Solangelo

Chapter One

As Nico walked over to Will, he smiled. It was the first time in so long that it wasn't a savage grin or a fake smile. He smiled. Behind him, Percy looked like a fish out of the water, trying to form words and spluttering gibberish at Annabeth who was laughing.

Nico was born in 1932 which wasn't exactly the best time for gay rights, so he would always expect people to hate him for it, but now when he told Percy and Annabeth, they didn't. Annabeth had high-fived him. It was strange to say the least.

He reached Will who was looking confusedly at Percy, "What'd you tell him? He looks more confused than usual." Nico let out a snort and Will had to take a second in his mind because he had made Nico di Angelo laugh.

"It was nothing, I just told him I understood algebra." Will chuckled, doing an impression of Percy, "But how?!?!"

Nico was making his way to the cabins but Will had other ideas, "Three days in the infirmary, you promised." Nico cursed himself for the promise, but he followed Will.

When they entered the infirmary, Nico was hit by the energy that death had in this room. Looking around, even without trying, he could sense that the girl with the tattered Camp Jupiter t-shirt and cast wouldn't make it; the boy in the Camp Half-blood t-shirt with bandages around a stump where his hand should have been was going to die. It was overwhelming.

"Are you okay?" Nico was not. Not in any sense. But he nodded, shaking it off.

He led Nico into a room at the end of the infirmary. The walls were white and the floor was wooden, a vase with Hyacinths sat on the windowsill, showing the woods of Camp Half-blood. Nico remembered his first capture the flag game. It wasn't a full memory. More like a flash of it. That's what his childhood felt like. Flashes of random memories.

"Alright," Will said, gesturing for Nico to sit on the bed. It was awkward. Will was already so much taller than him and sitting down made their height difference starker. But as he sat down, he realised how tired he was. He'd just shadow travelled across half the world and then fought in a war where they killed the literal world. He was bound to be tired.

"Alright, Nico, can you take your shirt off? If that is okay with you?" Nico blinked, taking a second to register it. "What?" Will's cheeks reddened a little in embarrassment, "I need to check if you've gotten injured, anything that needs immediate care."

"Oh, right, yeah." Nico hadn't been to the doctor's since he was a child and now, it was more than eight years ago. When he fell sick he kept eating apples and then reasoning that if he went to the doctor, they would die and Nico didn't want to kill someone.

As Nico took of his shirt, he winced. The fabric was dirty and heavy over the wounds left by werewolf claws. Will almost dropped the clipboard where he was making notes, "Nico . . ." The fresh wounds weren't the only things that peppered his skin. There were other scars, self inflicted and otherwise. he had the sense not to do it on his arms. No one saw it so no one cared, but now . . . now there was no avoiding it.

He looked at Will's expression, waiting for the disgust to settle in but it never did. This wasn't the first time Will had seen self harm scars. He saw them on himself everyday. But it was the first time he had seen so many and they were twisted in cruel patterns, all depicting something. A sword, a fruit, the greek rune for death. Nico was watching him carefully so he put on his best professional face, "If you ever want to . . ." He said, not as professional as his face, "You can talk to me."