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It isn’t the first time Nico’s been alone with Will in the infirmary, but it is the first time it has been so quiet.
Will usually filled the air with whatever rambling was on his mind, whatever music he was in the mood for, or occasionally, off-tune humming that Nico held close to his heart. If not him then someone else would burst in, usually his siblings wanting to settle some argument and use their big brother as their tie-breaker–
But that’s the problem.
Will is here, and Austin and Kayla are missing.
After all the wounded from the three-legged death race had been taken care of, Chiron had ordered everyone go back to their cabins for safety. Despite this, Will drifted towards the infirmary with Nico trailing close behind. If he saw them disobeying his orders, Chiron didn’t protest.
They’ve been working in silence since then. There’s not much to talk about.
Well, more like Nico doesn’t know what to say. He wants to offer some words of comfort, but every time he opens his mouth to say something, nothing comes out. Will is the one who is good at this stuff; he always knows exactly what to say to make Nico feel better when he’s upset.
But, Nico knows words aren’t his strong suit, and words aren’t the only way to help people. So, he tries his best to let his actions speak the words he can’t quite figure out how to say.
· · ─ · ҉ · ─ · ·
He’s not sure how much time has passed, but Nico knows that it’s late. He can feel Hypnos tugging at his consciousness, slowing down his movements as he attempts to keep himself busy, cleaning and organizing the Infirmary as much as he can to help take some of responsibility off of Will’s shoulders.
Especially now that they’re down healers.
Breaking out of his thoughts, Nico pauses, blinking slowly at the bottle of disinfectant in his hand. He’s standing in front of the open fridge, where he seemingly was about to put said bottle of disinfectant.
This is not where bottles of disinfectant go.
Perhaps it’s time for him to admit defeat.
Nico glances over at Will for the nth time in the last couple of hours, worry gnawing on his ribcage.
Will’s been working at the counter on one of the far walls, with one of their portable gas elements set up next to the sink, so he didn’t have to go to the Big House kitchen. He hasn’t stopped moving this whole time, shifting back and forth as he ground up ingredients, chopped, mixed, and boiled with such ease that Nico is always a little entranced by his movements. However, the familiarity with this routine means that Nico can easily see the tremor in Will’s fingers.
More pressing than that though, Will is covered in blood.
None of it was his of course; if Nico had to guess it would be mainly from Paolo’s freshly re-attached leg. The blood is dried now at least, a sea of rust against Will’s green scrubs, but Nico can’t help but cringe looking at it.
He thought Will would eventually take a break and change, maybe take a shower in one of the overnight rooms but he hasn’t strayed far from his spot at the counter.
Now though, Will seems to be finishing up with whatever medicinal paste he is making, so Nico thinks it’s a good time to glide across the floor, putting a hesitant hand on Will’s arm with a soft, “Hey.”
Nico knows he can be quiet as he moves, easily scaring people with his presence if he’s not careful. But Will is usually immune to this, always seeming to be aware, or even drawn to where Nico hides in plain sight.
Therefore it takes them both by surprise when Nico places his hand on Will’s arm, and Will startles, flinching away from Nico.
“Sorry,” Nico says, pulling his hand away like the touch burned. His eyes flicker between Will’s, trying to read the unfamiliar expression on his face. “Are you almost done?” he asks, voice wavering with uncertainty.
Will blinks, looking at Nico like he’s looking through him rather than at him. Then after a moment too long, he smiles apologetically, but it’s more of a wince, “Ah, um. No, I still have a bunch to do tonight.”
He goes to turn away, but Nico lightly wraps his fingers around Will’s wrist, stilling his movements.
“Will, c’mon. It’s late,” he says, voice quiet. “Let’s go back to your cabin.”
“No thanks,” Will says, his voice clipped. The whites of his eyes flash as he looks away, pulling his wrist out of Nico’s grasp.
Nico frowns.
He stutters when he tries again feeling off-kilter, “But-uhm, you should really change out of those scrubs.”
“I’m okay,” Will shrugs. His light tone is forced, Nico can tell that much. His frown deepens.
“Will, I’m tired. I’m sure you’re exhausted too. We should go back to your cabin and get some sleep–”
“Nico, stop–stop,” Will snaps.
Nico blinks at the harsh, biting tone. It instantly lines his throat with glass.
“I can’t deal with–this right now, just stop.”
Despite his stutter, Nico hears what Will meant to say loud and clear: I can’t deal with you right now. And it hurts.
Nico’s face hardens, covering up for the fact that he is suddenly on the verge of tears.
When Will’s expression stays exasperated and annoyed, Nico feels something rise in his chest, angry and raw, wanting to bite right back.
He just wanted to help.
“Fine,” Nico spits. His voice comes out of frostbitten as he says, “I’ll get out of your way.”
He retreats to the infirmary office, shoulders taught, slamming the door shut behind him.
Will doesn’t call after him. He doesn’t follow him either.
All Nico hears is silence, and it’s almost worse than Will’s anger.
· · ─ · ҉ · ─ · ·
The anger drains out of Will in a dizzying rush as the door slams shut behind Nico. The intense revulsion at himself that replaces it is almost enough to make him gag.
What is wrong with him?
He turns to the office door, and takes a halting step forward. He should follow Nico. He should try to make it right, apologize for snapping, try to explain why he can’t leave the infirmary right now–
No. You can’t stop.
He hesitates.
He takes a step backwards, and then turns back around so he’s facing the counter.
…He… can talk to Nico later.
He reaches out to the burn ointment he’s making, his limbs moving automatically. At least he was being truthful, he really can’t deal with the idea of leaving the infirmary right now.
As soon as the ointment is done and put away, he starts pulling out ingredients for another batch.
Don’t stop. If you stop you won’t have enough and someone could die because of you.
He starts grinding the myrrh resin, sinking into the routine of it, his hands making the exact amount of circles and semi-circles in the perfect rotations and directions he does every time he makes this ointment.
The motions are so practiced, so perfected, that Will’s thoughts are able to drift, back to Nico, back to how horrible of a boyfriend he is. His eyes blur a bit, the tears threatening to come back.
He plays the argument over again in his head. It’s worse the second time around. And the third time around.
He basically told Nico he couldn’t deal with him caring about Will, which–oh god–he’s going to think Will doesn’t care about him–
The thought makes his hand stutter, interrupting his perfected method, and instantly an overwhelming pressure builds in his ears, his throat, and behind his eyes.
You fucked it up, it’s wrong, do it again, make it perfect.
Will brings the mortar over to the garbage, throwing out the myrrh with a sharp motion. He thoroughly washes it out, drying it with a new towel he finds under the sink, before heading back and placing it on the counter where he’s working. He grabs some new resin, and restarts the process. Only when he completes his grinding with no mistakes, does the pressure in his head abate.
He can sort everything out with Nico later. He can’t leave to work things out, but he can’t be upset right now. He needs to be–present. Alert. Here.
Because, what if they come back? He needs to be ready for anything, he has no idea where they are or what's happening to them, or what state they’ll be in when they get back, if they get back–
Will suddenly jerks forward, his limbs moving stiff and unnaturally like it wasn’t his idea to move. His limbs start the next step of processing the resin, his chest threatening to cave in on itself if he stays still for any longer. He just needs to keep busy, keep the infirmary stocked, keep himself ready for anything and not think about anything else.
· · ─ · ҉ · ─ · ·
Nico picks at an edge of the cracked leather on the office chair, glaring at the blurry wall.
He’s frowning (not pouting), his brows furrowed so hard that his head is starting to ache as silent tears stream down his face.
Will has never snapped at him before. He’s barely spoken to Nico with anything worse than fond exasperation. But now–
A whine makes its way out of Nico’s throat, wounded and pathetic.
Of course Will would get sick of him eventually.
He knew he was awkward and not good with people, and he feels stupid for hoping that Will could see past that. Nico shouldn’t have tried to help Will–hell, he shouldn’t have decided to stay at camp. His mistake was allowing himself to hope. By now he should know that never works out, that nothing ever works out for him.
There’s a familiar energy building under his skin, buzzing and itching in restless anticipation. It’s what he feels every time something goes wrong. It’s what he feels when he knows he’s no longer wanted.
He blinks, another wave of warm tears spilling onto his cheeks.
He debates shadow-travelling away, maybe back to his cabin, or–maybe across the country. Maybe he should visit Hazel at Camp Jupiter. Since IM’s were down, he was getting anxious about not having confirmation that she was okay. He knows he’d feel it if…if something happened to her. But–
He looks down at his hands.
He can’t just leave.
Nico promised he wouldn’t run anymore.
And, he vaguely acknowledges in the back of his mind that Will is hurting too. Disappearing across the country might be a tad dramatic. A large part of Nico wants to stay bitter and spiteful, but there was a pulse of concern fighting against it. Will’s siblings were missing.
He sighs around the broken glass in his throat. Even if Will wanted nothing to do with Nico anymore, it would be wrong to leave him by himself right now. He still wants to help Will, somehow.
Nico’s eyes blur over again, simmering over feeling helpless and unsure, but feeling the need to do something, something that won’t–won’t make Will yell at him again.
He sighs again, and it comes out a little like a whimper.
Nico glances at the closed office door, imagining where he’d left Will working at the counter. Still in those bloody scrubs.
Will doesn’t want to leave the infirmary, that much is clear. Technically, Nico isn’t supposed to go anywhere alone either with the mandatory buddy-system in place. But… Nico could quickly shadow travel to the Apollo cabin to grab Will a change of clothes, right?
He bites his lip, eyes darting to the office closet door.
If he goes quick enough Will won’t even notice he’s gone.
· · ─ · ҉ · ─ · ·
Will turns the burner off, the flame going out with a small whoosh after the click of the dial. He let his hands fall limp at his side, like a surrender.
His head is pounding, his chest is loose and shaky, he’s completely over-extended and exhausted. He’s honestly surprised he is still standing upright.
Despite his exhaustion he flexes his hands, his palms tingling as he mindlessly activates his vitakinesis.
Check. Check to make sure he’s alive. What if he’s–check to make sure he’s alive.
People think he’s a friendly guy, casual with his hands-on affection.
What they don’t know is half the time he’s doing it because he feels like he has to. Even if they’re in front of him, he has to physically check to make sure, reaching out with his powers, feeling their hearts beating in his chest next to his, or else he starts to feel like his skin is going to pry itself off of his bones.
His forearms itch, and he glances towards the door to the office.
Check, check to make sure he’s alive. Check.
He’s sure Nico doesn’t want to talk to him right now, not after earlier.
Check.
Will walks over to the office in resignation, and knocks on the door.
There’s no answer.
Will sighs. It wouldn’t be the first time Nico ignored him.
He calls out, “Nico? I’m coming in,” before slowly turning the knob and opening the door.
When the door falls open and he realizes the room is empty, Will feels every cell in his body freeze over.
He blinks, forcing his eyes wide and looking over the small room again just in case he missed Nico somehow.
“Nico?”
Silence.
His body is moving before he even realizes it, running back into the hallway to check each overnight room just in case Nico left the office and Will didn’t notice.
Each of them are empty.
All he can hear is his thundering heart beat as he checks every possible spot Nico could be hiding–under the cots, in the closets, in the cupboards–finding no trace of his boyfriend.
He’s gone.
Will enters the office one more time, scanning the room methodically, just in case he missed Nico the first couple times he checked.
Nothing again.
The panic that’s been building in his body threatens to overwhelm him, sitting on his lungs and making it hard to breathe. He leans over the desk, bracing against it to keep himself upright. Will forces himself to take a deep breath to fight the vertigo, and then attempts to straighten back up.
However, when he looks up and comes face to face with something colourful hanging on the wall over the desk his breath catches in his throat, and his entire body goes numb.
The Infirmary Behaviour Chart stares back at him.
The chart is something you would see in an elementary school classroom: a shitty printed out and laminated scale with little sad and happy faces, with clothespins labeled with peoples names clipped onto the edges of the chart. It’s been hanging on the wall of the office for as long as Will can remember.
Seeing the chart makes a memory pop up in his head that feels more like a punch to the stomach.
Lee places Will’s clip at the top of the chart, and then smiles down at him. Will beams right back, his smile all tooth and squishy cheeks.
“You did awesome today, bud,” Lee says, ruffling Will’s hair. “Usually the aftermath of Capture the Flag is way hectic, but today it went so smooth because of you. You’re a natural. At this rate, you’re going to be a better healer than me by the end of the summer!”
Will’s little chest puffs up with pride, but any response to his brother gets lost as Michael slams the office door open, asking, “Hey, are you losers done in here yet?”
Will turns and sticks his tongue out at Michael, who sticks his tongue right back at Will.
“Not quite,” Lee starts, his voice flat and unimpressed. “We were just about to discuss who else needs to be moved on the chart. I personally think some people need to be moved down.”
Without breaking eye contact with Michael, Lee reaches for Michael's clip.
“Stop. Don’t you dare,” Michael warns, his voice low. Lee, still not blinking, closes his hand around Michael’s clip. “Don’t you fucking dare,” Michael repeats, pointing at Lee.
Lee’s jaw drops, and Will lets out a little giggle, eyes bouncing between his older brothers. The giggles intensify when Lee hugs Will from behind, trying to cover Will’s ears and eyes with his hands, hissing, “No swearing in front of the baby!”
“I’m not a baby!” Will protests, as he struggles to pull Lee’s hands off his face, but every time he does Lee’s hands go right back to where they were.
Will doesn’t see what Michael does next, but he can guess, based on the affronted, dramatic gasp that rattles out of Lee’s chest.
Seeing as Lee still isn’t letting him go, Will enacts his fool-proof strategy for getting out of his brother's clutches.
He lets his body go completely limp.
Lee immediately loops his arms under Will’s armpits to keep him upright, seemingly unphased. Lee appears to have adapted to Will’s methods.
“Look at what you’ve done,” Lee chastises, wiggling Will’s limp body at Michael. “The poor boy can’t even stand.”
“Not my problem,” Michael shrugs, scrunching his face in annoyance.
“I’ll give you a problem,” Lee mutters. Then, Lee nudges Will. “So? What do you think Will? Is this acceptable behaviour?”
Will tilts his head up where it was resting on Lee’s stomach to look up at him.
“No,” Will says through a big grin.
Michael looks at Will, betrayal painted across his face, as Lee frees one of his arms to move Michael’s pin to the bottom of the chart.
“You little traitor,” Michael says, trying to look angry but Will can tell he’s fighting a smile.
Will’s eyes trace the edges of the chart, looking over the five clothespins clipped on the edge of it.
Nico’s pin is clipped to the top of the chart, onto a blue strip that has a smiley face shaped like a star next to the word ‘Outstanding’. Nico’s clip hasn’t moved from that spot for weeks. Will’s eyes trace Nico’s fancy handwriting on his pin. Usually only the Apollo kids get a pin, but since Nico is an honorary member of Cabin 7 he was given one.
In the middle of the chart is Will and Apollo, clipped to a green strip that says ‘Ready for Team Work’ with a normal smiley face. When Apollo arrived, Kayla took the time to make one for him.
Kayla and Austin’s are lower, both clipped to a yellow section that says ‘Think About It’ with a disappointed face. Will had moved them down the chart when he had to break up one of their fights that was over something more stupid than usual. Will doesn’t even remember what it was about.
The sight of the chart hollows out his chest.
When they got back from Manhattan, a couple summers ago, the first thing he noticed when he went into the infirmary office–his office–was the chart, full of clips scrawled with the names of siblings he would never see again.
Lee’s clip had already been removed the summer before.
He remembers being thirteen, and plucking the clips off the board with small, shaky hands. Later he would put them on his siblings shrouds, and watch them burn up during the funeral rites.
He doesn’t want to do that again.
He doesn’t want to have to take down more of his siblings’ names because they are never coming back. Not again.
His vision wobbles, and he feels his mind pull away from his body, like the distance between his brain and his eyes suddenly got longer. He snakes his hands up into his hair, digging his nails into his scalp and tugging hard at his curls.
He can’t afford to do this. Not right now, not when at any moment someone could come bursting in the infirmary, and he’s the only person who can help, the only one left–
He takes a stilted breath in.
Usually when he got this bad he’d go to his siblings, or Cecil, and they’d take one look at him and know, reaching out with solid hands to help ground him.
But he can’t go to them.
And he might not ever be able to again.
The thought makes his head spin, and he starts to drift further away, simultaneously feeling the walls are infinitely expanding away from him.
He can’t even go to Nico for help, because Nico’s gone too.
Maybe it is good that Nico is gone. He’s never actually seen Will like this; the last couple of months have been quiet with communications down, uneasy, like the calm before the storm. So, this hasn’t come up.
It’s not like his problems really matter either, not compared to what Nico went through–what Nico goes through, the nightmares and flashbacks that terrorize him even though the danger has passed. He shouldn’t have to deal with Will’s issues, especially after Will snapped at him earlier. Will pushed Nico away. It’s Will’s fault he’s gone.
Will’s vision wobbles again somewhat violently, nausea building as he feels too tall, too far from the floor. He digs his nails harder into his scalp, tugging on his hair just a little harder, using the sharpness to help him stay present. He barely feels it.
His eyes are looking down towards the desk, fixed on a coffee mug stain. It’s all he can see, his vision dimmed around the edges and sharp at the center. His mouth tastes an echo of salt and he thinks his face might be wet, he might be crying, but honestly, he’s too far away to figure it out. His entire body feels heavy and numb, but he’s not sure this body belongs to him at all.
Will’s hands flex, his nails pressing further into his scalp but he’s too far away to even register he’s doing it, and he’s definitely too far away to notice when someone enters the room.
· · ─ · ҉ · ─ · ·
Nico stumbles out of the shadows, arms full with a bit more than the change of clothes for Will.
He ended up taking longer than he intended because after he grabbed some clothes for Will, he also thought that maybe Will would want to brush his teeth so he grabbed Will’s toothbrush and toothpaste, and maybe he’d want to shower so he grabbed his shampoo and then he remembered Will’s secret snack stash and thought he might be hungry and–
He definitely grabbed way too much stuff.
He walks out of the office closet and starts to check if everything he is carrying made it through the shadow jump okay, but a choked noise makes him look up.
Nico stalls.
“Will?”
Will is standing in front of the desk, facing away from Nico.
Nico repeats his name, but Will doesn’t respond. He doesn’t acknowledge Nico at all.
Nico resists the urge to snap at him. Will ignoring him after they fought is childish, and being treated like he is invisible always feels like a knife to the throat for Nico.
Nico sets his pile of Will’s things down on the spare chair with a huff, and then pads over to Will, bracing himself for another argument.
Nico's stomach drops as soon as he gets a look at Will’s face.
Will is crying, quiet tears streaming down his face, his eyes wide and unfocused, and his hands are fisted into his hair. Up close he can hear Will’s garbled, panicked breathing, and it sounds kind of like he’s drowning.
“Will? What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Nico asks, the panic making his voice shrill.
Will doesn’t respond. He just continues to stare down at some vague spot on the desk.
Nico reaches out to Will’s shoulder, giving it a light shake while calling his name again. This time Will’s hands twitch, and Nico eyes drift up, noticing he’s pulling on his hair with so much force his knuckles have gone white.
Nico is flooded with terror. If he felt unsure how to help Will earlier, he feels completely lost now. Will’s hands twitch again, and he lets out a small whimper between his quiet, hiccuping cries. Nico reaches up and pries Will’s hands off of his scalp, and Nico’s heart stutters as he realizes the ends of his nails are caked with blood.
After placing Will’s hands at his sides, Nico cups Will’s face with shaky hands, ignoring how it feels like his heart is trying to beat out of his chest. He tips Will’s face to look at him, but Will’s eyes won’t focus on him.
“Will,” he repeats, his voice gone thin. “I don’t understand what’s going on, answer me, please.”
He swipes his thumbs along Will’s cheeks, biting back his own tears that are threatening to spill. Will’s eyes finally shift, somewhat locking onto Nico’s, with a spark of recognition.
“Nico,” Will chokes out, his voice thick. “Where did you go?” Suddenly Will’s eyes are frenzied, looking all over Nico’s face, asking, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” and his movements are shaky as he starts to fumble for Nico’s hands.
Nico catches Will’s wrists, holding them steady between them, and the next breath that rips out of Will's chest is ragged. “Stop, Will, I’m fine. Are you okay? What was that?” Nico asks, unable to keep the distress out of his voice.
“What was what?” Will asks, weakly trying to slip his hands out of Nico’s hold.
“Whatever just happened! You–you weren’t responding and I didn’t know what to do!”
Will freezes, staring at Nico, wide-eyed and unblinking for a second too long.
“...Nothing, it was nothing, don’t worry about it, I’m fine–where were you?”
Nico frowns, his frustration evident on his face. Will always encourages Nico to be open about his problems, to accept help when people offer it. Lately, Nico’s been learning that Will never follows his own advice. It isn’t fair.
“I shadow-travelled back to your cabin for a second to grab you some clean clothes, since you won’t go back to your cabin.”
“Of course I can’t go back to my cabin!” Will yells, shocking Nico into silence. Nico’s breath catches, as Will starts shaking his head, his eyes filling with tears, and Nico stands there, watching him unravel.
“I can’t Nico, I can’t go back to an empty cabin again I fucking can’t. I’ve already done this before, I’ve already lost enough siblings and I can’t lose anyone else. And it’s not just them, but my best friend is missing too and then you were gone and I was alone, again, and–”
Knowing that it won’t be enough to keep him together, but unsure what else to do, Nico surges forward and wraps Will in a tight hug as Will’s rant cuts off with a wretched, broken sob.
Will immediately clings onto Nico’s frame, burying his face into Nico’s shoulder. The force of his sobs shake them both, and Nico has to adjust his footing to keep them upright. It’s not long before Nico can feel the wetness of Will’s tears and snot and spit through his shirt, but he barely registers it.
After a couple minutes with no sign of Will calming down, Will starts shaking his head against Nico’s shoulder, and he pulls back slightly, letting out a grumbling noise.
His voice is weak as he starts to mumble, “No, no I don’t–I can’t be doing this, I need to go prep another batch of burn ointment, I need to be prepared–”
He starts to pull further away, refusing to look at Nico but moving his hands to Nico’s chest to push out of their embrace.
Nico lets Will put distance between them, but keeps his grip on Will’s forearms. When Will’s movement stalls from this, he looks down, half-heartedly pulling at Nico’s hold.
“Nico, let me go–”
“No, Will, stop.” Will turns to look at him, his face contorting into desperate frustration, but Nico pushes on. “I’m sorry, Will, I–I’m scared for you, and I don’t know what to do, but I know you need to rest. Please, let me take care of you right now.”
“But–”
“No. You’re exhausted, I can feel how close to sleep you are. You can’t keep going. We have no overnight patients, I can sense that everyone in camp is stable, the infirmary is stocked, there’s no reason why you can’t take a break. Please, Will. You need to rest.”
Will stares at him for a second, and then lets his head fall down, whimpering, “I don’t know how.”
Nico lets out a sad noise, his heart breaking at how ashamed Will looks.
“Do you trust me?” Nico asks.
Will’s eyes flicker up to Nico’s and then back down, and he nods once.
“If you can’t take care of yourself, then let me do it, please.”
Will’s face crumples again, and Nico lets go of his arms as Will lifts his arms and uses the back of his hands to wipe the tears off his face.
He lets them fall limp at his side, before nodding again, whimpering out a pathetic, “Okay.”
· · ─ · ҉ · ─ · ·
With all the fight and adrenaline drained out of him, Will starts to float away again, so it’s a bit of a blur as Nico guides him through getting ready for bed. It doesn’t help that he also never really stops crying; he’s so exhausted and worn out it feels like the only thing he can do at this point.
The shame is almost all-encompassing. He should be able to take care of himself, his whole thing is taking care of other people.
But… he does trust Nico, he does, and the determined set of Nico’s face, and Nico’s careful, gentle touches that guide him through the motions of getting ready for bed help ease that shame.
Once he’s out of those blood-stained scrubs, has a quick shower, and changes into one of his camp shirts that have been softened from use and his dorky Star Wars pajama pants, Nico coaxes him into a cot in one of the overnight rooms.
When Nico crawls into the cot and lays down beside him, Will stiffens, and notices the hesitance in Nico’s frame too.
Their relationship is still new, and Nico isn’t the most… forthcoming when it comes to physical affection, so they haven’t done a lot of this before.
Meaning, Will recognizes the weight of Nico opening his arms for Will, and whispering, “C’mere.”
He rolls over to Nico in surrender, letting Nico cradle him to his chest in a way that he hasn’t before, but gods, it feels good to be held like this.
Though, even after they settle Will’s brain won’t let him sleep. His eyes don’t close, but at least his heart rate falls–probably 2 beats for every one of Nico’s, because Nico’s a little dead–but Will rationalizes that it would be hard for anyone to fall asleep with their godly parent turned mortal, sitting vigil at the edge of the woods that took his best friend, his little brother and his little sister from him.
Eventually, Will’s muscles unlock, and yeah maybe it’s good that he’s horizontal for a few hours even if he weeps an even darker wet circle onto Nico’s shirt.
Nico, though, is so patient with him. He lets Will make a mess of his shirt, one hand slowly, gently, combing through his curls, the other hand resting on the small of his back.
Will can tell that Nico never closes his eyes either.
When the dark of the night turns to gray, they both hold on to each other a little tighter.