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Camp Half-Blood had always been home to Will Solace.
From the moment his mother dropped him off with a bright smile and a quick hug when he was seven, to now—sixteen, fresh from patching up the demigod world’s most recent apocalypse—it had been his safe place.
The smell of strawberries in the morning, the sound of the conch shell echoing across camp, the view of the Long Island Sound from Half-Blood Hill… this was his world. His normal.
But lately, Will had been noticing something ugly in that familiar normal.
Nico di Angelo.
The name alone was enough to get most campers to roll their eyes, whisper, or make the kind of smirking comments that they wouldn’t dare make in front of Chiron. Will had always assumed Nico was the one pushing everyone away. The kid radiated “leave me alone” energy like it was an Olympic sport—cold tone, blank expression, lurking at the edges of gatherings like a particularly goth barn cat.
Except… Will had been wrong.
Three weeks after the dust from Gaea’s fall had settled, Nico had been spending more time in the infirmary, mostly because Will insisted on checking up on him. And the more Will interacted with him—up close, daily—the more he realized that Nico wasn’t pushing the camp away. The camp was pushing him. Hard.
It was subtle sometimes. Someone taking the long way around a path rather than pass him. Someone “forgetting” to invite him to public activities. The way conversations dipped in volume when he walked into a room, or how people stepped aside like he might hex them if they brushed shoulders. The way his cabin was always marked perfect without the inspector stepping inside.
Other times, it wasn’t subtle at all. Whispered “creepy” when they thought he couldn’t hear.
A snicker about the “death kid” who didn’t belong here.
And the worst part? This was after he’d literally saved their lives. Twice.
Will felt his jaw tighten just thinking about it.
He’d always known campers thought he was perfect. Golden boy, literal child of the sun, healer extraordinaire. People saw Will Solace as endlessly patient, mature beyond his years, calm and steady.
And, okay, he was those things when he needed to be. But that was the medic version of him. The professional face.
Nico, however… Nico saw the other side. The real Will. The sarcastic, petty, occasionally downright bitchy version. The one who didn’t mind getting under someone’s skin if they deserved it.
The fact that most of camp still treated Nico like a ticking time bomb while worshipping the ground Jason Grace and Percy Jackson walked on? Oh, that made Will want to weaponize his sass and burn the whole double standard to the ground.
Jason was doing his part—Jason Grace was the mom friend, and not just in the “did you pack a sweater?” sense. He was relentless. Eat this. Drink that. Have you slept? Did you take a break today?
Hazel got it the worst from him, because she was thirteen and he seemed to have made it his life’s mission to keep her from ever experiencing even a paper cut. Nico got the second-worst treatment. Will had seen Jason walk across the training arena mid-duel to hand Nico a bottle of water and say, “Hydrate, di Angelo.” In front of everyone. Nico looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
Will couldn’t decide if it was endearing or hilarious. Maybe both.
Still, watching Nico’s day-to-day existence now, Will’s perspective had shifted in a way he couldn’t ignore.
This wasn’t just Nico “being private.” This wasn’t just his supposedly scary underworld vibes making people uncomfortable. This was prejudice, plain and simple. A kid without a home being told—over and over—that even here, where everyone was supposed to belong, he was still Other.
Will noticed it most during lunch. He was 6’4”, so he had a clear view over the crowded pavilion. Nico—5’5” on a tall day—would quietly grab a plate, keep his head down, and make for the very end of the table. If Jason or Hazel wasn’t there, no one else sat with him. Not unless Will plopped himself down next to him and started talking about something wildly inappropriate for mealtime, just to watch Nico’s mouth twitch like he was fighting a smile.
Will told himself he did it to keep him company. But the truth was, he liked poking at Nico’s cool, quiet exterior, just to see what was underneath.
So far, the underneath was… interesting. Still guarded. Still reserved. But shy, too, in a way Will hadn’t expected. And—though Nico would rather die again than admit it—kind of adorable.
The rest of camp didn’t see that.
And maybe they didn’t deserve to.
Will spotted him instantly in the pavilion.
Nico had this way of moving through crowds like he wasn’t really there—quiet, small, deliberate. He didn’t bump shoulders, didn’t make eye contact, didn’t so much as brush past anyone if he could help it. Most campers probably didn’t even notice him slip in. Will did.
He watched from the Apollo table as Nico grabbed a plate and went straight for the fruit. Not the good kind, either. A few grapes, half a banana. A piece of toast so pale it was basically just warm bread.
Will sighed, muttering under his breath, “Oh, for the love of—” and stood.
Someone at his table called his name, but he ignored them, weaving between benches until he reached the very end of the Hermes table where Nico had planted himself. Sure enough, no one sat within two seats of him.
Will didn’t ask for permission—just slid in beside him like they’d planned this all along. “Mornin’, sugar.”
Nico froze mid-bite. His head turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”
“Joining you for breakfast.” Will leaned back, slinging one long arm over the bench behind Nico. His drawl came out naturally—just a hint, the way it always did when he was relaxed or trying to get a rise out of someone. “You looked lonely, darlin’.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re always fine.” Will reached over and snagged a grape off Nico’s plate. “That’s the problem.”
Nico glared at him like he’d just committed treason. “Are you seriously—”
“Mhm. Stealing your food. Which, frankly, isn’t much to steal. You planning on fightin’ monsters on half a banana?”
Nico turned back to his plate, muttering, “I’m not hungry.”
There it was.
Will felt his doctor-brain click on.
Not hungry. Always not hungry. Eating in tiny, measured amounts. Sitting far from the main crowd. Shoulders drawn in. Quick to deflect. He’d been watching this pattern for three weeks, but now, sitting right next to him, it was impossible to ignore the way Nico’s knuckles looked sharper than they should, the faint shadows under his eyes, the way he was chewing like he had to convince himself to swallow.
Will kept his voice light. “You’ve been not hungry for three weeks straight, sugar pie. At some point, you’re gonna have to admit that’s not normal.”
Nico’s grip on his fork tightened. “Drop it, Solace.”
“Can’t.” Will smiled sweetly, plucking another grape and popping it into his mouth. “See, I took an oath. To heal and protect the lives of others. Which includes stubborn little shadow boys who think they can out-stare me.”
Nico’s ears went faintly pink. He stabbed a grape and shoved it in his mouth just to avoid answering.
Will bit back a grin. He’d been learning, slowly, what got Nico flustered. Compliments? He pretended not to hear them. Physical closeness? Cue the instant blush and defensive sarcasm. Pet names? Oh, those were golden. Every “honey” or “darlin’” earned him a twitch at the corner of Nico’s mouth and a refusal to make eye contact for at least thirty seconds.
Will leaned closer, dropping his voice low so it was just for Nico. “Eat a little more for me, baby. Just a few bites.”
Nico’s fork stalled halfway to his mouth. “Stop calling me that.”
“Nope.” Will grinned. “Not until it stops makin’ you blush like a peach in July.”
“I’m not—” Nico started, but Will’s eyes flicked down to catch the faint color creeping across his cheekbones, and Nico immediately scowled harder.
They sat in tense silence for a moment, Will pretending to focus on his own plate while watching from the corner of his eye. Nico was good—better than most campers—at pretending to eat. He’d push food around, cut things into smaller pieces, make it look like progress. But Will was a medic. He noticed when bites went missing without ever making it to a mouth.
Which is why he caught it instantly when Nico’s hand dipped under the table for just a second too long. There was a soft, almost imperceptible pop of displaced air, and then—poof—some of the toast was gone.
Will didn’t react right away. He just took another bite of his eggs, chewed, swallowed, then, without looking up, reached over and dropped another slice of toast onto Nico’s plate.
“You’re not slick, sugar pie.”
Nico stiffened. “What?”
“That little shadow trick.” Will’s tone was maddeningly casual. “Cute, but not foolin’ me.”
Nico didn’t answer. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed on the table.
Will sighed, his voice softening. “I know you’re not used to eating regular meals. I know it’s hard. But your body’s not gonna heal if you keep skipping. You’re runnin’ on fumes, and one day you’re gonna pass out, and then I’m gonna have to carry you to the infirmary in front of everybody, and you’ll hate me forever.”
“That would be accurate,” Nico muttered.
“Then eat.” Will nudged the plate closer.
Nico shot him a dark look, but after a long pause, he took a small bite. And then another. He didn’t meet Will’s eyes once.
Will didn’t push further. Not today. Small victories.
When Nico finally stood, brushing crumbs from his lap, Will let him go without another word. He’d learned that crowding him after a meal was a surefire way to make him clam up for the rest of the day.
As soon as Nico disappeared into the sunshine outside the pavilion, a shadow fell over Will’s table.
Jason Grace.
Will didn’t even have to look up to know he was about to get the talk.
Jason dropped onto the bench across from him, folding his arms. “So. You and Nico.”
Will raised an eyebrow. “Me and Nico… what?”
Jason’s blue eyes narrowed just slightly. “I’ve decided you’re part of keeping him alive.”
Will blinked. “That’s a weird thing to decide.”
“It’s not weird,” Jason said firmly. “You’re a healer. You’re persistent. You’re already bothering him about food, which is good. You notice things other people don’t. You’re… annoyingly sunny, which he needs.”
Will’s lips twitched. “And you’re just handing me responsibility for a whole person?”
“Not just any person. Nico.” Jason leaned in slightly. “He won’t let most people help him. He’ll let you. So—” He made a vague gesture, like passing an invisible baton. “Congratulations. You’re my co-conspirator now.”
Will stared at him. “Your what?”
“Co-conspirator.” Jason’s tone was deadly serious. “Operation Keep Nico Alive.”
Will snorted. “That is the dumbest operation name I’ve ever heard.”
“Don’t care.” Jason shrugged. “I’m already watching his nightmares, making sure he sleeps, checking in with Hazel. You’re my eyes and ears when I’m not around. And you take point on food. And maybe social interaction. And…” Jason gave him a knowing look. “…other stuff.”
Will raised an eyebrow. “Other stuff?”
Jason’s expression was almost smug. “You’ll figure it out.”
Will groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You’re so weird. Like, really weird. I think the Roman side of you is showing.”
Jason grinned, completely unbothered. “You’re welcome, partner.”
And just like that, he stood and left, leaving Will at the table with an empty plate and the sinking realization that he’d just been drafted into Jason Grace’s Very Overprotective Big Brother Brigade.
Will sighed.
“Fantastic,” he muttered. “Guess I’m the medic and the emotional support blond now.”
Nico didn’t want to be here.
Will could tell before they’d even reached the circle of benches around the fire pit. His posture was tighter than usual, his jaw set, his eyes locked on the ground. Jason was at his side, talking about something in that easy, casual way he used to fill silences, but Nico wasn’t engaging. Just short nods here and there.
And the kicker? Will knew for a fact Nico had been begged into coming. Percy had asked. Annabeth had asked. Annabeth. That was basically like Zeus himself issuing a decree.
So here they were. Bonfire night. Half the camp gathered, music playing from somewhere, the smell of toasted marshmallows thick in the air. Will normally loved these nights. But right now? He was more focused on making sure Nico didn’t bolt.
They sat a few rows back from the fire, Jason peeling off after a minute to talk to Piper. Nico picked up a marshmallow stick like it was a weapon, skewering a single marshmallow with unnecessary precision.
“You look like you’re planning to fight the marshmallow,” Will said, leaning over with a grin.
Nico didn’t look up. “I don’t do this kind of thing.”
“Eat sugar? Be around people? Have fun?” Will’s tone was light, teasing.
Nico glanced at him from under his hair. “Yes.”
Will smirked, but kept his eyes on him as Nico roasted the marshmallow until it was just barely golden. He took one small bite, chewed for about three seconds… and then froze. His face paled in a way Will knew too well.
“You okay, sugar?”
Nico didn’t answer—just put the marshmallow down and stood abruptly, heading toward the treeline.
Will was after him in two strides. “Hey, hey, slow down.”
Nico didn’t slow. He made it just into the shadows of the trees before doubling over, bracing one hand against a trunk. Will moved to his side instantly, one hand on his back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep him steady as he threw up what little he’d eaten. Will crouched beside him, murmuring quiet reassurances until it was over. When Nico finally straightened, wiping at his mouth with the back of his sleeve, he looked equal parts embarrassed and exhausted.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“Don’t be.” Will kept his voice soft. “This isn’t your fault.”
Nico frowned like he didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”
Will hesitated for a moment, weighing how much to say. Then, gently, “I think you have something called anorexia. It’s an eating disorder—when your relationship with food gets so… twisted up that it starts hurting your body. It can be about control, or stress, or past stuff you’ve been through. Sometimes all of it.”
Nico blinked at him, clearly confused. “I don’t—”
“I’m not saying you’re doing it on purpose,” Will cut in quickly. “I’m saying you’ve been through hell. Literally. And it’s affected the way your body handles food. You’ve been starving for so long, it’s like your system forgot how to trust it. But I can help.”
He put a hand just above Nico’s stomach, letting a faint golden glow spread from his palm. Apollo’s power flowed easily, warm and steady, easing the cramps and nausea until Nico’s breathing evened out.
Nico’s shoulders relaxed slightly, his expression softening. “You… always do that?”
“Only for my favorite patients, sugar pie.” Will gave him a crooked smile. “Let’s head back. You don’t have to eat more tonight. Just… don’t disappear on me, okay?”
Nico rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, which Will was counting as a win.
They came back to the bonfire and reclaimed their seats. Will could tell Nico was already tense again, his gaze flicking around like he was making sure no one had noticed his absence.
Unfortunately, someone had.
A kid from the Demeter cabin—a year or two younger than Will—was standing with a group of friends, just a few feet away. Will saw him glance over his shoulder, see Nico sitting there, and jump like he’d been spooked.
“Oh, gods,” the kid said loudly, laughing as he turned back to his friends. “Didn’t see death boy creeping up behind me.”
His friends snickered. Another added, “Careful, he’ll hex your marshmallows.”
Will’s jaw clenched. He was halfway to standing when Nico’s hand shot out, catching his sleeve.
“Don’t,” Nico muttered under his breath.
Will looked at him. Nico’s face was carefully blank, but his eyes were sharper than glass, his mouth drawn tight. He was upset—deeply—but holding it together with sheer force of will.
“You don’t have to let them—” Will started.
“Yes, I do,” Nico cut in quietly. “If I react, it proves them right.”
“That’s—” Will stopped himself. Nico was already looking away, shoulders curling in.
A few minutes later, Nico stood, his voice quiet. “Goodnight.”
Will opened his mouth to protest, but Nico didn’t give him the chance. “I want to be alone.”
Will let him go. He knew better than to chase when Nico was retreating like that.
But he didn’t forget the Demeter kid.
Fifteen minutes later, the kid was still laughing with his friends near the snack table. Will walked past, hands in his pockets, whistling softly to himself. Apollo’s power was subtle when used right—not just for healing, but for small… adjustments.
A faint golden warmth at his fingertips, a whispered thought, and—
The kid sniffed suddenly, rubbing at his nose. Then again. Then harder. His eyes went wide, and he started sneezing—hard, fast, almost comically violent. The kind of sneeze fit you’d get from the worst hay fever of your life.
Will kept walking, smiling faintly.
He’d considered diarrhea—always a classic—but this was less likely to get him in trouble if Chiron noticed. Besides, he could keep the sneezing going for days if he felt like it.
By the time Will reached the Apollo table again, the kid was hunched over with tissues, his friends patting his back like he was dying.
Will sat down, grabbed a fresh marshmallow, and roasted it slowly, letting the firelight dance over his face.
Golden boy image intact. Petty vengeance satisfied.
Mandatory meetings were a special kind of hell.
Will had been to enough of them to know the drill—Chiron gathered all the cabin counselors once a month to talk about schedules, camp upkeep, and “inter-cabin relations” (read: stop fighting each other for the good canoe paddles). Usually they weren’t too bad, but today was different.
Today, Nico was here.
He didn’t normally come to these unless it was absolutely required, which, apparently, it was. With no other Hades campers around, he was the only one who could represent his cabin. Will had spotted him coming in—black jacket, hair falling into his eyes, shoulders hunched like he was trying to disappear. He sat in one of the far chairs, away from the center table, as though being physically closer might give him frostbite.
Will had taken the seat beside him without asking. Jason, Percy, Annabeth, and Piper were all at the main table, debating something about supply runs. Lou Ellen, Will’s friend from the Hecate cabin, sat across from him, offering Nico a brief nod. She was one of the only people outside their little circle who treated him even halfway decently.
The meeting droned on. Will mostly half-listened, his focus on Nico, who was quiet but clearly following every word. He’d seen Nico in battle—sharp, decisive, lethal when needed—but here, in this cramped, stuffy room with a dozen people, he looked… cornered.
That’s when Will heard it.
Two voices, just low enough not to carry across the whole room, but not so low that he and Nico couldn’t hear. The Hermes cabin’s second-in-command—a lanky guy with an unfortunate smirk—and the Demeter cabin’s second, a girl who seemed to think she was the funniest person alive, were leaning toward each other.
Hermes Guy: “Why’s he even here? It’s not like death boy actually cares about camp.”
Demeter Girl snorted. “I know, right? He just lurks around looking like he wants to kill everyone.”
“Probably does.”
“Gods, he’s so thin. Looks like a stiff wind would knock him over.”
Hermes Guy chuckled under his breath. “Maybe that’s why he hides in the shadows. Don’t wanna break.”
Will’s grip on his pen tightened.
Then Demeter Girl said, almost too casually, “Honestly, after everything? He should just… y’know. End it. Would save us all the trouble.”
Will’s entire body went still.
He looked at Nico. The words had landed—he could see it in the way Nico’s shoulders locked, in the sharp, shallow breaths he was taking. But Nico’s face… blank. Carefully blank. The only thing giving him away was the tiniest flicker in his eyes.
Will opened his mouth—because no way in hell was he letting that slide—but Nico’s hand shot out, catching his wrist under the table.
“Don’t,” Nico murmured.
“They—”
“Don’t. I will not be the monster they think I am.” His voice was quiet, tight, the kind of quiet that didn’t invite argument.
Will swallowed hard, the pen still digging into his palm. He wanted—no, needed—to put those two in their place, to scorch them with words until they squirmed. But Nico’s grip was steady, and there was something in his gaze—an almost desperate edge—that stopped him.
The meeting dragged on, Will barely hearing a word. His thoughts kept circling back to that sentence, that awful casual tone, like Nico’s life was something to joke about. He kept glancing at him, catching the way his knee bounced slightly, his hand curling into a fist on his thigh.
When Chiron finally dismissed them, Nico was on his feet in an instant, slipping out the door like the room had been suffocating him. Will half-rose to follow, but before he could, Jason was suddenly there, blocking his path.
Jason’s expression wasn’t angry—yet—but it was sharp, all traces of his usual easy warmth gone. “Tell me. Exactly what’s wrong. Now.”
Will hesitated. “Jason—”
“Don’t play with me, Solace.” His tone was low, but it cut like steel. “Something happened in there. I saw his face. And I saw you about to start a fight. So tell me.”
Will exhaled slowly. He glanced toward the door Nico had gone through, then back to Jason. “The Hermes and Demeter seconds. They’ve been running their mouths for a while. Tonight it got… worse.”
Jason’s jaw clenched. “Worse how?”
Will didn’t sugarcoat it. “They called him creepy. Said he shouldn’t even be here. Commented on his weight. And then—” His voice dipped, hot and quiet. “—then they said he should just kill himself.”
Jason went very still.
Will had seen Jason in battle, but this was different. There was no sword in his hand, no lightning in the air, but the shift in his expression was… dangerous. Controlled, but dangerous.
“Names,” Jason said.
“Jason—”
“Names, Will.”
Will gave them. Jason repeated them under his breath, like he was making a mental note to carve them into stone.
Then he looked back toward the door. “Where is he?”
“I don’t know. He bolted the second Chiron dismissed us.”
Jason nodded once, decisive. “Fine. You go after him. I’ll deal with the rest.”
Will arched a brow. “You’re not gonna kill them, are you?”
Jason’s mouth curved—not quite a smile. “I’m gonna make sure they regret breathing near him.”
Will actually believed him.
He didn’t argue, just pushed past him and headed for the door, his pulse still thrumming with frustration. Somewhere out there, Nico was walking it off, trying to pretend those words hadn’t sunk in like barbs.
And Will?
Will was going to find him before they festered any deeper.
It wasn’t hard to find him.
Will had thought it might be, given how Nico could vanish when he wanted to, but there was a trail—a thin, unmistakable line of dead grass and shriveled leaves leading out past the border of the cabins, into the dense woods. The air around the trail felt colder, the light dimmer, like the shadows themselves had followed Nico and refused to let go.
Will moved quickly but not carelessly, ducking under low branches, following the unnatural wilt until he spotted him.
Nico was crouched low near the base of an old oak, black jacket hunched tight around him, hair hiding his face. His hands were buried in the dirt like he was trying to root himself there.
Will slowed as he approached. “Sugar—”
“Go away.”
Will stopped a few feet back. “Not gonna happen.”
Nico’s shoulders tightened. “Will. Leave.”
“No.”
“I mean it.” His voice was raw, shaking.
“So do I.”
There was a pause, heavy enough that Will could hear Nico’s ragged breathing. Then, without warning, Nico shot to his feet and spun on him.
“Why are you here?!” The words came out sharp, venom-laced. “What do you want from me?!”
Will didn’t flinch. “To make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m not okay!” The sudden volume made a crow burst from the trees overhead. Nico’s hands were trembling at his sides, his eyes wild. “I’m never okay! And you—” He jabbed a finger at Will. “You keep acting like you can fix me! Like I’m some—some patient in your infirmary that just needs stitches and a pep talk and everything will be fine! But I’m not fine! I’m never gonna be fine!”
Will opened his mouth, but Nico was already spiraling.
“You don’t know what I’ve done. You don’t know how many people I’ve killed—gods, I don’t even know anymore. Monsters, mortals, demigods—doesn’t matter. It’s all the same. I’m a murderer. A monster. The creepy Hades kid they whisper about because they should. Because it’s true.”
Will’s chest ached. “Nico—”
“I should’ve died instead of Bianca.” His voice cracked hard on the name. “She was the good one. She would’ve been worth something. She wouldn’t have—wouldn’t have ended up like this. Like me. I’m—” His breathing hitched. “I’m nothing. I don’t deserve to eat, or sleep, or—”
“Stop.”
“—or be here, or—”
“Stop.” Will stepped forward.
“Why?!” Nico’s voice was breaking, higher now, like something inside him had finally split. “Why won’t you just let me say it? It’s true! It’s all true!”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is! I’m creepy, Will! I’ve heard it my whole life! Creepy, weird, unwanted. And you can’t fix that—”
“I can sure as hell try.”
Nico made a harsh, frustrated sound—half a sob, half a growl—and turned away, his hands flying to his head. Will’s stomach dropped when he saw him start yanking at his hair, fingers digging hard against his scalp.
“Hey—”
Nico didn’t hear him, or didn’t care. His other hand raked sharp nails down the side of his neck, over and over, like he was trying to erase himself. His breathing was quick, shallow, spiraling toward hyperventilation.
Will didn’t think—he just moved. In two long strides, he was behind him, catching both wrists before Nico could hurt himself further. Nico struggled instantly, jerking against his grip.
“Let go—”
“No.” Will’s voice was firm, steady. He pulled Nico back against his chest, locking his arms around him. “I’m not letting you hurt yourself.”
Nico thrashed, but it wasn’t the calculated kind of fight Will had seen in training—it was frantic, desperate, all adrenaline and panic. Will tightened his hold, lowering his voice. “You’re safe. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
“Let me go!”
“Not gonna happen, darlin’.”
It was a long, tense minute before the fight started to drain out of him. His breathing stayed ragged, but the pulls against Will’s arms weakened, his body going from rigid to trembling.
And that’s when Will realized—really realized—just how small he was.
Sure, he’d always known Nico was short. At 5’5”, he barely came up to Will’s collarbone. But now, holding him like this, he could feel every sharp angle, every too-prominent rib under his jacket, the way his wrists felt fragile in his hands. Will could probably lift him one-armed if he had to. It was… sobering. And infuriating.
Will loosened his grip just enough to shift, one arm wrapping around Nico’s chest while his free hand came up to cup the back of his head. “You’re okay, sugar pie. Just breathe with me.”
Nico’s head tipped forward against his shoulder. Will could feel him shaking, could hear the tiny, unsteady sounds catching in his throat.
“That’s it,” Will murmured, his drawl softer now. “You’re doin’ so good. Just a little slower.”
The smallest sound—a choked breath—escaped Nico. Will held him tighter.
“See? Just like that. Good boy.”
Nico stilled.
Will felt it instantly—the hitch in his breathing, the way his fingers twitched slightly in Will’s hold. It took him half a second to connect the dots. Oh. Oh.
“You like hearin’ that, don’t you?” Will’s voice stayed gentle, not mocking, but there was a knowing edge now. “Someone tellin’ you you’re good.”
Nico didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. The way he melted—just a fraction—was enough.
Will swallowed hard, because gods help him, that did something to his chest. And his heart. And the space in between.
“You are good,” he said, more firmly this time. “Better than you think. Better than anyone gives you credit for. You’ve been through more than anyone should have to survive, and you’re still here. Still fightin’. That’s not creepy, Nico. That’s… it’s beautiful.”
Something in Nico seemed to crack at that, the last bit of resistance bleeding out of him. His full weight sagged into Will, and Will adjusted easily, pulling him close until Nico’s face was buried in his chest.
For a long time, they just stood there. The forest was quiet except for Nico’s uneven breaths and the steady beat of Will’s heart. Slowly, the shaking eased.
Will lowered his head, pressing his lips to Nico’s hair. “I’m never saying that word again.”
Nico made a faint questioning noise against his shirt.
“Creepy,” Will clarified. “Never again. Not about you. Not about anyone. Not in my vocabulary anymore.”
There was no reply, but Will didn’t need one. He could feel Nico’s breathing evening out against him, the tension in his body replaced by something heavier, softer. Trust.
And somewhere in the middle of that, Will realized—really realized—that he was in love.
It wasn’t the kind of love that struck like lightning. It was slower, quieter. It had been growing without him noticing, through every stubborn argument, every sarcastic exchange, every moment Nico let him just a little closer. And now, holding him in the middle of the forest, feeling just how small and breakable he was, Will knew he’d do anything—anything—to protect him.
He tightened his arms slightly, just enough to let Nico know he wasn’t going anywhere. “I’ve got you, darlin’. Always.”
The Apollo cabin was buzzing when Will walked in. Not in a fun, pre-lunch kind of way—more the low murmur of “what the hell is going on?” and “why does Will look like that?”
Because yeah. Will looked… intense.
He didn’t waste time. “Sit down. Now.”
Every single one of them obeyed, because Will Solace never used that tone unless something was serious.
When the benches stopped creaking and the chatter died, Will planted himself at the head of the long table, arms crossed.
“You’re physicians,” he said, voice sharp. “You took an oath.”
A couple of younger kids fidgeted, glancing nervously at each other.
Will’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the first line of that oath?”
Silence.
He raised his eyebrows. “Seriously? We recite it every month. The first line.”
Kayla raised a tentative hand. “Um… ‘First, do no harm’?”
“Correct,” Will said, biting off the word. “Do. No. Harm. Tell me, how does ignoring, excluding, and mocking a patient who’s clearly struggling fit into that, exactly?”
No one answered.
Will leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. “You all think I don’t notice, but I do. The way you flinch when Nico walks by. The way you don’t sit next to him at meals. The whispers. You might not be the worst offenders, but you’ve been standing on the sidelines while the rest of camp treats him like garbage. That’s harm. And you’ve been complicit.”
One of the older boys—Caleb—spoke up, crossing his arms. “Will. Come on, man. It’s not fair to expect us to put all this effort into someone who doesn’t even try to be nice to us.”
Will turned his glare on him so fast the kid actually leaned back. “Oh, fair? You think it’s fair for a fifteen-year-old boy to believe he doesn’t deserve to eat because of how we treat him? That’s what you want to defend?”
The room went quiet again.
“He’s not mean to you,” Will continued, voice rising. “He’s guarded. There’s a difference. And if you knew anything about trauma responses—which, by the way, you should, because you’re in Apollo’s cabin—you’d understand that shutting people out isn’t cruelty. It’s survival.”
One of the younger kids, a tiny girl with freckles, raised her hand. “We’re just… scared of him.”
Will crouched slightly so he was at her eye level. “He’s not scary. He’s hurt. There’s a difference. He’s not going to hurt you. And if you give him a chance, you’ll find he’s actually… pretty great. But he’s been hurt so many times, he doesn’t know how to trust that anyone will stay.”
She nodded slowly, chewing her lip.
The older kids still looked unconvinced, though a few had shifted uncomfortably.
“I get it,” Will said, straightening. “He’s quiet. He’s intense. He doesn’t say thank you enough. But you don’t get to use that as an excuse to treat him like he’s less than human. He’s my patient. He’s a fellow camper. And he’s someone I care about. You all will respect him, whether you understand him yet or not.”
Kayla spoke first. “I… didn’t realize it was that bad.”
“Neither did I,” Austin admitted. “Guess we’ve been… kind of jerks.”
Will’s expression softened slightly. “Yeah. And you can fix it. I’m not asking you to be his best friend overnight. Just… stop adding to the weight he’s carrying.”
That seemed to land. Heads nodded—tentatively, but sincerely enough that Will felt like maybe, maybe, they’d start trying.
“Good,” he said finally, stepping away from the table. “Meeting over.”
He turned toward the door—and froze.
Jason Grace was leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, smirking like the world’s blondest supervillain.
“Jason,” Will said flatly. “What the fuck.”
“You’re in love with him,” Jason said, voice maddeningly calm.
Will’s stomach did a flip. “No, I—”
Jason’s eyebrows lifted. “You are.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
“I—”
“Are.”
Will closed his eyes. “…Yeah. Fine. Maybe I am.”
Jason’s smirk widened. “Good.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Jason leaned in slightly, lowering his voice to something that was… unsettlingly cryptic. “Don’t screw it up.”
Will blinked. “What does that—”
Jason was already turning away, hands in his pockets.
“Jason—”
Jason glanced back over his shoulder with a grin that was way too close to Nico’s brand of dark amusement. “You’ll see.”
And then—because apparently this was his new personality—he laughed like a Bond villain and walked off.
Will stared after him. “…Oh, no.”
If Will were a lesser man, he’d just tell Nico di Angelo he was in love with him and be done with it.
Unfortunately, Will was a medic. Which meant patience. And observation. And care. And not blurting out “you’re perfect, I’d like to wrap you in a blanket and carry you around” every time Nico tilted his head in that quiet, thoughtful way or squinted like he was deciding which Greek god he’d like to hex next.
Also unfortunately, Jason Grace had apparently decided that Will needed help.
The first week of Will’s official daily check-ins with Nico went… mostly well. Will kept them consistent—same time, same table at the dining pavilion, same plate structure from the food chart he’d drawn up and tacked to the Hades cabin door. He kept his tone light, never forcing bites, but gently nudging.
“Two more bites, sugar,” he’d murmur, and Nico’s ears would go red even if he didn’t look up.
It was… kind of ridiculous, how much Will adored him. The smallest things—the way Nico’s fork spun once in his fingers before he ate, the soft little huff of breath when Will moved too close, the way he’d tense at unexpected touch but lean into it if he saw it coming—were all filed away under danger: you will confess your feelings if not careful.
He kept his hands to himself for the most part, but every time Nico nodded that he was comfortable, Will pushed it a little further—resting a hand on his shoulder when he handed him water, brushing crumbs from his sleeve, patting his back after a meal.
By the end of the week, Will could rest a palm between Nico’s shoulder blades for an entire conversation without him stiffening. Progress.
And then… Jason happened.
The first time was almost subtle—almost. He’d “accidentally” left the door to the storage closet in the Big House unlocked, then oh-so-conveniently asked Will to grab more bandages and Nico to “grab the marshmallow skewers” for that night’s fire.
They’d both stepped in. The door had slammed. The lock had clicked.
“Did he just—” Will started.
Nico closed his eyes, took one deep breath, and shadow-traveled them outside.
They reappeared right behind Jason, who was leaning casually against the porch railing like he hadn’t just committed social engineering on a godly scale.
Nico stared at him for a long, quiet second. Then he lifted one black-stomper boot and kicked Jason hard enough in the shin to make him hiss.
“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Nico muttered, stalking off.
Jason winced, rubbing his shin. “He’s shy,” he said to Will, as if that explained everything.
“Jason,” Will said flatly, “I’m a doctor, and I’m telling you you’ve contracted a terminal case of Being Too Much.”
Jason grinned. “You love him.”
Will walked away before he could dignify that.
—
The rest of the week was… a war.
Nico, having identified the enemy, retaliated with unholy precision. Jason would angle for alone time? Nico would “accidentally” spill a wave of skeletal arms out of the ground to yank Jason’s ankles mid-sentence.
Jason would “volunteer” Will and Nico for a chore together? Nico would shadow-travel both of them across camp, bypassing the chore entirely, then toss a pinecone at Jason’s head when he came looking for them.
Will did not, under any circumstances, encourage this war. He did, however, privately rate Nico’s attacks on a scale of one to ten in his head.
Jason’s counterattacks involved gusts of wind that conveniently “pushed” Will and Nico shoulder-to-shoulder, or sending papers flying so Will had to lean over Nico to help gather them, or—at one point—having Percy call Will to come to the beach because “Nico’s about to be eaten by a crab.”
(It was, in fact, a normal-sized crab. Nico had been glaring at it. Will had been glaring at Jason.)
—
The healing work continued, though, and that was what mattered.
Will’s daily doctor’s appointments became a fixture. He’d run through the checklist—hydration, meal completion, any nausea, sleep quality—while Nico sat across from him, usually pretending to scowl but always answering. Will had even gotten him to try journaling his meals, not as calorie counting, but just so Will could see patterns.
“Three full meals this week,” Will said one morning, grinning over the paper. “You’re killing it, darlin’.”
Nico’s face did something that looked halfway between a grimace and a blush. “It’s just food.”
“It’s progress,” Will corrected, and he couldn’t help himself—he reached across the table to squeeze Nico’s wrist.
And yeah. Nico leaned into it. Just slightly. But it was enough to make Will’s chest ache.
—
It was the afternoon of day fourteen when Nico finally tried to kill Jason.
Will had been helping Kayla with inventory when the screaming started. He sprinted outside to see a cluster of campers pointing toward the canoe lake.
Jason was flailing in the water, sputtering. Several skeletal arms were yanking at his ankles, dragging him down.
Nico stood on the bank, arms crossed, looking like he was supervising an employee doing their job.
Percy was doubled over laughing—until he realized Jason wasn’t coming back up. Then he dove in, sliced through the skeletal arms with a sweep of water magic, and dragged Jason back to shore.
Jason coughed, rolled onto his back, and said hoarsely, “I’m dying.”
“You’re fine,” Percy said.
“My lungs are filling with water—”
“Drama queen,” Nico muttered, turning to leave.
Will sighed. “You two are going to kill each other,” he said.
Jason sat up, dripping and grinning at him. “Worth it.”
Will rubbed his temples. Gods help him, Jason wasn’t going to stop. And… if Will was honest? He didn’t want him to.
The Hades cabin was dark—darker than anywhere else in camp, and not in the soft, cozy way. The shadows clung to the air, thicker than the dust, curling in the corners like they had a mind of their own.
Will didn’t mind. He was used to it by now. Besides, the quiet here was different from the noisy cheer of the Apollo cabin. Here, nothing demanded his attention. He could focus.
Nico sat cross-legged on his bed, head bowed. His posture was loose, almost slumped, like gravity had gotten stronger just for him.
Will sat down at the edge of the mattress, medical bag in his lap. “Alright, sugar. Let’s do your checkup.”
Nico didn’t move.
Will tilted his head. “Darlin’? You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Nico said, except his voice was thin, almost toneless.
Will’s medic instincts screamed otherwise. He leaned forward, scanning Nico’s face. There was no flush, no obvious injury—but there was something off. Nico’s shoulders were tense in that not-tensed-on-purpose way, and his eyes… gods.
“Nico,” Will said softly, “what’s wrong?”
Nico blinked, and the motion left slow tracks of tears down his face. He didn’t sniff, didn’t sob—just… leaked.
Will’s chest tightened. “Baby, hey—”
“I don’t know,” Nico muttered, and his voice cracked just enough to make Will want to pull him into his lap right there. “My head feels like it’s gonna explode. My vision’s fuzzy. I feel like shit, Will.”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Will said, already sliding forward. He set the bag aside and wrapped his arms around Nico, pulling him in. Nico resisted for exactly zero seconds before pressing against him, tucking his head against Will’s shoulder like he belonged there.
Will held him steady, one hand rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades. “Sounds like a migraine, sugar pie. How long?”
“Since yesterday. Lunch,” Nico mumbled, voice muffled against Will’s shirt.
“And you didn’t say anything?”
Nico shifted just enough to glare half-heartedly. “You already hover enough.”
Will snorted. “That’s my job, sweetheart. You should’ve told me.”
He reached up, brushing back the dark strands of Nico’s hair so they wouldn’t fall in his face. Nico’s cheeks were pale, lips pressed tight in discomfort. Will pressed a kiss to the top of his head without thinking—habit, instinct—and Nico… melted.
Somehow, in the process of “comforting his patient,” Will ended up lying back against the headboard with Nico curled into his side. The weight of Nico against him, warm and small and trusting, made Will’s heart do the exact opposite of professional detachment.
“Since when are you a cuddle bug, sugar?” Will teased lightly, hoping to coax a reaction.
Nico just whimpered and burrowed closer.
Will bit back a groan. Not of annoyance—no, this was the kind of groan you gave when confronted with a tiny black kitten pawing its way into your lap. Nico di Angelo, infamous bringer of death and despair, was practically purring against him.
“You’re gonna kill me,” Will muttered into his hair. “You’re literally going to give me a heart attack, and then you’ll have to go find some other medic to annoy.”
Nico made a faint noise that might have been a laugh, but he didn’t move. Will’s hand kept running slow, steady patterns down his arm.
Will was so wrapped up in the warmth, the scent of Nico’s shampoo, the way he fit so perfectly tucked against him, that he didn’t register the shift until Nico pulled back slightly. His dark eyes were hooded, uncertain—but determined.
Before Will could ask, Nico leaned forward and pressed his mouth, soft and hesitant, to Will’s.
Will froze.
Nico pulled back instantly, the tips of his ears red. “I—sorry. I thought—”
Will didn’t let him finish. He pulled Nico back in, one hand cupping the back of his head, the other wrapping around his waist. He buried his face in Nico’s hair, inhaling deeply.
“I love you,” Will said into the dark strands. “You hear me, baby? I love you.”
Nico went still, like the words didn’t compute—then trembled, just once, before gripping the front of Will’s shirt and hiding his face again.
It could have been the perfect moment.
Which was exactly when Jason Grace burst in.
“Finally!” Jason said, grinning like a man who’d just won a war. “I knew—”
He didn’t finish, because a shadow erupted from the floor, wrapped around him like a whip, and yanked him through the darkness. The air cracked shut behind him.
Will blinked. “…Where’d you send him?”
“Mongolia,” Nico muttered, still clinging to Will.
Will kissed his temple. “Good choice, sugar.”
Jason wasn’t coming back for at least four hours. Nico had confirmed it with a little smirk and a vague, “He’ll be fine.”
Which meant Will had time.
Time to finally breathe without Jason’s looming golden retriever interference. Time to keep Nico exactly where he belonged—safe, fed, warm, his.
Nico was still curled against him from earlier, head resting under Will’s chin. He was so small like this—slight frame, bird-bone wrists tucked in, knees bent as if he could make himself even smaller. Will had treated thousands of patients in his life, but none had ever made him feel this… possessive.
He stroked his fingers through Nico’s hair again, slow and steady, feeling the subtle tremor in Nico’s shoulders. “You’re still wound up,” Will murmured.
“I’m fine,” Nico said automatically.
“No,” Will said, and his voice was firmer this time, the kind of tone he used when giving medical orders. “You’re not.”
Nico looked up at him, dark eyes sharp—and somehow still so vulnerable. Gods, Will could drown in them.
Will let his hand settle on the back of Nico’s neck, not squeezing, just holding. Claiming. “You don’t have to fight me, sugar pie. Not about this. You’re allowed to need things.”
Nico’s breath hitched, and Will felt the tiniest shift forward—barely a lean, but enough to make him want to drag Nico fully into his lap.
“I’ve got you,” Will said. Simple. Certain. And judging by the way Nico relaxed, the words were heavier than they sounded.
Will’s thumb brushed along the line of Nico’s jaw. “You listen to me now, darlin’. You are not creepy. You’re not broken. You’re not too much or too little. You’re mine. And I take care of what’s mine.”
Nico’s ears went pink. His eyes darted away, like he couldn’t stand to be seen—so Will gently tilted his chin back up.
“Look at me, sweetheart.”
It took a second, but Nico did. And gods, he was beautiful. Sharp edges and all.
“That’s better,” Will murmured. “I want you eating every day. I want you sleeping without nightmares. I want you letting me touch you whenever you start thinking those thoughts again. You hear me?”
Nico swallowed. “…Yeah.”
“Good boy.”
The two words landed like a shot. Will felt it—Nico’s breath stuttered, his cheeks flushed, and his whole body leaned just a fraction closer. Will didn’t even have to pull him in; Nico came willingly, curling against his chest like it was inevitable.
Will tightened his hold, one arm wrapping around Nico’s back, the other cradling his head. “That’s it. You don’t have to do anything else. Just let me keep you right here.”
They stayed like that for what felt like forever. Will didn’t care if they stayed like this all night. If Nico needed to be held until the sun came up, Will would keep him pinned in place, warm and safe, until he fell asleep in his arms.
When Nico finally whispered, “I love you too,” against his collarbone, Will felt something in him lock into place. Like a promise.
He kissed the top of Nico’s head, letting his lips linger. “Good boy,” he said again, softer this time. “Mine.”
And the way Nico sighed—tiny, content, almost relieved—told Will that maybe, for the first time in a long time, Nico believed him.