Chapter Text
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The day Nico snapped was supposed to be a normal Thursday.
But it was not. And nobody could ever change that.
Will had been sitting next to Nico while the smaller boy rambled about his sister — it helped him deal with the grief.
"I know," Will had said after Nico wailed that it hurt.
Nico had frozen, eyes wide and bloodshot.
"No, you don't," he had hissed. "Nobody does! Do you even know what loss is?"
He had screamed at Will until finally, he lunged at him with his Stygian iron, soul-reaping sword.
It had grazed Will's arm, and he had gasped, coughing a burst of red before his head hit the wall (and my head hit the wall. Bam!) and he passed out.
☀
Will woke three days later, head pounding.
He was lying on a cot under a thin blanket.
His arm was wrapped and the smell of herbs stung his nose, a telltale sign he was in the infirmary.
Chiron was sitting on a chair, folded awkwardly to fit the space.
Will sat up too fast, vision swimming as he shakily tossed the blanket to the floor.
"Easy, William," Chiron soothed.
Will glared at him. The hate he had for Chiron was mutual and always had been.
"Where's Nico?"
Chiron made no effort to be gentle. "The Listening Room."
Will's world froze.
The Listening Room was a plain white room with a giant bullet-proof window. The only food you were given was a dry piece of bread, if you were given food at all.
Will felt like vomiting. "No," he gasped. "No, no. He didn't — it was my fault. Get him out of there! It won't make anything better!"
Chiron gave a fake smile. "I'm sorry," he lied, "but Nico is dangerous. You almost died, William."
"My name is Will, not William."
Chiron raised and eyebrow.
Will yelled something incoherent at him and ran.
He ran and ran and ran.
He ran into the woods, where the room was tucked away. His feet were bloody by the time he reached it.
There, curled in the corner and shaking with sobs, was Nico di Angelo.