Moving On (Solangelo)

Chapter 5: Nico

While Will was getting me the ambrosia, I slid down on the bed and balled up, covering my face with my arms.  What the fuck was I thinking?!  Of course Will fucking Solace didn't like me, at least not like that.  What on earth ever made me think I even had a chance with him?  Just look how eager he was to get away!  I sure didn't feel like I needed any ambrosia.  He just wanted to get out.

But in a minute, he was back.  He was a tiny bit flushed, like he'd been running around.  So, maybe he wasn't so desperate to get away from me.  Oh, who even knew.  I felt another surge of hatred for Aphrodite as my stomach turned over and over when we made eye contact.

After a minute of him standing in the doorway and me just sitting there on the bed, he said, "Umm, yeah, I uh, got the ambrosia?"  and held out a square wrapped in paper.

I blinked a few times, snapping out of it, and realized that we'd been staring at each other for a weirdly long time.  "Oh, um, right, thanks," I stammered taking the proffered food from his hand.  As I did so, I let my fingers linger against his for just a second.  I wondered if he'd noticed.  I wondered if he cared as much as I did.

When I looked away to unwrap the ambrosia, the tension broke, and I felt more relaxed again.  Calm down, di Angelo, I chided myself, he either likes you, or he doesn't like you.  Deal with it, okay?  Get a fucking grip.  Just don't dwell.  Don't dwell on this like you always do.

Will crossed the room to sit down in the chair again, while I started nibbling on the edges of my ambrosia.  It tasted like raspberry gelato.  The sun was just starting to set, I noticed.  Just then, Will let out an enormous yawn.

"You can't be that tired already, can you, Solace?" I teased.

He kind of pouted, and said defensively, "It's not my fault!  It's a son of Apollo thing.  We always get sleepy, like, the second the sun goes down.  It's totally unfair."

"But what if you need to fight a monster at night?" I asked, "Isn't it hazardous for demigods to not be alert at night?"

He shrugged.  "We wake up just fine when we get a surge of adrenaline or whatever, so it's not a danger."  He yawned again.  "It just makes it hard to pull all-nighters."

I laughed.  "8 p.m. is hardly an all-nighter."

"Yeah, well."  He yawned a third time, and his eyelids started to droop.  I didn't want him to leave so soon, even if it wasn't willingly.  I couldn't stand how badly I wanted to hear his voice, to see his pale golden-brown eyes.  Then it occurred to me.  All he needed was a "surge of adrenaline," right?  Well, there were other ways for that to happen besides a monster attack.

I couldn't stand being so far away from him – it must have been five whole feet!

I couldn't stand not touching him – his skin was smooth and gold, like a gilded statue of a god; his hair was like a field of wheat, or a golden retriever's soft fur; his lips were full and cherry red.

And why should I stand it, I suddenly wondered?  Nothing was tying me down to this bed.  And if I could get beyond my own self-esteem issues, if I tried to take a look at the situation and our previous interactions from an unbiased standpoint, I wasn't sure that I actually had ever gotten a real bad vibe from him.

In just the few moments that I was thinking, he had already fallen most of the way asleep.  He was slouched down in his chair, and his eyes were closed, but I could tell by his slightly uneven breathing that he wasn't quite gone yet.

I prayed to the gods (yes, even to Aphrodite, curse her).

I silently stood up.  I felt possessed.  I crossed the room.

I was standing in front of him now.  His eyelashes looked darker at night, and his freckles stood out.

Before I could completely lose my courage, I reached out a hand and brushed the hair back from his forehead – it was even softer than I had imagined, like cashmere but better, because it was Will's.  His eyes jerked open and met mine, but they were still cloudy with sleep.

Not good enough.

So I kissed him.

Gently, I kissed him, hardly touching our lips together, but he drew in a sharp breath and pressed up into me.  Our mouths opened, and I leaned down, bracing myself with one hand against his shoulder.

It lasted only a second, and then I realized.  What I was doing.  I was kissing.  Will Solace.  A boy.  I was kissing him.  And it felt so, so, so right, but at the same time it felt so wrong.  I jerked harshly away from him, stumbling back a few steps, staring at him in horror.  I was sure I saw disgust in his eyes, or if not disgust, then at least denial, which was worse, so much worse.  If he was disgusted, I could fight; even if a part of me still agreed, I could argue with him anyway, just as I argued with myself.  But if he knew what I was, and he didn't care, he simply didn't want anything to do with me – well, that was his choice.  I could not make him love me.

He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could tell me no, before he could tell me I'm sorry, before he could tell me you're just a friend or how could I think of you that way or that isn't what I wanted, before he could make any of my nightmares into stark, unforgiving, unchanging, written-in-stone reality, I turned, and I ran.

A/N

I'm really, extraordinarily sorry that I never update.  For the record, I've been traveling with no access to electronics for the past two weeks.  But I know it's totally still no excuse cuz I hadn't updated in a while anyways.

Anyways, I'm sorry, and now that it's summer vacation, I should probably be able to update more. I promise I'll try.

Ha ha look at me talking like I actually have any readers.

Okay, anyway, as always, please please please leave any feedback whatsoever in comments – typos, factual inaccuracies, plot suggestions, anything.

Thanks, darlings!

luv always,

agirlmadeofdarkness