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Gone.
They were gone.
All it took was two seconds and that was it. There was nothing he could have done.
Nothing.
But what if- no. No. That was just him being selfish. He should’ve been able to save them. When it came down to it, it was his fault.
He should have reached the bandages faster.
He should have stitched faster.
His hands should have stopped shaking.
He should have given them more nectar, more ambrosia.
He shouldn’t have been so scared.
He should have done better.
It was his fault.
All. My. Fault.
The words echoed in his head. Over and over again.
All. My. Fault.
Everything around him started to dull and blur together into one muted cacophony. Everyone was rushing around gathering bandages and ambrosia, pressing wads of cloth into the bloody wound of the body lying on the medical cot as the flatline screamed, declaring the hopelessness of the medics’ efforts. Despite everything, his siblings still tried their best. But there was no point. He had already pressed two fingers to their neck, their wrists, but had withdrawn his hand having felt no pulse.
It was too late. He wanted to tell them but his voice had left him. Gone, like the life of the demigod that lay in front of him.
All. My. Fault.
Will’s eyes glazed over, his expression becoming vacant. He staggered back a few steps, a single dry sob tearing from his lips, causing him to shudder.
All. My. Fault.
His breath started coming in short bursts. You’re having a panic attack, something whispered in the back of his head. He knew better, but he couldn’t help it. He let go of the last string anchoring him to any reserve of calm and tumbled into the darkness that waited for him in his own mind.
Will barely noticed when he stepped away from the medical cot and made his way down the corridor of the infirmary. He barely noticed when some of his siblings called after him, beckoning him to return, reassuring him that there was still hope even when there was none. He barely noticed when, as he dumped the blood-slick latex gloves into the disposal bin, a loose sharp edge cut into his arm and left a crimson gash in its wake. He barely acknowledged himself stumbling into one of the private rooms and slumping down onto the floor after fumbling with the door and hearing it click locked.
Every memory Will had of not being able to save someone - every time he messed up and cost someone their life - clawed its way to the front of his mind. It was too much.
He grasped at strands of his hair and raked his nails across his scalp and face, desperately trying to redirect the pain he was feeling, desperately trying to dull it out.
His eyes darted across the floor, tracing the patterns in the wood and searching for somewhere - anywhere - else to redirect his attention.
Short huffs of breath were being pulled from his lungs but replaced with very little oxygen. From the spots that had begun to dance in front of his eyes, Will guessed that if he didn't slow his breathing, he wouldn't have very long before blacking out. That just made his breaths come in quicker.
Soft whimpers escaped his lips as he tried to let reality sink in. The sooner he addressed it in his mind, the sooner he could accept it . . . hopefully.
They would never make it back home. Never have another birthday or Christmas or sing at an evening campfire. They would never sit on the beach and watch the fireworks while holding a lover or a friend in their arms.
The reality of the situation didn’t just break him once. It was like a barrage of punches that all hit their mark.
His eyes blew wide as he desperately tried to let air flow into his lungs again but to no avail.
Red lines ran down his face where his nails had grazed his skin but his hands had now moved down to his chest, grasping desperately at the blue scrubs as he felt his consciousness slip away, darkness pulling at the edges of his vision.
This was it.
This was where he lost consciousness and then inevitably ended up laying in the locked room until the light had long since filtered back in through the clouded window. He would then stumble down the halls, rip off his scrubs, get washed up and then - once in the safety of his cabin - break down all over again until his siblings returned from their training or shifts.
It had happened before. It was happening again.
Right before the grasp of unconsciousness could secure its grip on his mind, he heard a knock. He didn’t recognise it - it wasn't one of his siblings at least.
It came again - more insistent this time.
“Busy.” Will mumbled, hoping they would just leave, but he was none too lucky.
“Will?” came a concerned voice from the other side of the door. “Sunshine?”
It was Nico.
Although the use of his new nickname made his mouth twitch, he barely registered it - he couldn’t let Nico see him like this. Nico was the one who had been to Tartarus and back. He had been the one to lose his sister when he should’ve been still too young to really understand what death meant. He’d been the one to spend days in a bronze jar, knowing he would most likely suffocate. He had been the one to love someone for years, knowing that love being returned was impossible. But Will? Will had been the one to hold Nico through his panic attacks - as he shuddered with sobs, thinking he was back in tartarus - or pleading with him for his sister, begging Will to bring her back. Will was the anchor between the two of them. He was the one who was always there. He was the one that was always happy. This was just a hurdle. He would get over it and then he would be fine again, but Nico couldn’t see. He couldn’t see that Will struggled too.
How long had it been since Nico called out to him? Too long, he thought.
“Will?” Nico’s voice came sharper this time. “Can you let me in?” he asked more softly.
The pleading in Nico’s voice sent a twinge of pain through his chest. He wanted to open the door - he really did - but something was stopping him. That something was fear.
If Nico saw him like this . . . what if he just left? What if he didn’t care enough to stick around when things got hard for Will too?
No, part of him argued. Nico’s not like that.
Really?
Yes. He cares.
With that conclusion made, Will choked out an “okay” and started to stand up in order to reach for the lock. He didn’t make it though. The lack of oxygen which had caused darkness to creep in around his vision now became overwhelming. The world seemed to blur into red and purple as everything tilted and the floor came up to meet him.
Air rushing into his lungs in the form of a gasp was what awoke Will. Cool, slender fingers were weaving their way through his curls and down his face. The other hand desperately gripped his shoulder, the arm attached to it gently cradling his head. He could feel his head rocking back and forth in the arms embracing him, in turn making his vision sway when his eyes eventually fluttered open to meet concerned dark ones.
A small amount of relief leaked into Nico’s features when Will opened his eyes, a soft expression settling on his face, despite the worry his eyes betrayed.
Will finally unglued his lips.
“How did you–” His eyes widened. “Nico, did you-”
“Yep.”
“But I told you-”
“I know.”
“You know it could hurt you!” Will couldn’t hide the anxiety that crept into his voice. “Remember. Doctors-”
“Orders,” Nico finished. “Well the doctor was unconscious, Will. You can look after me later. Now it's my turn. Relax, Sunshine.”
Will was sitting up now, facing Nico and scouring him for any hints of discomfort or strain, but saw none. He felt an inkling of relief before a wall of guilt slammed into him, instantly causing moisture to pool in his eyes.
Will registered one glimpse of panic on Nico’s face before the tears spilled over and ran down his cheeks.
He dimly heard Nico’s concerned voice before feeling lean arms wrap around him, pulling him close to a body he didn't have to see to know who it belonged to. He curled into the comfort, allowing his grieving sobs to wrack his frame.
For once, during the aftermath, he wasn't alone. It felt nice to share this kind of vulnerability with someone, and he knew its unfamiliarity would fade as long as Nico was willing to stick around that long.
He will. Yes. Yes, that was right. Nico was here to stay
The sobs echoing around the small room slowly dulled down to heavy breaths and soft whimpers as Will's grief started to subside. At least for a while. He knew he would carry this demigod with him wherever he went. He always did. But for once he wouldn't be carrying them alone.
Nico’s soft caresses hadn't stopped the whole time, soothing Will into a lulling calm.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Staying with me.”
“What else would I do?” Nico seemed genuinely confused by the idea of leaving him and it sent a warmth spreading through Will's chest that he couldn't describe if he wanted to. “I wouldn't wish to be anywhere else.”
A long, comfortable silence stretched between them, but eventually Nico broke it.
“Does it get better?”
“Eventually,” Will answered, knowing exactly what Nico meant. His voice was almost a whisper. “Though you always carry them with you, they slowly become lighter with time.”
“I'll help you carry them. All of them.”
Now, as he tucked his head into the crook of Nico's neck, Will knew the cycle was repeating itself. He would lie here until the sun streamed through the window. He would rip off his scrubs and clean himself up. He would go back to his cabin, and most likely break down all over again, until his siblings came back. But this time it was different. He would have Nico with him, and he hoped that would never change.
Slowly the two demigods, tangled in each other's arms, were claimed by sleep. One lightly trembling. Both smiling. Knowing their futures were just as intertwined as they were.