Battle Wounds: Solangelo Soulmate AU

TWENTY-THREE

WILL POV:
"It's almost 3 am," I say hardly able to breathe from anxiety. Ever since I left Nico alone to wander around at 10 at night I've felt like an elephant was sitting in my chest.

"He'll be back," my mom tries to assure me, though she sounds just as anxious as I am.

"What if he got lost?"

"He could call you," Mom answers for about the tenth time already.

"What if his phone is dead?"

"This is his neighborhood too, I'm sure he knows his way around."

I groan in exasperation and collapse back down on the coach. I roll up my sleeve and see the ragged cuts he added a few hours ago to his arm, checking if there are more. The cigarette burn on my hand is bright red and calloused. I can feel the tears stinging my eyes and falling down my face as my mom pulls me into her arms again.

I sob into her chest and put my arms around her, wincing a little with the movement of the arm Nico twisted. I'm never going to tell my mom about that, she'd be furious.

"He's gonna be okay, if he's not back in the morning we'll call the police," she says rubbing my back.

My body shakes as I continue to sob into her shoulder.

"It's not your fault baby," she says soothingly.

"Yes, it is," I moan through my tears. "I did something to set him off clearly!"

"You took a knife from him," she says sternly, "That was for his safety, and if he can't see that that's on him."

I hear the doorknob turn and jump up to see Nico opening it and come tripping into the door.

"Oops," he giggles as he shuts the door.

"Nico!" I jump up and run to hug him, but then think better of it after how upset he was at me.

"Will!" He exclaims throwing his arms up and copying me.

I look at him quizzically. "Are you okay?" I ask, concern filling my voice.

"I'll be just upstairs," Mom says, leaving to give us some privacy. I know she is just one little shout away though.

"Never better baby," Nico grins. His eyes are rimmed red and slightly puffy like he's been crying, yet he's grinning at me. He steps towards me and goes up on his tippy toes to kiss me.

I furrow my eyebrows at him, "You're acting weird, what's going on."

He giggles again, and I mean actually giggles. I have never heard Nico giggle before.

"I'm not acting weird," he says. "You're acting weird."

I sniff the air, "What's that smell?"

He doesn't smell quite like cigarettes like I had expected, but he definitely smells like smoke.

"Imma just goes, go bed now," he says his words trailing together a bit. "Sono molto sleepy. Buona notte."

"You're switching between English and Italian mid-sentence," I say quizzically.

He giggles again. "Am I? Oopsie," he says and almost falls over.

It suddenly hits me what's going on. Why he's acting weird, acting oddly happy, his eyes being red and bloodshot?

"Your high," I say disbelievingly. "Where the hell did you get weed."

His smile falters a bit but he giggles again. "Am not," he says.

"How high are you?" I ask.

"No babe, you got it wrong," he says putting his finger to my lips. "You're supposed to say, Hi how are you."

I sigh, "How high are you?" I ask again, not in the mood for his joke.

"Only a whittle," he says putting his pointer and thumb up together and looking at me innocently. His eyes are so red that he's having to squint at me.

"Nico, you know about your parole."

"Awe, fuck the cops man," he says waving a dismissive hand that almost causes him to fall over if not for me catching him.

"Let me see your arm," I say, realizing I'm not gonna get anything out of him tonight.

He tugs out of my grasp and hugs his arm to himself glaring at me.

"No," he pouts. "You'll yell at me."

"I won't yell at you love, but they might need cleaning. I don't know what you used to do them," I assure him in a soft voice.

He shakes his head vigorously. "No, you'll yell at me. And don't worry I cleaned the glass in a puddle, I'm fine."

My breath hitches. "What glass?"

"Empty beer bottle," he mimes breaking a bottle on the wall.

"Nico," I choke out trying not to cry more.

"Why are you crying," he asks coming up to me and wiping the dry tears from my face with fumbling hands, causing me to cry more.

"Because I'm worried about you," I say biting back the tears as best I can. I don't know how to handle this, I don't know how to handle him like this.

What was left of his smile was wiped clean off, leaving only a trail of an amused smirk that he couldn't seem to get to go away. "I'm fine," he says.

"Baby," I say grabbing his wrists on the side of my face. "You came back at 3 in the morning stoned out of your mind and with cuts on your arm from a beer bottle. Your not fine."

He scoffs, and tugs from my grasp. "Whatever, it's your fault."

I feel a part of my heart physically break off and shatter on the ground, and I break down crying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I sob, startling him so much he jumps back. "I don't know what I did to cause this cause you wouldn't tell me, but I could tell I really upset you. Just tell me how to fix this please."

"You took my sisters' knife," he says biting his lower lip.

"Hazel?" I ask, thinking she doesn't seem like the kind of person to have a knife.

He shakes his head. "No," he says.

"She's your only sister?"

He shakes his head again. "No, I have another one. A full-blood one."

My jaw drops and my heart plummets. "You do?"

He nods, "Her name was Bianca."

"Was?" I ask as he hugs himself with his arms.

"She died, with my Ma," he admits, tears escaping his eyes and trailing down his cheeks. "I don't wan' talk about it."

I take a deep breath to get my breathing under control. "I'm sorry," I say.

"That's partly why I was so upset, I was thinking about my sister," he admits.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring up such a sore memory," I apologize. "Wait, partly."

He looks up at me with broken bloodshot eyes. "You talked to me like my dad does," he says his lower lip quivering.

My breath hitches in my chest. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled."

"It's not just that," he says hugging himself tighter. "You said I was throwing a temper tantrum, he always does that when he doesn't like how I'm acting. Even when I was young and he loved me."

I close my eyes in pain, feeling like an absolute asshole. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I didn't even mean it to be honest. I was just so upset and you were being so frustrating it made me mad, and I'm so worried about you."

"Whatever, just stop talking," he interrupts wiping his tears. "What's done is done."

"Can I hug you?" I ask him shaking.

He nods slowly and takes a step towards me. I wrap him up in a hug and bury my nose in his hair to keep him close. He smells like weed and it's even stronger when I'm holding him in my arms like this.

"I love you," I say.

"I love you too," he answers.