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Nico was never really a fan of the beach. Well, he used to be, but that stopped after his mother died. She was swimming near a dock when a power line gave in, falling into the ocean. The electricity paralysed her, rendering her helpless until she drowned. It was meant to be a family beach trip, but a quick trek to the ice cream stand with Nico, his sister, and dad, and their mother was left floating, lifeless. His father went quiet after that.
It’d been a few years since then, but Nico felt himself freeze up each time they passed a beach, or even a body of water. A year or so ago, he had to skip out on a hangout with someone he had the biggest crush on at the time; Percy’s pool party. Nico wished he had gone, but every time he saw water, he saw her floating body in it. He just couldn’t take it.
Even now, 15 years old at a Summer camp, he’s stuck crying in the bathrooms while everyone else is getting ready to canoe out in the ocean.
He sniffled in the stall, knees to his chest on the closed toilet seat, trying to tune out the sounds of the waves. He knew he shouldn’t have come on this stupid camp, but his dad insisted he needed to go outside and ‘make friends’ or something. It didn’t help that Leo had accidentally spilled orange soda all over his shirt at breakfast, leaving him with Mr D’s Hawaiian shirt, which was big and highlighter orange – he was practically swimming in it, which was exactly what he didn’t want to do.
He was so caught in the nasty clutch of his thoughts that he didn’t notice someone entering the bathroom until they’d shut themselves in the stall next to him. He froze, panting through shallow breaths so that the person couldn’t hear him sniffling, though he suspected they already knew. Another pang of dread settled in his gut, adding to the pool of it as it swirled, and Nico pulled at his hair, praying for any sort of distraction.
It was eerily quiet for a few moments that felt like eternity, the only sound was the toilet in the next cubicle eventually flushing. Nico held his breath, hearing the stall open and the sink turn on. It soon shut off, and the person dried their hands on the hand dryer. Nico exhaled. It seemed he was in the clear. Surely they would just leave – he prayed they would.
To Nico’s dismay, the person spoke. “Hey, are you okay?” The voice was warm and sunny, and Nico could catch the slightest twinge of Southern. “Are you hurt?”
Nico squinted his eyes shut, shaking his head like the person could see. He choked on a sob. “No.”
The guy drummed his fingers against the sink. “Can I help you in any way?”
“No.” Nico sighed through the tears, leaning his head back onto the wall. This was the last thing he wanted: a social interaction on top of the threat of reliving his trauma. Man, his therapist was wrong; exposure therapy did not seem to be helping.
“Oh, I should have said this: I’m Will Solace.” The boy, Will said calmly, and Nico’s stall door dipped like he was leaning onto it. “What’s your name?” Will slid to the floor, sitting with his back against the door. Through the gap under the door, Nico saw that his jeans had little embroidered sunflowers on the back pockets, which Nico thought matched his sunny voice. The thought distracted him enough to speak, somehow feeling comfortable with Will’s grounding demeanor.
“I’m,” His voice was wrecked, and a huge crack sounded in the middle of the word, prompting a silent wince as he paused. “...I’m Nico.”
“Nico.” Will tried it out, sounding starstruck in a way that definitely didn’t make Nico shiver, “I love your name,” He said, his voice dripping with warmth and genuineness – and Nico was right, that was definitely a Southern accent. “What’s got you so upset, Nico?”
Nico held his knees closer against his chest, letting the silence fill the air until he spoke, sniffing loudly. “It’s stupid.”
Will chuckled, and Nico could hear the comforting smile in his voice. “I’m sure it isn’t if it’s got you this stressed, darlin’,”
Nico felt his heart flutter instead of his stomach for the first time that day. He’d never been called anything like that. He let out a shattered sigh. “I don’t want to go near the water.”
Will shuffled in his spot on the floor, his palm resting to the side, slightly under the door. “Is there a reason?”
Nico felt the streams flowing down his cheeks turn into rivers in an instant. “...yes,” His voice cracked again. Years later and the image was still ingrained on the inside of his eyelids. He could almost hear the sirens and his father’s sobbing as his sister wailed. He tensed his eyes shut, wincing and trying to forget, though he knew it was almost impossible. That kind of stuff never leaves you.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was just so genuine, and somehow not pitying in the slightest. No fake sympathy, like Nico was used to, in sight. The guy didn’t even know what he was apologising for, and it still made Nico want to cry harder with just how much this dude, who hadn’t even seen him, seemed to care.
Silence fell over the two, though it felt lighter than it did before. Will wasn’t forcing him to speak, just offering an ear in case he wanted to.
After a few more shaky breaths, Nico obliged. “My mother, she… He grounded himself, clenching the hem of his jeans like a lifeline. “She uh, drowned. At a beach like this one.” Nico wiped at his tears with the heel of his hand. “There were these, these powerlines.“ He sniffled, focusing on the threading of Will’s jeans. “They fell into the water and…” He didn’t need to explain any further.
“Oh, Nico.” Will gasped, sincerely, like he meant it more than anything. “I’m so, so sorry.”
The way he said it, that simple phrase, told Nico that Will had experienced similar things, the same shared cuts and bruises, both mental and physical. Will understood.
Unexpectedly, after saying it aloud, Nico felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He expected it to hurt as the words came out of his throat, though the opposite was true. An air of shared understanding fell over both of them, and though the tears were still flowing slightly, Nico felt himself calm.
His body moved like it had a mind of its own, standing and opening the door—no more hiding. Nico just wanted to see him . To look into his eyes and say thank you. Will fell backwards onto Nico’s shoes, his face surprised for a moment.
“Hello there,” Will grinned, looking up at him. Nico was enthralled with the way his blonde curls fell over his face in a perfect yet messy halo, and just how blue his eyes were: like the sky on a relaxing morning. And his smile was blinding, like the glare of the sun. All of him just screamed ‘Nico’s type!!’ He could almost hear Leo laughing at him for the way he basically folded for this man just seconds into seeing him.
Nico felt his face flush a little as Will’s eyes looked him up and down, still lying on his sneakers. “Hi to you, too.” He shrugged, feeling a little nervous now that he saw the person who was comforting him. “Um, thank you.” The tears were only now drying on his face, and Nico knew he looked like a hot mess, just fresh off a bawling session, but Will’s face lit up even more (if possible) as he inspected Nico, especially when he saw Mr D’s shirt. It didn’t feel objectifying; Nico just felt… seen.
Will laughed, arms gripping the sides of the stall to haul himself up, showing Nico that, gods , was he tall. “Anytime, Nico.” He held out his hand, probably expecting a shake. “Nice to properly meet you–”
But Nico, still vulnerable, did what felt right: collapse into those big, tanned arms. They were warm and comforting, like he was basking in Will’s voice.
Will cooed, caught off guard, but he didn’t seem to be complaining. “Awh, I’ve got you, hun.”
“Thank you,” Nico sniffled, muffled by Will’s chest. “Really.” He was most definitely getting Will’s shirt wet, but neither of them seemed to care. A comforting palm found his back, and he exhaled, the first breath of fresh air in a while.
Nico was never a fan of the beach. But with a tanned hand in his, it didn’t seem so intimidating walking on the sand.