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At the age of five, Will Solace wanted to be an astronaut. He had skipped home from his first day of elementary school, his tiny hand in the warm hand of his mother, as he told her about his teacher, who had short, sandy blond hair, tanned skin, and never took off his dark sunglasses. He told his mother stories about the teacher, who had travelled the world and seen such amazing things. At the age of five, Will Solace didn’t understand why his mom had a sad smile on her face when he told her that one day he would visit the sun.
When he went to school the next day, the teacher had gone, and Will never even knew his name. In the teacher’s place was a boring old lady, with gray hair and a pair of glasses on a string. When he asked the new lady about the kind man from the day before, she looked straight through him, and turned away as if she hadn’t even heard him. By the end of the week, the man with the sunglasses had been forgotten.
At the age of eight, despite the fact that he could hardly pronounce the word, Will solace wanted to be an archaeologist. For his birthday his mom had gotten him a set of plastic dinosaurs, and he had instantly become fascinated. He had spent the next couple of weeks searching through the meagre supplies in the local bookstores, looking for books about all the different kinds of dinosaurs. He got posters, and sought out documentaries, learning all he could. His mom would keep him occupied while she was busy by choosing one of his dinosaurs, and asking him to tell her everything he could. She listened while cooking or cleaning or working. She would wait for Will to exhaust his knowledge about a certain kind of dinosaur, and then they would move right onto the next.
A months went by though, Will became interested in new things, and his set of dinosaurs slowly diminished, lost in old charity shop donations and trips to friends houses. By the time his next birthday came around, the only one Will had left was the small green stegosaurus, which stayed on a shelf in his wardrobe. When it got lost in another move, Will hardly noticed.
At the age of ten, Will Solace wanted to be a Baker. He and his mom had moved to a different part of New York city, and were now living in a small apartment above a cosy little coffee shop bakery. Every morning on the way to school, Will and his mom stopped by the shop, sometimes to get breakfast, but mostly just to say hi to the sweet lady who ran it. She was a short English woman, with long curly hair, a dark glossy brown, but greying slightly around the temples. The woman must have been in her early forties, but her sunny disposition made her seem so much younger. She would greet every customer with a smile, especially her regulars, particularly a young man who was there every Wednesday without fail. The blonde man was always in shorts and t-shirts, even when the weather was cold. On Wednesday mornings, Will would watch the man order a coffee and whatever cake was on the specials menu, before he went to sit at the window, wearing dark sunglasses, even on dark overcast mornings. Occasionally the man would smile at Will as he walked past the window, and Will would always smile back, unable to shake the feeling that he knew the man from somewhere.
At the age of twelve, Will Solace wanted to die. He wanted to go back in time, to when his mother was still well, when her long ginger hair was always tied in a loose ponytail, strands falling out and curling around her face, not shaved off three weeks into chemo. He wanted to be able to walk into his house and find his mom making dinner like she always was, her floral apron tied around her waist, usually listening to some old eighties music. Will had always hated his mom’s taste in music, but he never minded, because he loved seeing her dancing around the kitchen, hair finally falling out of its messy bun around her freckled shoulders. Sometimes she would pull Will up with her, and they would dance in their tiny kitchen, breathing heavily when the song ended, and Will would flop back into his seat, watching his mom tie her hair back up giggling.
Will wanted to wipe the memory of his mother lying in a hospital bed, tubes and wires connected to her body, the steady beep signalling that her heart was still beating. He wanted to wipe away the shouting of doctors and nurses, all rushing to his mother’s side as the beeping eventually slowed to a stop. He wanted to forget the condolences, the soft hands on his arms, trying to give comfort but only making the pain worse.
At the age of twelve Will Solace was diagnosed with clinical depression.
At the age of twelve, Will’s very small family went from two, down to one.
At the age of thirteen Will Solace ran away. To be honest, he was hoping he would freeze to death in the middle of the night, or hopefully be left unfound long enough to starve. Will walked for days ignoring the pain in his limbs, brought on by constant walking in the bitter cold of the New York winter. On the 28th of November, Will Solace passed out in the woods, with the hope of never waking up.
Three days later Will Solace woke up on a couch in front of a roaring fire. A kind old man in a wheelchair introduced himself as Chiron, and handed Will a warm cup filled with a sweet amber liquid that somehow tasted exactly like the pastries he used to get from the little coffee shop. Chiron spoke about magic and gods and ancient Greece, and Will finally believed he had gone crazy. Or that he was finally dead.
At the age of thirteen Will Solace met his father.
He just wanted to go home.
At the age of fourteen Will Solace wanted to become a doctor. He had been at camp half blood for a year, and he was still scared that one day he would wake up and find out that all of it was a dream, yet part of him was hoping that it was. He was still holding up hope the he would wake up in his old apartment, and his mom would be in the kitchen singing while she made breakfast.
At the age of fourteen, Will wanted to help people. He had discovered that he had a knack for all that ‘medical stuff’ which was apparently thanks to his dad. He had been working in the camp infirmary with his half siblings, which he still didn’t really consider his siblings. He didn’t really know any of them, and none of them really knew him. He just kinda lived with them, that was all.
In his first year at camp, Will learned a lot. Chiron had started tutoring him sixth months into his stay, which had him practicing each basic task on any demigod that walked into the infirmary. From his two weeks in training, Will had come to realise that the silence between him and whoever he happened to be bandaging up was pretty awkward. So he learned to make small talk.
He asked people how their day was going, listened to the stories of how they obtained their various injuries, sometimes even got to such deep dark secrets as a person's favourite food, or whether or not they had a crush on any of the camp counselors.
Eventually, Will started getting regulars. The odd few campers that somehow managed to gain a new minor injury every couple of days. He started to get to know people, started asking more questions, started realising that he wasn't the only kid here who had lost someone valuable to him.
At the age of fourteen, Will Solace could tentatively say that he had made a couple of friends.
At the age of fifteen Will Solace was the best healer in camp. He had taken over the place of his eldest half brother, who had gone to live in the city with his girlfriend. He had promised to keep the rest of his siblings updated. Will practically lived in the infirmary, staying there to make sure everything was in order, keeping an eye on patients, patching up all of the random cuts and bruises that people managed to acquire at a training camp for people that technically shouldn’t even exist. He wasn’t the oldest of his siblings by far, but no one questioned the fact that he knew what he was doing. He had already seen the end of one war, and with another currently going on, no one was willing to argue with Will, especially since they knew that letting him do his thing with patients was the best chance that some people had at surviving.
In his fifteenth year, Will was in a battle that he wasn’t sure they were going to win. That was until a kid, only fourteen limped onto the battlefield in a hawaiian shirt, hair matted and skin covered in dirt and scrapes, three deep cuts dug into his right arm. He didn't look like much to be honest, but there was a fierce glint in that boys eyes that Will had yet to witness in another person. The boy came with so much power. The boy saved his life more than once, and later on, Will returned the favour.
At the age of sixteen, Will finally found peace, in a scruffy Italian kid who had stumbled into the middle of a fully fledged battle, with dark eyes, and scarred skin that had slowly regained colour over time, going from pale and washed out to a deep olive.
Will Solace and Nico di Angelo were polar opposites, a child of the sun and healing, and a child of death and shadows, yet somehow they fit together perfectly.
At the age of sixteen Will Solace took Nico’s hand in his own, and resolved to never let go.
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At the age of twenty one, Will Solace attended medical school at the top of his class. He started wearing short sleeves again, his own scars faded, blending into his deeply tanned skin. Honey blond hair framed a freckled, smiling face. His clothes were bright, and on his hand was a small silver promise ring.
At the age of twenty one, Will came home to a grumpy (but sweet) Italian, who had finally come to terms with his past, with a lot of help from Will and their friends. He had the pleasure of sharing a home (and a bed) with a dorky twenty year old who watched weird old TV shows and wouldn't wear his glasses outside of the house and who occasionally sang softly when he was happy.
At the age twenty one, Will wanted to be married one day.
At the age of twenty one, Will Solace could finally say that he was happy.