Battle Wounds: Solangelo Soulmate AU

SIXTEEN

WILL POV:
The doorbell rings so I set my book down and walk over to answer it. Opening the door I see Nico leaning against the wall looking at his phone with one hand and holding his crutches with the other.

"Did you walk all the way here with crutches?" I ask.

He shrugs, "Yeah?"

"You could have called, I would have come and picked you up," I say stepping out of the way so he can come in.

He looks surprisingly comfortable with crutches, like he's used them a lot and it only took him the walk to the police car out of the hospital to get used to them.

"I didn't want to make you do that," Nico shrugs again sitting down on the couch.

"I literally have your car," I remind him.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that," he says with a sigh.

"Are you okay?" I ask, "You seem off."

He shrugs again, "I'm fine."

"How did your talk go with your, uh," I pause, "Probation officer go?"

He takes a sharp breath, "Fine, I didn't get any extra time added since I didn't start the fight."

"That's, uhm, good," I stutter trying to decide if it's safe to ask about his probation officer in the first place.

Nico looks at me and rolls his eyes. "Are you gonna ask or just stare at me like I might kill you."

"I wasn't looking at you like that," I say, though I probably was.

He snickers, "I'm not telling you unless you ask."

"Okay, uh, so you're on probation?" I say cautiously sitting down next to him.

"Yep," he says vaguely.

"For what?" I add.

"Oh, a few things actually," Nico says sardonically, "Assault, MIP, vandalism, shoplifting and I think they called it arson? Though that wasn't on purpose."

"Holy shit," I say after a second or so of processing.

"Yep, so if you want me to leave just tell me now so I can take a second to breathe before limping back home," he says grabbing his crutches like he was expecting me to kick him out.

I put my hand on his arm to push his hand away from his crutches. "I don't want you to leave," I say firmly. "You really think that's gonna scare me away?"

He shrugs, "Probably." I can't help but notice how sad he seems about it.

"Well it doesn't, I just want to hear the stories now," I say with a smile.

He quirks an eyebrow at me, "I'll give you the short versions."

He told me about all the fights he got in at his old schools and how he ended up putting a couple of guys in the hospital and that's what had gotten him expelled. (He got expelled from his first one for the vandalism and more fighting) He broke both of their jaws, their noses, and one of their arms and gave them both severe concussions. One of them even had internal bleeding cause he ruptured an organ.

"That's honestly impressive," I say, "Two against one and you did that much damage and walked away with nothing but a nosebleed."

He shrugs, "They acted all tough but they really weren't."

Then he told me about his drug and alcohol problems and how he still has to go to AA meetings once a month. I suddenly feel the need to throw the pack of cigarettes out before he can remember I have them in my pocket. He must have seen me unconsciously put my hand over my pocket because he smirked and said, "Are you gonna give those back to me?"