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1
"Will," followed by a ragged inhale. "Will, hey, I need you to look at me. Listen. It's going to be okay."
They're standing by the sidewalk in the middle of the night, bright flashing lights colored red and blue piercing through the darkness. His mother is sniffling, makeup running from her tears, her soft voice halfway lost in a sea of loud sirens. Her colorful acrylic nails press against his shoulder, pulling his gaze away from the sight of the stretcher being loaded into the back of the blaring ambulance.
"Mom?" Will looks at her, his hands gripping the sides of her denim jacket. "It's so bright—"
"I know, I'm sorry, come here," His mom runs a hand through her face, her expression crumpling even more, makeup smudged. She lets out a quiet sob and pulls him into an embrace. He can feel her arms shaking around him as she kisses his hair and lets him bury his face in her chest. "I'm so sorry, Will."
Will swallows and braves a peek at the ambulance to see its doors closing. "Is grandma—"
"She's fine. She's just a little sick, is all," her voice shakes. "The doctors will help her. She'll be okay."
"Did I—"
"No! No, you didn't do anything," her embrace tightens until it becomes harder to breathe. "It's not your fault, do you hear me, William Andrew Solace? None of this is your fault."
Will wisely keeps his silence, only returning her tight yet fragile embrace. He lets himself cry, not caring how it's ruining his mother's favorite shirt. The ambulance drives away, but they don't let go of each other. Naomi's sobs grow louder, and Will begins feeling nauseous.
"My sweet boy," she whispers. "You did nothing wrong. It's not your fault. You didn't know."
But it is his fault. His perfectly healthy grandmother, who came for a visit a week ago, smiled, ruffled his hair, and gave him an anatomy book. How can someone like that be in an ambulance, pale and sickly-looking? She was deathly still, and he can still hear his mom screaming in distress. He remembers the frantic way she dialed the phone, voice trembling and her tongue tripping over the words.
Will doesn't remember what happens next. He knows his mother rushed to the hospital, but it's the middle of the night. Is she leaving him alone in the house? He feels tired and half-awake, but he swears a tall blonde-haired man appears in a flash of golden light out of nowhere to tuck him into bed. When he wakes up, it's still nighttime. It's too dark to see the wall-clock, but he knows it's late. Too late for midnight but too early for a sunrise. Slowly, Will tiptoes toward his door, pressing his ear against the wooden surface to hear if his mother is still awake.
The answer is yes. Not only is she awake, but she's talking to someone.
"No," his mother is saying in a harsh whisper that makes Will flinch. His mother, with her bright eyes, is a kind, optimistic person with boundless energy and creativity. She can be stern at times when it's necessary, but she has always treated Will with gentleness and love. The kind of mother who wrote lullabies and taught their child how to play a guitar. Never once in his life has he heard her sound this sharp. "No, you said he's going to become a gifted healer—"
"And he will be. In the future," the other person—a man's voice replies. Compared to his mother's tone, the man is calm and maybe even unbothered. Whoever they are, their nonchalance sends a shudder down Will's spine. "But, alas, even I can't predict everything. How unfortunate. To think he would inherit that aspect of my domain. And anyway, you should be proud, it's rare for my children to have powers over—"
"Proud?" His mother cuts in, voice growing louder for a moment. "You don't know him. You don't know how gentle he is and how much he wants to help others. He wouldn't want this."
"Well," the man hums. "You know what I think."
Her breath stutters. "He's a six-year-old boy. I can't—"
"—take care of him forever. Soon, he'll find out what he's capable of, and not everyone will be as lucky as your mother. It's pneumonia today, but what about tomorrow? You know I'm right."
Silence falls between the two, and Will holds his breath, afraid they'll find out he's here and give him an earful about eavesdropping. But they don't. He hears his mother sighing, the sound muffled like she's buried her face in her hands, and the man humming under his breath, followed by a gentle thrum of a string instrument.
"I need to think," she says slowly.
"Suit yourself. But you should heed my helpful warning here, Naomi," the man chuckles. "Camp is the best choice for our son—" Will's heart thumps inside his chest. "—send him there as soon as possible, or your ending won't be pleasant. I would know. I am the god of prophecy."
Something in the air shifts, telling Will that the man is now gone as quickly as he appeared, as if he vanished into the winds. He hears his mother crying softly into her hands, but he isn't brave enough to go outside and comfort her. Instead, he crawls back under his blankets and glances at the night sky beyond his window.
It only fully dawns on him when he wakes up in the morning.
The man from last night is his father.
"Mom, where are we going?"
He doesn't mean for his voice to catch when he asks the question.
Huddled in the passenger seat of the car while fidgeting with the strap of his seatbelt, Will has been buzzing with an anxious energy ever since the car pulled away from their driveway. It's easy to imagine that they're just out for a good time and nothing else. Will thinks about all those vacation trips they would take whenever school was out, and his mom wasn't too busy with her singing career. They would go on long road trips, play car games, and sing along to the radio. This car ride has been completely silent from the get-go, and he isn't used to that. He also doesn't like the tense expression on his mom's face, and the bags in the backseat that only hold his belongings.
She glances at him, expression softening. With a small sigh, the car slows just enough so she can reach over and ruffle his hair affectionately with one hand. But the gesture does little to ease the anxiety that continues to build in his stomach; in fact, it only makes it worse.
"Will, do you remember what I told you?" She asks. "About your father."
He feels a lump forming in his throat. His father. He never confessed to what he heard that night his grandmother got sent to the hospital, but he didn't need to in the end. She sat him down a few months ago and explained everything.
He felt like his brain was going to explode, then, with the sheer disbelief over her story. An actual Greek god? That was his father? The golden-haired man who he heard that night when he was six…was a god? It was almost too much to believe…but was it really? It definitely explained a few things. His grandmother's stories about him glowing when he was a baby, his scrapes and bruises healing so quickly they usually never stayed for more than a day, the creepy eyes that would follow him around—
"Yeah…" he mumbles, holding his backpack close to his chest. "The god of…healing?"
She nods. "And archery, music, dance, the sun, and so many more. Do you remember what I told you…about the dangers of being his son?"
Will shivers. He thinks back to those creepy eyes again. They used to follow him around from behind the shadows, watching him with a hungry look in their eyes, like they couldn't wait to devour him. There were more, so much more that he's too afraid to talk about. Like the giant, drooling, one-eyed monster who chased him in the forest when they went on a hiking trip, or that haunting shiver that only left him alone when he locked himself up in his room.
He nods quietly.
"Where we're going is a safe place for you," she tells him. "Once you're inside, I promise you that they won't go anywhere near you for a long time, okay?"
"But what about you? You won't—"
"Trust me, darling, I will be completely safe." She says quietly, the forced smile on her lips trembling. "I'll explain more once we arrive. We're almost there."
Her hand brushes his hair back from his face before retreating onto the steering wheel. She faces the road, giving it all her attention, but Will can see the tears in her eyes and the way her fists wrap around the wheel until her knuckles turn white. A small part of him slowly realizes what this means for them. They'll be safe, he believes that, but they aren't staying together anymore. Not like before.
Will stays quiet as the car makes its way into a more secluded area, the path rocky and uneven with trees surrounding them. They're far enough from the city now. He pulls his focus from the dark corners of the emerging forest and looks down at his blue backpack. It looks sort of beaten up at this point; the pictures of the cartoon ducks and smiley suns have already faded a lot, while the blue isn't as vibrant as it used to be. Despite many offers from other family members to get him a new one, he has an attachment to this one. A present from his mom. It also comes with a big sun bag charm that was honestly half the size of the bag itself, but he doesn't care. He's obsessed with the thing.
He stares at his abundance of sun motifs and wonders how much of this came from his father.
He's about to break the silence between him and his mom when a loud bang! against the car roof makes him freeze instead. His mom's eyes widen as she glances up, an alarmed look on her face. The car slows down for only a second before she slams the gas pedal all the way down, the car speeding up until he almost lurches out of his seat. Thank god for seatbelts. He holds the bag tighter but doesn't dare to say anything, scared that it will distract his mom. But despite their new speed, another loud bang! makes him flinch. He has no time to think about what is happening as something tears into the metal roof of the car. He lets out a shriek this time, the car swerving.
"Mom!"
"We're going to be okay!" She shouts over the loud noises. "Just a little bit more and we'll be there."
Everything is happening so fast that it's hard to keep up. She slams the brakes, the car squealing in an effort to stop. Will can hear the flapping of feathered wings and sharp, pointy things continuing to slam into the car. He manages to duck as another one pierces through the part above his head.
"Will! Listen to me. Once you get out, you have to run towards the—"
The window beside her head smashes open, glass shards leaving small cuts across the side of her face and arm. Will's eyes widen as he spots a small creature perched on the broken shards of the car window: a pigeon? A normal bird you could see anywhere in big cities. Yet their beaks are gleaming under the lights, the edges sharp enough to cut through metal. His mother looks horrified, pulling herself away from the creature and wrapping her arms around Will as another one lands on the wipers, beady eyes glinting dangerously.
"Will," she whispers. "I want you to open the door and run. Do not stop running until you reach that giant tree over there."
"No—" he chokes, fingers twisting tightly in her shirt. "No. No!"
"Come on, darling. You don't have time. Go."
But how can he? This is his mother. His kind, loving mother, who has a brighter future than Will, full of joy and comfort. How can he just leave her? How can he leave her to die alone? He shakes his head and tightens his hold on her. His father is supposed to be a god. A god with endless power and strength, so why can't he save her? Why is he content to let her die like this? Has he ever cared even a little bit?
No. If his blood truly flows through Will's veins, then—
Will shuts his eyes tightly and waits. He's so terrified that every part of him is shaking. Even as his mom kisses his temple and caresses his forehead, he keeps his eyes shut and his arms locked around her waist. If she is going to die here…
…
…
"Will," his mom mutters, something akin to horror in her tone of voice.
The smell hit him first.
Blood.
A muffled scream escapes his lips when he opens his eyes.
There are dead birds everywhere around their car. Will gags at the sight of those birds and the smell of decay that's quickly starting to set in. Parts of their lifeless bodies are beginning to change into a sickly purple color while their head are swelling like balloons with fluids leaking out of their orifices. Will stifles another scream when something lands on the roof, the sound of flesh meeting metal loud and disgusting. He watches as another lifeless bird slides down from the roof, leaving filthy, bloody tracks across the glass.
"M-Mom?"
Will stares up at her, frozen and shaking.
His mother wipes the blood from under her nose and pulls him into a tight hug, whispering that it's okay, and I'm going to be okay, it's not your fault. It'll be okay, I swear, I swear, I swear. He looks down at his own hands, where he can only see blood. His mother's blood. Innocent people's blood. She doesn't let go even when he cries and screams, too afraid to hug her back. Her reassurances continue on and on, and on and on, like they're the truth. But this is the real truth: he's poisonous, and that's why his father doesn't want to save them. Sooner or later, the people around will face a similar fate to those scary birds now littering the ground.
2
"You're doing really well! Careful not to clean directly on it…nice. Now, since it's not a big wound, it probably won't need any stitches. See, the bleeding already stopped, which is a good sign."
"Oh, okay. Do we need to use any like…antibiotic cream or something?"
"Nope! Mortals usually use mild soap to clean the surrounding area, but since we're demigods, we can use nectar or ambrosia. It kills bacteria more efficiently than any mortal antibiotics."
Will nods and stares at the gold-stained cloth he used to clean the scrapes on the older boy's arm. Apparently, nectar isn't the easiest thing to get, so they can only use it in small doses. A limited stock is sent monthly to the camp for the infirmary to use. He doesn't really understand why the food and drink of the gods is so effective for healing their children, but nevertheless, he smiles up at his brother gratefully.
"Thanks, Lee."
The older son of Apollo shrugs as if to say all in a day's work—which for Lee, it probably is, seeing as he's both the Head Counselor of the Apollo Cabin and the Head Medic at camp. He's also the person Will admires most in his new home. Don't get him wrong, he likes all of his siblings, and Michael is slowly becoming his archery idol, even though Will sucks at it, but Lee is just slightly different.
He's the only person who knows, aside from Chiron, about Will's affinity with Apollo's less-than-stellar domain of plagues and illnesses. Despite that, he's so willing and eager to teach Will about healing people and how he can use his hands and knowledge to do something helpful, rather than destructive. He's been praising Will for being a healing prodigy, which he finds hard to believe given his nature.
"So," Lee asks, "since it's been almost a month since you got here, I need to ask. How are you feeling about…everything?"
"Oh, um…" Will blinks and shifts where he's sitting next to Lee on one of the unoccupied infirmary cots.
The moment he stepped through the barrier and into camp, a big glowing lyre appeared above his head, making it official that he's a child of Apollo. He was introduced to the other children of Apollo—his half-siblings. He has siblings—but in that moment, he was too distraught over his mom to take everything in properly. Though the centaur who introduced himself as Chiron told him that she would be protected on her way to a hospital in the city, he couldn't stop crying. He would've continued crying, probably, if not for his new older siblings, who all helped and comforted him. Lee Fletcher is, of course, great—patient and understanding. Michael Yew intimidated him at first, but Will quickly learned that he's incredibly kind despite his sometimes harsh words. The others are also wonderful. Supportive, loving, fun. They don't even tease him for sleeping with a sun doll every night. Then his mother called a few days later, healthy and energetic, and it felt like things were going to be alright.
He wants to pretend it can last forever.
"I'm still getting used to it, I guess." He admits, "I'm just glad my mom's okay."
"That's good to hear," Lee nods. "Just take your time, alright? And if you need anything—"
"—I'll come to you." Will huffs. This is the fifth time he's heard of that in the past month. "Thank you. I mean it."
"You're welcome."
And then Will sees Lee trying to reach out to him. Maybe to pinch his cheek or ruffle his hair—like doting brothers often do—but he doesn't get to find out what exactly would happen as Will shrinks back before Lee can even touch a single curl of his blonde hair. Shoulders tense, he looks away, keeping his eyes locked on his shoes.
"I'm sorry—"
"It's okay," Lee rushes to say. He doesn't make any more moves to touch him, but Will can feel the warmth radiating off his skin as he scoots closer. "Just…take your time. You can do this."
Will bites the inside of his cheek as the words settle in his chest.
It didn't take very long for everyone in the Apollo Cabin to realize that he never wants to be touched. They are, like Lee, very understanding and never try to push. They don't judge him for shying away and pulling back from their outstretched hands. Of course, it's hard not to notice the concerned looks cast his way, and it's not like he's never tried to move past his fear of it. But every time he does, he's reminded of why he shouldn't. It's better to be safe than sorry.
"It's almost dinner," Lee hops down from the bed with a huff. "Let's go."
Will shakes off all thoughts of blood and pain before following his brother out from the infirmary and towards the dining pavilion. At this hour, the setting sun is still bright, orange, and deep red across the sky as they walk down the path. Will is thankful for his brother's height, his figure casting a comfortable shadow that shields him from the sun.
Lee looks down at his scraped arm with a smile. "It doesn't even hurt anymore. Guess you'll be replacing me when you're older, huh?"
There he goes again, Will thinks. He opts to ignore his brother's half-teasing, half-genuine words and focuses on walking, putting his hands in his pockets when he feels a dull throb across his own arm. The older boy is still speaking, telling him about how to deal with difficult patients, but Will is only half-listening.
If he knew that Lee's words would be coming true sooner or later, he would've paid closer attention to everything.
Will goes to bed numb and in unbearable pain.
He looks up at his wall, scanning every photo and keepsake he hung there. There are photos with his mom and his siblings, tickets to his mom's shows, and a few merchandise like posters and album art. The photos with his siblings are doodled with smiley faces, suns, and clouds. They all like personalizing their keepsakes like that. His eyes lock onto a photo of Lee laughing with his mouth open, a sun doodled around his face. He reaches for it, intending to give it to Lee, before he remembers.
Oh, right.
Lee is dead.
Two of my sisters are gone, too.
He can't remember their cause of death, but he keeps seeing Lee and the way his head had—
The aftermath is a disaster. Injured demigods everywhere, and not the kind of injured Will is used to seeing after Capture-the-Flag. No. It's the sort of injury that takes everything in them to heal. His older siblings were the ones who did the more intensive injuries, and Will is grateful for that. Gods know he has a hard time keeping himself together in times of extreme panic. And when he can't keep himself together…
His head still aches from Lee's injuries. His arm throbs in pain from an Ares girl's broken arm. His ankle pulses with pain from a Hermes boy's twisted ankle. It's already midnight when the pain in his body subsides enough for him to leave his bed. The cabin is deathly quiet as he approaches the front door. It's cold and still in a way that makes his chest ache. It's never been like this. Even in the dead of night, the Apollo Cabin has always been filled with snores, stuttered breathing, low murmurs from sleep-talking, and the occasional movement of limbs. But now, there's not a single sound to be heard except for the depressing quietness that comes with uneasy sleep.
Will swallows and opens the door to the cabin slowly, biting his lower lip when the old wooden thing creaks too loudly. The noise seems to pierce through the silence, but no one reacts. They're all too exhausted and heartbroken to wake up. He blows a short exhale of relief before sliding out the door into the cold night air. Before, he was always too scared to leave the cabin after sundown. Too dark and scary. Now, though, he doesn't think anything can scare him more than the sight of his brother's wide-eyed stare and the crunch of his skull as he—
The blonde shudders at the memory. Shoulders tense, Will makes his way towards the outskirts of the woods. They've been warned not to go there for the time being, with the labyrinth opening up earlier and the aftermath of the battle still untouched. But Will can't find it in him to care. He needs something other than the desolate air of the once lively Apollo Cabin and the stench of fresh blood that won't leave his senses, even though he'd showered three times. Michael—oh, gods. He's the head counselor now, isn't he?—will probably give Will a stern talking to later when he discovers his disappearance. Deep inside, a part of him knows this is kind of selfish. They lost three of their siblings today. What will the others think when they see Will's empty bed?
Gods.
It seems useless to even pray.
The son of Apollo stops in his tracks, halfway in the woods. What am I doing? But as he turns around to make his way back to the cabin, the stench of blood suddenly becomes very real. The metallic smell made him freeze, glancing around the dark to find the source. He doesn't know what to think when his eyes lock on the figure slumped on the base of a tree. There's a rustle of the bushes as the other person stops whatever they're doing and looks up to meet Will's stunned gaze. Dark brown eyes stare at the blonde for a good few seconds, making Will wonder if they're confused, too.
"Um," Will says awkwardly. "Hi?"
The person—a boy?—blinks and breaks their eye contact, lips pursed.
"Are you hurt?"
The other boy looks at him again, eyes widening just slightly as if to ask how did you know?
"I smell blood," Will says, digging through his pockets. He remembers he grabbed a few supplies and forgot to put them back. He's grateful that he didn't. "I have bandages. If you want?"
There's no answer for a while, as if the boy is contemplating Will's offer. When he gives a small nod, a little difficult to see through the darkness, Will takes out the bandages and ambrosia cube he has in his pockets and offers them. When he manages to get a better look at him, Will realizes who he is. He's seen him a few times last year and vaguely remembers helping him with a sword injury…before he disappeared. He's heard rumors about what happened, but he doesn't remember the full details. The other campers just assumed he was dead, like so many other young demigods.
What was his name again?
"You're…Nico, right? di Angelo?"
The hand that makes a move for the bandages flinches subtly, but the other boy doesn't say anything. So Will takes his silence as confirmation and watches as Nico slowly dresses his wounds, a large claw mark across his pale forearm. It looks nasty, and Will has to hold back a wince as Nico hastily wraps the bandage around his arm.
"Uhm, wait!" Will digs through his pockets again. "You should pour some nectar on the bandages before you use them. It'll hurt, but the nectar really helps with infection and accelerates the healing. It's really handy."
Shit. He didn't mean to ramble like that. Nico only stares at him in silence, his big eyes locked on the bottle of nectar like Will is handing him a vial of poison. He internally cringes, not blaming Nico if he walks away and thinks of him as a weirdo—just another one at camp who thinks of him like that. Surprisingly, the dark-haired demigod takes the nectar and follows Will's instructions. When their fingers brush just barely, Will does it almost automatically. His arm throbs again, the pain nearly indistinguishable from the others he took in. Still, he's kind of wowed by the way Nico bandages up his arm without even flinching. Will only took in about half the pain, and it's bad.
Nico's eyes look him up and down before uttering a small thank you. His voice is so quiet, it would've been lost in the wind if this were any other day. The demigod gives Will another curt nod before making a move to get up. To be honest, Will is feeling kind of disappointed that this is the end of their interaction—can you even call it an interaction? It's good to talk to someone without bursting into tears or feeling that weird numbness again.
At the last second, however, Nico spins around and looks at Will with narrowed eyes. "Did you…"
"What?"
Nico sighs and shakes his head, letting half of his sentence hang in the air unfinished. "Never mind. See you around."
3
"What the fuck—?"
"One of the skeletons accidentally dropped a brick while it was on the roof."
Will blinks, lips parted, unsure of what he should even say. What he didn't expect to see in his infirmary today was Nico di Angelo limping across the door, blood dripping down his leg. Accidentally dropped a brick while it was on the roof. Okay, then. Stunned, Will points at the corner cot—Nico's favorite—and watches as his sort of friend makes his way there, huffing as he hoists himself up. Usually, Will would recommend very minimal movement to someone with an injured limb, but knowing Nico di Angelo…
"I ruined my jeans," Nico mutters.
"Deserved," Will sighs. He replaces his gloves with a new one and takes a seat on the swivel chair, rolling himself closer to his ridiculous patient. "Now stay still while I rip this open."
Nico seems to want to protest, but Will wastes no time and cuts open a part of the other demigod's blood-soaked jeans to expose his injured ankle. It's bruised, swollen, but no sign of the bone being in unnatural places, which can rule out that it was broken. Will places the tip of his fingers carefully against Nico's skin and closes his eyes, humming to himself.
"Okay…pain up to the knees…swelling and some tenderness…I think it's fractured." Will says. "I thought you controlled those skeletons. How did this happen? Did you get distracted?"
Nico doesn't say yes or no, but the slightly sheepish look on his face tells Will everything he needs to know. Maybe Chiron shouldn't have let demigods be in charge of building their own cabin, the blonde thinks as he pulls away to grab more supplies.
"Well, it's good that it's not broken, but a fracture isn't any less serious. Eat this," Will places a cube of ambrosia in Nico's hand. "You're definitely not allowed to run or walk on this until it heals a bit more. I can give you some crutches or maybe a cast—"
"Absolutely not," Nico interjects, expression twisting into a displeased scowl.
Gods, Will groans internally. Nico di Angelo is pretty (no, he did not say that!), but he's probably the most stubborn person Will has ever met. Not to mention the lack of self-preservation seeing as he's been in the infirmary more times than Will can count. He returns the expression with a similar scowl, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"Can't you just give me more ambrosia or something?"
"No," Will hisses. "Unless you want to suddenly combust. Ambrosia and nectar can't fix everything, Nico."
"Then, can you do something else? I have to finish building my cabin ASAP."
Will fights the urge to remind the younger demigod that there are plenty of people who would be happy and willing to help him build his cabin if he just asks. But out of regard for his own peace, he wisely keeps his mouth shut and pretends to think about it. Well, there really isn't much he can do if his patient is this stubborn.
"Fine," Will sighs. "Give me your hand. I'll—"
"No."
The temperature in the room drops low enough to make Will shiver.
He almost regrets letting Nico figure out his one skill to absorb pain. Admittedly, now that he's the Head Medic, Head Counselor, and the oldest child in the Apollo Cabin, he's been using his powers more frequently than he used to. There's no one to worry over him and stop him from doing this, which makes him feel both relieved and sad. He misses his older siblings so much, but he's kind of glad no one could stop him, as messed up as that is. As much as they would probably hate it, this one ability is the one thing that makes him, well...useful.
"Come on, Nico," Will groans, "help a guy out here."
"No, Will. I will not let you absorb this." Nico insists, tone cold. "If you do, I am going to walk out of here, broken ankle be damned. I'll take the stupid crutches."
The blonde shakes his head exasperatedly and pulls his glove tightly against his hands. "You're annoying."
He hates that his heart skips a beat at the small, satisfied smirk Nico throws his way.
"Will?" Nico asks him one night at the campfire. "Why do you never take those gloves off?"
He freezes at the sudden question, s'more abandoned in his grip.
The atmosphere of the camp has been tense for the past few weeks, which is understandable when the strongest demigod at camp, whom they saw as a leader, suddenly disappeared without warning. Head counselor meetings have been filled with panic and dread ever since, while everyone else tried to frantically search for their missing camper. Nico is one of those who goes out to look around, opting to skip the meetings in favor of going out and making use of his handy teleporting ability. It means that Nico would disappear from camp for days at a time and return with an increasingly exhausted and disappointed look. Selfishly, Will feels a stab of jealousy at how dedicated Nico is to looking for Percy. He wonders if he would be like that too if Will were the one to disappear, which makes him feel like an awful person.
"Um…" Will puts down the s'more and looks away from Nico's inquisitive gaze. He clears his throat, hoping it doesn't look off. "I just…uh…I don't really like touching people."
It's partly the truth. It's been so long since he's touched anyone, it feels weird now. He never goes too far, but even briefly touching someone will send a weird tingle across his skin before he hastily pulls back. It's almost instinctive, at this point, to keep himself away. He started wearing gloves when Michael died; all those deaths and grief only caused more fear and anxiety in Will. In the back of his mind, he knows that this isn't healthy. Prolonged deprivation of touch will only lead to more harm and deterioration of his mental health. And yet, his anxiety overrides almost all of that. He doesn't care too much about what this would cause, as long as everyone around him stays safe. They're dealing with enough danger; they don't need this danger, too.
"Oh," Nico breathes. He holds his knees to his chest, keeping his own hands tucked closely against his body. "I get that."
Will nods and stares at the fire. The usually lively and exciting campfire is dull and quiet; everyone is too antsy and nervous about what Percy's disappearance means to get into a festive mood. Something is looming over the horizon, and they know it isn't anything good.
He glances at Nico and feels something ache inside his chest.
Will doesn't know when it started. All he knows is that one day he sees Nico di Angelo as a friend, and the next, his heart starts going wild for the other demigod. He gratefully accepted any glance, any brief brush of touch, any word from Nico, no matter how small and brief. Is that ridiculous and stupid? Maybe. He just knows that, despite how he feels, Nico di Angelo will never look at him the same way. He does know who Nico looks at, and it's someone far beyond Will's wildest dreams. At best, the demigod sees Will as one of the medics who likes to nag at him. It feels too greedy to even be considered somewhat of a friend. So, Will accepts all that Nico is willing to give. It makes him pathetic and idiotic, but he doesn't care. He will never force Nico to do anything he doesn't want, including liking him back.
Will lets out a wistful sigh. The words are at the tip of his tongue, ready to leave and tell Nico the truth. But all it takes is for Will to stare down at the grass under his hands to chase away that sudden bravery. A small dollar spot is starting to form in the grass, taunting him. Even the grass dies under your touch. He bites the inside of his cheek and crosses his arms across his lap.
No, he can't do that to Nico.
Will only knows that he needs to run. Run until there's no more oxygen in his lungs and no more energy to continue. He trips on a curling branch but makes no move to stop. He has no choice but to run. Distantly, he hears Nico's voice calling out to him. The other demigod is probably chasing him, but Will doesn't want to look back.
He doesn't know what exactly happened.
They were arguing loudly and harshly enough to make others turn their heads. Nico was his annoyingly stubborn self, and Will was…
Nico was badly injured after the war with Gaea. Of course, he was; he's one of the key figures in defeating the primordial goddess, shadow traveling across the world to bring the Athena Parthenos to camp. He's a hero, and Will admires him so much. But he was refusing to rest properly, and after two days, Will's patience just snapped. He doesn't remember the details of their argument, but they were both angry and exhausted. It's probably ugly.
And then a bird dropped dead between them, its body making a fleshy thud as it hit the ground.
Nico was confused, and Will just…ran.
All he can think about is his first day at camp. Those dead stymphalian birds, his mother's blood, and hold around him. No. He can't let that happen to Nico. He thinks of Lee, collapsing to the ground, head bloody and beyond recognition. He thinks of Michael, and the snap of the bridge before he fell and died.
"Will! Stop, please!"
No, no, no. He can't let Nico die like that. Especially not him. He's been through so much. So many unspeakable horrors even by demigod standards. Will doesn't have the strength to be one more pain in Nico's life.
You did nothing wrong. It's not your fault. You didn't know.
Will cries out when the air in front of him ripples, and Nico comes rushing out of the shadows to stop him in his tracks. The younger demigod looks awful physically, and his shadow-travel is probably making it worse. The bandage around his upper arm, where the wolf scratches are, is loose and on the verge of slipping off.
"Will," Nico says firmly. When he takes one step forward, Will takes one back. "Don't run from me."
"Nico, please, I can't stay near you." He sobs. "Please, please, please just go back to the infirmary."
"No. Listen to me," he breathes. "The bird. Was that—"
"Don't say it!" Will shouts, hands trembling violently. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm not a healer. These powers poison everything it touches. Nico, please, go back."
"Will—"
"Don't touch me!" He screams, almost tripping again as he scrambles back.
Nico freezes, hand stopping mid-air before they can reach the son of Apollo (Oh, how that gesture reminds Will of Lee). The distraught expression on his face is something Will never wants to see, let alone cause. Something falls to the ground behind him and makes him flinch. But he doesn't need to look back to see that his power has taken yet another animal life.
How long before it takes a person's life?
"Don't you see?" He chokes, holding his hands close to his chest. "I hurt everything and everyone around me. My father hates me so much that he gave me this. These plagues…I can't let you get hurt. I hurt my grandma, my mom, and all these poor animals. Lee died. Michael died. You're the last person I want to hurt."
"No, wait, Will. I know you, Sunshine. You would never—"
"It doesn't matter what I want!" Will snaps. "Do you think I wanted to give my grandmother pneumonia? Or give those stymphalian birds bird flu? I can't control it, Nico. Do you know how many times I've prayed for my father or just somebody to take this…this…this curse away?" His voice catches, and he can't be bothered to wipe his tears away. "I care so much about you. I wouldn't be able to handle it if I hurt you."
Nico looks absolutely devastated, and Will, for the life of him, can't figure out the exact reason why. Soon, his legs get too weak to hold him steady, and he falls to the ground, crying his heart out. He buries his face in his hands and just…cries. If Nico is going to leave anyway, then it's okay if he lets go and ugly cries just this once, right? He heaves and hiccups, his chest hurting from the lack of air, but it's much too late for him to stop his tears.
His tears last for a long time, but contrary to what he believed, Nico doesn't leave. At some point, the shorter demigod has moved closer to Will, crouching in front of his shaking figure. Will feels his heart jolting when he hears Nico whispering, "I'm sorry, Will."
"W-What…?"
"I don't want to push you," Nico starts. "But I need you to listen to me for a second, is that okay? After that, if you want me to go kick rocks, I'll go kick rocks, but I have something to say."
Will can only nod, already dreading whatever it is.
"Will…you're not alone. I'm here, and I know what you're feeling. I've been there. I know what it's like to be so scared of hurting someone and forcing yourself to stay away from them. It sucks, and I know how lonely it gets. I used to feel like that all the time, and do you know what changed everything?" Nico smiles slightly. "You did. You've helped so much, Will. And I want to do the same for you."
He feels his entire being crumpling. "Nico—"
"I love you, Will Solace. You're so good, and kind, and wonderful. I know you would never, ever hurt me," Nico breathes. "Let me prove it to you."
Will doesn't know what to expect, but it's not this. Nico reaches out to hold his cheek, his palm colder than Will anticipated, but he doesn't pull away. For the first time in a long, long time, he doesn't want to pull away. He holds his breath, hyper-aware of the way Nico touches him, how he runs his thumb across Will's cheekbone gently. Like he's touching something precious. He feels how fast his heart is beating, as Nico slowly but surely reaches for Will's hand. The son of Apollo watches intently as Nico slides his fingers under the glove, pushing the fabric away and tossing it aside. He shivers at the feeling of Nico's hand sliding against his until their finger intertwine.
"See," Nico smiles, squeezing Will's hand. "Nothing's happening. You're not hurting me. I promise."
His breath grows heavy as he stares down at their intertwined fingers. He squeezes Nico's hand back tentatively, testing the waters. When, just like Nico said, nothing happens, his lower lip trembles before he begins crying again. A mix of both happy and sad tears running down his cheeks. Nico wipes them away tenderly and lets out a soft laugh.
"Thank you, oh gods—" he babbles, choking on the words.
Nico wipes more of his tears and brushes away his hair from his face. The son of Hades's smile is bright, and Will falls in love just a little bit more.
"Gods, I probably look like shit right now," he blurts out, part of the sadness replaced by sudden embarrassment.
"A little bit," Nico grins. "I think you're pretty, though."
Will flushes, warmth crawling up his neck and cheeks. But Nico doesn't stop there. His hand moves slightly until he can brush his thumb against Will's lower lip. The blonde lets out a small gasp, Nico's eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips.
"I want to keep showing you," Nico says breathlessly. "Can I…"
"Oh my gods, yes. Yes, Nico."
Nico's expression brightens, scooting just close enough so he can slowly press their lips together. Will's head is spinning, and his heart is beating wildly. The kiss probably tastes of tears, but if Nico minds, he doesn't say it. He pushes his fingers into Will's hair and pulls him closer, his lips curling into a smile against the blonde's. He wonders if this is all just a dream, for someone he's in love with to kiss him like this, it's…unbelievable. Nico pulls back slightly, pressing another kiss against the corner of Will's lips, then his cheek, and forehead.
"Will," he whispers. "I know this doesn't solve everything. But…just remember that I'm here for you. Anything you want to help you feel better…I'll do it."
"Gods. I love you, Nico." Will takes a deep breath and genuinely considers the offer. " Can you…keep holding me?"
The son of Hades smiles, pressing another brief kiss on Will's cheek. "Yes. I'll gladly do that."
"I'll probably feel like this again," he mumbles once he settles in Nico's comforting embrace.
There's lips against the top of his head. "That's okay. I'll be there to hold you again. As many times as you want."