate fingers on the squeaky cart's handle.

He must work here, Will thought. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful the boy was as well. Withering glare or no.

The boy's hair was an organized mess of dark waves that fell partly into his face where a pair of silver glasses rested on his nose. He wore a fuzzy navy and gray striped sweater—probably three sizes too big for him—over a white shirt and baggy jeans. He certainly looked like someone who would work in a library. Will had to admire the outfit; It looked beyond cozy.

Too late, Will realized he was also staring and thought maybe he had accidentally started a staring contest or something.

He held up a hand and waved with hesitation, an awkward smile finding its way to his lips. He didn't know how or if he had gotten on this guy's bad side, but he desperately wanted this show-down to end.

To his displeasure, the boy rolled the cart closer and opened his mouth to speak. "You have something I need."

Will gaped at him, his brain nothing but Prettyprettyprettyboy but also Whatthefuck? "Um, I'm not sure what you mean."

The boy proceeded, "You're William Solace right? You just checked out Othello last week?"

"Yeah, that's right."

There was a short silence. "Then you do have it."

"Have what?"

The boy blinked a few times, his face hardly readable. "You didn't lose it, did you?"

"I'm sorry?" Will rotated in his chair to face the boy. "If you mean Othello, I do have it right here." He reached for his bag, but the boy shook his head and wheeled closer.

"No no no," he spat, and Will noticed the hint of an accent in the boy's voice.

God help me. Will swallowed.

"I mean that one text, Mythology in Early American Literature," the boy continued. “You've had the book for two months past its due date and other people kind of need to check it out for their class. And by ‘other people,’ I kind of mean myself.”

It was like suddenly a little balloon deflated inside of Will’s brain. He completely forgot about that book. He knew he still had it, but apparently his ADHD had prompted him to check it out only to never think of it again. He loved mythology. The cover was cool. Did he read any of it? The answer was no. He should probably check his school email more.

“Oh,” he said.

“Yeah, ‘Oh.’” The boy frowned. “You have it, right?”

“Of course I do,” Will answered. “I’m very responsible.” Which wasn't a lie. For the most part.

“Of course you are.”

“Mhm.” He blinked. Will didn’t know whether to get angry or be impressed by the guy's sass.

“So, where is it?” the boy urged.

Will realized he expected him to have it right then and there, and his cheeks reddened. He had a half-written essay in front of him due in hours and did not want to deal with this. “Well, I don't have it with me, but it's in my dorm. I know where it is.”

The boy only rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“I do, I swear! I can get it to you tomorrow.”

“That's great,” he said, “but you know you still have the fees to cover.”

Will’s heart sank all the way down to his red converse. “Shit, how much?”

“I mean it's usually like ten dollars per day after it's due–”

“Ten–!” Will began to shout, and then remembered he was indeed inside of a library with a not-so-happy librarian right in front of him. “Ten dollars?” he finished, reducing his volume to a whisper.

The corner of the boy's mouth twitched into an amused smile. “But after three days the fine is maxed at thirty.”

Will slumped back into his seat. “You could have led with that.”

“I know.”

Wow.

“How did you even know it was me who checked it out, anyway?” Will asked.

The boy smiled. “I asked around. Plus, I work with the inventory here.”

“Abuse of power,” Will muttered under his breath. “Also I go by Will not William.”

“My mistake,” the boy apologized half-heartedly. “I’m Nico.”

Will glanced at the lack of books on Nico’s cart. He must have wheeled it over just as an excuse to pester me, he thought. Then he had another thought. Two could play at– well, just “what” he wasn’t sure. Whatever game Nico was playing.

He leaned over the back of his chair towards Nico, slighting his eyes at him. “You’re good with books and stuff, right? I mean you must be. You work in a library.”

Nico squinted and cocked his head to the side. “You could say that. But not everyone who works here likes books just because they work in a library.”

“But you do.”

“I’m an English major,” he replied flatly. Will’s eyes lit up.

Bingo. Everything was going according to Will’s plan. “So then isn’t part of your job helping students with book stuff?”

Nico appeared disconcerted at Will’s phrasing of “book stuff,” but he responded anyway. “If you’re going to ask me to write that Othello essay for you, the answer is no. If you want help, that's what the writing center is for.” He started to walk away, pushing the empty cart along with him.

Will did not have time to go to the writing center and he could honestly care less about the quality of his essay. He just wanted it done. “Fine, I guess if you don’t want your mythology book back by tomorrow.”

Nico stopped and turned. “You cannot be serious.”

“Deadly.”

“You do know that if I refused and you didn't return the book, I could just charge you for lost materials and you would still have an essay to do, just 120 more dollars in debt, right?”

Will shrugged. “You can refuse me if you want, but I believe you said you needed this book for a class so . . . It doesn't look like that option would be plausible for either of us.”

Nico sighed. Will could tell he was definitely at his limit, but there was something almost fire-like in the way Nico continued to taunt him. It wasn’t meant to be mean—it was a playful banter that Will was learning to quite enjoy.

Finally, Nico begrudgingly agreed. “Fine, but I am not just writing it for you and I’m not going to go easy on my mark-ups.”

Will grinned. “Perfect. I expected no less from an English major.”

His smile was apparently contagious, for Nico began to smile too as he rolled his eyes and pushed the cart towards the front desk. He called over his shoulder, “Just let me put this back and we can get to work.”

Will nodded and his stomach turned. He knew that deep down this was not just about his stupid essay. He could have done that on his own. What it really was about, was this:

In the midst of this strange interaction, Will was positive was falling in love—and he wasn't sure how, but he was determined to make Nico fall in love with him right back.

Chapter Text

It was near closing by the time Will had finished his paper. Nico hadn't even noticed how late it had gotten, but once he delved into the analysis, time seemed to fly right by.

Or—okay. Maybe he was just really enjoying Will’s company.

He had to get up a few times to make sure no one needed him since technically he was still on shift, but there was little work for him to do. And helping people in the library was kind of a part of his job too, so in fairness it still counted. Still, it gave Will some time in between Nico’s critiques and input for him to write a little on his own. And every time Nico made his way back over to Will, he was met with a beaming smile, like sun reincarnate, and he felt himself melting a little.

What Nico had been afraid of with starting University, but not surprised about, was the difficulties he’d face while trying to make friends. He’d had a hard enough time in Highschool making them, but here it was a whole new territory.

Sure, people were friendly towards him and it was only his first semester—he had acquaintances and his coworkers were nice—but he hadn't really made any deep connections yet. This wasn't a huge inconvenience to him, being somewhat of an introvert, but it was still a bit lonely at times.

Nico thought about this throughout the evening as Will stared at him intently while he explained Othello’s misguided trust and jealous passions. At first, this attention made him a little self conscious, but that front eased away as the night went on. He could talk analysis for hours on end on specific texts, and if someone was eager to listen, then why not? Even when the conversation strayed to more personal things, he found himself grinning and eager to know more about this boy.

Plus, he needed to get that book back, he reminded himself.

When the paper was finally turned in and Nico’s shift was up, it was nearly 11pm and Will politely offered to walk Nico to his dorm building.

They walked comfortably—but still a bit awkwardly—side by side across campus, the crisp early November air causing them both to hug their arms to their bodies, desperately trying to keep any body heat close. Nico had to admire Will’s resilience though. The boy was wearing cargo shorts and a hoodie in November. Sure he had a few other top layers on, but Nico brought himself to point this out a few times already. All Will did in response was laugh and complain about the constriction of pants.

He pulled it off though. Up close, Nico noticed how precise his outfit was. His hoodie was dark green and he had on a whole bunch of cute accessories too—a few eclectic rings and necklaces. Barely visible on his neck was a choker beaded with all sorts of colors, layered with a little gold chain and a dangling cherub. And to top it all off, he had frilly socks on. Of course he did. Expressive but comfortable—not at all lazy.

The more Nico studied Will, the more intrigued he was, and he wasn't sure why. This was the same guy he had practically been harassing in emails for weeks about a withheld library book (he'd like it to be known that that was part of his job—not just for fun) and who also referred to literary analysis as “book stuff.” Not necessarily his type.

However, he quickly found out that Will was not as ignorant as he might have thought.

Will was smart, very smart. He was a nursing major dio boia. Nico recognized intelligence when he saw it.

There was also an expressive spark in Will’s eyes that he recognized. This was a guy who thought and cared deeply.

As they walked past the other residence halls, their conversation moved towards Nico's love for the arts and literature. Nico had mentioned earlier to Will about how he had grown up in Venice, Italy—coincidentally where Othello was partially based—and he’d told him about all of the art that had been at his fingertips. He admitted presently that his appreciation for it was lacking when he was younger, and how he truly missed it now.

“Are you planning on going back?” Will asked, turning his head to Nico in interest.

“I’d like to, yes,” Nico replied. “I’m not sure when that would be possible, but I would love to move back.”

Will sighed and looked up at the sky. The stars weren't quite visible with the distracting street lights scattered everywhere. “I've always wanted to go to Europe,” he confessed.

Nico beamed. “You should! It's lovely!”

Will laughed. “Maybe when I get a job in the medical field. Then I can actually afford to go.”

“That does sound like a plausible plan,” Nico agreed. “Not sure how being a writer is going to get me there, but . . .” He shook his head and quickly jumped at the opportunity to turn the discussion towards Will.

He wanted to know more about his interests. He decided on asking about Will’s field of study. “So, I take it you're more into the sciences?” he questioned.

Will nodded. “Yeah. I mean, it’s more-so just what I’m good at, and can actually get invested in, so . . .” His voice trailed off and he shrugged.

“You’re passionate about it.” Nico confirmed, positive it was more than just that to Will.

“I guess I am,” he said. “I just want to help people.”

Nico smiled. He could tell Will was being genuine in the way he said that—like it wasn’t the sweetest and kindest thing. It made his cheeks grow warm. He hugged his coat a little tighter.

Will continued, his expression lighting up, “But I do love the arts. I’m just not really good at making it. I appreciate it when I come across good paintings or poems and such though. Maybe because I know I could never do anything like it.”

Nico felt his stomach do a mini cartwheel. Finding a guy who read felt like he was looking for a black cat in a coal cellar—unless they were also an English major. “Do you read much poetry?”

Will’s eyes darted away from Nico’s as he responded. “I do sometimes, but . . .” His hand went to the back of his neck. “I guess not too often. Only because I don’t really know what to read.”

“I would happily offer suggestions—if you wanted to, of course.” Nico grinned. He sensed that Will was trying to avoid disappointing him with a lack of poetic knowledge and wanted him to ease up. As if Nico knew anything about medical nonsense. He didn’t expect anything from Will.

Will let out a huff of nervous laughter. “I would love that.”

“And you shouldn’t discredit yourself too much. Your writing is not that bad at all from what I’ve read. And I haven’t seen, like, any drawings of yours yet but I doubt-“

“It’s bad,” Will interrupted.

“Well—“ Nico tried to contain his laughter. “Not everyone is an artist. Plus, there is way more than just literature and drawing and stuff.”

“Music counts, right?” Will asked.

“Of course.”

“Well I do play piano.”

Nico’s eyes went wide in interest. He loved classical music. “You do?”

Will's cheeks flushed at his excitement. “I was taught when I was little, but I still play a bit now.”

“I don’t suppose you’re gonna bring me back to your place now and play me a ballad, are you?” Nico joked. Though, honestly, he wouldn’t have minded if he offered. No matter how cliché it was.

Will stared back, still flushed but now stunned. He grinned and shook his head. “I don’t even have a piano with me in my dorm.”

“How unfortunate,” Nico tutted, then continued. “But really, art is anything that can convey emotion, in my opinion.”

The corner of Will’s mouth lifted into a smirk. “Does science not evoke emotion?”

“Well–” Nico furrowed his brow.

“Cause I find it can. Maybe even more than art,” Will added.

Nico could sense Will’s amusement and intention to pick a debate with him, so instead of arguing, he just urged him on, feigning indifference. “Go on.”

“Well, for instance,” Will started, “when you give people a fact with backed up science to prove it, like, “humans are all going to die in 40 years’—even though that's not actually true, but you get what I mean—it’s going to trigger a very strong emotional response because it is real and affects people directly and in their lifetime.”

Nico pondered thoughtfully for a moment and nodded. “You’re not wrong, but it’s still just facts and statistics. It’s not altered to make people feel a certain way. It just is.”

“Exactly.” Will grinned and lightly shoved Nico with his shoulder.

Nico beamed and shoved him back. It only seemed to make Will walk closer to him, but he wasn't complaining. “And your point, Solace?”

Will rolled his eyes. Still smiling, Nico pointed out. “My point is that with art, you are manipulating people’s emotions on purpose. With science you are just giving people information which will ultimately make them feel one way or another. This isn't to diminish art of course,” he added quickly, “I just mean that they both can make you feel, but art does it with intent and science does it with facts.”

Nico smiled to himself. He hadn’t exactly thought about it in that way, and he liked the connection between the two subjects. “So emotion is universal?”

“Scientists have feelings too, y'know. . . . At least some, anyway.” He laughed.

Nico chuckled before he stopped in his tracks. At some point during their debate they had ended up by his hall, and he turned to Will. “I’d really love to continue this intellettuale discussion, but I am freezing and this is my stop.”

He could tell that neither of them really wanted to separate yet. Despite the combination of shorts and cold air, Will seemed to be disappointed. “I guess we’ll have to put it on hold.”

“I guess so.” Nico rocked back and forth on his feet. “Goodnight, Will.”

“Goodnight.” Will smiled. “I’ll return your very important book to you tomorrow.”

“Right, the book.” Nico had nearly forgotten. His eyes lit up at the realization that he might see Will again the next day.

He was so easy to talk to. The boy radiated comfort and he felt neither judged or pressured to be super entertaining around him. Maybe the fates had arranged things just right so he'd have to check out this silly book and encounter Will in the library struggling over an essay. He hadn't known if he believed in fates before, but for a moment he did. Will felt like a puzzle piece to this thing called life.

I read too many books, Nico thought to himself. He knew he was a hopeless romantic, but he needed to be rational too.

He didn't want to fuck this up.

So far his track record for keeping even just friends hadn't seemed to be going too well, but he wasn't going to let that happen now—and something made him sense that maybe Will wouldn't either.