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Nico di Angelo liked the dark. It was comfort. Homely. A whisper of his heritage and reassurance he had a place to hide. The darkness wouldn’t turn its back away from nasty things; it would hold it close and give them a place to heal away from prying eyes.
It didn’t work like that for everyone.
Nico wished it wasn’t weird it worked for him.
But he knew why people were scared of the dark. The nasty things that needed its protection could hide in the shadows, waiting to come out and bite and rip the flesh out of their victims until all that was left was a bloody mess and a broken heart. It wasn’t a home to others. It was a trap. Even though the darkness itself wasn’t to blame, even though the darkness was only a place where good and bad could lurk, even though the darkness held Nico when the sun rejected him.
Nightmares weren’t featuring the dark for no reason, but it wasn’t for the right reason.
(...he could still hear his own screams, sometimes. Of Nyx, the very embodiment of darkness, the one thing he hoped knew ? he couldn’t become)
The unknown and the darkness were two things mixed up too often. Nico didn’t like the unknown and what it hid, what it could bring to his doorstep.
He didn’t need much of anything walking up to his doorstep, actually.
(The cold air of being on the run, with an open door an expectation meant to strip away his privacy and safety. Minos’ sneer, wet grass, hard pillars for sleeping on, cautious gazes from the Seven, breathing, bloody ground-calm down, calm down, breathe in and out-
This was, of course, assuming he had a door anyways. Most of the time, he didn’t.)
So, to keep the big darkness of his cabin in and the nasty unknowns that stalked the nighttime camp, Nico would always bolt his door closed. It would be a nightly routine- go to his cabin after the campfire, close the door, lock the door. Change into his night clothes, go to the bathroom, brush his teeth. Check the door. Relock the door. Go to his bunk. Look at the door from his vantage-was he really sure the door was locked? Get out of bed, check the door one final time, go back to bed.
On and on it went.
Every single night.
Shutting the bad things out.
(...keeping the worse things in. They wouldn’t come out from here)
This routine didn’t change from when he first got the cabin until a few weeks after the summer session was over. He’d done the same thing he’d done every night-check the door once, twice, thrice over, before walking through his dreamland. There were years (months? Had it already been so long since he was a small child, or only a little long ago that felt so drastically different because the world forced him to age faster than he deserved?) of training involved in controlling shadows and dreams.
But control would slip more times than Nico liked.
This night was no different.
He’d fallen to the dear hold of sleep’s blissful embrace.
He looked up, feeling the familiar rush of memories that he brushed past. He knew better than to stop for too long, to think for more than a second.
Nico, a voice, soft and young and blissful. Someone was calling out to him, someone he needed to-
He turned around, looking for a moment farther than he was supposed to as a fall to his impulses.
Well.
The only thing he thought was fuck, before he plunged into the putrid airs that were all too familiar to him. Blood red, everywhere, the very ground beneath him pulsating, veins trickling through the undergrowth of shadowy spikes. A scarred, mutated, broken form of a land, one which was a prison and a shelter and also a torture chamber.
Tartarus.
And then he felt the eyes of dozens-no, hundreds, thousands of monsters with nothing more to lose. Felt them a split second before all he could do was run, and slash, and run once again.
This was alright until he saw the face of Bianca.
A soft gaze and small, assured frame, her olive eyes looking into him lovingly as she adorned her silver bow and parka. She said, words slightly accented, “When will you come back, Nicollo?”
In a place like this, a moment of home was a joltingly welcome revelation.
(Was her voice always this golden?)
He almost crashed into her arms, relief sinking through him-Bianca was strong, even though she wasn’t supposed to be here; her bow would prove to be useful. “Bianca?” Nico whispered against her hold.
“Shh,” she said, voice dripping with honey as her arms tightened around him. “You’re safe now.”
Safe. How beautiful.
But then he remembered where he was.
There was no home in hell.
And he felt a pulsing beneath her skin, a desperate, ravenous demon hiding beneath her smile. He pushed her, hard, scrambling to get away, needing to get away and already reaching for his sword-
It was too late. He could feel it, see the pulsing energy pushing through her body, before she splattered.
Her skin exploded in a mess of blood and-gods, muscles. The air was thick with the scent of iron as her unseeing eyes swelled dangerously, as if to whisper, This is what you did to me. She had morphed, something overtaking her as the too-sweet voice said again, “When will you come back?”
Something crept out of the mess of her body, black tendrils meant to swallow her whole as she tilted her head back in what looked like bliss. Resignation. They crept up her body as if hungry for her very flesh, as if they were waiting while it wore her skin as a shelter, until her form was consumed by the inky blackness.
All that was left was her face, eyes still expanding to bulge out of their sockets. She opened her mouth, and Octavian’s slithering voice whispered, “Will you finally atone?”
And then the black reached forward to his throat, to consume him whole, to do what it did to Bianca to him. It wrapped around him almost tenderly, before it started to squeeze.
There was a growing pounding in his skull, louder and louder as Bianca laughed in Octavian’s reptilian voice, resounding behind his eyes until the constriction was too much and the pounding wouldn’t stop-
Nico woke up, gasping louder than was necessary as he tried to control his own breathing-his throat was raw with his screams.
How long had it been since his dreams filled him with this much terror?
It hadn’t been this bad.
It wasn’t supposed to be this bad.
The pounding hadn’t stopped, and he just needed to get up and take a walk and check the door (locked) to make sure the monsters were gone and make his brain stop.
“NICO?!?!”
Oh. The pounding was real.
Now that Nico was actually coherent, he realized as much-the pounding and shaking was coming from the door. Someone decided death by being torn apart into bands of flesh (Bianca exploding in front of him, gods what the fuck why is his brain this bad) via harpy was a necessary risk to get to him.
…He wasn’t screaming that loud.
Bleary eyed, Nico got off the bed and opened the door, expecting to find a mildly concerned Chiron ready to hold an impromptu mandatory therapy session. Instead, he was greeted by the wide-eyed, out of breath, extremely concerned Will Solace.
“...Will?”
Before Will answered what the hell he was doing in here (didn't the kids of Apollo sleep like dead in the dark?), he shoved himself past the doorway and hugged Nico.
Hard.
Nico froze against the touch, hesitating, before bringing up another arm to hug Will back. Will was warm, his blue hoodie smelling faintly of strawberries, and he could feel the way Will had to lean down slightly to get down to Nico’s height (he was not short; Italians didn't have the luxury of six foot tall people). It wasn't a perfect hug, but it was soft and comforting and something that Will would do at random nowadays. Nico used to just stand there, but it was getting easier to hug back. “What happened?” Will whispered.
Nico averted his gaze, even though he wasn’t sure Will could even see him right now. “Nightmare.”
Will fully let go then, and Nico could see the slight relief in his eyes as he nodded, though there was something unreadable in his expression. Concern, fear, and…
…Were those tear tracks?
Will looked away and plopped himself down on Nico’s bunk before he could properly inspect his face. “You can talk about it if you want.”
Nico shrugged, eyes falling down to the floor. “Maybe. Not now.”
Will nodded, as if this was a completely normal and acceptable answer, and said, “I can just hang out here for a while.” He laughed, the kind of laugh someone makes when they need to fill silence instead of humour. “I wasn’t doing much in the infirmary anyways.”
Nico frowned. “You were there this late?”
Will picked at his nails, the way he always did when he wanted to ignore uncomfortable questions, and said, “There were some files that needed to be wrapped up.”
He was lying, and they both knew it. Nico wouldn’t ask, though. Some things were meant to be heard, and some were destined to be hidden in moments of silence where nobody was supposed to answer.
They stayed that way for a minute or two-Nico standing awkwardly, Will sitting awkwardly, letting awkward silence make the interaction awkward.
It was pretty awkward.
And then Will broke the silence, still inspecting his fingernails as he said, “That was scary.”
Nico blinked. “Was I threatening someone in my sleep?”
Will stared at him for a moment before laughing (his laugh was nice. Full. Nico liked hearing it). “No-no wait, hold on-why did you say that so nonchalantly??” And Nico almost laughed with him.
But then the sincerity returned, the barely concealed concern hiding in his gaze. He hesitated before saying, “It was scary, hearing you scream and having no way of reaching you. Being stuck behind a locked door.”
“The whole point of a door is to keep things out.”
Will shrugged. “It keeps things trapped in too.”
Nico knew that.
But it didn’t need to be a bad thing.
It was a good thing that Nico didn’t have to share his hardships here. That nobody would see the gaping holes in his heart that should have been filled a long time ago, that nobody would have to come in and see him scream.
And yet…
Will looked so scared.
Nico didn’t like that expression on a person like Will.
Will stayed, even though he could have probably left after checking up on him. They talked, a little bit. Not about big things. Just casual banter, small stories about what happened at camp that day. And then, eventually, when it was clear Nico was alright, Will left. He’d walked through the open door, pausing for a moment as moths danced around his head, before saying “Goodnight, Nico.”
Nico didn't remember the full details of the late night visit-just the warmth, the comfort of having someone who cared around. Will was always like that, letting him take small steps to slowly unwinding the tight ball he kept himself in. It was…different, but not bad. Far from bad. The last person who did that was Bianca.
Even then, she was just twelve.
Bianca was so young.
Nico was so young.
He stared up at the ceiling, knowing consciously that the morning sun was creeping its way over the horizon, trying to peep its way into rooms to awaken people. His cabin didn’t have any way to let the light in, though. Just pure walls of obsidian and soft green flames to light up the room of darkness.
It was twelve-year-old-him’s vision of what a child of Hades would want. The interior was done based on what he did on the outside, even if Nico wouldn’t outright admit it to anyone but himself.
But he wasn’t twelve anymore.
…Maybe it was time for some redecorating.
…
Will looked. Then blinked. Then looked again.
He turned slowly to Nico, and there was that blinding smile on his face that made Nico want to smile on his own too. “Is this…a window?”
Nico nodded proudly, staring at his new creation. He’d gotten some Hephaestus kids to help him make a sizable rectangle in his wall next to the door (how they managed to cut through straight obsidian in a matter of seconds, Nico would never know) and used shimmering glass from lake water that the naiads said was a way to have the water’s blessing. How Poseidon would handle that with the boy who almost accidentally sold his son to Hades, Nico wouldn’t know. It didn’t matter anyways. It looked cool.
Most people wouldn’t think much of it.
It was just a window.
But Will looked at Nico with genuine joy and wonder.
And then he said casually, “Can’t believe you’re finally getting out of the emo goth boy look.”
Nico swatted at him and said, “I was trying to do something nice!”
Will raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Nico nodded self-assuredly and said, “I got Lou Ellen to enchant it so some people can open it. Though I can curse the people who aren’t allowed in.”
Will nodded back, a little glint in his eyes. “I see.”
Nico examined the ground-it was easier than this embarrassing game of eye contact anyway-before saying quietly, “You can come through it if you need. If…if something happens.”
Will’s eyes softened as he said, “Of course, Nico.” He paused for a moment, as if choosing his words, before saying, “Thank you. For trusting me with that.”
Nico’s stomach twisted a little.
He ignored it.
“Of course,” he mumbled, and he didn’t shy away when Will gave him a hug.
…
A few weeks later, Nico was inspecting the mysterious stain on his wall when Will climbed through the window.
Nico was just staring, wondering whether he should scrub at it with water or if that would make it worse, when he heard a gentle click and the sliding of a window pane.
He looked up to find a crying Will Solace.
They stared at each other for a moment. Then two.
“Sorry,” Will muttered, flustered, and he looked like he was about to climb out again before Nico said, “No, you can-you can, um…stay, if you need. If you want to.”
Will didn’t look like he knew what to do with that.
He just stood there.
Nico stood as well.
They were waiting.
For what, Nico didn’t know.
…He did, though.
He exhaled before crossing over to Will and gently tugging him onto the bed. “You can talk about it, or we can just sit here.”
Will shrugged, and it was like he was shielding his face from Nico so he wouldn’t see anything. “I needed to be somewhere safe.”
There was another moment of silence before Will suddenly said, sniffling, “No-no wait, that was stupid-hck-I-I don’t know why I’m like this, I’ll just leave-”
“No.”
Nico’s own voice surprised him, but he continued talking quietly. “I think…I think I get it, if you want to talk about it.”
Will just stared up at him, big blue eyes glassy and tear tracks framing his face, before shaking his head slightly.
Nico didn’t need to push, but he didn’t have to push Will away.
So he talked. About small things at first, about little stories of when Bianca and Nico would play by the canals of Venice, about how much she’d laughed the one time Nico fell in. About how he was glad he had a new family now, a family of Hazel and Reyna and Jason and all the others. About how he was scared of the living when he was eleven and running around with Minos, because they wouldn’t last the same way the dead did.
Nico didn’t talk about anything too far in. He didn’t need to force out the feelings of darkness, the memories of Tartarus, the fear of Cupid, the feelings of anger or grief or pain or solitude. They could come out when they were ready, and they weren’t. They didn’t need to be.
Will listened, and exchanged small tales of his own.
Stories of learning to tie bandages with his older brother Lee, or watching his sister sing songs and strum the guitar gently, or Micheal teaching him how to shoot an arrow and failing. Late night infirmary visits, nights of running on coffee and artificial sun, the mishaps when playing older brother to Kayla and Austin.
Nico didn’t need to ask about where those siblings were gone. He’d heard about the Apollo cabin’s losses.
There wasn’t any more that needed to be said.
Will’s tone was oddly reminiscent, and it felt more raw than any smile or quip he already knew.
The window was open. A moth hovered near the pane, as if it were thinking, before flickering out of sight.
Nico hesitated for a moment where they had lapsed into silence before reaching out to Will and hugging him.
Will froze against the touch, before he hugged him back.
…
Nico was freaking out.
He had no idea how to handle his own feelings.
It had taken a few more weeks, a few gay jokes, a proper sit down with Jason and Piper and maybe some crying to fully acknowledge he, Niccolo di Angelo, was feeling things for William Andrew Solace. Romantically.
He wanted to ignore it.
Jason convinced him not to.
But he had no fucking idea what he was supposed to do with them.
And so he was hiding, like a coward. He’d mumbled a sorry “tired” to Will this morning at breakfast-another excuse to add to the pathetic list-before fleeing to his cabin to scream into his pillow for a good couple of hours.
They’d been playing this game for a while, which usually ended in Jason sighing and gently trying to force Nico to hang out with Will for a bit, but then Nico would end up flustered and red faced and he just needed to hide for a little while longer until he could fix his messed up brain and-
“Nico?”
His head snapped up.
There stood Will, smiling gently and uncertainly at his window.
He’d opened it, but hadn’t come in yet. It was like he was waiting for something.
Nico grumbled out a small, “What.”
Will looked off to the side a little uncomfortably. “Are you avoiding me?” He asked plainly.
Nico was more off guard than he should have been. “Um…no?” He tried, but his voice wasn’t as assured as it would have been and he just sounded stupid and why can’t his brain just think before talking?
Will looked disappointed, and he shuffled awkwardly on the grass. “Well…if I did anything to make you mad, then-”
“No!” Nico said. He hated how his voice jumped an octave.
Will blinked. “Then why?”
Nico looked away. “I can’t tell you.”
Will narrowed his eyes and said, “You can’t, or you won’t?”
Nico wanted to crawl into an abyss. “Both.”
Will continued standing patiently. “Why?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Nico hissed out, red faced and standing like an idiot with a pillow in his hands like a shield from the outside world and himself. He hated the way his own voice made him cringe at its intensity.
Will waited.
Nico shook his head.
Will waited.
Nico clutched at his pillow.
Will waited some more.
Nico continued standing.
Will sighed and said, “Fine, be that way.”
Nico almost didn’t notice the way Will’s voice had settled, but then he was stomping forward and Nico didn’t react until Will had already climbed halfway through the window pane and what the fuck was happening.
Will stood in the cabin, hands on his hips in a way that Nico hadn’t seen before, and said, "Nico. This is new. I don’t like it.”
Nico opened his mouth. Closed it.
His eyes softened. “I can wait for you, Nico. I will wait, however long you need. But this is ten steps back after seven forward.”
Nico looked down. “You wouldn’t wait forever.”
“I would. I will. No matter what.”
Nico looked up, into those big blue eyes that had cried in his room, that had watched over him in the infirmary for a whole week, that stubbornly kept looking over at him even in enemy territory. The big blue eyes that made him feel safe, alive.
And then that smile.
Like it was knowing.
Like there was something deeper, something that was always there. Nico was just too blind to see it.
Maybe all that Jason said wasn’t big talk after all.
Will was waiting for a lot longer than Nico realized.
Nico looked away for a moment, staring at the stain that he always meant to clean but never really did. Will didn’t push any harder, but he didn’t leave. He just…waited.
For Nico.
Something in his chest tightened.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admitted softly.
Will’s smile was soft, steady. “I know.”
Silence again.
Different this time.
Not empty.
Nico exhaled, slow and uneven.
Will was safe.
Will had always been safe.
Nico tested it, coming closer with a flicker of hesitation. There was still time to back out, still time to make up an excuse and just say they were friends, go back to what they were.
But those big blue eyes were waiting.
Nico gently gripped at the comfortable fabric of Will’s blue hoodie sleeve, and he could faintly smell strawberries.
Will looked down at it, then back up at him.
And then, softer than anything else in the room—
“Is this okay?” Will asked.
Nico hesitated, feeling the soft cloth between his hands. And then he nodded.
Will smiled.
He reached out a hand and twined it with Nico’s. He didn’t pull away.
They were just there.
Hands intertwined in a silence that felt like warmth finally reaching the shadows.
Nico still liked the dark. But it didn’t mean he had to run from the light.
Nico didn’t say anything else. He didn’t need to.
And if he was smiling?
Well.
It could just be his.
The light flickered.
Nico saw a moth fly lazy circles in through the window.
Today, Nico didn’t mind.
After all, Nico was home.