Archive of Our Own

i.

Nico is no stranger to nightmares.

No demigod is, and no demigod could be, considering the prophetic dreams most of them endure at some point or another. Plus, they had all gone through one or two wars, which didn’t really make for the best images. It’s hard to drown them out when he’s awake, for gods’ sakes. Unconscious? Forget it.

These dreams in particular, though, don’t have to do with prophecies or bloody battlefields. No, these are a lovely mix of trauma and memories in one beautifully terrifying soup. Nico is used to them—well, as used to seeing the worst moments of your life on repeat he can be.

The problem is, he is not, by any means, used to waking up to his powers going haywire.

Sitting up in the infirmary bed—he spent the night after he fainted from overworking himself practicing shadowtravelling, and Will had insisted—Nico’s eyes dart around the room, assessing the damage. The plants on the windowsill above have wilted into shrivelled husks, a complete contrast from the bright and lively green they had been just earlier that day. Although moonlight washes the space in a dim glow, around Nico is pure darkness—shadows too thick, too choking to be natural.

This shouldn’t be the end of the world. Nico has gotten lost in his emotions multiple times and accidentally killed some grass or opened a few fissures in the ground, but it was easy to rein it in. Right now, though, he could not for the life of him gain any semblance of control over his abilities.

Heaving a shaky breath, Nico scrambles off the bed and tumbles to the floor, tucking himself against the wall.

“Okay,” he mutters to himself. “This is fine. This is fine.” He places a hand on his chest, heart beating erratically against his palm, and tries to get a handle on his breathing. In for four, hold for four, out for six. In for four, hold for four, out for six.

His body does not listen. Neither does his mind, set on cycling through the same vivid images from his nightmare a few moments ago. He's in the labyrinth one moment, hunger gnawing at his stomach, and the next he's in Tartarus, the sulfuric air burning down his throat.

Panic flares in his chest as hairline cracks spread along the floor in front him.

No, no, no no no.

Nico clutches his hair and pulls hard, wincing as pain shoots across his scalp, but it doesn’t offer any clarity on how to get his powers to be his again. The cracks in the floor start to expand, the sound tearing through the quiet infirmary. Gods, he’s gonna wake up the whole building. He glances nervously at Connor Stoll in the bed nearby, recently broken arm strapped across his chest. Luckily, he doesn’t stir.

Someone does, though. Footsteps slap against the tile deeper in the infirmary, and Nico curls in on himself, squeezing his eyes shut. Closer, closer, closer they come. Thicker, thicker, thicker his shadows build.

“Nico?”

Nico’s breath hitches. Slowly, he opens his eyes. “Will?”

“Oh my gods, are you okay?” Will Solace, head medic, golden curls sticking up in every direction and clad in blue Star Wars pyjamas, comes running towards him. He drops to his knees mere inches away, and as his arms raise, fear digs its claws into Nico’s chest.

“NO!” he shouts. Will flinches away, and Nico winces, lowering his voice. “Don’t touch me. I-I don’t want to hurt you.”

Nico glances down at his hands. After years of being as pale as—well, a ghost, they’re finally starting to gain some colour. Olive tones like when he was younger. They don’t look like the hands of someone who might drain the life out of you with a touch.

Nico knows better.

“What?” Nico snaps his head back up. Concern etches itself into every pretty—ahem—little line of Will’s face. Nico’s stomach bottoms out at the thought that he put it there. “What do you mean?”

Nico swallows. “I can rot fruit just being nearby, Solace. I don’t want your hand to shrivel up.”

Will looks at him. Nico can tell he knows there’s something else, but he holds his tongue.

“You’re not going to hurt me, Nico,” Will says with such certainty Nico wants to throw up.

The truth clogs his throat, itching to be out in the air, to be removed from the already teetering stack of baggage within him. But what would Will think of him, if he knew? That he’s disgusting, that he should stay in the Underworld for the rest of his stupid life and never show his face again—

“Nico.” Nico blinks and becomes aware of the rip in the tile widening at a much faster rate. Gods. He needs to get a handle on himself.

Will shuffles along the floor to take a seat next to him. Nico pulls himself tighter together like a turtle retreating in its shell.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Will asks gently, studying his frame.

Coming back to Camp Half-Blood after the war, Nico had never expected to stay for longer than a couple of days. He would help defeat Gaea, and then he would leave, like always. It was what he knew how to do. Without it, well… Who even wanted Nico back at camp, anyway?

He hadn’t been counting on a son of Apollo to practically imprison him in the infirmary, though.

Over the couple months he’s been back, him and Will have become… friends. The word is still heavy on his conscience, more than he’s supposed to deserve, but it’s true. They’re friends, maybe even good ones. Nico has come to trust Will with a lot more than he thought he’d be willing to with anyone, so although he hesitates at the question, he pushes back his old habits and answers him, albeit vaguely.

“I had a nightmare. When I woke up, it was already like- this.” Nico shudders and gestures around them, at the unnatural press of shadows and the opening floor and the dead plants. “And I can’t get it to stop.” Why won’t it stop?

“Hey, it’s okay,” Will reassures, taking note of his growing stress. “We’re gonna figure this out, alright?”

There’s that one thing about Will Solace that makes Nico reassess his entire understanding of people—instead of just leaving him to solve his problems on his own, Will is always not only willing, but wants to help him. Nico will probably never understand why he bothers wasting his energy on him.

“You’ve gotten healthier, stronger,” Will continues, “so maybe your powers have, too.”

Nico lifts his head and glances over at him. He’s sitting criss-cross facing Nico, head tilted against the wall and chewing on his lip in thought. Even in shadows, he seems to glow. Hades, he’s beautiful.

Nico shakes himself. “Okay, but what about that makes them go all—pazzo like this?”

“Well, you had a nightmare, right?” Will confirms. Nico nods. “My guess is with your stress levels, they kicked into self-defense mode, trying to protect you from any possible danger. But since your body isn’t used to the strength of them, you’re struggling to get it under control.”

“That… makes sense,” Nico agrees, tapping his foot against the floor in an unsteady rhythm. “How do I make it stop?”

“First, you need to breathe, Neeks,” Will tells him gently.

Nico promptly becomes aware of his own shallow, unsteady breaths. Right. In for four, hold for four, out for six. It’s just breathing. He can do that. And, he grudgingly admits, having Will here makes it a lot easier to calm his anxiety.

While he does that, Will launches into a ridiculous story involving Connor and a shelf of library books. “I mean, I know he can be a bit of an idiot sometimes, but trying to pull a prank on the Athena cabin?” Will shakes his head and clucks his tongue. “That’s next level stupidity. He’s lucky he got away with only a broken arm.”

The beginnings of a smile form on Nico’s face. “Malcolm really just knocked over a whole bookshelf? On top of him? The same Malcolm who bumped into me and said sorry in twelve different languages while trying to clean nonexistent dust off my shirt?”

Will laughs, the sound like a beam of sunlight through the darkness surrounding them. “I know, right? Didn’t know he had it in him.” Then he gasps. “Hey, look! The floor’s closing!”

Nico snaps his gaze back in front of him to find the cracks stitching themselves back together. Come to think of it, the shadows aren’t as thick, too.

Nico sighs in relief, finding himself overwhelmed with a strange urge to cry. “Thank the gods.” Then he frowns. “How did that happen?”

Will chuckles, and warmth pools in Nico’s chest. “Maybe you just needed to calm down. Even if you can’t control them, your powers still belong to you. Once you knew there was no real danger, they did, too.”

“When did you become so wise?” Nico teases, shakily getting to his feet. Will follows suit with a bashful smile, rubbing the back of his neck. Adorable, he thinks.

My gods. Not now, Nico!

Pushing his traitorous thoughts away, Nico hops back in the infirmary bed and yawns, a wave of exhaustion rolling over him.

“Get some sleep,” Will tells him in his doctor’s voice. If you ask Will, he does not have a doctor’s voice. If you ask just about anyone else, he most certainly does. “We’ll talk more about this in the morning.”

Nico nods. As he settles in, he glimpses the poor plants up in the windowsill. “I’m sorry about your plants,” he says, guilt starting to eat at him. “I didn’t mean to.”

“Hey, I know,” Will says softly. He comes to stand at his side, reaching out a hand but drawing it back quickly at the way Nico’s eyes widen. “Sorry.” He clears his throat. “None of this is your fault, Nico.”

And Nico knows that, of course he does, but hearing Will say it eases the last of the buzz in his frayed nerves.

“I’ll just have Miranda come over tomorrow morning,” Will says, offering him a reassuring smile. “They’ll be good as new in no time.”

Nico smiles, just a bit. “Okay. Well, goodnight. And thanks.”

Will waggles a finger at him, and the action is just so Will that Nico can’t quite bite back a laugh. “No need for that, darlin',” he says. Will calls everyone that, part of his southern upbringing, so there's no reason for Nico's cheeks to flush at the nickname. It’s too dark to see it. Right?

Whether he notices or not, Will doesn’t say anything, beginning to head back to his office. Right at the end of the hall, he stops and turns back towards him (not that Nico was watching him).

“If you need anything, or if anything happens, I’m right here, okay?” Will tells him, eyes wide and earnest.

Something in Nico’s chest melts. “I know. I’ll come get you, I promise.” His voice is dangerously full of affection, but he’s too tired to care.

Across the hall, Will holds up his pinky, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Nico rolls his eyes, but sticks out his own.

“There. Pinky promises are more powerful than swearing on the Styx,” Will informs him solemnly.

A laugh escapes Nico before he can stop it. “Gods, you’re such a dork.”

Will smirks. “Guilty as charged.” Then, his whole expression softens. “Goodnight, Nico.”

Nico bites his cheek to hold back a grin. “Goodnight, idiot.”

Will presses a hand over his heart, and Nico can practically hear the words You wound me said in Will’s smooth drawl.

He does not have another nightmare.

ii.

The next time it happens is a couple days later. Nico is in the woods, scavenging for various herbs to restock the infirmary. Will is somewhere nearby, his lively humming carrying through the air. Everything was fine, for a while.

That is, until it wasn’t.

Nico is shoving a jar now filled with some medicinal herb Will told him to grab back in the backpack when he sees it. A small, bronze jar, sitting unassumingly next to the other glass vials. A few of them, actually. And Nico knows panicking is illogical, stupid—but when is it not?

Either way, one thing leads to another, and he’s now deep into the forest, back pressed into a tree so hard the bark digs into his skin. He no longer has the bag, having chucked it aside in his haste to get away, but that doesn't make his heart beat any slower. The grass around him wilts, and soon enough, the earth starts to split.

No, no, no, not again.

He figured it out last time. He can do it again, right? Nico tries to breathe, but the air is thick and stale, like— like…

Like in the jar.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he’s imagining it. He’s in the woods, not the jar. He’s safe. At camp.

But minds are funny, cruel things, playing tricks on you until you can’t tell the reality from what you made up in your head.

Nico presses the heels of his hands to his eyes as the shadows thicken. He doesn’t want to see. He can’t look at those dull, bronze metal walls one more second. He digs into his pocket for a pomegranate seed, and comes up empty. No, that can't be right. There was one more, he knows there was one more.

Panic builds, clogging his throat until he can’t speak, can’t breathe. Gods, he wishes Will was here. He would help, he always does.

But Will couldn’t get to him now. No, he’s alone and he will stay that way, until the air runs out and he crumples to the floor and he ends up in the Underworld once again. It’s what he gets, what he deserves—

“Nico?”

His whole body jolts.

“Nico? Nico, where are you?”

Will.

His voice is close. Nico lifts his head and opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. He tries again, and again until he can whisper, “Will?”

“Nico?”

“Will!” Nico calls desperately, eyes still shut tight. “I-I’m here.”

There’s brushing and crunching and then—

“Nico! Oh my gods— hey, I’m here, I’m right here. You’re safe, Nico, I promise.”

A shudder rolls through Nico’s body. He’s shaking, he knows, but he can’t bring himself to look, because what if it’s not really Will? What if it’s a monster that stole his voice? What if the monster killed him to get it? Hades, what if Will was— dead?

No, no, it couldn’t be true.

Not Will. How could Nico have let this happen?

“Nico. Hey, Nico, I need you to breathe,” Will's stolen voice shoves through the haze in Nico’s mind. “You’re having a panic attack, but it’s gonna be okay. Please just open your eyes and breathe.”

Nico shakes his head, back and forth back and forth back and forth—

“Hey, listen to me, Nico. I don’t know what’s going through that head of yours right now, but nothing is going to hurt you, darlin'.” When Nico doesn’t respond, the monster pretending to be Will lets out a shaky breath. “Please, Nico. It’s just me, promise. Pinky promise.”

Pinky promise. The words echo in his head, somehow even louder than the roaring tide in his ears. Pinky promises are more powerful than swearing on the Styx.

Slowly, cautiously, Nico opens his eyes.

The sudden light blinds him for a moment, but then a figure shifts in front of him, blocking out the sun rays. Nico squints and makes out…

Will.

“Hey, hi there, Neeks,” Will greets softly. “Good job, you’re doing great. Now, you gotta breathe, okay? I know you can do it.”

Nico gasps, and the air isn’t thick or stale. It’s fresh, clean outside air. Because he’s in the woods around camp, not the jar. He’s not in the jar.

Once his breathing mostly evens out, he clears his throat. “Um. Hi,” he manages, voice hoarse. He brushes away a tear. Since when was he crying?

Will smiles gently, so, so gently.

"Hi. You’re doing so good, Nico. Can you tell me what happened? Take your time.”

Nico pulls in a breath. “The jars, in the bag. Some of them looked… looked like—” He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but Will seems to understand.

“Oh my gods,” he murmurs, eyes widening in horror. “I’m so, so sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

“Not your fault,” Nico cuts him off. “You didn’t know.”

Will still looks devastated, and Nico’s heart aches. “Hey. This isn’t your fault, Will.”

Will blinks and seems to return to himself. “Sorry, sorry, not the time. Okay, your powers have sort of calmed, but not entirely.”

He’s right. The ground has stopped actively opening, but it’s still open, and his shadows, although thinner, remain crowded around his shoulders.

Nico sighs. “Well, I guess I’m not… really relaxed,” he admits. His pulse is still racing, his heart trying to jump out of his throat.

Will considers this, then says, “Give me your hand.”

Nico jerks back instinctively and almost whacks his head on the tree. “What? No!” he hisses. “I’m gonna— what if I—”

“Nico. You’re not going to hurt me,” Will says decisively. “You never have before. Besides, I’m the son of the god of healing." He gives him a small, hesitant smile. "A little bit of decay never hurt nobody.”

Nico regards him warily. “But…”

Will holds out his hand, palm up. An offering. “Just give it a try.”

The time that passes could be seconds, minutes, maybe even hours. Will waits patiently, gaze never once straying from Nico. Eventually, with fear tensing his whole body, Nico brushes his hand against Will’s.

Nothing happens. Unless you count the electric current that runs up Nico’s arm at the touch, but that’s nothing new.

Will smiles at him brightly. “See? I’m fine.” He closes his fingers and gives Nico’s hand a squeeze. Nico merely watches him, his mind too busy shouting DON’T HURT HIM to respond.

Will turns his hand over and begins tracing the lines of his palm with his other hand in gentle, light strokes. Nico suppresses a shiver at the sensation.

They sit like that for a while, Will toying with his hand in silence. At some point, Will says, “Other hand,” and Nico offers it to him wordlessly. Will holds on to both of them and rubs his thumb across his knuckles.

It’s too much.

It’s not enough.

Eventually, his muscles loosen and the jagged edges of his anxiety recede, bringing the shadows along with it. The cracks begin to close. The grass stays dead, but he can’t fix that.

All of this happens without Nico particularly noticing it. He’s too focused on the warmth of Will’s hands in his, on how they fit seamlessly together, like they’re designed to hold each other.

Will squeezes his hands. “Feeling better?”

He meets Will’s gaze, blue eyes searching, full of something Nico can only describe as affection.

He nods, letting out a relieved breath. “Yeah.”

Will chuckles. “Come on, Ghost King. People are gonna start to worry.”

He hauls Nico to his feet but doesn’t let go of his hands, instead starting to waltz them around the clearing.

Nico raises an eyebrow. “Solace, what are you— woah!” He stumbles as Will spins him, a laugh springing out of him.

“What in Hades are you doing?”

“Dancing,” Will says simply, then pulls him into another spin.

“My gods,” Nico mutters, but there’s a smile on his face, one he can’t get rid of.

“There,” Will announces, slowing them to a stop.

Nico huffs. “There, what?”

Will grins so wide Nico swears he’s blinded. “You’re smiling.”

A flush creeps up to Nico’s face, and he attempts to flip said smile into a frown. It doesn’t work. “No, I’m not,” he retorts anyway.

“Nico, there is literally no way you can fight me on this.”

“I don’t smile.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Oh, yeah? Then what’s this?” Will extracts his hand and pokes Nico’s cheek.

“A grimace,” Nico says matter-of-factly.

They start to walk back to camp. Instead of letting go of his other hand, Will swings it between them, intertwining their fingers. Nico might explode. Or his face is on fire. Maybe both.

“I like when you smile,” Will says quietly.

Gods, is he trying to kill him?

His first instinct is to deflect, make some stupid, snarky comment, but his mouth goes dry.

“Well,” Nico starts finally, “it happens a lot with you. More than I’d like to admit.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he wishes he could jump into the nearest shadow and get as far away as possible, but then Will gives him the biggest, most beautiful smile, and maybe it isn’t so bad, he thinks.

No. Not bad at all.

iii.

He knew the campfire was a bad idea. In fact, he knew since the moment he woke up that today just wasn’t going to be his day.

Will told him that it’s normal, that healing “isn’t a linear journey”, whatever that means. Some days are simply wrong, like walking into a room you’ve seen countless times before and everything is shifted slightly to the right.

Will also told him that on days like this, he needs to be patient with himself, and allow himself to do what he needs to try and ease his discomfort. Will said he can always talk to him, if he wants, that Will would never judge him.

But Nico is so tired of feeling broken. Tired of being happy one second and angry the next, tired of hurting people with biting words he doesn’t mean instead of letting them in. So instead of skipping the campfire and turning in early—you know, the smart thing to do—he’s sitting next to Will on a log, marshmallow residue sticky on his fingers, surrounded by too many voices and too many people. He always attends campfires now, and he refuses to act anything but normal.

Spirits are high tonight, the flames a stark, golden glow, but occasionally there is a flicker of blue at the base, like the fire is showing Nico it can feel his pain, too. He hopes no one else has noticed it, although he doubts anyone but him is paying such close attention to the fire when they can be joking around and talking with their friends instead.

Nico has gotten better with people, he thinks. Every interaction with someone he doesn’t know very well no longer makes him want to jump into the nearest shadow and teleport to Romania, and most people at camp actually seem to like him. He had his doubts at first, considering his naturally off-putting demeanour, tendency to snap at people, dark humour and unhealthy amount of sarcasm, the whole “I’m a child of the god of the dead and can summon an army of skeletons” thing—the list goes on, but that’s not the point. Despite all of this, campers still talk to him, still seem to think he’s worth having around. He gardens with the Demeter cabin and lets the Aphrodite cabin paint his nails sometimes. The Apollo kids have basically adopted him as their honorary sibling, and sometimes the Athena cabin asks him about the Underworld and all of its quirks to write about in… whatever book Malcolm keeps going on about making.

All that to say, Nico is used to loud environments and rambunctious demigods by now—he spends most of his time with Will, Kayla and Austin for gods’ sakes. Hades knows they’re as chaotic as it gets.

But all the voices right now just feel… wrong, grating against him like nails on a chalkboard. He looks to Will and the rest of the Apollo kids next to him, leading everyone in a singalong. Will strums a guitar strapped over his shoulder, face alight with joy. Usually, the sight makes Nico smile, but now it just makes him feel worse. Why can't he be normal?

A rushing builds up in his ears and this time, he knows it’s about to happen, the way animals know when a storm is coming, the way hair stands on end before the crack of lightning.

Will turns to Nico like he somehow knows too, momentarily distracting him from his thoughts with the way his eyes reflect the glow of the fire. His golden brows furrow, and he pauses his guitar playing. “You good?”

Unsure of how to respond, Nico merely shakes his head tightly, hunching his shoulders. “I think— I know my powers are about to…” Nico makes a wide, exploding gesture with his hands.

Will’s eyes widen in understanding. “Okay. That’s okay,” he says calmly, pulling the guitar over his head and placing it on the grass. “Can I ask what’s making you anxious?”

Nico’s heart just about melts in his chest—even now, when he could be about to split a chasm open through the earth, Will is still patient, still gives him permission to have boundaries instead of demanding answers. Luckily, Nico would tell Will almost anything, if he only asked (except for his… unfortunate development of feelings. That’s definitely off the table).

“People. Too many people right now,” he tells him, voice almost a whisper.

Will nods. “Okay. Do you want to leave?”

“No,” Nico replies, a little too harshly. He takes a deep breath. “Sorry. I need to fix this, somehow. I need to get it under control and not run from it.” He sighs. “I don’t know if that makes sense. Sorry.”

“Hey,” Will says, catching his gaze before Nico can turn away. “It makes perfect sense, and you don’t need to apologize. This isn’t your fault, Neeks.”

“But I’m— I’m the one doing this, Will.” Nico runs a hand through his hair, breathing becoming erratic. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the grass around beginning to wilt. “It’s so stupid. Why can’t I control my own abilities?”

He looks around the fire at all the campers. It feels like everyone is looking at him. Is everyone looking at him? Do they know how pathetic he is? How weak?

Someone jostles his shoulder, and he wishes he could shrink into a particle of dust. A marshmallow sails through the air into the fire, creating a shower of sparks and a loud, popping sound.

“Nico? Don’t look at them, just look at me, please.”

Nico turns his gaze to Will, who has a worried expression on his face. “Let me help.”

An old instinct surges up then, a carefully trained reflex that tells Nico to yell I don’t need your help! in Will’s face. He pushes it down, though, and tells himself that Will is his friend, that his intentions are honest.

Nico nods, just barely. “Okay.”

Will blows out a breath and lifts a hand. “Can I touch you? I know what you’re going to say—”

“I’ll hurt you—”

“—but you won’t, Nico,” Will says firmly. “You didn’t, in the woods, and you won’t now.”

Nico hesitates. “But I—”

“I trust you,” Will blurts.

Nico’s heart skips a beat.

“Why?”

“Because I know you,” Will says simply.

And what’s Nico supposed to say to that?

After a moment of deliberation (he pretends to think about it despite already knowing his answer), Nico is heartened by Will’s unwavering certainty, and he agrees, for better or for worse.

Slowly, gently, Will places his hands on Nico’s shoulders. The touch helps ground him immediately, and if he wasn’t frozen with fear over hurting Will, he probably would’ve collapsed into his arms ages ago.

“See?” Will says softly. “I’m fine.” He begins to rub his thumbs against Nico’s shoulders in soothing motions, and Nico has to stop himself from tearing up right there.

Will always makes him feel so… cared for, like he’s someone worthy of his time, someone worthy of his friendship.

(Which is precisely why Nico can never ruin this by confessing to Will. He can’t lose him. Even if it’s written in the stars for him to lose all of the people he loves, he needs Will to be the exception.)

“How are you feeling?” Will asks, bringing Nico out of his thoughts.

“A little better,” he admits quietly. This earns him a small smile from Will, who starts to move his hands up and down Nico’s arms, as if trying to warm him up. Nico thinks he might have died and gone to Elysium.

His gaze drifts to the ground, to the dry, yellow grass at his feet, but Will squeezes his arm lightly, prompting him to snap his head back up.

“Don’t think about that right now, just focus on me, okay?” Will tells him, and well, Nico’s not going to let a perfectly good opportunity to study Will’s beauty go to waste.

As he traces Will’s smile lines and counts the freckles scattered across his face like Will’s very own constellations, the tension trickles from his body until his bunched shoulders drop and his taut spine sags.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I accidentally burned Drew?” Will says suddenly, and Nico blinks, refocusing on the bright blue of Will’s eyes.

“No, I don’t think so.” Nico wonders where this is going, but he lets Will continue.

“It was a couple months before you came to camp,” he says, something fond in his voice at the mention of when they first met. Nico’s stomach does a stupid little flip. “It was during a capture the flag game—” Will sighs “—because of course it was during a capture the flag game—and her leg got caught in a bear trap.”

Nico cringes. “Yikes.”

“Yeah. Would not recommend,” Will agrees.

A breath that could almost be laugh escapes Nico, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

“Anyways, the damage was severe. If I didn’t work fast, we would’ve had to amputate it,” Will explains,” so it took a lot of my healing magic to fix it. In the process, though, my hands got so hot they ended up leaving burn marks on her skin.”

Nico’s eyes widen. “That’s possible?”

Will shrugs. “Apparently. I barely even noticed since I was so focused on healing her leg. Let’s just say she was not very pleased with the hand-shaped burns on her shin.” A shadow passes over Will’s face as he seems to be lost in a memory.

“Wait, so were your hands burned?” Nico asks.

Will freezes up like a deer caught in headlights. “Um… yes?” he says sheepishly.

Nico gawks. “Will!” he hisses. “Hades, for all the times you lecture me about needing to take care of myself—”

“I know, I know,” Will placates, giving his arms a gentle squeeze,” but they weren’t that bad! Besides, it seemed like a small price to pay for Drew to keep her leg. I imagine I would be in much worse shape if I had let that happen.” He shivers.

Some of his worry softens, and Nico rolls his eyes fondly at Will’s discomfort. “I guess you have a point. But can you keep the burning hands to a minimum, please? I like you better when you’re intact.”

“Aww, you really do care about me,” Will coos, as if it isn’t obvious, as if Nico wouldn’t travel across cities and oceans to keep Will safe.

“Tolerate,” Nico corrects, as if he could ever pretend like he feels anything but love for Will.

Will just smiles. “Don’t worry, it’s not really something I plan on repeating anytime soon.”

“Good,” Nico states.

“Good. So, how do you feel now?” Will asks.

Nico furrows his brows. “About what?”

“Um, your powers?”

Nico blinks, and it’s like his surroundings come crashing back in. Right. Campfire. People. His powers are about to go haywire.

Or, they were, a minute ago. Now, all his mind can think about is Will and his smile and his hands on his arms, warm against his chilled skin.

“Are you falling asleep on me, di Angelo?” Will teases, but there’s still a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Sorry,” Nico says, giving Will a tiny, reassuring smile. “I feel… fine, actually.”

Will moves his hand only to do a little fist pump, leaving Nico’s arm feeling bare and exposed. “Yes! I’m the best healer ever!”

Gods, Nico really had to fall for a complete dork.

(He wouldn’t have it any other way.)

“You’re such an idiot,” Nico tries to tell him, but he’s cut off mid-sentence by a yawn.

Will’s expression softens. He leans over to Kayla beside him, whispering something to her before turning back to Nico. “Come on, Death Boy,” he says, getting up off the log and extending his hand. “You’ve had a long day. Let’s get you back to your cabin before you really do fall asleep on me.”

For a moment, Nico still hesitates in taking his hand, but he pushes back the fear and does it anyway, hiding a smile when Will interlocks their fingers like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I haven’t had a long day.”

“Nico, I know you think you can hide when you aren’t feeling great, but you can’t. Not from me, anyway,” Will informs him gently.

Oh. Is he really that obvious?

“So you’ve known I’ve been… whatever this is—” Nico gestures helplessly with his free hand “—the whole time?”

Will nods as they continue towards Nico’s cabin. The campfire is now merely a distant glow behind them, voices merging into a soft, faraway hum.

“You’re good at hiding it. Scary good, actually.” Will shoots him a pointed look.

Nico huffs. “So how you can tell?”

Will is quiet for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. “It’s hard to explain,” he starts finally. “It’s like you’re normal but not quite. There’s something distinctly you lacking.”

“I hope you know that doesn’t make any sense.”

Glaring, Will shoves him in the shoulder, but instead of moving back to a safe distance away (as in safe for Nico’s heart), he stays close. Their arms brush together with every step, and Nico’s sure this is how he dies. “I told you it was hard to explain.”

Nico wants to make a sarcastic comment, but exhaustion is weighing on him and inhibiting the “making fun of Will” part of his brain, instead desperately trying to employ the “hopelessly in love with Will” part. Nico manages to shut that down, though.

Barely.

Another yawn escapes him before he settles on simply saying, “You did.”

Will gives him a funny look but doesn’t say anything, and a comfortable silence settles over them until they arrive at the Hades cabin. Nico leads Will through the door without even really thinking about it. It’s become so natural for them to spend the day in here together, reading or playing card games or watching movies off the laptop they borrowed (re: stole) from the Athena cabin.

He immediately flops onto the bed with a sigh of relief, although he does feel a pang of loss when he lets go of Will’s hand to do it. Luckily, he had already changed into his pyjamas before the campfire, so he won’t even have to move from the bed now that he’s here. Thank the gods for small mercies.

Will sits on the edge of the bed, something in his expression that Nico can’t quite read. “You know how I told you that story? About Drew?”

Frowning, Nico gets up so he’s sitting criss-cross on the bed, attention solely on Will. “Yeah? It happened, like, fifteen minutes ago.”

Will gives him a half-hearted glare. “Shut up,” he grumbles. “Do you know why I told you it?”

Nico thinks about it for a minute. Originally, he had thought it was just to distract him, but Will’s making it sound like there’s something more to it. He’s too tired to figure it out right now, though. “Weren’t you just trying to distract me?”

“Yes and no,” Will tells him quietly. “I wanted you to know that losing control of your powers isn’t completely uncommon. I can tell you’re beating yourself up about it, and that’s not fair to you, so stop it. Please. It happens to the best of us.”

An inconvenient lump forms in Nico’s throat, and he lowers his gaze, picking at a loose thread in his pants. “It’s just annoying. And… frustrating.” Telling Will how he feels still sometimes makes him want to hurl himself off a cliff, but he’s improving. Slowly.

“I know. Trust me, I know,” Will says. “But you don’t have to deal with everything by yourself, Nico. There’s people who want to help you. I want to help you, okay? You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

The back of Nico’s eyes start to sting, and he squeezes them shut. He will not cry. Not now. “I know,” he responds, voice wavering slightly.

“Do you?” There’s nothing accusing in it, only gentle concern.

Nico swallows. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? Or, any time other than right now?”

He dares to look up and meet Will’s eyes, afraid they’ll be filled with disappointment, but all he finds is understanding and an overwhelming amount of care. “Of course. I’ll let you get some sleep.” Will moves to get off the bed, but fear latches onto Nico, squeezing his chest so hard he’s worried he’ll suffocate.

“Wait!” he calls, a tad too desperately.

Will stops and looks back at him, a tad too hopefully.

“Can you— can you stay? I don’t want to be alone right now,” Nico admits, and maybe that’s pathetic, childish, but he’s still afraid something will happen that will trigger his powers, and if it does, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to get through it alone. Plus, Will always makes him feel better, safer, no matter the situation.

To his relief, Will’s expression softens and he climbs back into the bed, sliding under the covers with Nico following suit. “You don’t have to be so nervous, Neeks,” Will says, studying his face. “You know I’d never say no. I’ll stay with you whenever you need. Or want. Or whatever. I’m gonna stop talking now, and maybe go to sleep to avoid saying anything else stupid.”

Nico laughs at the pink rising in Will’s cheeks. “Yeah. We can sleep if you need. Or want. Or whatever.”

Will shoves Nico’s shoulder, which only makes him laugh harder. “Shut up.”

“Shutting up,” Nico says, zipping his lips with his fingers.

Will smiles. “You’re a dork.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I thought you were shutting up,” Will says smartly.

Nico raises an eyebrow. “Well, I thought you were gonna stop talking, but here we are.”

They glare at each other for a minute, before Will lets out a huge yawn. Nico laughs softly. “I think that’s our cue. Goodnight, Will.”

Will gives him a gentle smile, reaching out and brushing a strand of hair out of his eye. Nico’s heart stutters in his chest. “Goodnight, Nico.”

Nico shuts his eyes before he does anything stupid, like profess his undying love right then and there. The ghost of Will’s touch still lingers on his skin.

iv.

The unnatural chill is, for lack of a better term, what wakes him up. Technically, he’s not awake right now. Nico knows he’s in a dream, which is a lot better than not knowing, but most of the time they’re so vivid he forgets halfway through that it’s not real.

He takes in his surroundings and finds he’s in the Underworld, somewhere nearby his father’s palace. The rocky terrain and dark, swirling sky is all familiar to him now, but a pang of fear shoots through him. It doesn’t feel quite right, almost like an echo of the emotion ricocheting from someone else.

Nico glances down at his hands. They’re smaller than they are now, lacking the callouses he’s gained over the years of sword fighting and possessing a sickly pale pallor. Instantly, Nico knows what memory he’s in. He hasn’t had this dream in a while, but it all comes rushing back to him with crystal clarity.

It’s not so much that Nico knows he’s coming—he does, since he’s relived this many times before—but more like he senses him. The roaring of the Styx seems to quiet, and a chill crawls up Nico’s spine.

“Hello, my dear Nico.” Minos appears in front of him, a garish, ghostly form, wearing a sickly sweet smile. “Are you ready for training?”

Nico tries to open his mouth and yell at his old mentor, tell him he’s done with him and his stupid games. Even running in the opposite direction would be nice, but Young Nico was naive, and didn’t know any better than to listen.

Nico’s hand grabs his sword at his hip and nods determinedly. “Yes, King Minos. I am.”

Minos drifts closer to him and puts a hand on his shoulder. Nico wants to recoil, but instead he feels pleased. Ugh. Memory dreams are weird.

“Well, then,” Minos says, mouth contorting into a wicked smile. “Let’s begin.”

The temperature drops, and with a snap of Minos’ fingers, Nico is surrounded. Empousai, hellhounds, dracaenae, cynocephali—all sorts of monsters zero in on him and begin to prowl forward.

Terror freezes his body, but Nico pushes it down and draws his sword. He doesn’t waste a second, beginning to cut through the mass of creatures. He does okay for a while, keeping them at bay before they can get any severely damaging hits in, but he’s just a kid. Even now, four years later, Nico doesn’t know if he could take all of them on at once.

Minos is not helping matters. He stands off to the side shouting things Nico wishes he could unhear, wishes didn’t still clang around in his head at some of his darker moments.

“Faster, boy!” the ghost king sneers. “You’ll be nothing but a light snack in no time if you don’t pick it up!”

Nico tries desperately to follow his orders, striving to please him, but his energy is draining out of him like petals floating down a stream. But even when his muscles scream for mercy, even when a hellhound swipes a claw down his arm and leaves gashes dripping with blood, he doesn’t stop. He fights until his knees buckle, and then he does his best cutting at legs and stomachs until his swords slips from his sweaty grip and clatters to the ground.

Nico resigns to his fate. There are still so many left, he’ll be dead in seconds. What happens when you die in the Underworld? Will his soul be sent to Charon, even if he’s already crossed the River Styx? Will his ghost separate from his body and he'll be subjected to watch as the monsters glean his carcass of meat until he is nothing but a shiny skeleton? They are disturbing thoughts to have as an eleven year old.

Just as he’s sure it’s over, there’s a snap, and all the creatures vanish, leaving Nico lying on his side, arms around his stomach and body quaking.

“Get up.”

With the crumbs of energy he has left, Nico scrambles to his feet, using his sword to support him.

Minos trains his piercing glare on him, and Nico wishes he could sink into the floor. “After all this time I’ve spent with you, all the lessons and wisdom you’ve been bestowed with, that is all you’ve got?”

Somewhere, in the far corner of his mind, Nico knows this isn’t fair. Isn’t right. But he ignores that thought, focusing on simply keeping himself from shaking in fear.

“It does make me wonder why The Fates went for your sister instead,” Minos muses. Nico feels like someone punched him in the gut. “So much potential, that one had. And now there’s just… you.”

He says the word like it’s poison on his tongue, wrinkling his nose in distaste. Nico wishes Minos had left him with those monsters to die. Then he wonders if Minos would find him even in death, and he wishes he could be nothing at all.

“I’m disappointed in you, dear Nico,” Minos tuts, raising his eyebrows. “To earn my respect once more, you’ll have to prove yourself. Do you understand?”

Feeling separate from his body, Nico nods despondently. “Yes, King Minos.”

Minos’ gaze does something that could be considered softening, but it looks twisted and wrong on his features. “You know I only want what’s best for you.”

He summons another wave of monsters, leaving Nico to fight them. And when he tires once more, Minos gives him another lecture, how Bianca was the better sibling and he would never be good enough, never be accepted. But Nico must never forget Minos only does all this because he cares for him and “wants the best” for him.

And then he brings forth another wave, and the cycle repeats.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And a—

Nico jolts upright with a gasp, fingers clutching the bedsheets tightly. For a moment, he wonders if Minos got bored and just left him to die. But Nico knows he is not in the Underworld.

It was only a dream. A dream of something that did really happen, sure, but it’s in the past now.

The relief of his epiphany is short-lived as he comes back to himself. The room is lit by the soft glow of a lamp shaped like a moon on his nightstand, giving him enough light to see the writhing shadows gathered at his shoulders. Nico tries to push them away, but that seems to only make them grow.

Seriously? Twice in one day? Hades, he just wants to sleep peacefully. He realizes this is a tall order for a demigod, but a guy can dream.

Nico closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Calm. He simply needs to be calm, and everything will be fine. He finds his mind drifting to Will, telling him about Connor being murdered via bookshelf by Malcolm and Drew having burn marks shaped like hands. He thinks about how Will likes his smile and how he never gave up on him, no matter how many times he could’ve. Only then does he remember.

Nico turns to the side and finds another person in his bed, familiar blond curls fanned out on the pillow around an impossibly beautiful face. Will always looks so peaceful when he sleeps. All the worry lines pinched between his brows smooth away, and his mouth seems to tilt up in a tiny, content smile.

The sight heals something in Nico’s chest, and suddenly, he can breathe a lot easier.

As quickly as they came, the shadows dissipate, blending into the corners and crevices of his cabin. Nico blows out a breath and flops back down on his pillow, tucking his hand under his cheek and looking at Will.

Gods, what would Nico ever do without him?

As if sensing his gaze, Will stirs, slowly blinking awake. “Nico?” he mumbles.

Nico tries to keep the adoring smile off his face. He definitely fails. Hopefully Will’s too sleepy to notice. “I’m okay. Go back to sleep,” he whispers.

Will hums noncommittally, rubbing his eyes. When he looks at Nico again, his face drops. “You’re crying.”

Is he? Nico reaches a hand up to his cheek and feels a tear trailing down his skin. Huh. He hadn’t even noticed.

“I’m okay,” Nico repeats. “Promise. I had a nightmare and my powers started being annoying, but I got it under control.”

Will raises his eyebrows. “Your powers started ‘being annoying.’”

“Yes, that’s what I just said. Keep up.”

Will rolls his eyes, but does appear to be more relaxed. “Alright. You’re sure you’re okay now?”

Nico considers this and ultimately nods. “Mostly.” The last of the adrenaline is still racing through his veins, but his airway is no longer seizing up, which he takes to be a good thing.

A brief silence descends between them. Will’s gaze darts around Nico’s face, and Nico pushes down the warmth creeping into his cheeks at the attention. After a minute, Will raises his hand.

“Can I?”

Instantly, Nico knows what he’s asking, and for a split second, he wants to shrink away. But his fear has proved to be an empty, frivolous thing, so he nods, just once.

Will’s hand comes to rest on his cheek, his thump swiping away a tear, and then it moves up into his hair, fingers brushing through his curls. Nico immediately feels so utterly and completely relaxed it’s rather embarrassing. His head sinks into the pillow and his eyelids flutter shut of their own accord.

Will laughs softly. “You’re cute.”

Nico's stomach flutters. “And you’re beautiful,” he murmurs.

Will’s hand freezes, and Nico hears his breath hitch. Shit. He had not meant to say that out loud.

Nico opens his eyes cautiously and is greeted by the sight of Will as red as a tomato. To be fair, Nico’s pretty sure he doesn’t look much better.

“Um— I mean—” Nico fumbles, not sure how to get himself out of this situation. Did he just ruin everything? He really hopes not.

Then, to his relief and slight confusion, Will breaks into a huge grin, laughter tumbling off his lips. It’s a little higher-pitched than Nico is used to, a little nervous, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Wow. I like Sleepy Nico,” Will says, eyes crinkling. “He’s a lot nicer than Awake Nico.”

“Shut up,” Nico groans, swatting at Will’s shoulder. “My filter has betrayed me.”

Will’s hand begins to card through his hair once more, and Nico is reduced to nothing but a puddle of affection.

Gods, he loves him. He loves Will Solace. And he really hopes he didn’t say that out loud.

Luckily, he still has some control over what comes out of his mouth, and manages to not thoroughly embarrass himself again.

“Do you wanna talk about it? Your nightmare?” Will studies Nico, as if trying to pull the answers out himself.

Nico sighs. “It was about Minos. A memory that sometimes becomes a dream. I haven’t had that one in a while.”

Will doesn’t say anything, but looks at him softly, silently imploring him to continue.

“It was a couple months into my training with him. He…” Nico struggles to find the words, a lump forming in his throat.

“Take your time,” Will murmurs, fingers gently detangling his curls.

Nico swallows. “He summoned a bunch of different monsters—like, an army of them, and made me fight them all. I was too weak to kill all of them, though.”

“You weren’t weak, Nico,” Will tells him. “You were a kid.”

It’s been hard for Nico to come to terms with that—that none of it was really his fault. He was used by Minos, easy to manipulate when he was drowning in an overwhelming ton of grief, and anger, and guilt. He did things and said things he regrets, but he was young and had been taken advantage of. All he wanted was his sister back, and Minos fed on his desperation like a starving dog.

“I know,” Nico assures Will, and he's surprised to find he means it. “Anyways, when I was too tired to go on and I was sure I was gonna be dinner for a hellhound, Minos sent all the monsters away.” He pulls in a steadying breath. “He gave me a lecture and then made me fight them all again. I don’t know how many times we went on like that. I think I must’ve passed out, and that’s when he finally stopped.”

“That’s awful,” Will says once he finishes, clear horror in his voice. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“He’s already dead.”

“Well then, I’m gonna have you resurrect him, and then I’m gonna kill him again,” Will decides, deadly serious.

Nico snorts, a warm, happy feeling spreading in his chest. “Killing’s not really your style, sunshine.”

“I don’t care. He can’t just get away with what he did to you.” Will’s voice is full of barely restrained fury, a complete juxtaposition to the gentle way his fingers slide through his hair.

If Nico had still doubted Will truly cared about him, it would have been impossible to now.

“Hey.” He places a soothing hand on Will’s forearm. “It’s okay. He can’t hurt me anymore. Plus, resurrection is a lot harder than you’re making it sound, and I would know,” he teases.

The tension drains from Will’s frame, and he sighs. “Ugh, you’re right. I still wanna kill him, though.”

“Who doesn’t?” Nico says. His jaw cracks open with a yawn, completely in sync with Will.

They both laugh. “We should get back to sleep,” Will says softly.

Nico nods in agreement. He expects Will to pull his hand out of his hair, but he doesn’t, instead continuing his ministrations. A quiet hum of contentment slips past his lips, the soothing motion lulling him closer and closer to sleep, and Will smiles.

Just before he falls into unconsciousness, Nico has the urge to tell Will one more thing. He doesn't know why, given he'd purposely avoided saying anything about it while recounting his nightmare. Maybe he's wondering if it's true.

“He always said Bianca was the better sibling, that I would never be good enough.” Nico doesn’t clarify who he’s talking about, but he knows Will will understand the way he knows the sun will rise in the morning.

Will doesn’t respond for a second, and then he leans over and presses a kiss to Nico’s forehead.

“You’re more than good enough for me.”

+1

The sky is free of clouds today, leaving the sun in an endless canvas of blue, and Nico wishes he brought sunglasses.

To be fair, he hadn’t gone to the infirmary thinking he would end up in the woods not long after arriving. He had gone thinking he needed to drag Will out of there by the ear if he had to. Will seems to forget a lot that he doesn’t have to be there 24/7, and really shouldn’t be for the sake of, you know, his health.

Unfortunately, Nico couldn’t convince Will to stop doing the paperwork he was “this close to finishing”—as if—but had gotten him to continue it outside. For all the times Will harps at him for being a hermit, he really should look in the mirror.

Nico is reading a book—well, he’s trying to. He keeps getting distracted by a certain blond sitting next to him against a tree, hunched over a thick stack of documents and twiddling his pen.

Will always looks beautiful, but he looks especially good in the sunlight. His golden hair seems to glow, and the freckles splattered on his skin become more apparent, like stars in the sky. Nico supposes he has Apollo to thank for that.

A spider skitters across his page, and he flicks it off, watching it scramble away through the grass.

He wants to tell him. Scratch that—he wants to tell Will many things, but this one thing keeps pressing against his skull, trying to flee his mind. Maybe, if he does tell him, it will make the other things feel easier.

With that thought in mind, Nico places his book on the ground and gets to his feet, pacing around the clearing.

Will glances up from his work. “Nico?” he says, brow furrowing.

Nico holds up a finger, trying to organize his thoughts, then stops in front of Will. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything,” Will replies instantly, shoving his papers to the side and standing. Nico’s heart swells.

He takes a deep breath. Once. Twice. It really shouldn’t be this hard, he thinks. He’s told Will so much worse, and he still stuck around. But he worries that this will finally be the thing that makes him see that they’re just too fundamentally different, two stars on opposite sides of the universe.

Still, he owes Will an explanation, so he straightens his shoulders and inhales sharply. “It’s about why I was afraid to let you touch me when my powers were going berserk.”

Will takes a step closer, watching him carefully. “You said you were worried it would trigger your decay powers.”

This is Will’s way of giving him an out if Nico decides he doesn’t want to tell him. Nico appreciates it, he does, but he feels a strange need to tell him, a tug that tries to pull the words right out his mouth.

“That is true, but that’s not… entirely it,” Nico admits. He twists his skull ring around his finger, biting his lip nervously. “When I was younger…”

Gods. He just needs to bite the bullet. What kind of expression is that, anyway? Why would he ever have to bite a bullet? English is weird. Although, he supposes Italian also has some funny expressions. If you want to tell someone “good luck”, you say “In bocca al lupo,” which directly translates to “in the mouth of the wolf”. That doesn’t sound very encouraging.

It’s also completely unrelated to what Nico needs to be doing right now.

Alright. Where was he? He looks at Will, who raises his eyebrows slightly. “When you were younger…”

“Right. I used to catch bugs with Bianca. Grasshoppers, ladybugs, spiders, crickets—they were interesting, when I was seven, and Bianca indulged me.” Sometimes, talking about his sister causes a chasm to split open in his chest, a dull, aching pain that makes him want to lock himself in his cabin and hide away from the world. Right now, though, it’s actually helping ease his anxiety. Bianca always made him feel safe, and her memory is no different.

“One time, I had a grasshopper on my finger and it— it died,” Nico forces out. “I didn’t really think much of it the first time, but then it kept happening.”

He watches Will’s face carefully as he says all this, waiting for the inevitable horror and disgust, maybe even revulsion. But Will doesn’t portray any of this. Instead, he just looks… sad, eyebrows drawn together and mouth downturned slightly.

It doesn’t matter, Nico thinks. Maybe it hasn’t set in yet, and once it does, Will will wonder why he ever bothered with him in the first place. Whatever, it’s too late to take it back now, so he presses on.

“One day, Bianca and I were down by this lake near our house. We found frogs. A lot of them. I didn’t think about it, I just—” Nico makes a grabbing motion with his hand. “But once I had it, it stopped moving, and started… decomposing, like when I accidentally rot food nearby when I’m upset.”

Nico trains his gaze on the ground, staring so hard he wonders if his eyes will pop out of their sockets. “You see?” he whispers, voice wavering. “I can kill things just by touching them. I’m broken, Will.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Nico wishes he could take it all back. He shouldn’t have listened to his stupid brain that wanted so desperately to explain himself.

He refuses to look at Will, doesn’t want to watch him as he leaves.

Nico is so focused on staring at a single blade of grass swaying gently in the breeze that he doesn’t notice the shoes moving closer until they’re almost toe to toe.

Okay. Will wants to tell him how awful he thinks Nico is before he leaves. That’s fine. Nico’s heard it all before.

Then hands come to rest on his shoulders, and he freezes.

“Look at me, Nico,” Will urges, gentle but firm.

Tentatively, Nico raises his head, leaning back slightly from how close he finds himself to Will's summer blue eyes.

“You are not broken,” he says fiercely, a determined look on his face. “You were seven years old. You couldn’t have been expected to understand, and you shouldn’t have had to understand in the first place.” Will exhales sharply. “Gods, being a demigod can be really shitty sometimes, huh?”

Despite himself, Nico snorts quietly, half amusement and half disbelief. “You’re telling me. So you’re not mad? Or, I don’t know, revolted?” He tries to sound like he’s joking, but there’s too much nervousness behind it.

Will’s eyes widen. “What? Of course not, did you think I—” he cuts himself off, looking a little frazzled, and then Nico is being pulled tightly to his chest.

Well. Will hugging him is definitely not how he thought this was going to go. Quite the opposite, actually, but you won't catch him complaining.

“I would never think that, Nico.” Will’s face is pressed into his hair, and Nico feels a little dizzy. “Never ever, okay?”

For a second, Nico considers making a joke, something about how saying “never ever” made Will sound like a kid, but that would probably make it seem like he didn’t appreciate the words, and he definitely did, considering he’s actively trying not to cry. Come to think of it, he's been trying not to cry a lot recently. How annoying.

Nico settles on simply saying, “Okay.”

Will holds him a little bit tighter, and a tear slips down Nico’s cheek without his permission. Stupid Will Solace and his stupid ability to make Nico a stupid, emotional mess. Conveniently for him, though, Will’s chest is right there, so Nico presses his face further into it, his arms settling hesitantly around his back. 

There. Perfect for hiding his tears and he’s doing it for no other reason, thank you. Definitely not because he’s never felt so safe and comfortable in his life. He breathes in Will's familiar scent—coffee, that herbal tea he's always drinking, and a hint of antiseptic—and it feels a bit like he's coming home.

Will’s hand starts to run up and down his back, the other arm still wrapped firmly around his waist, and Nico is powerless to stop the way he completely melts into his hold.

“Wow. Remind me why I didn’t let you do this earlier?” Nico mutters. Will laughs, and Nico can't decide whether he’s glad Will heard him or not.

(He’s definitely glad, if only because of the way he can feel Will’s laughter resonate through his chest.)

“You actually just gave me a whole speech on the answer to that question,” Will replies teasingly, a smile clear in his voice.

“Right. And after hearing said speech, remind me how you are completely positive I won’t accidentally shrivel you?”

Will pulls away just enough to look at Nico. “Like I said before, because I know you,” he says.

Nico raises his eyebrows. “You sound very sure of that.”

“Because I am,” Will enunciates, eyes shining. “I know you, Nico. I know that you tell people your favourite colour is black, but it’s actually blue because it reminds you of the ocean in Venice.”

Nico frowns. He forgot he had even told Will that. It had been an offhand comment he'd made while they were lazing around in the Hades cabin, talking about everything and nothing while tossing a ball between them.

The reasoning is partially true—it does remind him of what he can remember of his hometown, but it's mostly because of Will's eyes. There's no chance in hell Nico's admitting that, though.

“How do you even remember that?” he asks.

Will ignores him. “I know that you eat breakfast on a weekly cycle—yogurt on Mondays, a muffin on Tuesdays, pancakes on Wednesdays, eggs on Thursdays, a muffin again on Fridays because you love them, waffles on Saturdays, and cereal on Sundays.”

“What in Hades—”

“I know that you like skull shirts because of your dad but also because you never grew out of your pirate phase—don’t even try to fight me on that—and I know you learned how to braid hair for Bianca and now you do it for Piper and any of the younger kids who ask.” Will pauses only to take a breath. “I know you like to make stuff up about the 1940s to freak people out. I know you secretly love musicals and you always try not to smile when me or my siblings make a reference to one. I know you like to read and talk to Chiara in Italian so you don't lose the language.”

Will keeps going, listing off things about Nico that Nico himself didn’t even realize he did. Does Will really pay this much attention to him? Sure, Nico knows a lot about Will—he knows he forgets to eat when he’s working long shifts in the infirmary and will start getting irritable if Nico doesn’t bring him a granola bar by three o’clock, he knows he bites his lip when he’s anxious to the point that it bleeds, he knows he has the infirmary in a very particular organization system that only makes sense to him, and will freak out if something gets put in the wrong place—but Nico has a massive crush on the guy. Not that he doesn’t pay attention to his friends, of course he does, but Will is… different.

So Will knowing all this, could it mean… No. Nico can’t let himself get his hopes up. He doesn’t get to have things like this in his life, it just isn’t in the cards.

Still, a warmth spreads through his chest the more Will talks. Hope is a stubborn, tenacious flame that endures the harshest of winds and burns from the slightest of sparks.

“Whenever someone says something you don’t agree with, you wrinkle your nose a bit,” Will continues. Nico becomes aware of how close their faces have become, how he’d barely have to move to bridge the gap between their lips. And he wants to. Gods, he wants to more than he thinks he’s wanted anything in the world.

“When you’re nervous to tell me something, you bite the inside of your right cheek.” Will smiles. “I like to think I’ve gotten pretty good at knowing what you’re thinking.”

A sudden boldness zips through Nico. “Oh yeah?” he interjects softly before Will can go on. “What am I thinking right now?”

Awareness seems to dawn on Will as he looks down at Nico, a blush creeping up his neck. “I-” he stutters, eyes blown wide. Their noses brush, and Will's gaze darts to Nico's lips. Nico tries not to spontaneously combust and isn't sure if he's entirely successful.

“I don’t know,” Will whispers. “You’re gonna have to tell me.”

Nico swallows. He seems to be biting lots of bullets today. “I really want to kiss you.”

In the millisecond it takes Will to respond, Nico’s stomach performs an entire gymnastics routine and he feels like he's about to throw up. “Well then,” Will says finally, voice quivering. “What are you waiting for?”

With his heart beating so hard it might crack a rib, Nico moves across the last few inches between them until they’re nonexistent, until his eyes flutter shut, until their lips brush—

The first one is brief, a short, hesitant touch, but Nico feels electrified all over. His hands land on Will’s shoulders, Will’s on his waist, and then he’s being pulled impossibly closer, and their lips meet again.

Briefly, Nico wonders if this is what it feels like to explode. Every nerve ending in his body is on fire, burning him from the inside out, and yet he has no desire to be anywhere but Will’s arms.

The kiss is slow and tender, leaving Nico buzzing with both nerves and excitement. Will's lips are slightly chapped, and he tastes like strawberries and the KitKat they split after lunch. One of Nico’s hands grips the soft fabric of Will’s camp shirt while the other slides around the back of his neck, fingers toying with the ends of his curls.

Will places a hand on his jaw, tilting his head slightly and running his thumb along his cheek. A million skeletal butterflies erupt in Nico's stomach.

After what feels like anywhere between a split second and a lifetime, they separate, chests heaving. Nico opens his eyes to find Will already staring at him, looking at Nico as if he is his entire world. It’s enough to knock the breath from his lungs once more.

They’re quiet for a moment, studying each other while their breaths mingle in the space between them. A bird chirps in a nearby tree and bugs hum quietly in the background, a constant, gentle buzzing in Nico's ears.

“So,” Nico starts once he finds his voice. His words come out hoarse. “Now you know.”

Will blinks, looking a little dazed. “Now I know what?”

“What my ‘I really want to kiss you’ face looks like.”

“Oh, that’s what that is?” Will’s voice shakes with what Nico soon realizes is amusement. “You look at me like that all the time.”

Nico’s jaw drops as a huge grin splits Will’s face. He tries to muster his best glare, but it’s basically impossible, not with Will glowing with pure joy, not when he just kissed him.

And, to be honest, he’s probably not wrong.

Will tries to kiss him again, but they’re both grinning like idiots. “Stop smiling, I want to kiss you,” he huffs, feigning annoyance.

Nico can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of him, bright and buoyant. “You stop smiling.”

“No you.”

“No you.”

“No you.”

“No you.”

They go back and forth until they’re both laughing too hard to speak, never once separating even in the slightest. Nico thinks that this is probably the happiest he’s ever been in his life.

“Gods,” Will murmurs once they catch their breath. “I love you, Nico.”

The air gets stuck in his throat, and Nico’s heart stops briefly before restarting and thumping wildly in his chest.

Will grabs his hand and squeezes it. “You don’t have to say it—“

“I love you, too,” Nico blurts, because he doesn’t think he could contain it any longer without bursting. "Hades, I love you."

Will looks at him like he hung the moon and all the stars in the sky. Nico guesses he’s probably looking at him similarly.

Then, when Nico’s seriously considering kissing him again, Will wraps his arms around him and hugs him so tightly his feet leave the ground.

“Will!” Nico hisses, failing to sound annoyed. “Put me down, you idiot!”

“Nope.” Will spins him around, and Nico lets out a very undignified squeak.

“You’re gonna drop me!” he says, but he doesn’t really believe it. Against his better judgement, he trusts Will—trusts him a concerning amount.

It makes him think about how worried he was to hurt him when he lost control of his powers. It had seemed reasonable, considering his history, but now it feels almost silly. His abilities are an extension of himself, and Nico realizes there’s no way they’d ever hurt Will, even when he’s freaking out.

Will has become such a familiar thing to him, and he thinks perhaps his very being is tuned to protect him, to love him. Maybe it’s always been that way.

Will sets Nico down and presses a soft kiss to his cheek. Nico’s knees probably would’ve buckled if he hadn’t been holding onto Will’s shoulders.

“You’re insufferable,” he grumbles, but he’s smiling.

“You love me,” Will argues, eyes sparkling.

Nico huffs. “I love you,” he agrees, because he couldn’t have denied it if he tried.

Will grins and grabs his hand, interlacing their fingers.

“Well then, it’s a good thing I love you, too.”

Yes, Nico thinks, a fond smile growing on his face as he looks at Will.

A very, very good thing.