Archive of Our Own

Nico is running.

Just running.

Running for his life through the streets of Venice.

His lungs burn like they’ve been packed with glass and every breath tastes like smoke.

He turns sharply into an alleyway— Orange shirts hanging from windows beside red flags with swastikas. His shoes slap against wet stone streets, echoing too loud.
Somewhere behind him boots hammer against pavement.

Somewhere behind him police yells his name: “Degenerato!”

Somewhere behind him, sirens scream.

Not the soft whine of boats.

Not the distant bells he remembers from childhood.

Sharp American police sirens echo through narrow Italian streets lined with Fascist banners and windows nailed shut. Red and blue lights smear across stone walls over the graffiti in the tunnel to Camp Jupiter.

Nico knows, with absolute certainty, that they are coming for him.

He doesn’t look back.

He already knows what happens if they catch him.

They know.

About Will.

About last night.

About the sounds Nico made into Wills shoulder and the way he’d clung to him afterward like something starving finally fed.

Hands that held him carefully transform into hands grabbing too hard.

Kisses become mouths snarling against his skin.

Pleasure mutates into humiliation so fast it makes him nauseous.

“Da quella parte!”

Boots thunder behind him.

Another voice snaps something in German.

“Schneller!”

He’s heard that before… he remembers a few phrases the soldiers and officers used to say. And when shadow travelling, he picked up some more.

He turns a corner too sharply and nearly slips.

A whistle shrieks.

Someone grabs his wrist.

Nico screams and tears free.

He stares at his arm— since when is he wearing this? His sleeves are striped, blue and white.

“Fermatelo!”

“Da ist er! Hinterher!”

The street ahead suddenly dead-ends into iron fencing.

He’s too caught up in the realisation of his clothes to notice.

He runs head first into it.

Someone laughs. They yank his arms behind his back. Nico thrashes violently, panic ripping straight through him.

“Hab’ ihn!”

“I didn’t do anything!” he hears himself shouting. “I didn’t do anything!”

The officer holding him sneers.

They turn him around. The officer doesn’t have a face, but somehow sees. He checks Nicos chest.

“Rosa Winkel” he sneers without a mouth to do so.

“Degenerato.”

Another one laughs and says something Nico only half understands.

“Krank.”

Sick.

“Ricchione.”

Someone grabs his jaw hard enough to bruise.

“Pretty thing like you,” a voice says mockingly, switching accents halfway through the sentence. Italian melting into New Yorker into German. “Bet the others will enjoy you.”

Nicos stomach drops.

“No. Nonononononononononono”

When he’s yanked upright by his hair, one of the officers has Dr. Thorns face.

Not fully.

Like it’s only half-rendered.

The rest of the officers don’t have faces at all. Just smooth skin stretched where eyes and mouths should be.

And somehow Nico can still see them grin.

He can still hear them laughing.

“Degenerate,” one says, voice coming from nowhere.

Another grabs his jaw.

“You people are all the same.”

“Please. No, Please. They’re wrong! They’re just rumours. They’re just rumours! Please!”

They drag him forward anyway.

Venice melts around him as they walk.

The canals dry up into muddy trenches as they drag him through the streets of Veniece.

Buildings stretch taller, darker, skeletal.

He knows where they’re taking him: Camp.

And indeed, it doesn’t take long, and they arrive at halfblood hill.

They stand of the gate. Instead of the wooden, painted orange ‘Camp-halfblood’ sign, the gates are metal and they read

ARBEIT MACHT FREI

in fancy old german font.

Barbed wire multiplies endlessly where the magical barriers should protect them from monsters.

The air smells wrong.

Smoke.

Burning hair.

Burning flesh.

Death.

Too much death.

Nico nearly collapses under the weight of it. As a son of hades, the amount of death he can feel here hurts him physically, without even doing anything. He screams in pain and buckles to his knees.

Someone spits at him.

“Spinnst du?”

“Verrückter.”

“Du spinnst doch!”

“Bist du assozial, oder was?”

“Spinnt der?”

“Abschaum…”

“Der spinnt”

Floodlights.

Smoke.

The smell hits him hard.

Burning.

Not wood.

Not food.

Flesh.

Human flesh nonetheless.

The cabins are barracks. They all look the same. They’re arranged in the same shape as always, but the cabins themselves are long and dry and dark and grey and they don't have the distinctions that they should.

The volleyball court is a mass grave.

The strawberry fields are mud churned black with ash, campers— no, prisoners— working themselves into exhaustion until they collapse. One after the other. Like a domino. But the others don’t care. This is normal. They just keep walking.

And where the campfire should sit, smoke billows endlessly from red brick buildings Nico instinctively knows not to enter.

There are people everywhere but nobody has faces.

Striped uniforms blur past him.

Too thin. Hollow-eyed.

A child crying somewhere.

Gunshots in the distance.

A guard grabs the back of Nicos neck and forces him forward.

He stumbles to the front of a line— at the table sits someone who’s also wearing stripes.

Nico looks at his chest: Romani.

“Name.”

The voice echoes strangely, distorted like a broken speaker.

Nico tries to answer but his mouth won’t work.

“Wie du heißt möcht’ ich wissen?!”

Nico flips his hair out of his face— wait. Where did his hair go???

The guard that holds him flips through papers.

“Homophile,” he says flatly, “Homophile Invertito”

The word echoes. That’s his name. That’s who he is.

Homosexual.

Sodomite.

Degenerate.

The labels stack over each other until they stop sounding like language and start sounding like a death sentence.

Someone nearby coughs wetly.

Another guard wrinkles his nose.

“Should’ve burned the fairy with the others.”

They push clothes into his arms carelessly: the ones he’s already wearing. They pull him to one of the cabins— no barracks.

Someone points at a cot. Three bone thin men lie in there, one of which Nico isn’t sure is alive.

“Dormi qui!”

“Ma quel posto è già occupato!” He protests

“Tough luck.”

He moves to the single water fountain.

He looks at himself in the mirror that doesn’t exist: he doesn’t have a face, he just has a pink triangle for a head.

Campers— no, captives move through the camp in striped uniforms.

Some have faces.

Some don’t.

A few look horribly familiar.

Some of them he knows from pictures. Photos from history books.

Some he knows from his life.

A Hermes camper carrying wood with hollow eyes. No, not wood— a body.

A girl from the Apollo cabin coughing blood into her sleeve.

A son of Athena staring blankly through Nico like he’s already dead.

Others only have smooth skin where features should be.

No faces, similar to the most of the officers.

But Nico still somehow knows when they look afraid.

“Neeks?”

“Move.”

Nico stumbles.

Nobody helps him. Nobody even looks directly at him. They know what happens if they do.

When he looks up he isn’t outside anymore.

Then he’s being stripped. Cold air against his skin. Too many hands. Faceless officers discussing him casually like he’s meat.

“Too scrawny.”

“Still usable.”

Nicos heart slams violently against his ribs— “The others will enjoy you” The officer had said earlier. And now he’s supposed to be ‘usable’?

“No,” he says again. “No no no—”

Someone laughs, “Fine then. You don’t wanna? Alright, okay, come sit with us at the campfire. How ‘bout we wash you clean instead?”

Nico shakes his head desperately.

“Cmon, you dont wanna take a nice shower?” One of them laughs.

He wants to say no, wants to yell and run away. Wants to tell himself it’s a trap, a lie, his death.

They literally just told you, you were going to the campfire two seconds ago and now it’s showers! But instead he feels relieved and nods gratefully.

Suddenly his clothes are gone— since when had they been back in the first place? He enters the bathroom with some other men. There are no showerheads, only a window on top, he watches the man over it pour something inside and close it. It’s not a window: it’s a chimney.

Nico doesn’t think anything bad of it, he’s gonna get cleaned up. Finally. Who cares that there are no shower heads? He’ll shower!

But at the same time he knows exactly what this is. Watching himself, he knows. But being himself, he has absolutely no idea. He just wants a good shower.

The doors lock. Loud and sudden. Somehow, despite the many people inside, it echoes. It’s the sound of doom. The men multiply by the second. And then they finally start to panic. Bodies press against him— naked, from all sides. Smoke fills his lungs. He feels so dizzy.

“Nico?”

If the flames inside him don’t burn him up, he’ll die getting crushed between all these men. He can’t move. No one can, yet everyone does. There are so incredibly many people in this small room. Nico is sure at least a hundred. And they’re all naked and pressed against each other

Suddenly Memories from last night flush back in. Except it’s not Will, it’s a faceless officer. No, it’s two of them. One behind him and one infront of him. And he’s not on his back in his bed, he’s bent over a table. And he’s not feeling pleasure, he’s feeling pain. And the hands that were hugging him are now holding him down. And his skin isn’t sticky with lustful sweat, it’s dirty and wet and disgusting. He feels disgusting. And he’s not save, he’s alone, with the officer. Because otherwise those guys would be called sodomites too. The thought almost has the potential to get a bitter laugh out of Nico —oh so you punish people for being gay by doing gay things to them?— then he almost gags because gay things would mean that he’s allowed this, consented, wanted— none of which are the case. Obviously.

Thats also not the only reason he gags. So all in all, it’s not actually the memories from last night.

“The others are going to enjoy you” echoes through his mind, “still usable”

The guy in front of him holds him harshly by the hair, making his head move by yanking his hair back only to then push his head back way too far. He’s way too fast and on top of it, he goes way too hard and thrusts his own hips as if Nico isn’t already crying and gagging and shaking enough. He swears he feels his throat being ripped out and apart. His eyes water in a way that hurts. And everything else hurts too.

He hears himself make wet gurgling sounds, choking and gagging but being held down and unable to stop.

His entire body is being shaken, hard and fast as his insides are being punched from all sides but at the same time his body doesn’t move an inch because it cant and he isn’t allowed.

“Nico…”

He gets turned around on the table, roughly. The table changes shape, becomes metal, and out of nowhere, the straps appear. His wrists, his ellbows, his shoulders, his chest, his belly, his hips, his knees, his ankles, his forehead, his chin, his throat. They’re tight, and every movement just makes the friction cut them into his skin. The room is white and clinical and there are machines and drugs and experiments— he’s one of them… one of the experiments that is. The officers are gone. In their place are doctors. Gloved, glassed men in white robes. They cut his skin. He screams. They put shots into him and punch him and put a needle in his eye and his neck and his chest and everywhere.

“Nico.”

He screams but no sound comes out. And he cries but there are no tears. They tell him to be quiet. They laugh at him, tho he doesn’t know how he knows because they don’t have faces or voices, which, on second thought makes the glasses seem out of place too.

He watches as they take organs out of his body and play with them and cut them up cruelly like its a game, a joke, unimportant. And then, the knife comes between his legs. Suddenly his scream gets a voice.

But it’s not his voice…

Signor Enzo! He thinks, and opens his eyes. When did he close them? He’s outside. On the Newboys square… no… no, back in Venice. At the fair. The fair. The ‘fair’. The—

“Nico!”

He’s on his knees. Screaming with Signor Enzos voice. Theres blood between his legs, so much blood and it just doesn’t stop. He spots himself in the crowd. Him and Bianca and Maria. No! He screams, DON’T LOOK!

Don’t look, or you’ll never be able to forget!

Signor Enzo is in the crowd.

Theres so many people watching the ‘show’. They are cheering and yelling insults and slurs at him… no, at Nico. Not at Signor Enzo, at Nico. Nico IS Signor Enzo… except no, Enzo is standing right there in the crowd. But so is little Nico. The blood won’t stop.

“Nico, you’re shaking.”

The officer reads his charges again— “schmutziger Abschaum. Sodomist. Invertito, Sohn des Hades, Mörder, assozialer, broken, disgusting, undesirable—“ and so, Enzos charges transform into his own sins. Words that Nico didnt even realise he knows in German are put on the list.

They put his wooden platform on fire. He burns. But somehow he just wont die.

“Nico!”

It burns and his skin melts away, his hair is aflame, he can’t breathe, yet somehow he screams his lungs out until they literally physically come out of his mouth but he just doesn’t die.

“Hey, Nico!”

It just won’t stop. No matter how loud he screams, no matter how little is left of his body, it just wont stop.

“Nico, c’mon”

They put a gun to his head.

“Nico!”

He stands in the crowd and hears the shot.

He wakes up screaming.

“Woah, Woah, Woah, hey hey hey, it’s me! Nico!”

Nico falls off the bed, scrambling away, looking around himself in fear.

The cabin looks… normal. Just his one bed, not dozens of overfilled bunks stacked ontop of each other. No half dead men lying squished together. No striped uniforms or shaved heads or etiquettes on everyones chests.

Nico is breathing hard.

Will grabs their shirts and boxers, already knowing what to do.

Too many nights have ended like this since the jar— the first few days Will wasn’t there, but after the war, he had witnessed many times that Nico had nightmares: Nico wakes clawing at his own throat or walls that aren’t there, panic spiraling tighter and tighter until the cabin feels like it’s shrinking around him. The claustrophobia overtakes him then, once he’s awake. So Will takes him outside every time. Cool air. Open sky. Space enough to breathe.

But usually, Nico cries and screams in his sleep, then, once outside, goes silent, grabs a chair and drags it as far away from Will as possible without leaving the terrace.

Now though? Now Nico was quiet in his sleep. Too quiet. Only a silent scream coming out when waking up.

Now Nico is barely present: Will slips out of bed first. He pulls on sweatpants and an oversized camp hoodie, sleepy and soft around the edges. Nico stares blankly while Will digs through blankets for his Nicos clothes.

“Nico.”

He blinks.

“Pants, baby.”

Now Nico can barely get his clothes on without help, gets tangled up twice and only manages with Will holding his shirt for him.

Now Nico practically climbs into Wills lap right away. Will barely has time to sit in the chair on the porch before Nico crawls directly into his lap and clings to him with both arms, face buried into Wills throat.

Now he’s shaking like crazy and clings to Will like his life depends in it. Literally: if you had a man hanging from a cliff, his grip would look no different than Nico di Angelos grip on Wills shirt. He doesnt let go once.

And now, Nico is crying —completely choking up— into Wills shirt, loudly gasping between sobs.

Wills arms come up hesitantly. Confused.

Is this just because of what changed last night? Or is this genuinely a different thing?

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Please don’t make me” Nico says shakily— so at least that’s still the same. Meaning that he’ll probably want a distraction, right?

“So, the other day Austin and I, wer—“

“Shut up”

Will does and Nico immediately feels horrible, “Sorry…” he almost whimpers, “…just… please stop talking… please”

“okay… yeah okay. I can… yeah.”

Will kisses his hair and decides to just let him cry it out.

And cry he does.

Nico cries so hard at first that Will genuinely thinks he might throw up.

He’s shaking like a leaf in Wills lap out on the Hades cabin terrace, curled so tightly around himself that he barely looks human anymore. Like if he unfolds even an inch, something inside him will spill out and never go back in. So Will brings his hand to Nicos back— maybe he can press some of the cracks shut so nothing spills until Nico’s ready.

The night air is cold but Nico doesn’t seem to notice at all. He’s wearing one of Wills hoodies over hastily-pulled-on sweatpants, sleeves covering half his hands, and clinging to his shirt with such a tight grip, Will thinks he might put a hole in it.

Not that Will cares. He has more shirts.

Will just holds him with one hand in his hair and the other rubbing slowly up and down his spine, tracing each knob under his shirt.

No questions yet.

Because this nightmare is different.

Clearly.

Will waits until the worst of the shaking passes.

Not because he wants Nico calm before they talk. Gods, no. Nico’s allowed to crack apart in front of him as much as he needs. But because right now Nico is curled into him so tightly that Will can barely breathe, and every time Will tries to speak, Nico clutches harder like the words themselves might pull him somewhere terrible.

The nightmare leaves in pieces.

First the trembling. Then the frantic apologies in Italian that Nico doesn’t seem aware he’s whispering. Then the horrible stiff stillness that always comes after, like he’s trying to turn himself into stone.

Will rubs slow circles into his back the entire time.

Eventually the shaking evens out and Nicos breathing eases into into hiccuping breaths enough that Will risks shifting.

Will presses a kiss into his curls. “You wanna go inside?”

Nico shakes his head just enough that Will feels it.

“Okay.”

Another few minutes pass.

Then Nico whispers, raw and small:

“Can we do the after talk thing?”

Will blinks.

The corner of his mouth twitches despite everything. Gods. Of all the possible things.

“Right now?”

Another nod.

Will suddenly realises exactly what this is.

Nico is trying to force his brain somewhere else.

So Will kisses his forehead and says softly, “Okay. But first, wait here.”

Nicos grip tightens immediately.

Will pauses. “I’m getting blankets and snacks, not fleeing the country.”

“…you sure?”

The question nearly breaks him.

Will cups Nicos jaw gently. “I’m sure. Not leaving. Promise. Two minutes.”

A pause.

Then Nico finally nods.

Will raids the cabin like a battlefield medic responding to a highly specific emergency: one son of Hades, post-nightmare, requiring immediate treatment via sugar and blankets.

Will is back in under three minutes,  carrying enough food for what appears to be three starving athletes and one raccoon: Strawberries, pudding cups, an entire pitcher of orange juice, crackers, two sodas, three blankets, two pillows, a stolen thermos of hot chocolate from the Apollo cabin that he had brought over earlier, grapes, pretzels, and half a bag of marshmallows he doesn’t remember taking.

Nico stares at the pile as Will dumps it all onto the table.

“…Did you rob a kindergarten?”

“Trauma requires enrichment activities.”

That gets the faintest bent into his lips.

Vic-to-ry baby.

“How— I dont have that in my cabin— since when is that in my cabin, Will?”

“Look,” Will deflects “Healing burns calories.”

"That sounds medically inaccurate."

"You’re medically inaccurate."

“You act like you just fought in a war!”

Will pauses halfway through sitting down.

Something about the wording lands strangely between them.

Will crawls under the blankets and rearranges Nico until he’s tucked into Wills lap. He builds what can only be described as a blanket nest around both of them, pulling Nico immediately against his chest again. Nico allows this with the tolerance of an exhausted cat being carried against its will.

Then Will clears his throat dramatically.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Debrief time.”

Nico huffs weakly against his shoulder. “Stop calling it a debrief!”

“Fine then. Performance review”

Nico throws a cracker at him

“Official post-mission analysis,” Will continues solemnly. “Very serious business.”

“You’re so stupid.”

“There he is.”

Will grabs a cookie and points it at him like a professor might with a chalk stick. “First question. Overall experience?”

Nico hides his face for a second. “You cannot ask that like we’re filling out customer surveys.”

Will gasps. “One star? Devastating. I’ll never recover.”

Nicos shoulders actually shake this time, “Shut up!”

“Nope. Too late. We’re communicating now. This is healthy relationship behavior.” He pauses. “I think.”

"This is humiliating."

"You survived Tartarus."

"Yeah, and somehow this is worse."

"That's not very promising for my ego."

Nico peeks up just enough to glare at him. "You KNOW how it was."

"I do," Will says softly now, less teasing.

"But I wanna hear it anyway. Besides, it was your idea!”

”My idea was to talk about it and communicate like normal people.”

“Yes. And?”

”And not to make it a customer review page for future visitors.”

Will sighs, “C’monnnn you’re no funnn! How was it, Nico?”

“…good,” Nico admits eventually. “Really good.”

Will softens immediately. “Yeah?”

Nico nods against him. “Better than I thought.” He hesitates. “Less scary than I thought.”

That makes something ache inside Wills chest.

He keeps his tone light anyway. “Any complaints? Suggestions? Concerns? Were the refreshments satisfactory?”

Nico sighs, then smiles, “The refreshments were exquisite, but I’m afraid I might have damaged some property by scratching to hard.”

Will snorts so hard hot chocolate almost comes out his nose.

Nico finally lifts his head enough to look at him properly. His curls are flattened on one side. His eyes are still red-rimmed and tired.

Beautiful.

Will does not say that out loud.

He learned.

“What worked?"

Nico groans quietly into the blanket. He is quiet for a second. Then, very softly: "You."

Will smiles into his hair. "Charmer."

"No, seriously," Nico mutters. "You made it... not scary…I liked being close to you.”

Will melts instantly.

“Yeah?”

Nico nods against him. “Like… the whole time. Even when stuff was scary.” His fingers twist in the blanket. “I thought it would feel… embarrassing, maybe. Or awkward. But it didn’t. Well, it kinda did but like… yunno? In a good way.”

Will smiles softly. He clears his throat. “Okay, well. My turn. I liked literally everything.”

Nico snorts again.

“No, seriously. You have no idea how worried I was that you’d hate it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever hated anything less in my entire life.”

Will actually laughs at that.

Then Nico gets quieter.

“…I liked the overstimulation thing.” He says with a red face.

Will blinks.

“The… overstimulation thing?”

“That’s what you called it, yes?”

Will just raises his eyebrows with a tiny smirk.

Nico hides deeper into the hoodie immediately. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not!”

“Whatever. Fuck off. I liked it, okay?”

Will laughs softly. "Yeah, I figured."

"I thought my soul was leaving my body."

"I—."

"I saw sounds."

Will lets out a single, “HA!”

Nico swallows. “It just…” He struggles for words. “Every time it got more intense, I thought that was it. Like my body kept thinking okay this is the point where it becomes too much now. Like one more second would make it bad. But then it just…” He gestures helplessly. “Didn’t. It never did. I kept thinking it was litteraly impossible that it could get any better than that, but then it did, over and over again” His brows knit together. “It always just… kept… getting better. So incredibly good I didn’t even know it was possible to feel that way. Which doesn’t even make sense.”

“It does biologically, actually.”

“I don’t think you understand how much I don’t care if it biologically makes sense…”

“Well,” he says softly, “for the record, I also liked that.”

Nico peeks up at him. “Really?”

"Neeks, you looked at me like you were seeing god."

Nico groans and shoves his face harder into the blanket.

“So you wanna explore that, hm?” Will asks softly into his hair.

Nico hesitates but nods.

He rubs slow circles into Nicos back.

"Okay. Me again.” Will says, “You were terrifyingly good at some parts for someone allegedly inexperienced."

Nico makes a deeply offended noise.

"I know, I know." Will laughs quietly.

"Still suspicious. It’s not like I have much to compare it to, but Nico, I do think that was above fucking average. I mean…” he lowers his voice, “Your mouth? It was so warm and soft and your tongue— Nico I have no idea what that was that you did with your tongue or how you did it but I absolutely need you to do it again…”

“I was so scared I’d be bad at it…”

“Neeks,” Will murmurs quietly, “you nearly made me come like six separate times just with that one blowjob.”

That gets a startled laugh out of him.

“I mean it,” Will says. “You reacting like that? Feeling good enough to lose control a little?” He kisses Nicos temple. “Best thing that’s ever happened to my ego.” He sighs, “Now. What else?”

“No slapping.”

“Honestly I wouldn’t even know how to do that in a sexy way…”

“And no pretending not to like each other.”

“That exists?”

“Ninety percent of romance movies are psychological warfare.”

“Okay. Fair. But like, we’re already dating…”

Nico thinks.

“…the beginning hurt.”

Will immediately tenses. “Too much?”

“No.” Nico shakes his head quickly. “No, you stopped when I asked. It was okay.” He frowns. “I think I just got scared because I didn’t know when it would stop hurting.”

Will nods slowly.

“That makes sense.”

“And I can literally STILL feel it!”

“You want ambrosia?”

“No. I want a new skeleton.”

“Can’t help with that.”

“You’re a healer.”

“What do you want me to do? Magically make the pain stop?”

“Yes! Yes that’s exactly what I want you to do, actually!”

“You’re dramatic.”

“I’m wounded!”

“You literally told me not to stop.”

Nico goes scarlet so fast it almost looks painful.

“William.”

“What?”

“Never repeat things I say during emotional distress.”

Will snorts “Look, it’s normal…”

“Why on Earth would that be normal? Why would a body work that way?!”

“Because,” Will says through another laugh, “you just had sex for the first time.”

“That explains nothing to me.”

Will snorts and bends to grab more marshmallows. “Your muscles aren’t used to it yet.”

“What muscles?!”

Will opens his mouth.

Then visibly decides his continued survival matters.

Nico narrows his eyes anyway. “Don’t say it.”

“I wasn’t gonna say anything.”

“You were absolutely gonna say something.”

They sit quiet for a moment.

“I liked when you told me to breathe”

Will snorts. "Good. Because apparently your survival instincts fully shut down the second you get horny."

“Oh my god, why am I talking to you?”

"Nico, you literally forgot oxygen existed."

“Well, one time—“

Wills eyebrows shoot up to the moon— did Nico really not notice all those times? “That was NOT one time. I reminded you at least 7 times alone and I don’t even wanna know many I let slide, or how many I didn’t notice”

“...alright fine," Nico mutters reluctantly, "I kept forgetting to breathe."

Will points at him victoriously. "YES. THANK YOU."

"Apparently breathing is important,"

Nico says dryly.

"Shockingly, yes."

"What else didn't work?"

Nico hesitates. “I… didn’t like how hard it was to talk sometimes.” Nico won’t meet his eyes. “Not because of you. I just…” His voice gets quieter. “I kept getting scared I’d say something wrong. Or weird. Or disgusting.”

Wills chest aches.

“You could literally start reciting tax law during sex and I’d still be into you, Nico.”

Nico stares at him.

“…what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Lots of things, actually, thank you.”

“If you ever do that, I will break up with you.”

Will giggles at that.

Silence settles again for a little while.

Then, because Will can practically feel Nico trying not to drown in his own thoughts again, he nudges gently:

“Alright. Back to debriefing before you emotionally vaporize.”

Nico groans weakly into the blanket.

“C’mon” Will coaxes, “We’re discussing future research opportunities.”

“That’s not what sex is called!”

“Says who? Our cabin probably has spreadsheets somewhere.”

“That’s horrifying.”

Will grins. “Now. Future ideas.”

Nico immediately hides his face again.

“Oh my gods,” Will says delightedly. “You HAVE one.”

“Maybe.”

“Neeks.”

“Shut UP!”

Will waits patiently, rubbing circles into his hip through the blanket

“You do…”

Nico mumbles something Will can’t understand. Will lifts Nicos chin so he can understand him.

“It’s really specific tho…”

“Shoot”

Nico grows quieter after that, absentmindedly tracing shapes against Wills stomach.

Then eventually he says, softer now:

“I do like when you physically move me.”

Will looks down at him.

Nicos voice turns embarrassed again. “Especially when you do it gently.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm…I think I’d maybe wanna try you being more… guiding.”

Will tilts his head. “Guiding?”

Nico nods against his shoulder. “Like…” He struggles visibly. “Not rough.”

“Okay.”

“And not like… weird.” His face is turning steadily redder. “Not excessive dirty talk or… whatever.”

Will smiles softly. “Okay.”

“But…” Nico frowns. “Sometimes when you said things without thinking about it…” He swallows. “That kinda did something to me.”

Will blinks. “Like what?”

Nico looks deeply offended by the question.

“You know.”

“I genuinely don’t. I’m not teasing Neeks. I need an example”

Nico drags the blanket over his face with a heavy sigh “You… you said I was… uh… tight…”

Will nearly chokes to death on absolutely nothing.

“STOPPIT!”

“I didn’t know THAT did something for you!”

“Well, calm down okay… dont get ahead of yourself cause… it doesn’t. Kinda. I mean it doesn’t but it did.”

Will tries very hard not to laugh.

Nico groans louder. “It was… different because you weren’t trying to sound hot. It just slipped out.”

Will’s expression softens slightly at that.

“…natural,” he says quietly.

Nico nods once.

“Yeah.”

That actually makes perfect sense to Will.

Nico hates performance. Anything that sounds scripted or exaggerated immediately trips every alarm in his head. But honest reactions? Instinctive ones? Things that escape before they can be filtered?

Those feel real to him.

“So less…” Will gestures vaguely. “‘Who’s your daddy’ nonsense.”

Nico looks horrified. “What?”

“Well yunno… some people… well it’s kina… uhm… I don’t even know to be honest. I think that some people who dont have a father figure sometimes search for it in sex. It’s kinda horrible honestly…”

“So… well I do have a dad.”

“Well… yeah but also you don’t exactly have the best relationship with him do you? Anyway that’s not… the whole thing gets taken out of context a lot— that’s just where it came from…”

“So basically people sexualise daddy issues…” Nico looks disgusted.

“Yeah and imitate people with unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

“Yeah i’d rather not.”

“Good to know. Important safety information.”

Nico shoves him weakly with the blanket.

“But…” Nico continues hesitantly, “I think maybe I’d like… a little telling me what to do?”

Will stills slightly.

Nico notices immediately and rushes onward before he can overthink himself into a crater.

“Not like commanding! I just…” His hands twist together. “I liked not having to think so much. When you told me to breathe or where to move or stuff like that.”

Will listens quietly.

Nicos voice gets softer. “My head’s loud all the time, Will.”

Gods.

“But when you just…” He searches for words. “Guided me physically, I guess? It made everything quieter. And I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing so it just… I just really like that i don’t need to think about what I’m doing or gonna do when you do it for me... what I don’t like is feeling like your property. Or when It’s like… I couldn’t do it by myself if you didn’t guide me. I could. I just… I like when I don’t have to…”

Wills thumb strokes slowly across his waist.

“What kinda stuff?” he asks gently.

Nico flushes all the way to his ears now.

“Like…” He stares aggressively at the blanket. “A hand on my jaw. Or moving me where you want me. Or…” His voice drops lower. “Like if you pushed my knees apart instead of asking every single time. Or lifted my chin. Or like…” He hesitates. “You nudging me instead of making me decide everything myself.”

“Nudging?”

“Like… yunno, moving me…”

Will thinks about Nico instinctively following pressure during training all the time. The way he responds immediately to touch guidance. A hand between his shoulder blades steering him forward. Fingers tilting his chin. A hand on his shoulder to push him on his knees. The subtle physical language they already use constantly without noticing.

Wills pupils visibly dilate.

Nico immediately points at him accusingly. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m (trying) SO hard.”

“I mean it.”

“I know.” Will kisses his forehead. “I’m listening.”

Nico nods. “I don’t know if I’ll always like it. I just wanna explore it.”

“We can absolutely explore it! Please let’s explore it actually. Like very please!”

Nico goes pink again but looks relieved.

“So you mean like… when I move your hand for example?” Will asks with a low voice and takes Nicos hand.

Nico nods slowly while he guides Nicos hand to his hair.

“Like that?”

“Mhm…”

Will lifts his chin with a finger “or that?”

“Yeah…” Nico whispers.

“How ‘bout this?” He brushes Nicos lips wh his thumb and pushes it between them…

Nicos breath hitches. He pulls back but says “Yes. Exactly. That” his voice cracks a little.

Will thinks for a moment. “Can I admit something?”

“That depends entirely on what it is.”

Will gives him a look.

Nico sighs, “as long as it isnt like… scary…”

“No promises.”

Nico snorts quietly.

“I think I might like that a bit too much. Like I might just be really into that… Showing you things. Helping. I liked when you’d follow my hands. It’s not like I’ve got experience or anything but… still.”

Nico chews the inside of his cheek.

“…I liked that too.”

Will tilts his head slightly.

Nico stares at the blanket while speaking.

“Okay. Physical guidance. Got it.”

“And… instructions.”

Will blinks. “Instructions?”

“Not like…” Nico waves aggressively. “I mean in the same way as the other thing.”

“That clarified nothing.”

Nico groans. “You know. Just… telling me what to do sometimes.”

Will goes very still.

Nico immediately notices. “Gods, you’re making it sound creepy in your head, I can tell.”

“I’m literally just listening!”

“I don’t believe you. I think you’re twisting it! With your thoughts...”

“What does that even mean?”

Nico shrinks slightly anyway. “I just mean… little things. Like ‘spread your legs’ or whatever. It works when you do it but maybe also when you say it, I think… maybe. I dunno.”

Wills ears go pink instantly. Henods slowly.

“That makes sense.”

“But not…” Nico frowns hard. “Not too much.”

“Too much how?”

Nico thinks for a long moment.

Then, carefully: “I mean… I do like when you’re possessive.”

Will looks startled enough that Nico immediately points accusingly at him. “See?! Eyebrows!”

“Sorry! Continue!”

“I just…” Nico shrugs helplessly. “I like knowing you want me. A lot. I like when it slips out naturally.” His face goes scarlet. “Like when you said I was tight.”

Will makes a strangled noise into the blanket.

“But,” Nico continues quickly, “not if it turns into… like…” He grimaces. “A performance. Artificiality or exaggerated.”

Nico picks fuzz off the blanket while talking. “I don’t like constant commentary. Or being praised every five seconds. Especially not stuff like ‘good boy’ or ‘doing so good for me’ or…” He says it with exagerated voices cause otherwise he wouldnt be able to say it. “‘Come for me.’”

The feeling of becoming a thing instead of a person.

“The ‘for me’ is what really throws me off… like… it’s for me too right? Like… like… it’s not for you, it’s for both of us. It sounds like it’s for you but it specifically ISN’T for me. It’s for you if it’s only for you. Like when it’s onesided. When you use an object or something. I don’t… I don’t wanna be an object…”

Will almost starts crying at how much Nico sounds like he’s about to cry.

“Just… the occasional affirmation is one thing but don’t make it sound like I’m not having a part in it. And I honestly don’t even know if that’s even actually a thing cause I genuinely cannot imagine a real person saying it but… I mean I read it in a book and—“

Will bursts out laughing.

Nico looks deeply offended. “It sounds ridiculous!”

“It does! No i totally agree! Just… you kept talking about movies yesterday and now books and I just wonder how you have so many books and movies about sex!”

“I don’t! I just have a lot of books in general! I read a lot, okay? Forgive for not being an IPad kid! I don’t understand technology!”

“You sound ninety years old.”

“I AM ninety years old!”

“…well…”

Nico steals one of the marshmallows and throws it at Wills forehead.

“But yeah,” Nico mutters. “It’s not that I hate all talking. I don’t.” He glances away. “Some of it’s… really hot actually.”

“What kind do you like then?”

“Like I said, The accidental stuff.”

“The accidental stuff,” Will repeats.

“Like when something just slips out.” Nico curls deeper into the blankets. “When you sound surprised. Or overwhelmed. Or when you forget to filter yourself.”

Will remembers the awed, breathless ‘I can’t believe you’re mine’ escaping him earlier.

The way Nico had practically melted.

“Just… like if you need to think about whether you should say it, you probably shouldn’t.”

Nico keeps talking quietly. “And reassurance is okay sometimes. Especially if I’m nervous. Or if I don’t know if I’m doing something right.” He hesitates. “But not constantly. Not like you’re managing me.”

Will nods slowly.

“Okay,” he says softly. “I think I get it.”

Nico looks relieved at that.

“It’s like…” Will searches carefully. “You like being guided. Not controlled.”

Nico’s entire face loosens with relief. “Yes. Exactly that.”

Will kisses his forehead. “Got it.”

They fall quiet for a moment.

“I’m probably gonna overcheck on you forever,” Will admits.

“…good.”

Will smiles softly.

Then, after a pause:

“I think I might wanna try kissing you more during it.”

Nico looks up immediately. “More?”

“Yeah. Every time I kissed you, you relaxed.”

Nico processes that slowly.

“…oh.”

“And you stopped holding your breath for like three whole seconds.”

“Shut up.”

Will grins.

Nico goes thoughtful again. “I liked when you held my wrists.”

Will’s eyebrows go up.

“Not pinned,” Nico says quickly. “Just…” He demonstrates weakly against the blanket, wrapping fingers around Will’s wrist. “Held.”

Will feels warmth curl low in his stomach at the memory.

“I liked that too,” he admits quietly.

Nico’s eyes flick away immediately.

“And…” Will says carefully, “I think maybe I’d like you telling me what feels good more often.”

Nico stares at him like he just suggested public execution.

“How.”

“With words?”

“No.”

Will laughs softly. “You managed ‘another’ just fine when I had a ginger ins—.”

Nico immediately puts a hand on Wills mouth and hides under the blanket entirely.

“That never happened.”

“Oh it absolutely happened.”

“Nope.”

“You literally demanded more.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

Will peels the blanket down just enough to kiss his forehead again.

“You did really good, you know.”

Nico goes quiet at that.

Not embarrassed this time.

Just quiet.

Then, very softly:

“So did you.”

Will presses a kiss into his curls. "I also liked how curious you were."

Nico squints suspiciously. "About the circumcision thing?"

Will nearly chokes on banana bread laughing.

"Not JUST that."

"You laughed at it."

"You asked if I was secretly Jewish because of my dick, Nico!"

Nico mutters several things in Italian that sound deeply offensive.

"In my defense," Nico mutters, "that was literally the only context I had."

“Can’t believe you loocked at me naked and your first thought was, huh that pool in the fourties! Will feeds him a grape.

Nico eats it resentfully.

Then another.

They talk some more. But Nico seems distracted now, so eventually the conversation slows.

The exhaustion settles heavier. But Wills glad Nicos gotten some distraction. The grief is still there, but it’s settling. Nicos breathing has evened back out by now, his fingers no longer digging desperately into Wills shirt. But Will notices Nico drifting again.

His eyes keep snagging on nothing.

His fingers tap restlessly against the spoon in his hand.

His shoulders tense every few minutes like he’s hearing something far away.

Will leans his chin onto Nicos shoulder from behind. “You’re thinking again.”

Nico exhales through his nose.

Will waits a second.

Then carefully: “Is this about earlier?”

Nico stills.

Not entirely. Just enough.

“The pool thing?” Will asks softly.

Nico’s gaze drops to the table immediately.

And there it is again.

That strange distant look. Like part of him just stepped backwards through time.

Will’s stomach tightens.

“Nico?”

Nico nods.

“I’m sorry… I… I shouldn’t have brought it up…”

“No. No it’s okay… it’s… I know I shouldn’t talk about it.”

Eventually Will says carefully, “Can I ask something?”

Nico swallows.

“About earlier.”

Nico nods hesitantly.

Will keeps his voice gentle. “At the beginning. When we talked about circumcision. And the man at the pool.”

Nico takes a horribly deep breath.

“It’s what your nightmare was about, isn’t it?”

Nicos lip starts quivering again. Gods, Will hates that. Nico had JUST calmed down. But Will knows Nico needs to talk about this.

“She used to rehearse things with us,” Nico whispers. “My mother I mean. What to say. What not to say. How to answer questions. They wanted to send us to america without her. To a foster family. Cause we weren’t… aryan enough… they wanted to put polish aryans into her care and for her to pretend that she’s totally fine with having her children replaced. I mean… how fucked up is that?” He’s quiet for a moment, probably thinking about how fucked up ALL of it was. “I remember her telling us what can let someone end up like that man from the pool— being Jewish, even just looking Jewish... She always made me dunk my hair in salt water and sunbleach it so it wouldn’t look so black. Being black also, or mixed— ‘Mischling’ was something a police guy said once I think, Romani, Soviets, being weird,” he gives a bitter huff, “she always told us to hide that we’re weird…”

ADHD 

“Being retarded, dumb”

Dyslexic

“Being… ‘associal’,”

Autism

”Oh, but also being too social, or socialist,”

left, against hitler, prepared to leave for the americas

”Roman Catholics…”

Isn’t he litteraly—

”Bastards”

Hades is married to Persephone.

He swallows, hard.

“Homophiles…”

“Oh, Nico…” Will sobs. He doesn’t know why he’s crying. He didn’t even realize he WAS crying. He should be comforting him god damnit! Nicos the one it happened to!

Nico cries too, “I keep thinking about the guy and the pool and how everyone knew just from looking at him. And what must have happened to that guy. Whenever I hear about the war it feels so distant, and that memory is distant too but that was someone I met in real life and he probably was a victim of that stuff you read about.” His breathing grows uneven again. “And I keep thinking what would’ve happened if someone looked at me hard enough too.”

“Looked and saw that you were gay?” Will asked because how would they see that?

“No, but you didn’t have to actually be gay, Will!” Nico half snaps, his voice sounding wet. “It… it’s enough if someone just… just said that once. It was one person…” he whispers.

Will raises his eyebrows, “What?”

“There was this man,” Nico says quietly. “Signor Enzo. Near our neighborhood in Venice.” His eyes unfocus. “I don’t even know if he actually was gay. I was little. But people said things about him.” He swallows. “Too elegant. Too unmarried. Too… soft.”

Will feels sick already.

“One day he disappeared for a while.” Nico’s voice grows flatter, older somehow. “Then later people whispered that he’d been arrested.” A pause.

Will closes his eyes briefly.

“He owned a store near our apartment. It was small but I always looked at the shelves and thought that’s so much stuff. I remember the sound of the bell at the door…” A tiny, fleeting smile ghosts across his face. “He used to let me sit on the floor while my mother shopped," Nico continues, barely above a whisper. "He gave me candy sometimes when my mother wasn't looking." His lips tremble. "He was nice."

Nico swallows hard.

“When they—“ Nico cuts himself off and takes a deep breath. “When—“

“Take your time,” Will brushes a strand of hair from Nicos forehead that was about to catch his eye.

He takes a short, frustrated breath. "I thought it was some kind of festival." His voice cracks.

Will frowns, confused.

"There were… so many people. Food stands. It was in the middle of the market place on a saturday, while people were just… they were just selling their stuff as if… as if…Everyone was laughing. They even put together a stage. At least I thought it was a stage. I guess it sorta was?" He shakes his head slowly. "I thought... I thought maybe performers were coming. I thought it was some sort of a fair… I wouldn’t be surprised if they actually did that kind of thing at actual fairs…”

“Wh— what… kind of thing?” Will is almost afraid to ask because Nico is clearly deflecting.

“I remember my mother trying to pull me away.” Nico laughs once, bitter and tiny. “And I got upset with her because I wanted to stay.”

The words scrape coming out now.

“She finally gave in because I kept insisting.” He stares harder at the table. “I thought…” His throat works. “I thought it was going to be fun.” He says highpitched.

“Nico…” Will asks, “what was gonna be fun?” He sounds genuinely dreadfull now.

“They… he was handcuffed when they brought him out. And beaten up like… badly…”

“Signor Enzo?”

Nico nods.

He remembers him yelling.

“Non è vero! Non è vero! Non sono fatto così.”

“He kept denying it. It’s not true, it’s not true’ he yelled, ‘I’m not like that!’ But no one listened. They…” Nico swallows again.

“They made him strip.”

“In the middle of the market place?!”

“Yeah…”

“On the stage?”

“On the stage…”

Will blinks hard and looks away. Keep it together, god damnit!

“Should I— should I stop?”

“No! No, Nico I’m fine. Just… Keep talking.” He presses a kiss to his hair.

Nico is shaking again. Will wipes a tear from his cheek.

“They uhm… well they read his charges… they said he was a homophile. And a pervert and reversed. And that he corrupted other men. They… they tied him up… and uhm… they… they up… well they castrated him.”

Will holds his breath.

Even the crickets seem gone.

Nico presses the heel of his free hand against his mouth hard enough to hurt himself.

“There was so much blood,” he chokes. “I’d never seen that much blood before. Not from a person. Not like that.”

Will’s heart feels like it’s splitting open.

“And everyone kept cheering.” Nico’s voice breaks completely now. “That’s the worst part. They were happy.”

A tear slips down his face.

Then another.

“And he screamed and screamed, and they just talked about how they could execute him.” He’s back to full on sobbing now, “the options were burning, shooting or exile. Thats what it’s called right? That’s the word? They said if he wanted to behave like… like a wild animal then he should be send to an island with wild animals too. That… that, that was before the war properly begun for the record…”

Will doesn’t know if he’s supposed to react to that, leg alone how.

“I don’t even know how they did it in the end because my mother dragged us away when they cut it off but… i remember I could feel him die.” Nico whispers it like a confession. “Even back then. Before I understood what I— what that: what that feeling was. I- I felt it happen.”

Will moves immediately.

He pulls Nico into him, like his body simply cannot tolerate distance anymore. He wraps both arms around him.

Nico clings.

“That’s what your dream was about, wasnt it? Execution…”

For a second, Will thinks he won’t answer.

Then:

“Well… yeah. War. And… and that too i guess… how’d you know”

“You talked in your sleep. Italian… and… i’m pretty sure you said some german stuff too nico”

Nico nods, “I remember some phrases from the soldiers. It might just have been made up words though.” He does know german. But he’s way less sure with it than a lot of other languages.

Nico swallows hard. “It wasn’t exactly real. I mean it wasn’t a memory.” His voice sounds distant already. “Dreams are weird.”

“Usually.”

“There were sirens.”

Will frowns slightly.

“American ones,” Nico whispers. “Police sirens. But I was in Venice.” His breathing starts getting uneven again. “And then not Venice anymore.”

Will’s arm tightens around him instinctively.

Nico stares into nothing.

“There were soldiers everywhere.” His voice is flat in the way it gets when he’s forcing himself through something. “And I knew why they wanted me.”

Will says nothing.

“Even though I honestly don’t even know it anymore right now. There’s… gods, there’s so many things…”

Will cling to Nico almost as much as Nico clings to him now.

“It’s just… weird.”

“What is?”

Nico stares at the blankets. “How many things in my life used to mean death.”

Will immediately grabs his hands before Nico can dig his nails into his face.

“Nico.”

“First the war. Then the Lotus. Then camp. Then everyone treating children of Hades like monsters. Then Octavian.” His breathing stutters now. “It just keeps happening over and over and over until your brain starts thinking maybe the world’s trying to tell you something.”

Will cups his face firmly.

“No.”

Nico’s eyes are glassy now, frantic around the edges.

“And then tonight,” he whispers. “You said circumcision was considered cleaner and suddenly all I could think was: there it is again. Another thing that decides whether someone’s acceptable or disgusting or dangerous.”

Will shakes his head immediately.

“That’s not what it means.”

“I know that now,” Nico says quickly, frustrated tears starting to spill again. “Logically I know! But my brain keeps connecting things.” He presses a hand shakily against his chest. “Because when I was little, these things did connect. Religion and bodies and punishment and morality and execution and—“

His voice breaks completely.

“Then the circumsticion thing. That also meant execution. And yesterday… i mean obviously it didnt mean dying but… honestly Will i felt so ashamed of myself. And it was literally the opposite of what it meant back then but… my brain still… connected it… cause… well, I know logically that there was a time skip obviously but Will i need you to understand that I never really felt that timeskip. This feels to me like it was literally like seven, eight years ago. So that stupid circum- cir— cutting thing—then the man at the pool…” Nico continues. “That was another thing people could decide meant you deserved to die.”

His breathing grows shallower now, thoughts tangling together faster.

“And then Octavian…” he whispers.

Will goes very still.

Nico hadn’t talked much about that.

Not really.

Just fragments.

Just enough for Will to know it still sat inside him like shrapnel.

Nico stares straight ahead as he speaks now.

“He said it so casually.” His voice is distant. “‘The punishment for espionage is death.’” Nico’s fingers tighten harder. “Like he was announcing dinner plans.”

Nico laughs again, but it sounds awful.

“And the stupid thing is…” He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I remember thinking it made sense.”

Will’s heart breaks a little.

“Nico…”

“No, listen.” His voice cracks sharply. “I remember standing there and thinking well obviously. Of course this is happening. Because this is what happens to  me. First I spend years thinking that my live will inevitably end that way. And then when I finally let myself even so much as hope that it wouldnt— not that I wont die young or horrible and in vain, just that I wouldn’t die because I got executed— exactly when I start to hope that, that’s when it does happen …”

He huffs.

“I genuinely thought I was going to die that day,” Nico whispers shakily after a long moment. “With Octavian. And I couldn’t even bring myself to be surprised.”

Will shuts his eyes hard.

Because of course he wasn’t surprised.

How could he have been?

A childhood full of whispered warnings.

A mother desperately sanding down every sharp edge her children had so the world wouldn’t cut itself open on them.

Don’t speak too loudly.

Don’t attract attention.

Don’t seem strange.

Don’t seem wrong.

Don’t give people reasons.

And then decades later, a blond Roman boy points at him and says execution, and some part of Nico probably just went:

There it is.

The thing we were always hiding from.

Will strokes slowly through his curls.

“You know what I think?” he murmurs quietly.

Nico doesn’t answer, but he listens.

“I think your brain learned survival rules in a world that kept proving them right.”

Nico’s breathing hitches.

“That doesn’t mean those rules are true now.”

Nicos grip in the fabric of Wills shirt fades slightly.

Will keeps going softly. “You aren’t disgusting because you’re gay. Or because you’re uncircumcised. Or because you’re a son of Hades. Or because some paranoid blond fascist wannabe decided that death would be a logical punishment for spionage… even if you had actually spied on them— god that guy is so stupid i’m never gonna get over it… I’m a dEcEnDeNt oF ApOlLo mhe mhe i’M SO grEAt and i knOw eVeRyThInG aNd eVeN tHe fUTUre beCaUsE aPoLlO lOVES mE and mhe meh aNd I hAvE ALL tHe gIfTs and blah blah mhe meh.” He mocks octavian, making a mimicking voice “yeah well guess what, dipshit, I’m the SON of apollo and I’m his FAVOURITE son too and even I don’t get more than one gift but pffth what do I know I’m only t he best medic alive. Like hell do you see the future— bull-fucking-shit. AND WHILE THE ORACLE IS BROKEN TOO I mean how stupid can one person be to think people will believe that?! And then they did believe it which is even crazier like what the hell man… ugh I could complain about this for hours Nico. HOURS.“

That gets the tiniest, broken snort out of Nico.

Will kisses his hair.

“You survived all of it,” he says quietly. “And I know survival doesn’t magically undo the fear. But you survived.”

Nico’s eyes squeeze shut.

Nico’s fingers twist weakly in Will’s shirt. “I used to pray about it.”

Will’s chest tightens.

“To stop being gay?”

A tiny nod.

“You know,” he says softly, “your brain is kind of an asshole.”

Nico huffs faintly.

“I’m serious. We have the best night of our life and your subconscious immediately goes excellent, how can we make this about fascism”

That finally gets an actual laugh out of Nico.

“Brains are stupid,” Nico mumbles.

“Especially yours.” Will adds.

They’re quiet again for a bit.

After a while Nico says.

“I think that’s why coming out felt like dying.”

“Dreaming about Fascism?”

“Well— yeah I guess. Not what I meant but yeah. Just… fascism in general maybe…”

Wills throat tightens painfully.

Nico stares straight ahead.

“Because when I was little,” he whispers, “I promised myself nobody would ever know.”

Will presses his lips against Nicos hair  once again and just holds him tighter beneath the blankets while the night stretches around them, cold and endless and quiet except for Nico’s uneven breathing.

“I mean I—“ Nico huffs, “I would have sworn on the Styx if I’d known about it back then”

“Nico dont say that”

“Why not? It’s true. I would have. I’m not swearing it right now. I mean I obviously didnt keep it but… I fully would have. And thats what I mean when I say it felt like dying. Because even when I spent years in… this world already, I still refused to come out because I made myself that promise. And even tho I knew the consequences wouldnt be the same, it was like I had vowed on the styx. It felt like that, I mean. I don’t know how to say what I’m trynna say, and you probably already get the gist of it, but the specific thing I’m trynna say is… I  dont know how to properly put it into words. Besides just repeating what I just said. I can’t explain it. Like what I said so far was only a part of it”

Will can picture it too easily.

Tiny Nico, terrified out of his mind after seeing that crowd cheering at blood like it was theater. Seeing what happened to a man just rumored to be like him. Swearing with the absolute conviction only children can have that nobody would ever know. Ever.

Not Bianca.

Not Maria.

Not himself, if he could help it.

He would’ve buried it alive inside himself and called it survival.

Will presses another kiss into his curls.

“I’m glad you broke that promise. And that you didn’t swear on the styx.”

Nicos eyes squeeze shut.

“…me too.”

Silence settles again for a little while