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ghosttotheparty · 2 years

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angel

AO3 // 10,644 words

Nico has a crush on Will Solace.

He’s not happy about it.

If anything, he’s bitter. He finally gets over one boy that he’s had a crush on for ages, finally comes to terms with his queerness, finally accepts it as a part of himself that isn’t awful or evil, finally decided to make an effort to live his life as himself without hiding, and then…

And then the universe drops this boy in his life, right in the way, and no matter what Nico does, no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get around him, can’t get over him.

He tries to annoyed with him, to be bothered by how he spends ninety seven percent of his time in the infirmary, by how he forced Nico to stay in bed for days on end, by how he taps his fingers on any surface within reach.

But he fucking can’t.

Even when he’s in the infirmary more often than anyone else, more often than his sibling and even the most clumsy campers, he’s helping people. Even when he forced Nico to stay, he was kind. He only touched him to heal him, left him alone when he wanted to be left alone, made fun of him just enough to get him to laugh, to relax. Even his incessant tapping is cute; soft gentle rhythms that sound like music.

Every single thing makes Nico fall harder and harder and harder, and he isn’t sure how many more times he can fall in love before it’s all too much.

And it makes it all worse that Will Solace is Nico’s best friend.

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“I cannot believe you got yourself stabbed.”

“I didn’t get myself stabbed, I got stabbed. There’s a difference.”

Nico watches Will shake his head, tutting quietly, and smiles fondly. Will’s hair is tied back in a little knot, out of his face, out of the way, exposing the angles of his face. Nico lets his head fall not the bed, shutting his eyes, trying to dismiss the desire to kiss him.

It hurts as Will cleans the would and keeps pressure on it, and Nico is self-conscious with his shirt tucked up to his armpits, but he’s facing away from Will, and knows Will can’t see the blush colouring his cheeks.

“It isn’t too deep,” Will says softly, thoughtfully, like he’s just thinking out loud. He speaks like that a lot. Sometimes Nico doesn’t know whether or not he’s meant to respond to him. “You’ll have a sick scar. And a story to tell, I guess.”

“Well, you know what they say,” Nico says, grimacing as Will applies the butterfly stitches.

“What’s that, Nico?” Will responds with a sigh, resigned to what he already seems to know is going to be some absolute bullshit.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve been impaled by a sword.”

Will snorts, and Nico grins, proud. He hasn’t seen Will smile all day. (Except the soft friendly ones that he’s given to the other patients, but Nico knows those aren’t real. He doesn’t seem to really smile much these days. He always looks so serious. So focussed, even when he’s just staring at a wall, or at his dinner plate. Like he’s too busy thinking, too busy in his own head, to exist with everyone else.)

“No one fucking says that, Nico,” Will says. He gently takes Nico’s shirt, pulling it down over his sides and the wound, then he touching Nico’s back, his hand sliding up his spine for a moment.

“Well, they should.” Nico starts to sit up, wincing, and Will grabs his arms, his other hand pressing to his upper back to help. “I think everyone should get stabbed at least once before they die.”

“You’re a menace to society,” Will says, and Nico finally looks up at him, relaxing against the headboard of the bed. He has an eyebrows raised, his lips curved into a small smile. Nico’s mouth goes dry, and he just shrugs.

They stare at each other for another second before Will looks away, across the infirmary, his eyes flicking around at kids being treated, like he’s searching for something. Nico takes a breath, tangling his fingers in his lap, looking down at Will’s hands as he takes off his gloves. His nails are painted purple, but they’re all chipped and scratched.

“So am I good to go or do I have to stay here for three days?“ Nico asks, looking up at him. Will’s eyes cut to him, and he’s smiling again.

“Well, you’re not in the verge of passing out right now,” he says, facing him again. “So I think you’re good to go.”

Nico sighs, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and looking around.

“Is Joy here today?”

“Wow,” Will says sarcastically, balling up the gloves and tossing them to the bin next to him. “You just wanna hang out with my sister, don’t you.” He raises his eyebrows, pressing his lips together in an I see how it is expression. “Your best friend.”

“Yeah, the superior Apollo kid.”

“Wow…”

Nico snickers, and Will reaches out and pokes him in the side. Nico swats his hand away even though he wants to grab it from the air and hold them close.

“Is she here or not?”

“Yeah, she’s dealing drugs.”

Nico gives him an immense eye roll and kicks him as he stands up. Will pokes him again. Nico sends a glare over his shoulder as he walks away, pretending Will’s little smile doesn’t make his whole body ache.

“Hi,” he greets Joy when he approaches her at her station, and she looks up from where she’s funnelling pain killers into a bottle.

“Hi!” she says brightly, her eyes wide. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I got stabbed.”

She stares, her eyebrows furrowing for a moment.

“I’m fine,” he clarifies. “Will fixed it up.”

“Ah.” She gives him a knowing look with a little nod, and his cheeks burn, before her brows furrow again. “He’s still here?”

“Uh. Yeah?”

She sighs heavily and looks past him, looking for Will, and Nico glances back. Will is talking to another camper, looking down at their wrist.

“Gosh.” Joy sighs again. Nico looks back at her questioningly.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” She tosses a hand. “He’s been here for days. He only leaves to shower and sleep and eat, and it doesn’t even feel like he does that often, you know?”

“Yeah,” Nico says softly. He knows.

“He’s overworking himself,” Joy says curtly, looking back down and finishing with the bottle of pills. “He’s not taking care of himself.”

Nico frowns, looking back at Will. He’s wrapping the kid’s wrist in bandages, brows furrowed in focus. Nico’s heart hurts.

“Should I tell him to leave?”

Joy twists the bottle shut until it clicks, looking up at Will.

“I don’t know,” she says weakly. “Vinny tried to tell him to leave last week for a day off and Will just got mad.”

“Mad?”

“Snapped at him,” Joy says softly. “Told him to leave him alone and mind his business.”

Nico doesn’t say anything. He’s looking at Will again. The camper thanks him with a bright smile, and Will smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and it falls as soon as the kid has their back to him. Then he sighs and looks to the ceiling.

“He insists that he knows how to take care of himself but I don’t think he does,” Joy says, almost to herself, like she’s just thinking out loud.

“Me either,” Nico agrees quietly.

Will smiles again when a kid comes up to him with a bleeding hand. It still doesn’t reach his eyes.

Nico watches him during dinner, and when he sees him mix his food around on his plate for a few minutes before he tosses his fork to his plate and sighs, something shifts. Nico looks down at his own plate, uneaten food, tossed aside fork.

He looks back at Will. Sees that achingly familiar emptiness in his eyes that must echo the emptiness in his chest.

And Nico’s eyes burn, because No. Not him. Please, not him too.

He lowers his head, letting his hair curtain around his face so no one sees as a tear falls down his cheek. He doubts anyone is looking, but he hides anyway. He always does.

He aggressively wipes the tear away, sniffling and hardening his face in a weak attempt to get his eyes to stop stinging, and he grabs his plate, swinging his legs over the bench of the Hades table. He dumps the rest of his food in the fire and leaves his dishes behind on the cart before he leaves.

(He doesn’t see Will watching him go.)

Nico shuts his door loudly behind himself, his angry face finally falling, his tears finally falling. And then he sits on the floor, his back against his bed, his forehead on his knees. He’s crying.

He hates crying.

It makes him feel weak, makes his head hurt and his hands shake. He can’t see when he’s crying because the whole world is swimming in salt water, and it scares him.

It scares him.

He hates himself for it, being scared by something he can’t control. (Maybe that’s the part that scares him.) (He hates himself for a lot of things.)

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Nico doesn’t see Will as much as he used to. They used to have lunch together in the dining hall, sitting across from each other and kicking at each other’s legs and muffling laughter behind their hands. They used to hang out in Nico’s cabin, reading or bickering or playing Mythomagic (which is to say, Will would listen patiently with a little smile while Nico would rant and ramble about Mythomagic).

Nico sometimes likes to lay sideways on his bed, his head hanging off the edge upside down, and Will used to sit on the ground in front of him when he did, close enough to kiss. (They never did.) Other times they’d sit up against the wall together, not touching because Nico couldn’t stand it, and Will was always kind. Patient.

He never said anything about the way Nico would chew on his sleeve or the string of his hoodie or whatever else was convenient. He never gave him weird looks when Nico made noises, quiet grunts or hums with no real purpose other than to lessen the heavy, overbearing feeling on his shoulders, and he never interrupted or told Nico to stop when he paced across the floor over and over or flapped his hands in the air or rocked back and forth. (He only intervened when Nico hit things, his legs or chest, or the floor or wall. He’d take a pillow and put it between Nico’s hands and whatever it was, ignoring Nico’s soft whine of Will… with a gentle, “I know you need it, Ni, but I’m not gonna let you hurt yourself, okay?”)

But he doesn’t really see Will anymore. Except in passing, only if Nico is awake early enough to see him on his way to the infirmary.

So he tries. He sets his alarm clock for a ridiculous fucking hour that he knows Will will be awake at, smacks it off in the morning with a loud groan. Heavily, tiredly gets dressed and brushes his teeth and pulls on his shoes, careful to make sure they’re on the right feet. Ties them messily and too tightly and doesn’t care.

He waits by the infirmary, leaning against a tree, giving Will’s siblings and the others little smiles until Will shows up. He stands up straight, looking at Will and waiting until he seems him too.

“Hey,” Will says lightly, looking up from the clipboard that’s resting on his arm when Dahlia elbows him. “You okay?”

Nico hesitates. Gestures a little come here, stepping away from the tree, and Will goes to him without question, following him to the side of the infirmary, hidden from view. Dahlia silently passes by them, going inside.

The sun is hidden by clouds, and Will looks sad, but he’s still almost glowing. He always is.

“Hi,” he says when he’s standing in front of Nico.

“I feel like I never see you anymore.”

His face burns as soon as he says it, mentally cursing his lack of filter when he’s tired. It sounds ridiculous. They’re not boyfriends.

Will’s face falls even more and he looks away, at the ground, at the dead leaves and dirt under their feet.

“I know,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“You work too much.”

Will blinks. Looks him in the eye.

“You’ve been talking to Joy.”

“I haven’t talked to Joy about you in two weeks,” Nico says almost defiantly. “I don’t need to talk to her to know you work too much. I don’t see you anymore.”

Will blinks again.

He doesn’t say anything, his lips pursing slightly in a tiny frown.

“I miss you,” Nico adds. He knows his cheeks are pink with embarrassment, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“I miss you too,” Will says in a small voice. “But I…”

“Can you take a day off?” Nico asks, clenching his fists in the pockets of his hoodie. “Just to hang out.”

Will’s eyebrows furrow, conflicted, and then he’s shaking his head. Slowly, like he doesn’t want to.

“I can’t, Ni.”

Nico looks away, disappointment and angry and frustration and despair tangling in his chest so messily that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The world is underwater again.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he hears Will sigh, and he looks at him, watching him toss the clipboard to the ground, and then Will is wrapping his arms around him tightly.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs as Nico is hugging him back, reaching up to wrap his arms around his neck, burying his face against him, and Nico believes him.

He squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s trying to absorb the feeling of Will’s arms around him. Tight and warm and safe.

When they finally pull away, Will wipes his tears away gently.

“…I really am sorry,” he says quietly.

Nico swallows, his eyes falling to Will’s necklaces. The string of colourful camp beads, a gold chain with a red heart charm on it.

“I know.”

They part. Will picks up his clipboard, biting his lip, and Nico pushes his hands back into his pockets.

“Will you eat dinner with me?” Will asks after a moment. “Tonight?”

Nico cuts his eyes up to him.

“Will you actually eat?”

Will scoffs, looking away. He’s smiling.

“Yeah, sure.” He sways on his feet, glancing over as more people go into the infirmary. “Will you?”

“…Yeah. Sure.”

Will smiles. Actually smiles. It makes Nico want to eat three meals a day for the rest of his life.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Will says softly. Nico nods. Will reaches out and takes his hand gently, squeezing it once and then releasing him.

Nico goes back to his cabin and falls asleep.

He sits across from Will at dinner, and kicks his legs under the table when he notices he’s not eating. Will kicks him back, and he begrudgingly picks up his fork, watching Will do the same.

Joy sits next to Nico. He knows she notices it all, the sneaking, smiling glances he and Will send each other, the little kicks and later on, the way their ankles lock, but she doesn’t say anything.

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It’s bright in Nico’s cabin when he wakes up. It’s not a pleasant thing to wake up to, ever; the knowledge that most of the day is gone, that the rest of world is passing him by. But it’s especially horrible when he wakes up like this: cold, sweating, gasping for breath, throwing his pillow across the room like it’s attacking him.

He looks around frantically, searching for something, but he doesn’t know what, his throat dry with gasps, his hands shaking, his eyes burning. He shrinks into himself, hiding, drawing his knees to his chest and squeezing his eyes shut.

And then he’s throwing himself out of bed, throwing clothes off the sofa across the room until he finds a hoodie, pulling it on quickly and searching for his shoes.

Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will Will

He barely closes the door behind himself, adrenaline coursing through his veins, every cell consumed by fear.

He bursts into the infirmary, his eyes scanning around the room, breathing hard.

“Nico?”

He turns sharply at Dahlia’s voice. She’s staring at him, wide-eyed, hands raised as if in surrender, close to his shoulders.

“Is Will here?”

“Uh, no?”

A pit grows in his stomach. It almost consumes him.

“Where— Where is he?” he asks, his voice breaking.

“I kicked him out,” she says. “He put up a hell of a fight but he should be in the Apollo cabin.”

“I…”

“Are you okay?” she asks gently. “Can I help you?” She says it kindly. He’s reminded of why he likes her.

“I have to go,” he says, his voice sharper than he intended, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He goes.

The door to the Apollo cabin is open like it always is, and he steps inside. Joy is sitting on the floor, a painting in the floor in front of her, half-finished. She looks up when she hears him.

“Are you okay?”

“Is Will here?” he asks, ignoring her question.

“He’s in bed.” She straightens her back, wincing as it cracks.

“Oh.” He looks up past her, at the doorway to the bedroom. He knows where Will’s is, in the corner against the wall, bottom bunk. He takes a breath. “I can… I can come back later.”

“He’s not asleep,” Joy says. “He’s just laying there.” He looks at her. Her eyes are wide, earnest. “He’s having a really rough day. Maybe seeing you will make him feel better.”

He exhales. And then goes, passing by her silently and pushing through the beaded entryway. It’s dark inside, all the curtains drawn.

“Will?”

Will is facing the wall, his arms wrapped around himself, but he sits up when Nico speaks, lifts his head and looking at him in the dim room. His brows are furrowed, his hair messy and tangled, his cheeks red and sleep warm, but Nico exhales, relief swallowing him whole.

“What’s wrong?”

(His voice is rough, and Nico almost shivers.)

“You’re okay?”

(His voice is shaking, and Will nods.)

“I’m okay.”

Nico nods, taking another breath that trembles on its way out. Will stares up at him for another moment before he lifts his arm.

“Come here.”

Nico deflates. He melts. He collapses onto the bed beside Will, pressing his face to his chest and taking a shuddering breath, his heart pounding in his chest.

“What happened?” he asks when his heart finally slows down.

Will’s hand runs down his back, over the folds of his hoodie.

“Got in a fight with Dahli.”

Will’s voice is small, clipped. Nico shifts so he can reach a hand up, run it over Will’s hair.

“I feel like shit about it,” Will continues. “She was just telling me to take today off because— because nothing was working out for me, and I—“

Will cuts off, choking on his words, and Nico shifts, moving up so his face is buried in Will’s neck, their chests pressed together. Will’s arms tighten.

“I wanna apologise,” Will says softly after a moment. “When I see her tonight.”

Nico nods against him.

“She’ll understand,” he whispers.

Will sighs. Nico feels his chest rise and fall against him.

“Why did you come looking for me?” Will asks quietly, one of his hands pressing to the small of Nico’s back. Nico squeezes his eyes shut at the pressure holding him down, holding him in place, wishing he could feel it everywhere.

“Had a bad dream,” he mumbles.

Will’s hand rubs back and forth. Nico aches.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Nico takes a careful, slow breath, his heart pounding. Will must notice, because he rolls onto his back, pulling Nico on top of himself, his hand still rubbing his lower back, his other hand on his waist.

“I… You were gone,” Nico summarises shortly. He skips all the details, not wanting to see them flash in his head again.

“Gone?” Will whispers. Nico nods. Will takes a deep breath, squeezing Nico, pressing him against himself. “I’m right here, Ni,” he murmurs softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Nico wants to ask him to promise. To swear. To stay forever.

He doesn’t.

He nuzzles his face into his neck and stays there until Will’s hand stops moving, until his breathing is heavy and slow, and Nico knows he’s asleep. He shifts after a while, moving to his side and watching Will, still asleep, roll to face him, a hand still resting on his waist. Hair falls in Will’s face. Nico carefully moves it away.

Even in the darkness Nico can see the freckles scattered across his face. There’s one on his upper lip. Nico wants to kiss it.

He closes his eyes.

Moves closer, curling a hand against Will’s chest, smiling when Will’s arm tightens around him and pulls him close. He’s drifting off. He knows he is. But he presses his face into Will, taking a deep breath. He smells like oranges and lemons, like fruit that’s been sitting in the sun, sweet and like summer, and like nothing Nico would ever have imagined himself finding home in. But here he is, letting Will surround him.

He falls asleep.

He wakes up to voices, but he’s too tired to even open his eyes. He hears Will’s voice, soft and rumbly across the room, and his body aches.

“I just want you to take care of yourself. Will,” Dahlia’s voice says softly. “You can’t do that if you’re… working to the point of exhaustion.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

“I do, it’s just…” Will sighs, the sound muffled by what Nico assumes is his hands. He wants to sit up, wrap his arms around him. But something tells him he’s not supposed to be hearing this conversation. “If I’m not working, I— I don’t know, it’s like my brain won’t shut off. I need…”

“You need to prioritise yourself.”

“…It’s hard.”

“I know. Will you just—“ She pauses. “Will you just listen to me now? When I tell you it’s time for you to take a break?”

He’s quiet.

“…Okay.”

“Come here.”

Nico shifts, pressing his face into Will’s pillow. They’re still talking indistinctly, their voices muffled by what Nico assumes are each other’s shoulders. He’s still almost asleep, his body too heavy to move.

“So are you gonna tell me what your boyfriend is doing here?” Dahlia asks when they part. Nico’s face flushes with heat.

“Dahlia.”

“I know,” Dahlia says in a teasing tone. “He came by the infirmary earlier, looking for you. Is everything okay?”

“He, uhm. He had a nightmare.”

“…And he came to you for comfort.”

“Well, he said… I think something happened to me. In his dream.”

“…Will.”

“Fuck off.”

They’re quiet for a moment. Nico can just imagine them staring at each other, communicating telepathically the way Will communicates with Joy sometimes, until Will speaks again.

“…If— If he spends the night…”

“Nobody’s gonna snitch, Will. You’re everyone’s OTP.” (Nico doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t really care.) “Don’t worry.”

“Jesus,” Will mutters.

“Alright, go back to bed, lover boy.”

“You’re so annoying.”

The bed dips, and Nico finally moves, rolling onto his stomach and pressing his face into the pillow as Will lays back down. The beads move in the doorway, and Will sighs.

He shifts again, and then Nico’s insides are lighting up as Will’s hand lands gently on his lower back. A moment passes before his hand moves again, rubbing across his back, and Nico’s eyes squeeze. He shifts, moving closer to him without facing him, and Will’s hand runs across his waist to his stomach, gently, carefully pulling him against himself.

He slides his arm under Nico’s neck, and Nico lifts his head enough for Will to move, letting his head fall again when he stills. Nico rolls back onto his side, sighing, his back pressed to Will’s chest, his cheek against Will’s bare bicep. Will’s breath is against the back of his neck. Nico wants to cry.

He cracks his eyes open, sees Will’s hand in front of him against the bed. Reaches out and slides his own hand into it, letting their fingers lock. Will’s hand is warm against his. He’s always warm.

Will falls asleep again, his arm around Nico’s waist, his hand pressing to his chest, and Nico drifts, floating somewhere between asleep and awake. He’s conscious of people coming into the cabin a while later, talking under their breaths.

“Is Will finally asleep?”

“Oh my gods, he’s sleeping.”

“Who’s that with him?”

“Is he allowed to sleep in here?”

“Who gives a shit? Look how cute they are.”

Will’s hand tightens on Nico’s. Nico squeezes back, smiling against his arm.

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The curtains are drawn. Nico is huddled on his bed, against the wall in the corner, a blanket around his shoulders. His eyes are trained on a light across the room, a lamp next to the small sofa. The lampshade is purple, emitting a soft glow throughout the room.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here. His joints ache, his knees drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, gripping the blanket in his fingers tightly.

His eyes are tired.

He can’t sleep. He knows it would be good for him to leave, go get dressed her some sunlight and talk to someone, but he doesn’t think he can deal with the genuine gentleness of people’s Are you okay?s and What’s wrong?s. Just thinking about it makes his skin itch.

He drops his head to his knees, tightening the blanket around him, trying to ignore the overwhelming, all-enveloping nothing inside of him.

He only lifts his head when there’s a knock on the door, and he squints over as it cracks open, sunlight pouring inside.

“Will?” Nico says weakly, his voice rough with disuse.

“Yeah,” Will says, shutting the door.

“Are you okay?”

Will scoffs lightly, kicking his shoes off and crossing the room quietly.

“I’m fine,” he says, his voice soft. “Dahlia kicked me out for the day.”

He sits on Nico’s bed, crossing his legs and looking at him, and Nico suddenly wants to find the nearest cliff to jump off of it. He must look pathetic, sitting in bed and wrapped in a blanket in the middle of the day, while other people are working and training and playing and laughing.

But Will just looks. Lifts his chin.

“What’s up?” he asks casually. Nico wants to cry.

He looks away, at the bed between them. He has too many blankets on his bed. They’re all bunched and bundled into an odd sort of nest.

“I keep having nightmares.”

Will is quiet for a moment before he moves, taking a blanket and spreading it out, sitting up onto his knees and swinging the blanket around his shoulders. He sits next to Nico against the wall. Their shoulders press together.

“About what?” he asks quietly.

Nico looks back at the lamp, wondering what to say, remembering.

Every dream has been different over the past few days. (Or maybe it’s been weeks. He doesn’t know.)

He was surrounded by glass one night. There was nothing outside of the glass, just a dark void, and he was running out of air. The glass wouldn’t break under his fists, and he woke up to a bruised hand and a dented wall. Another night he was being followed. He doesn’t remember where he was, or who (or what) was following him, just the adrenaline rushing through his veins and the way he couldn’t quite catch his breath, but he couldn’t slow down, couldn’t stop to breathe.

Another night he was trapped in an elevator. All the buttons lit up when he pressed them, glowing red, but it wouldn’t move. When he pressed the emergency button, the elevator filled with this awful staticky screech that made him clap his hands over his ears and cry. The next night he was in the elevator again but it was slowly filling with water.

In one dream he was freezing. He could see his breath in the air in front of him, and every breath hurt so bad it almost burned. He’d fallen to his knees, shivering and trembling, his teeth chattering, his upper body bare and covered in a thin layer of ice, shining blue and purple. When he woke up he put on two sweaters and covered himself in every blanket he has.

In another dream he had to watch Hazel be swallowed by a hole in the ground. He was too late to catch her hand, and he’d been left to stare at the ground where she’d been, at the dead grass and dirt.

In another, Will left.

“Everything,” Nico says quietly.

Will doesn’t say anything. He holds a hand out expectantly. It hovers between them, and Nico looks at it, at the chipped nail polish and callused palm, knowing exactly what Will wants.

His own hand slowly emerges from the blankets and reaches for Will’s. Their fingertips touch, and Will tugs his hand closer, their fingers curling around each other. Nico watches his face.

His brows furrow slightly, and he frowns, and after a few quiet moments he runs his thumb over Nico’s knuckles, looking into his eyes.

“You need to sleep, Ni,” Will says softly.

Nico exhales, swallowing, his eyes burning.

“I can’t,” he breathes. “They keep coming back.”

Will sighs softly, moving so his other hand comes out of the blanket around him, holding Nico’s hand between his. Nico closes his eyes, trying to memorise the warmth.

“Did you… Did you have any nightmares when you spent the night with me?” Will asks quietly, looking at their hands.

Nico shakes his head slowly.

“No.”

Nico watches him. Watches his tongue slip across his lip, watches his throat bob as he swallows.

“If I…” Will pauses, hesitating, twisting his fingers with Nico’s and tracing his knuckles. “If I stay, would you be able to sleep?”

Nico deflates, falling against Will’s shoulder and exhaling. Will laughs lightly, and the sound makes Nico feel like everything will be okay.

“Is that a yes?” he asks softly, tilting his head to rest on Nico’s.

“Please.”

“C’mere.”

He tugs Nico’s hand and legs go of it, moving against the wall as Nico sleepily moves up onto his knees and crawls to sit on his lap, the blanket still around him. He lays against Will’s chest, and Will wraps his arms around him, one arm around his back, the other across his lap.

Nico takes a deep breath, relaxing against him, tucking his face into his neck.

“I’m scared,” he whispers.

“I’m right here,” Will tells him softly. He runs a hand across his waist to the small of his back. (Nico must be really obvious that he likes it when Will touches him there.) “I’ll be here if anything happens, okay?”

Nico swallows anxiously, gripping his blanket tightly.

“…Promise?”

Will rubs his back gently, his other hand pushing under Nico’s blanket to hold his thigh gently. Firmly. Nico squeezes his eyes shut.

“Promise.”

(He doesn’t have any nightmares. He doesn’t seem to have any dreams at all, his mind blissfully and mercifully blank until he wakes up again to find that his hand is pressed over Will’s chest, over his heart.)

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Nico ruffles his hair with his towel. He thought maybe a shower would make him feel less like shit. It didn’t really work that much. But at least he smells good now.

He throws the towel into the hamper in the corner, and it falls from the overflowing pile of laundry to the floor. He ignores it. He doesn’t have nearly enough energy to do his laundry.

He finds a sweater on his desk chair and smells it before pulling it on and leaning against his desk, looking at his cabin. It’s messy. Too messy for him to do anything about it. Blankets and pillows all over his bed, tossed aside and scattered on the floor below it, clothes around the hamper and around the room, along with scrap, discarded paper. Incense ashes and sticks are covering a small table.

Nico scans the room, imagining all the dust that must cling to every surface and every random object he’s collected over the years; jars, bottles, lamps, candles, stacks and stacks of books. He sighs heavily, closing his eyes and dropping his head, rubbing his face harshly in disappointment.

He only looks up when there’s a knock on the door, and then he’s headed to open it before remembering he’s wearing a sweater and boxers. His face flushes with embarrassment as he swings the door open to see Will, but then he doesn’t give a shit about what he’s wearing, because Will’s eyes are shining and his cheeks and nose are red, and he looks about ready to fall over.

“What’s wrong?” Nico asks, a hand on the door. It’s grey outside. He usually likes this weather, but he didn’t even realise what colour the sky was until now. “What happened?”

Will looks at him desperately, taking a shuddering breath, choking on his words.

“I— I’m having… a really fucking shitty day,” he says, his voice wavering and breaking. “And I can’t fucking do it anymore.”

Nico looks up at him, his heart hurting so much he thinks it might be splitting apart at the seams.

“Do you want a hug?“ he asks softly, his eyes stinging, and Will squeezes his eyes shut, nodding. “Come here.”

He reaches out and grabs the front of Will’s t-shirt, pulling him inside and standing up on his tiptoes, wrapping his arms around his neck and kicking the door shut. Will sways, hugging him back. His body is shaking.

Nico whispers to him, holding him as tightly as he can as he cries, as sobs wrack his body.

It’s okay. It’s okay, baby, I got you.

He closes his eyes, tears falling down his own cheeks as he listens to Will, whose voice is rough as he sobs, his throat becoming raw as time passes. He pushes a hand into Will’s hair, combing through it and shushing him gently. Will presses his face into Nico’s neck, and Nico feels his tears against his skin.

Will finally stops sobbing after a long while, and Nico pulls away enough to look at him. To wipe his face with the sleeves of his sweater, his cheeks and under his eyes and nose, as gently and carefully as he can, still murmuring under his breath.

It’s okay. Don’t worry, baby.

Will lets him, his eyes falling shut as tears continue falling down his cheeks. It makes Nico’s heart swell, that Will is letting him do this, letting him take care of him.

Will is taking stuttering breathes, and Nico presses a hand to his chest firmly.

“Slow,” he directs. “In all the way.” Will looks into his eyes, pressing a hand over Nico’s, breathing in. Nico nods, running his other hand over his cheek and wiping a tear. “Out, slow.” Will exhales, his breath on Nico’s face. “You’re okay.”

When Will’s breathing is finally under control, it’s darker in the cabin, and Will sighs heavily, letting his head fall against Nico’s shoulder. Nico presses his cheek against the back of his head, running his fingers through his hair.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he whispers. “Promise.”

Will takes another breath, lifting his head and sliding his hands down to Nico’s legs before he pulls them up, lifting Nico off the ground. Nico gasps, his hand tightening in Will’s hair in surprise before he wraps his legs around his waist. Will sets him on his desk, pressing his hands to his waist and burying his face in his neck.

“Are you okay?” Nico asks softly after a minute, and Will nuzzles into his neck for a moment before lifting his face. He looks exhausted, his eyes almost closed, his lashes wet, lips chapped, cheeks flushed. Nico aches. Will leans forward, setting his forehead against his. “What happened?”

“Just…” He takes a breath, closing his eyes. “Everything’s been going wrong,” he says softly. “And I’ve been breaking things, and forgetting things, and I’ve been so— so angry, with everything, and I feel like shit.” He looks at Nico, eyes watery. “They just wanna help me,” he chokes. “And I’m such a dick to them. And I don’t know what to do.” He takes a sharp breath, looking at Nico desperately. “I’m so fucking tired, Ni.”

Nico wipes his tears again.

“Baby,” he breathes. “You need to rest.” Will squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head. “I know you don’t want to, but, Will.” Will opens his eyes, filled with tears and anguish. “You’re not taking care of yourself.”

He carefully wipes another tear and finds one of Will’s hands with his own, pulling it to his lap and holding it tightly.

“I bet if I could do that thing you do, I’d be able to tell that you need it.”

Will laughs weakly, his fingers curling around Nico’s. His nail polish is almost gone.

“Will you take the weekend off?” Nico asks, looking down at their hands. “With me?”

He looks up when Will doesn’t answer.

Will is staring at him, biting the inside of his lip anxiously.

“Please,” Nico adds.

“What will we do?” Will asks after a moment, and Nico smiles.

“Uhm.” He looks back at their hands, twisting his fingers around Will’s, thinking. “I’ll let you wake me up for breakfast,” he says finally, looking up at him to see a soft smile. “We’ll eat three meals,” he adds, squeezing his hand and raising his eyebrows, and Will nods.

“What else?”

Nico holds Will’s hand. Runs his finger across his nails.

“We can paint your nails,” he says softly. “They look naked.”

Will laughs lightly again.

“You wanna do my nails?”

“No promises that they’ll look good, but…”

Will’s smile widens. Nico reaches out and touches his face, just because, setting a palm on his cheek.

“Can I do yours?” Will asks, turning his face into Nico’s hand. Nico raises his eyebrows.

“I guess.”

“Any colour?”

“Within reason.”

Will grins, and Nico melts, his eyes falling to his smile, to the freckle on his lip. He doesn’t realise he’s staring until Will’s smile falls slightly.

“What?” Will breathes, and Nico’s suddenly overly conscious of his palm on Will’s cheek, of their hands joined in his lap, of the way Will’s eyes are flicking down to his mouth.

“I love it when you smile,” he says softly.

Will’s eyes soften, and he exhales, leaning forward until their foreheads press together. Nico shifts, eyes closed, to press his lips to Will’s forehead.

——————

Will leaves to find Dahlia a while later, after Nico handed him a bottle of water and made him drink at least half of it.

While he’s gone, Nico forced himself to tidy up a little bit. He finds the laundry around the room and tosses it to the hamper, finds a bag to shove all the scrap paper into, to dust the ashes of the incense into. (And then he washes his hands after hanging the bag on the doorknob of the bathroom.)

He’s sorting his pillows and blankets when there’s a thud on the door, and he swings it open to find Will with two plates of food.

“Uh. I brought dinner.”

They eat on the floor, Nico’s back against his bed, Will’s back against his desk, their plates on their knees or between their legs.

“How did it go with Dahlia?” Nico asks between bites.

Will sighs.

“Fine.” He pushes some food around on his plate. “We talked for a while, us and Vincent, and I apologised to them, and they… forgave me. But I…” He swallows, looking at his plate. “I still kinda feel like shit.”

Nico gazes at him. Takes a bite of his food.

“You’re really nice, Will.”

“I’ve been an asshole to them.”

“And you’re self-aware,” Nico points out. “You actually feel bad about it, and you actually apologise for it. A lot of people just… pretend it’s all fine. But you know it’s not.”

Will looks back at him.

He takes a bite of his food, sighing.

“Doesn’t really make me feel much better,” he says with his mouth full.

Nico watches him, watches his jaw flex as he chews, watches the way he dejectedly pushes food around.

“You need to forgive yourself,” Nico says softly. Will looks up at him, listening, and Nico looks away, his eyes too intense on his for the moment. “Everybody has. If you don’t… forgive yourself, give yourself a break, then you’ll just…” He shrugs. “Spiral. …End up hating yourself.”

He looks up at him. Their eyes meet, and this time Nico stays. Looks into the shining blue that Nico sees in the skies, in the seas, and he sees that it’s too late for that. He wants to throw up. He wants to cry and scream and break everything in the room. He wants to fight the gods and the wind and the fucking universe for ever convincing Will fucking Solace that he’s anything less than everything. He wants to hold Will until there isn’t a single thought of self hatred in his mind, until he can see how perfect he really is.

“Speaking from experience?” Will says softly.

Nico looks away.

“Yeah.”

They eat in silence, until Will breaks it.

“You’re one of my favourite people,” Will says abruptly, his cheeks flushing red when Nico looks at him. “You really… You’re my best friend.” Nico starts to smile, watching him. “Even if you hate yourself, I… I don’t hate you.”

Nico’s face flushes with warmth.

“I don’t hate you too.”

He falls asleep that night with his face presses to Will’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. He’s completely wrapped around him, legs around his hips, arms around his neck, fingers in his hair, and he feels Will’s hands on his back, on his hips and his legs. Soft. Gentle. Sleepy.

Will wakes up first. Of course.

Nico wakes up to Will’s fingertips tracing his face, brushing over his eyebrows and cheeks and down the bridge of his nose. Nico’s eyes flutter open, squinting at him weakly, and he smiles. (He’s never smiled this early in the morning. He doesn’t mind it.)

Will’s fingertip runs over Nico’s lips, tracing his smile.

Nico closes his eyes again.

He usually hates mornings. They’re always too bright, too full of possibility and chances. But if they’re like this…

Maybe they’re not all awful.

“Breakfast,” Will says quietly, and Nico’s smile falls promptly. Will laughs, dropping his hand to the bed between them. Nico groans, moving forward until his face presses to Will’s chest, smushing his cheek against him. “You said,” Will says, still laughing, and Nico groans again.

“I know, just…” He finds Will’s hand, pulls it close, smiling again when Will presses his hand to Nico’s back. “Just wait a minute.”

(He falls asleep again. Will lets him.)

——————

“Okay, here’s what I brought.”

Will hops up onto Nico’s bed, sitting cross-legged, dropping some things onto the bed between them: some bottles of nail polish, two nail files, a pale pink, translucent bottle, and cotton swabs. He cracks open the window as Nico looks.

“I don’t know what to do with any of this,” Nico says, staring.

“That’s okay.”

Nico watches as Will demonstrates the nail polish remover (the pale pink bottle), taking off the tiny chips of polish that are left on his nails, shows him the nail file, warns him that it’s going to feel funny. He’s right; it feels like vibrations running through his fingers, up his arms, and he has a full-body reaction, tightening. Will stops right away, looking up at him.

“Okay?” Nico nods, wide-eyed, moving to kneel in front of him. “Here, this side is softer.” He flips the file over and runs its across the edge of his nail carefully, looking at him. “Better?” Nico nods.

He files his nails slowly, carefully, and Nico watches as the rough, bitten edges of his nails become smooth.

He watches Will do his own nails next, watches the way his brows furrow in focus, the way his lips purse.

“I brought this colour for you,” he says when he finishes, holding up one of the bottles. Nico takes it, analysing it. It’s a deep red, almost purple, the glass of the bottle sleek and smooth, fitting nicely in his hand. “I thought you’d like it better than, like, yellow or something.”

Nico looks up at him with a smile.

“Is it okay?” Will asks, and Nico nods.

“Yeah, I like it.”

Will takes the bottle and smacks it against his palm, smiling, and Nico moves back to sit with his legs crossed. Will opens the bottle, setting it on the windowsill next to them, by Nico’s rings and candles holding his hand out, and Nico holds out his own.

Will takes his hand, carefully moving it so he can drag the brush carefully over his thumbnail. The paint is translucent, a lighter red than it looked in the bottle.

“This one needs like two layers,” Will says, like he can hear Nico’s thoughts. “But this brand dries really fast.”

“It’s cold,” Nico says softly, watching, engrossed.

“Is it okay?”

“Yes.”

They’re quiet as Will paints, expertly wiping away excess polish. The second coat of paint makes it much darker, almost black, only red when Nico really looks. It’s shiny, and Nico smiles, watching the light shift on it as Will moves his hand.

“This one will make it last longer,” Will says, picking up another bottle. “But you can take it off later if you want to.”

“I don’t want to,” Nico says, too quickly. Will looks up from his hand, pausing. “I like it.”

Will looks back down, smiling.

When Nico paints Will’s nails, he’s more careful than he thinks he’s ever been in his life, hunched over with Will’s hand close to his face, dragging the brush over his nails and feeling Will’s eyes on him. The polish Will uses is a nice pink. The bottle reads Vintage Rose.

While it’s drying, Nico holds his hand and stares at his work, at the way the dark red of his nails looks next to the pink of Will’s.

“Can I try something?” he asks, looking up. Will is looking at him fondly, and he nods.

Nico releases his hands and scrambles out of the bed, his sweater falling just below his boxer shorts because it’s a few sizes too big. (It’s his favourite sweater, soft and cozy and the perfect kind of warm.) He opens the drawer of his bedside table, bending down to search through it, knowing that Will is watching him. He rummages through the papers and lighters and pens and tiny glass jars and bottles that he’ll think what to do with someday. At the back of the drawer, hidden in the corner, he finally finds a hair pin, left behind by Hazel during her last visit.

He holds it up triumphantly, standing up and using his knee to close the drawer.

He climbs back onto the bed, unfolding the pin, sitting cross-legged and grabbing the bottle of red polish as Will watches. He tucks his hair behind his ear before opening the bottle and touching the end of the pin to the brush and taking Will’s hand.

He moves so he’s holds Will’s thumb, and he carefully, meticulously paints a smiley face with the end of the pin.

The eyes are different sizes, and the smile is crooked, but he grins, letting go of Will’s hand so he can look.

Will looks at it as Nico closes the nail polish and drops the hair pin on the windowsill, and when Nico looks at him again, his lips are pressed together.

“Is it okay?” Nico asks. Will nods, swallowing.

“I love it, Ni.”

Nico beams.

He watches as Will looks at the smiley face again, smiling, watches as his hair falls in his face and he rocks back and forth happily. He looks at his purple shorts and his worn and faded tye-dyed shirt and the woven strings around his ankles and wrists and the tiny gold hoop at the top of his ear. He looks at the freckles covering his face and the bridge of his nose and then he’s looking into his eyes, and Will isn’t smiling anymore.

“What’s wrong?” Will asks softly.

“I have to tell you something,” Nico’s mouth says without his permission.

“Okay?” Will says, dropping his hands to his lap. “What is it?”

Worry paints his expression, and Nico takes a sudden breath, like a gasp, his heart pounding.

“Uhm.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Nico says breathlessly. “I just…

Will blinks at him, tilting his head. Nico takes another sharp breath.

“I— I really like you.” Will blinks again, straightening. “As— As more than friends, like in a gay way.” His hands are shaking. “I have a crush on you.”

“Really?” Will says softly, his voice small.

Nico hesitates, then nods.

“You’re my best friend,” he says, almost hyperventilating. “But I’ve liked you for a really long time, and I tried so hard to get over it, but I— I couldn’t, because everything you do makes me fall harder for you, and I—I didn’t know how to tell you, and I was so scared that you—“

Will leans forward, shutting him up by grabbing his face and crashing their mouths together.

Nico’s eyes widen, and his hands fly to Will’s wrists, holding him tightly before he jerks away.

“What?” he says breathlessly, panting. Will’s eyes are wide, and he’s breathing hard too, his hands pressed to Nico’s face.

“I like you too,” Will tells him. “I like you so much, I thought— I thought you would hate me if you found out.”

“I don’t hate you,” Nico says quickly, shaking his head. “I could never hate you, baby, I couldn’t, I—“

He cuts off with a gasp, still shaking his head, and Will furrows his brows, exhaling. And then he pulls Nico back in, kissing him.

Nico squeezes his eyes shut, moving his hands to hold Will’s face, pulling back to lick his lips and tilt his head before kissing him again.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. But he doesn’t really care, because Will is holding his face almost tenderly, and his hair is soft between Nico’s fingers, and he’s so warm that Nico doesn’t remember what it feels like to be cold.

When they part, Nico is breathing hard, his eyes shut, and he wraps his arms around his neck, lifting onto his knees and grinning when Will grabs at his sweater and pulls him closer.

He lowers himself on Will’s lap, wrapping his legs around his waist, letting out a soft groan when Will presses a hand against the small of his back. Will laughs lightly.

Nico pushes his hands through Will’s hair again, revelling in the way Will sighs and presses his face into Nico’s neck. They stay there, wrapped around each other, until Will’s hand rubs his back gently.

“Ni,” he says softly.

“Mmhmm.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and Nico lifts his head, looking at him. He has that worried expression again, eyebrows furrowed, face tense. Nico pulls his hands away from his hair, touching his cheeks lightly.

“What is it?”

“I, uhm.” Will swallows, sliding his hands to hold Nico’s waist. “I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,” Nico says softly. He leans in and kisses him again, slowly and intently, holding his chin, before moving back so their legs around around each other still. “What is it?”

Will takes a deep breath. It shakes as he exhales, and Nico runs his hands down his arms, finding Will’s hands with his and pulling them away from his waist to hold between them. Will takes another breath.

“I…” He squeezes his eyes shut. Swallows. Lowers his face. “I’ve been wanting to tell to for— for a while, because you’re my best friend,” he says, glancing up at him. “And I really want you to know, if we’re…” He swallows again. “I just never knew how to… Say it.”

“Say what?” Nico asks softly, running his thumbs over Will’s knuckles.

Will’s hands tighten on his, and he takes a deep, shuddering breath, looking away.

“I’m, uhm.” He squeezes his eyes shut, laughing lightly. “Jesus.”

“It’s okay,” Nico tells him, squeezing his hands. They’re shaking. “Just… Just tell me, it’s okay.”

“I really don’t want you to hate me,” he says weakly, and Nico tugs his hands roughly.

“Will.” Will looks at him, his eyes shining with fear. “What did I say? I’m never going to hate you.”

Will squeezes his hands again, taking a sharp breath.

“Promise?”

Nico exhales, his chest aching, and then he leans in, kissing Will softly, tilting his head and gently sucking on his lower lip, listening to Will sigh, feeling him relax. He pulls away, just far enough that their lips brush when he speaks.

“I promise.”

He pulls away, looking at Will, whose cheeks are flushed.

“Tell me,” Nico prompts gently. “What is it?”

“I’m…” Will takes one last breath. “I’m trans.”

His eyes are flicking anxiously back and forth between Nico’s, but Nico just blinks blankly.

“Okay,” he says softly. “I don’t… know what that means, but…”

Will exhales in despair, dropping his head and laughing lightly.

“All that build up…” He looks up at the ceiling, blinking.

“It’s okay,” Nico reassures him, moving closer. “Tell me. I’m here to learn.”

Will laughs again, sliding his hands up to hold Nico’s wrists loosely, pushing under his sleeves.

“Okay,” he says, nodding like he’s trying to prepare himself. “So.”

“So.”

“Trans is short for, uhm. Transgender.”

“Okay,” Nico says softly, listening.

“It means I was… When I was born, everyone said I was a girl.” Will’s hands are trembling against Nico’s wrist, and Nico shifts, moving so he’s holding Will’s hands tightly, firmly running his thumbs across the backs of his hands. “Because I had female anatomy. But every time… Every time people referred to me as a girl, or as my mom’s daughter, it just felt wrong. Like— Like it made viscerally uncomfortable.”

He pauses, and Nico nods, looking into his eyes. Will looks away.

“And I didn’t get why no one could see that I was a boy,” he continues quietly. “And then my body… started changing, and it made me…” His lip trembles. “Miserable. And I would hide, I’d wear these giant hoodies in the middle of summer, and I’d use medical tape and bandages to bind my chest, and it fucking sucked, because no matter what I did, no one ever saw me.”

Nico lifts Will’s hand to his lips, kissing him gently.

“I told my mom when I got a little older,” Will continues. “And I was really lucky, she— she accepted me, and respected me, and she…” He smiles softly, looking at the bed between them. “She took me shopping for new clothes and let me donate and give away everything I didn’t want. And she helped me pick a new name.”

Nico smiles.

“She paid for me to start hormone replacement therapy.”

“What is that?” Nico interrupts quietly, and Will looks up at him.

“I take, uhm. Testosterone injections,” he explains nervously. “It makes my voice deeper and everything.”

“Okay.”

Will exhales, smiling softly, and he looks like he’s going to cry.

“I came out to Mr D a while ago, and he was really nice—“ He cuts off with a little laugh at Nico’s expression. “I know, weird. But he, uhm. He sorted out my top surgery, which…” He must see the blank look in Nico’s eyes. “Which made it so my chest is flat.”

“Okay.”

“Most of my siblings know, like— like Dahlia and Vincent and Joy, and… Most of them have seen my scars while changing and stuff, but I haven’t told… most of my friends.”

“Okay,” Nico says again. Will looks into his eyes. He still looks like he’s about to burst into tears.

Nico lifts his hand again, kissing his knuckles.

“Will,” he says softly. “I don’t care.” He blinks, sitting up straight. “No, I do care, of course I care, I just…” He searches for the words he needs, and Will waits for him. “It doesn’t change anything,” he settles on. Will stares at him, a crooked smile appearing on his face. “I really like you. I don’t think anything is ever gonna change that.”

Will closes his eyes, falling forward until his head rests on Nico’s shoulder, and Nico laughs lightly, releasing his hands and reaching to comb through his hair.

“Can I kiss you again?”

Will lifts his head, nodding, and Nico smiles, thumbing under his eyes before he leans in and kisses him. Will runs his hands over Nico’s thighs, his fingertips slipping under the hems of his boxers, his hands warm against Nico’s skin, and Nico hums, moving one hand to hold the back of his neck, his other hand pressing lightly to his throat.

Will’s tongue slips across Nico’s lip, and Nico lets out a whimper, furrowing his eyebrows as his hands tighten on him. Will pulls away with a smile, his eyes trained on Nico’s parted lips as he gasps for breath, and then he’s leaning back in, sucking on Nico’s lip and pressing his tongue into his mouth.

Nico groans softly, pushing a hand into Will’s hair, kissing him, and kissing him, and kissing him.

A rush goes through his body when he realises that he’s kissing a boy. That he gets to kiss a boy. That a boy wants to kiss him, too.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” he gasps when they part.

“Will you be mine?” Will asks, smiling, and Nico melts, nodding.

“Yours,” he breathes.

He leans in, kissing Will desperately, his teeth closing on his lip, before he kisses across his cheek, down his jaw, along the side of his neck. Will’s head falls back and he sighs, his fingers spreading over Nico’s lower back. Nico kisses over his throat slowly, lingering over his pulse, and then he’s reaching to pull at the collar of his shirt, tugging it out of the way so he can kiss his collarbone.

“Will,” he breathes, and Will hums back. “Can you take this off?” He lifts his head to look into his eyes. “You don’t have to.”

Will nods, out of breath.

“No, I want to.” He hesitates. “Can you… take yours off too?”

Nico nods, smiling, and they release each other just lost enough to tug their shirts over their head. Nico gets tangled in his sweater for a moment, and he hears Will’s soft laughter through the fabric before he finally gets it off and tosses it away like it’s offensive. Will leans forward, catching Nico’s face between his hands and kissing him slowly.

Nico runs his hands over Will’s sides. He’s almost hot to the touch. Nico worries for a moment that his hands might be too cold, but Will just hums breathily at him, smiling.

“We shoulder probably shut the window, right?” Nico says softly when they part to breath, and a small laugh bursts out of Will.

“That’s probably smart.” He keeps a hand on Nico, resting on the side of his neck, and reaches with the other for the window, pulling it shut. Nico leans in as he’s tugging the curtains closed, kissing the side of his neck carefully and slowly. “Ni…”

Nico hums back, patting his lips and slipping his tongue over Will’s skin softly, smiling when a ragged breath escapes Will.

He kisses over his collarbones, nibbling the skin lightly the way he chews the strings of his hoodies and his forks when he’s not eating. Will buries his fingers in his hair, scratching his scalp lightly, sighing, his other hand landing on his hip.

“Will,” Nico whispers after leaving a lingering kiss on the hallow of his throat. “Can you lay back for me?”

Will nods, eyes closed, releasing Nico and falling onto his back promptly. Nico giggles, leaning over him and catching himself, hands on either side of Will’s head, careful not to land in his hair.

“Thank you,” he breathes, nuzzling into his neck, and Will lets out a soft Uh-huh.

Nico grins, moving down to kiss his chest, biting and licking to his heart’s content because Will is letting him. He baring his neck, tilting his head back against the bed, sighing, draping his arms over Nico’s shoulders and trailing his fingertips over his spine. Nico reaches his scars, and he pauses, looking.

“You know your scars are golden?” Nico asks, tracing one lightly. Will shivers.

“Are they?” he says breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Nico breathes, gazing in awe.

They’re almost shimmering gold, standing out against his skin. He looks like something holy, divine, so beautiful that Nico almost whimpers. He want to cry.

He leans down and presses his lips over one side, leaving lingering kisses across it before moving to the other side.

When he swipes his tongue over a scar, Will whines, pushing a hand into Nico’s hair.

“Okay?” Nico whispers.

“Yeah,” Will breathes. “Yeah, angel, it’s okay.”

Nico’s body flushes with heat, and he beams so brightly it almost hurts. He leans down and does it again, and again, and again, across his chest and collarbones and shoulder and neck, over his golden scars and silver stretch marks, the freckles covering his shoulders like stars in the night sky, the soft bruises already blooming on his skin.

And then he’s licking into Will’s mouth, sighing blissfully as Will tugs his hair and presses against his back and entwines their legs.

Will rolls them over so he’s above Nico, and Nico groans, wrapping his arms around Will’s neck.

Will pulls away, panting, grinning, and Nico gazes at him, at his messy hair and flushed cheeks and lidded eyes and glistening lips.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Nico murmurs. Will looks at him. “Don’t argue with me.”

Will laughs, looking away. His hair falls into Nico’s face. It smells like oranges.

“There’s one more thing I have to tell you,” Will whispers after kissing him again. Nico wraps his legs around his waist, holding the sides of his neck gently.

“What is it?”

“…I don’t just like you.”

Nico tugs him in, tears sparking his eyes, his breath stuttering in his chest, hitching in his throat, and kisses him deeply, their tongues sliding together.

“Say it,” he gasps when they part, still close enough that their lips brush, their foreheads press together. “Tell me, baby, please.”

“I love you.”

Nico whimpers, feeling the words wrap around him like a tight bandage, his eyes squeezing shut. Will is kissing him again, peppering soft kisses over his lips and then his cheeks and chin and nose and forehead. Over his closed eyes. Down his neck and collarbones.

“Will,” he says desperately, and Will raises to his level, looking into his eyes. “I love you— I love you too, I love you so much.”

Will lowers to kiss him.

“Promise?” he whispers when he pulls away, and Nico laughs tearfully, pulling at Will’s back so their chests press together.

He can almost feel the heat of Will’s heart against his own.

“Promise.”

#realised i havent posted any fics on here in ages #have this <3 #solangelo #nico di angelo #will solace

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