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“‘Is that my Nico?’” The words replay in Will’s head over and over again, a mantra he can’t stop no matter how many times he tries. He had said those words, without a single thought, when he heard Nico on the other line with Ormewood.
What were they doing with Ormewood anyway? Nico should’ve been home, watching Betty, or giving her treats, or posting on her puppygram, or texting that one girl they think is so cool. Has she responded to their texts? She—whatever her name is—should text them back. Nico’s a cool kid.
And that’s one of the reasons Will’s so worried. Nico’s just a kid. They’ve been in his life for almost four years now and he cannot lose them, especially not like this.
He wants them to grow up—get a job that isn’t dog walking Betty (although he doesn’t mind very much, but they deserve a good career), find a good person to settle down with, get a dog. He wants them to be happy, healthy. Not scared and sick, lying in some hospital bed with poor Betty and Ormewood of all people.
It’s not like he hated Ormewood, of course. They’d actually grown quite close, barely fighting over Angie or cases, Will even hit a guy with a car just to save him! It’s just…
It’s just the fact that he’s jealous. Oremwood’s the one who was there for Nico, who gave them a fist bump and saw them first. Will should’ve been there first, should’ve dropped the business with the Founder’s Front and been there for every second that could’ve been Nico’s last. And he knows that’s irrational. He tries to logic himself into believing that he had no other choice; they needed the antitoxin for Nico and the hundreds of thousands of others, but-
“Will?” A weak voice pulls him out of his stupor. He immediately stands up, Betty in hand, from the hard plastic chair he was sitting in and rushes to the now-awake Nico. They look so fragile like this that it hurts— eyebags, pasty skin, a sheen of sweat still on them, and the room. It was all so sterile, clean, absolutely unlike his ever-eccentric Nico.
“I’m here, Nico.” He rasps, Betty barking in agreement. He puts Betty on the hospital bed and she immediately runs to lick their face. He smiles softly at that. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He asks and Nico shakes their head, petting Betty. “No, I’m okay. Are you?” They ask, taking in his own tired features. “I’m fine. You should be more worried about yourself,” he retorts, pulling out his handkerchief and, surprisingly himself as well as Nico, tenderly wipes the sweat off of their forehead.
They look up at him, eyes crinkling. “Will.” They say softly, putting their hand over his bigger one. He looks down at this kid he’s seen grow up these past years— from that scared little sixteen year old murder suspect who needed to steal money to a happy, secure nineteen year old who doesn’t have to worry about stealing or being kicked out.
“I love you.”
Those three words shock Will to his core. In all Nico’s years of living with Will, they had never said that. They were close, yes, but Will had never been too good at intimate things that weren’t sexual in nature. He could probably count the people he’s hugged on one hand, and that’s including Betty.
Nico looks a little bit like Betty right now, actually. Those brown eyes that are just begging for something. They need assurance. Will can see their desire for love and care. After all, he’s worn that look many times in his past.
“I-“ he cuts himself off, thoughts of not being enough or hurting Nico cut into his mind. What if something bad happens? What if he hurts Nico— again, just like that Tennessee stint— and they can never forgive him? What if he looses them?
Is he seriously about to let his lifelong struggle with inadequacy and trauma ruin this moment?
He knows he can’t. He cares too much about Nico to do what so many people have done to him.
See the problem. Look at it. Give it a hug.
He pulls Nico into his arms and hugs them tightly. Maybe a little too tightly for someone who could barely handle a fist bump two hours ago, but Nico doesn’t argue. They hug him back even harder and lets out a little sob. Betty barks, crawling to join the moment.
“I love you too, Nico. Don’t you ever forget that.” He whispers, holding them close. They tuck their nose into the crook of his neck and he holds them as they sob, letting out all the fear and anguish from the day. “Let it all out,” he runs his hands through their sweaty hair, petting their head, “I’m here, you’re okay. I’m here.”
And, in that second, maybe he didn’t have to think about not being enough, not being perfect or optimistic enough. He didn’t need those two drops of “optimism”. All he needed was in his arms.