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When Nico notices it for the first time, he thinks it’s a trick of the light.
The werewolf scratches on his arms are burning, and he’s so exhausted he feels like he might pass out where he is standing, but the promise of getting changed out of his viscera-encrusted tropical shirt is keeping him upright. He can’t wait to never look at it again. Maybe he should burn it.
He peels it off his torso, slower than he would like, because the stitches keeping his biceps together are screaming in protest. As soon as he’s free he flings the shirt as far away from himself as he can and quickly pulls the rest of his clothes off.
He steps into his shower, taking a moment to appreciate that he has a private one in his cabin and doesn't have to fight with the rest of the camp for one in the communal showers.
Though, the water running down his arms is making the pain worse, and he can’t seem to reach up to wash his hair, so he does his best to rinse his body off and get out as quickly as possible. He wasn’t even in there long enough for the mirror to fog up.
After toweling off, he has to pass by the mirror to grab his newly acquired clothes. Despite his effort to avoid looking at his reflection, the movement has his eyes flickering to the mirror.
For a fraction of a second, Nico catches a glimpse of what he swears is his actual ribcage–as if he can see right through his skin–reflected in the mirror. He does a double-take, eyes wide as he stares intently at himself, searching for evidence of what he thought he saw.
In contrast with the gloomy lighting of the main area of his cabin, the lights in the attached bathroom are overwhelmingly oppressive and harsh. They cast odd, unflattering shadows down his features from where they sit on the wall above the mirror.
Though, he thinks bitterly, no lighting no matter how flattering can hide how his lack of appetite has stretched his skin over his bones. His frame is visibly sharp, with every bump and point sticking out unnaturally.
His ribs are no exception. So, obviously he didn’t just physically see his ribs like he initially thought, he must’ve seen their outline pressing into his pale skin.
He can’t stand to look at himself very long in the mirror, so after he concludes, yes, it was a trick of the light, he turns around to avoid it entirely. Besides, there isn’t much to look at.
-ˋˏ ༻🫀༺ ˎˊ-
The second time Nico notices it, he panics.
He already had a scare earlier that day, trying to take a cup of water Will handed him. It fell straight through his fingers, the plastic hitting the linoleum floor with a loud enough crack to startle both boys. A glance at his hands showed they–as well as his entire arm–were suddenly translucent.
He barely managed a panicked, “Will?” his voice cracking, before Will was moving.
It was terrifying, seeing himself disappear, feeling the sensation of absolutely nothing crawling down his arm from where it was spreading out from his chest.
They sat in a stunned silence, Will’s palms still glowing and warm against Nico’s skin long after his arm came back online and the fuzzy feeling of numbness abated.
So later, when he is changing his clothes in the infirmary bathroom, and taking his shirt off reveals that he can physically see his lungs and heart cradled by his ribs in the reflection of the mirror, he falls right back into his panic from earlier.
His heart starts to race, and he witnesses the organ contracting faster with each pulse. It’s morbid and nauseating, the sight causing a wave of dizziness to crash over him.
He opens his mouth to call out for help while his hands fly to his chest, trembling something fierce, terrified he’ll be able to wrap his fingers around his ribcage and reach through his sternum to touch his heart.
He stops short, voice stalling in his throat. His hands hit a barrier before they can reach parts of himself that should never, naturally, see the daylight.
He pats himself down, and slowly realizes that this seems different from the fading he’s used to–the fading that threatens to reduce him to nothing but shadows. His skin is still there, physically, but he can see straight through it. Well, not straight through it, he can still see the outline of his form, like this one little frog he saw when he accidentally shadow-travelled to Panama.
The affected skin feels… odd. It’s like the sensation is dulled, not quite the same nothingness he feels when he is fading, this is more… more like when Will used something to numb his arm before he fixed his stitches yesterday. He can still feel it, but it’s an echo of a sensation.
He spends too long in that bathroom, looking at himself–looking into himself, feeling every inch of his translucent skin to make sure it is still there, that he is still there. It spans from just below his collarbones down to his navel, allowing a disturbing view of the bones and organs in his core. He frowns at his reflection, feeling frustrated tears gather in his eyes.
He is already hard to look at, he knows this, with his gaunt face, sickly complexion, and his father’s eyes. But now—now—this was something so unnatural, so disgusting, that when Will eventually knocks on the bathroom door asking if he is okay, he scrambles to put on a shirt rather than showing the son of Apollo.
The last couple of days have been weird for Nico, mainly because people kept giving him evidence that they wanted him around. Will was no exception, boldly implying that Nico had a friendly face, and lamenting that he hadn’t seen him.
Nico knew it was stupid, and that he was setting himself up to be hurt, but how could he not let himself feel the tentative hope that, maybe, maybe these people were telling the truth. Maybe, he and Will could become friends.
He couldn’t let this grotesque, repulsive development of his physique weigh against whatever ‘good’ Will thought he saw in Nico.
He opens the door and Will is right there, hovering by the frame with that unfair, genuine concern painted across his face. When he repeats the question, asking if Nico is okay, his eyes narrow at Nico’s clipped response.
Nico rolls his eyes and looks away, partially because Will’s gaze is too intense for him to hold for too long. Based on his experience in the past 36 hours, he sticks his hand out for Will to check his vitals before Will even asks.
Will’s large hands fold together to envelop Nico’s skeletal one. His skin feels like it’s charged with warm, tingly electricity wherever it’s touching Will’s. Now that Nico thinks about it, it feels like that most of the time when Will touches him. It must be what Will’s powers feel like.
Will frowns, his head tilting just slightly, and Nico braces himself. Then, Will shakes his head almost imperceptibly, and his face falls back into his usual content smile. He drops Nico’s hand, apparently finding nothing out of the ordinary. Alongside it, a pit drops in Nico’s stomach.
Will’s proven that he can sense the shadows in him. He can sense when they’re eating Nico’s atoms from the inside out, threatening to pull him into the void of Chaos forever. Therefore if Will didn’t feel anything wrong with him…
He’s snapped out of his worry when Will practically chases him back into his bed so he can rest.
After Will leaves for the night, Nico soon feels Hypnos’ gentle embrace pulling him under. His thoughts briefly flicker back to his chest. If Will can’t sense it, he’s not going to bring it up. He can only hope that it will go away on its own.
-ˋˏ ༻🫀༺ ˎˊ-
It gets worse.
The affected area spreads over the next couple of months, slowly, like the flow of tree sap.
It is subtle in its upwards trajectory, exposing his collarbones, his scapulas, stopping at the base of his neck. Downwards is more grisly, as more and more of Nico’s intestines become visible.
He hates it. He hates it so much.
He hates it so much, mainly because he is so terrified of being ostracized when he’d just let himself hope that he found a home.
After the Battle of Manhattan, he tried to stay at camp, he really did. But, after the buzz of the war died down the campers went back to treating him with skepticism. Eventually they started outright avoiding him, treating him like he wasn’t even there.
If they find out about his condition now, would that be what finally makes them turn their backs on him again? He’s terrified he’ll become as invisible to them as the ghosts he’s been proclaimed the king of–and now he’s more like them than ever. The amount of times he wanted to disappear, run away and spare himself from the inevitable disgust that would be pointed his way when people found out, was too many to count.
To make it worse, being worried about being found out was a sickeningly familiar feeling.
He knew what it felt like to be exposed. He’d already been forced to show pieces of himself before he was ready, presenting his vulnerabilities on a silver platter because some god took a sick interest in him. And now, as a consequence of pushing himself so far to save people he didn’t even think cared about him, he’s been left with a condition that exposes all of him, in the worst way. So of course he can’t help but feel so, so bitter, and so angry at the Fates, for deciding to weave this into his tapestry. Did they relish in the irony of it all?
At least now, after so much practice, he is skilled at hiding pieces of himself (divine intervention aside).
He has never been more thankful about his reputation–a child of the Underworld who hides away from the sun–than when he starts having to wear long-sleeve shirts constantly to cover the slightest hint of his humerus peeking through his skin.
Although, the way he’s been acting like Will Solace’s shadow, a boy who is the embodiment of a concentrated drop of sunlight, might be damaging that reputation. Just a bit.
He should’ve known that his efforts to hide the horror underneath the cotton of his camp shirt wouldn’t be enough. He should’ve known he’d be found out eventually–just like last time.
-ˋˏ ༻🫀༺ ˎˊ-
Something that frustrates Will to no end is the way Nico acts when he is injured. He immediately hides himself away, like a cat when it’s dying. Nine times out of ten, Will was learning about a new injury after it was halfway healed, and only because he felt it through his vitakinesis when they brushed hands.
They were working on it.
Though, Will regularly has to remind himself that he doesn’t have to hover over Nico. Nico was forced to survive on his own, forced to learn how to defend himself by being thrown into the deep end, so he is well equipped to take care of himself. In fact, Nico hasn’t needed his healing since those first three days he stayed in the infirmary, expertly avoiding grievous bodily harm, unlike the rest of camp. The most that had happened was Nico passing out after overextending his powers, but that was easily managed–and he’s getting stronger every day.
Will still hovers more than necessary, he knows that. It’s… selfish.
He thinks that Nico knows too, on some level. That he entertains Will’s overbearing nature, for Will’s sake. Even if this is all Will would ever get from the son of Hades, this begrudging friendship, he’d be happy.
-ˋˏ ༻🫀༺ ˎˊ-
Will thinks that they set a record for the least injuries after a Capture the Flag game today. There was a small trickle of campers with cuts and scratches from their skirmishes, but that was it. No burns, no impalements, no broken bones, no dismemberments? Will used to dream about days like this.
Thus, it is far earlier than usual when Will walks back to the infirmary office to close up. He doesn’t quite make it to the office, though; he stalls in the hallway outside of one of the private rooms when he hears shuffling coming from inside the room.
Odd. No one is supposed to be back here; he’d let his siblings go get ready for the campfire, and they had no overnight patients.
After hearing a thumping noise, almost like someone stumbling, he feels the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Will slowly cracks the door open and peeks inside. His eyes widen, and he freezes when he realizes who is inside.
It’s Nico. Rifling through one of the cupboards. Will accidentally leans on the door, and it swings open too far, and the screech of the door hinge startles them both. Nico slams the cupboard shut, spinning around to face Will.
Immediately, Will knows something is wrong.
Nico’s shoulders are hunched defensively, and one of his hands is clutching his stomach.
“What are you doing?” Will asks, forcing a light tone. He winces internally, even Will can hear the strain in his voice.
“Uhm,” Nico says, eloquently. His eyes flicker between Will and something on the other side of the room. Will follows his gaze, eyes landing on an open window. There’s something dark smeared on the white frame.
Will quickly realizes it isn’t just on the windowframe: there’s a trail of black splattered across the floor, leading right over to Nico, where there is a bigger pool of inky liquid.
Panic swirls in Will’s chest when he realizes where Nico was clutching his stomach, his fingers are shining with the same liquid, which he most definitely now recognizes as blood.
Nico starts to try to explain himself, saying “I–I was just–” at the same time that Will says, “You’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine, I–I just ran out of ambrosia, and I didn’t want to bother you guys–”
“Bother us–Nico, you’re bleeding out,” Will snaps, taking a step into the room.
His eyes flicker back down to Nico’s hand, and Will frowns at the blood coating Nico’s hand. It looks unnaturally dark under the fluorescent infirmary lights. When a drop slides off one of his knuckles and hits the floor, it lets off a puff of smokey tendrils on impact like it is burning the hardwood, and Will realizes something was really, really wrong.
“What the fuck,” Will whispers. He glances back up at Nico, who is now glaring daggers at the blond. “What happened?”
“I’m fine, Solace,” Nico repeats, trying to harden his voice, but Will can hear the tremor in his words.
“No, you’re not.”
Nico shifts slightly, sliding one of his legs backwards as if to brace himself.
What, was he going to try to run?
Then, Will sees the flutter of Nico’s eyes as if he is fighting against them rolling back, and Nico sways backwards for a moment before he rights himself.
Oh, fuck.
“You’re literally about to pass out.”
“No ‘m not.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“You’re insuff’r’ble.”
Nico sways dangerously again, and instantly Will is across the room, grabbing his arms to steady him.
A stricken, desperate look flashes across Nico’s face as he looks up at Will. Will’s heart aches–Nico looks terrified. Nico tries to pull away, despite being too weak to do so.
Forcing down his own swirling guilt about contributing to whatever’s scaring Nico so badly, Will lets his eyes drift down to where Nico is still clutching his stomach. Now that he can see it up close, he confirms the blood staining Nico’s fingers is unnaturally dark, like liquid obsidian. Steam or smoke is wafting off of it, curling around Nico’s fingers.
Is he poisoned? If someone went against the Capture the Flag rules and used a poisoned blade–
His vision is blocked when Nico’s head falls forwards onto his collarbone, his whole body sagging in Will’s arms. Nico takes in a ragged breath in and exhales a frustrated growl as he wobbles, struggling to keep his feet underneath him. The hand that isn’t holding his stomach finds one of Will’s arms, and Nico digs his nails into Will’s skin, letting out a pained whimper. The noise electrifies Will’s entire body, and he feels himself shift into medic-mode.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Will says, softening his voice. He shifts around so he can brace one arm behind Nico’s back, and loop his other arm under Nico’s knees. Will scoops him up and cradles Nico to his chest, ignoring the way his own heart screams at the action. “I’ve got you.”
He crosses the room, heading for the cot. “I want to help you, okay?” he says into Nico’s hair. Will squeezes his shoulder to emphasize his point. “You never have to feel like you’re bothering us. You’re not. That’s what I’m here for.”
After getting no response but another shaky breath, Will places him onto the cot. Nico lets Will adjust his limbs so he’s laying down properly, but Will blames that more on his blood loss than anything else. Nico watches him with glazed over eyes that flutter when Will wraps his hand around Nico’s wrist to check his vitals.
Nico’s vitals always intrigue Will, but in times like this, it can be difficult to figure out where Nico’s weird biology ends and where whatever is wrong with him begins. He’s unnaturally cold to the touch, which is concerning, but Nico naturally runs a couple degrees colder than what would be considered a normal body temperature. Will can also feel a layer of shadows sitting in his cells. After a moment of consideration, Will decides he isn’t feeling shadow sickness–shadow sickness feels like it is replacing Nico’s cells, taking them over like a cancerous growth. The darkness he can feel right now isn’t like that, it's existing within Nico’s body, swirling in his blood, threading through his muscles, and sitting in his skin. Nico always seems to have a baseline of shadows in his body no matter what, which Will assumes is what he’s detecting.
More helpful to the situation at hand, Will can tell that Nico is scared; his heart is racing and his body is full of adrenaline. This is a problem because he’s still bleeding, and Will can feel that he’s already also lost a lot of blood due to a large wound on his sternum that reaches down to his stomach.
He lets go of his wrist and starts to rifle through the supply cart next to the bed, ignoring the trembling in his hands. He glances back at Nico. The black blood soaking through Nico’s shirt is letting off wisps of smoke from the fabric. Will didn’t feel any proof that he’s been poisoned, but this wouldn’t be the first time Will couldn’t discern a magical affliction.
If it is poison, he doesn’t want to wrestle with Nico to get his shirt off and possibly smear the poison around, so he takes out some gloves, and a pair of scissors.
“You might’ve gotten cut with a poisoned blade, which means you need more than ambrosia,” he explains gently, pulling on the gloves. He picks up the scissors. “Also, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to cut off your shirt.”
Surprising Will, Nico lets out a whimper, that desperate, scared expression returning to his face. He attempts to prop himself up on his elbows, and before Will can even drop the scissors to get him to stay in the bed, Nico’s arms give out. When his body hits the bed, Will is stunned to see tears spring into Nico’s eyes.
“Please, please don’t,” Nico begs, sounding so distressed.
“I–I need to look at the wound, Nico. It’s fine. I’ll buy you a new shirt.”
“It’s not about the shirt–” Nico cuts himself off, his jaw snapping shut.
He turns his head away from Will, electing to frown at the wall. When his frown deepens and then trembles, and a silent tear spills onto his cheek, Will feels so lost.
What was Nico so worried about? Will’s mind flickers to Nico’s habit to wear oversized shirts and jackets, hiding his form. Was this reaction really from being self-conscious about his body?
“If you’re worried about being shirtless, don’t worry. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I delivered a baby, remember?”
Nico doesn’t respond.
So, Will, who is acutely aware that Nico is still bleeding and therefore doesn’t have time to figure out the intricacies of Nico’s mental distress right now, starts cutting the fabric.
With each snip, Nico’s breathing becomes more and more laboured, as he gets more and more worked up.
When Will finally pulls the fabric away Nico squeezes his eyes shut as if to brace himself, and every thought in Will’s head abruptly screeches to a halt.
A jagged blade of horror rips through Will’s body so hard he almost gags.
Heart, lungs, ribs, liver, stomach, he’s–he’s completely disembowled–how didn’t I feel this–Nico’s going to die he’s going to die–
Breaking through his panic, in the smallest voice that Will has ever heard from him, Nico cries, “I didn’t want you to see it.”
“See it? Nico, what–” Will stammers.
And then he sees it.
Peaking out from behind his ribs, Nico’s heart is still beating. Will watches it race where it’s nestled behind his lungs, which are expanding with each of his rapid breaths. He’s almost hyperventilating at this point, his body tense as he tries to control the tears that are threatening to rip through him.
Will realizes that he… he isn’t disemboweled at all. His wound is what Will thought it was, but instead of the usual red and pink flesh wound, his black blood is dripping from an equally black slice down his torso, which Will realizes he can see right through.
“Oh.”
The skin and musculature of Nico’s entire torso is translucent, giving Will a front row seat to all of Nico.
Gods. He’s beautiful.
Beautiful, but also still bleeding and in obvious distress, which is much more important than Will’s infatuati–interest. Medical interest.
He takes his gloves off, ignoring the way his heart is breaking at the sound of Nico’s soft cries.
“I’m sorry. I know you’re scared, but I need to heal you,” he says, taking the cut up pieces of Nico’s shirt and placing them to the side. Nico tries to suppress a sob, making a strangled, pained noise. Will’s chest clenches. “It’s okay, you’re okay. Try to take some deep breaths for me darling.” He’s so focused on making Nico feel better that he doesn’t even notice the term of endearment slip out.
He places his palms over the injury, and reaches out with his powers. His brows furrow; the injury is more like a rip than a slice, so it’s going to take extra concentration to delicately stitch Nico back together. He also reaches out to see if he can feel whatever is different with Nico’s body that would make it like this. He can’t feel anything new, just normal Nico and his shadows.
“You thought it was poison,” Nico spits weakly, looking down at Will’s hands. “Why are you even touching me?” The venom he tries to use is overshadowed by the hiccups and sniffles that follow it.
“I was wrong, I’m sorry,” Will murmurs. His eyes are trained down at his hands, but they keep straying to the side. Who can blame him, when he can see Nico’s organs moving and alive inside of him, right under his hands. “Now be quiet so I can focus on putting you back together.”
Nico obliges, refusing to look at Will while he heals him. Eventually his crying slows to a stop, with only a stray hitched breath here and there by the time Will is done.
Usually Will would only heal an injury like this partially, and stitch up the rest to let it finish healing on its own, but he ends up healing Nico almost all the way. A wave of exhaustion falls over him when he finally pulls back, but it’s manageable.
His exhaustion means it’s quiet as he steps away to wash his hands of the remnants of Nico’s blood. He grabs some wet cloths and returns to wipe the leftover blood off Nico’s torso and hands. When he’s done, he’s suddenly so incredibly uncertain on how to proceed. Especially with Nico still refusing to look at him.
Luckily, Nico breaks the silence.
“Can I have a shirt?” he croaks, and then attempts to clear his throat.
Will nods, “Of course. Do you promise to still be here when I get back?”
Nico’s eyes slide over to Will’s just for a second before he looks away again. Then he nods.
After a moment of hesitation, Will leaves, heading to the office to grab something from his stash of clothes he keeps there for emergencies. He realizes none of his shirts are long-sleeved, so takes his blue hoodie off the back of the office desk chair and hurries back.
Will suppresses a sigh of relief when Nico is right where he left him.
He has to help Nico sit upright, avoiding paying too much attention to Nico’s scapulas which he can see through his skin, but when he tries to help him put the hoodie on, Nico makes a high-pitched, bitchy noise of protest.
“I can put on a fucking hoodie,” he scowls, snatching it out of Will’s hands.
Will doesn’t bite back, he hums something neutral and steps away from the cot. He knows better than to fight Nico when he’s like this. As Nico wrangles the hoodie over his head, Will drags a stool over, so he can sit eye level with Nico.
Nico is engulfed by Will’s sweater, the sleeves reaching past his hands, and with a shock Will realizes that the loose collar exposes Nico’s collarbones, which are visible just like his ribs.
Will mourns the fact that he can’t appreciate how right Nico looks in Will's sweater right now. This isn’t exactly the situation in which he pictured Nico wearing his hoodies.
Not that he has pictured Nico wearing his clothes, just, hypothetically–
“Stop staring at me,” Nico snaps, breaking Will out of his thoughts. “I know—I know you think I’m a freak. You don’t need to remind me.”
Will frowns, tilting his head. “That’s kind of mean. Why would I think you’re a freak?”
Nico’s face shutters into something unreadable. “Don’t play dumb,” he says, voice low.
“I’m not playing dumb. I–” Will falters, giving himself a moment to think. He sighs, looking down at his hands. “I think that you are one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. I think that you have had to go through things I’ll never even begin to understand. But I don’t think you’re a freak.” Will swallows, before he tips his head towards Nico, “I was wrong before. This is definitely something I… haven’t seen before. And I don’t understand why, or how it happened. But I’d like to. If you’d let me.” He lets his eyes meet Nico’s again.
He’s still looking at Will with that unreadable expression, so Will continues.
“Because I don’t remember seeing this during your infirmary stay, so I can only assume it’s a more recent development. You can correct me if I’m wrong–or, you don’t have to tell me anything at all. It doesn’t seem to be hurting you in any way, so, if you want, I can just forget about it.”
Will almost feels his chest physically ache at the idea of Nico telling him to forget about it. He’s obviously holding a lot of shame over it, shame that might’ve killed him if he was desperate enough to hide it, based on the events of the past hour.
Also, selfishly, Will wants another look.
When Nico speaks, his voice is so quiet that Will almost misses it.
“The second night,” he says, voice rough. He clears his throat. “It showed up on the second night I was here.”
Will nods. At first his brain is a whirlwind of relief, mixed with how did I miss that, but after a moment, Will realizes that after that first day he only really dealt with Nico’s arms.
“I thought I was fading. It was just my chest at first,” he continues, rubbing one of his hands over his sternum. “You–” Nico falters, and Will’s heart stutters. “You didn’t mention anything when it showed up, even though you were checking my vitals every two seconds. I thought if it was a problem you would’ve felt it, and you didn’t, so I thought it would go away. But it hasn’t.” Nico’s frown deepens, and Will gets a little scared that Nico’s going to cry again. “It keeps spreading, and I don’t know how to stop it.” He looks up at Will, finally, eyes flickering between Will’s like he’s searching for an answer. “I don’t know how to stop it.”
Oh, Will is so in over his head.
“May I?” he asks, reaching his hand towards Nico. Nico’s eyes flutter, and he nods.
Will closes his hand around Nico’s wrist, and despite the warning, Nico still twitches. He reaches out to his vitals at first. He’s so exhausted, but no longer losing blood, so he is at least doing better than earlier.
“It’s–it’s hard to tell. I’m not sure if it's related to the fading. You always have a little bit of darkness in you,” Will says, tilting his head side to side.
“Would it be easier if uhm. If you–” Nico stutters. “If you felt, uh.” Will’s eyes flicker up to where Nico is playing with the end of his (Will’s) hoodie. Nico makes a vague gesture towards his torso.
The room is silent for a moment as Will hesitates, feeling the weight of what Nico is offering.
“It might,” he says, keeping his voice light, pushing back the part of him that is screaming at the chance to see, for Nico to let him see.
The hand that is playing with the hem, curls further around it, and he slowly pulls the front of the hoodie, exposing his torso.
Will fights between taking in every detail and keeping his gaze respectful, so Nico doesn’t think he’s staring. Nico’s heart is mostly still covered by the hoodie bunched around his armpits, but Will can see the bottom of it, beating fast. Faster than normal.
Making sure his hands are steady, he slowly reaches out, placing his palm on Nico’s upper stomach, the tips of his fingers brushing the folds of the hoodie. Will ignores how much space the splay of his fingers takes up on Nico’s torso.
Truthfully, he can’t make out much more from here. He feels the shadows swirling in his cells, sharing the space in between his nuclei like it belongs there.
“What does it feel like?” Will asks. “Like, do you feel any different since it started?”
Nico lets out a shaky breath. “It feels…muted. I think. I’m pretty sure I used to be able to feel so much more, but, also, I don’t know.” Nico shivers. “You feel different.”
Will swallows. “I do? How so?”
Nico takes a moment to think, brows furrowing as he stares down at Will’s hand, eyes shining like he’s discovering something.
“You–your hand breaks through it. The numbness.”
Will lets the silence hang too long, and Nico’s face shutters into something blank. He reaches for the bottom of the hoodie, and Will takes his hand back so Nico can cover himself up.
“So?” Nico prompts, a little bit of bite returning to his tone. He crosses his arms, probably attempting to look mean, but all Will can see is Nico trying to give himself some comfort.
“I don’t think I can fix it,” Will breathes, after a moment. “It feels like shadows, but they’re a part of you. They aren’t hurting you. I don’t know if there is something to fix.”
“So I’m just stuck like this?” Nico asks, voice getting more heated, pulling anger over the pain.
“I don’t think it’s a bad thing, Nico.”
Nico scoffs, and then swings his legs over the other side of the bed. “Sure, Solace. Easy for you to say.”
“Woah,” Will says as he stands abruptly, the stool scraping across the floor. Nico tries to stand; he sways for a second, holding onto the edge of the cot to steady himself. Will rounds the cot, not touching Nico, but holding his hands out in case he has to.
“You lost a lot of blood, you shouldn’t be standing right now.”
“I’m fine, you said so,” Nico spits. “Thanks for the help,” he mutters, pushing past Will and heading for the door.
It slams shut behind him, leaving Will alone, his mind buzzing and his chest a tangled mess.