Boys In Love [Solangelo One-Shots]

Cursed

What do you do when you're born with a curse that demands you wear your heart on your sleeve when you don't even believe that it's your true heart that's showing through?

Percy always told him that he had it easy. That he was lucky because there couldn't possibly be that many people with the last name 'Solace' in the world. He always grinned and looked at his own arm, "And there aren't many people with the last name 'Chase' either. I guess we're both lucky. It won't be hard at all to find our soulmates."

Percy was right, in some ways, because it was better than searching for a needle in a haystack, but Nico always cursed the name scrawled onto his skin in a rushed mix of cursive and print for not being 'Jackson.' So, he thought it was more like a curse. He was sure that it was a curse.

-

What are you supposed to say when your heart is shattered into a million pieces because another's is whole?

Percy met Annabeth on a bus and when he barreled into Jason and Nico's apartment and immediately started babbling about a beautiful blonde (he'd blown off work without a second thought and told her that he was headed to the museum too), Nico had put on a smile and pretended the story didn't bother him. He'd acted like he wasn't wishing for it to have been him.

He still didn't have her last name, and Nico hated the tiny part of him that was comforted by the fact that it might have not been Chase, and that she'd been wearing a long-sleeved sweater. Percy did have her number, though, and they were going out together this Saturday.

But of course her last name was Chase, and of course the name jotted across her skin was 'Jackson,' in bold, messy handwriting that looked like it was waiting for the right moment to make a run for it off the side of the page- or a delicate wrist, in this case.

Nico ended up saying, "That's great, Percy," in a voice that was so choked, his only option was to pretend to cry tears of happiness, when really, the sight of that ring on Annabeth's finger made him sick.

-

What can you do to numb a broken spirit?

Nico didn't know, but he figured he could find the answers in the bottom of a whiskey bottle.

The only problem with that was that it only worked for a little while. So he did it over and over and over again to make it last just a little bit longer.

His friends were worried about him, he snarled that they didn't have to be. He didn't believe himself, though. He was a mess and he knew it. Hung up over a boy he could never have and throwing himself away because of it.

Nico snorted disdainfully and sunk down on his bar stool, throwing back another shot.

-

What goes through your mind when you wake up in an unfamiliar place with sounds of machines beeping and a pair of equally unfamiliar blue eyes to greet you?

Turns out, it's something along the lines of, Cazzo, if you're Italian-which Nico is-because he also had a tube down his throat and he quickly found that his hands were being restrained against the bed, probably so he couldn't remove it, which was exactly what he'd been about to attempt.

"Cazzo," he choked because he felt that the thought needed to be expressed out loud, and then immediately regretted it because talking with a tube down your throat isn't the most pleasant thing.

"Nico! I thought..."

And then he squeezed his eyes shut and whispered it again because that was the voice of the very person he'd been trying to forget, and he was holding his hand and it was all too much.

Someone was tsking to his left, "...much alcohol. Were you trying to kill yourself?" The tone was soft and sad and concerned, but the words themselves made him flinch.

Nico opened his eyes and looked up to find a nurse with blonde hair and too many freckles to count. He looked like the type of person who never stopped smiling, except right now he was frowning deeply, a furrow between his eyebrows as he undid the restraints, warning Nico not to touch the tube. "How are you feeling?"

Nico snorted, "Like death. What happened?"

The nurse pursed his pretty lips and shifted from foot to foot, "Alcohol poisoning. You're going to have to be in here for a while, Mr..."

"Di Angelo," Nico finished for him, and the nurse, who had been adjusting some sort of cord that draped from a machine, froze and looked up at him abruptly with an intensity that didn't seem to match the occasion.

He slowly drew away from the machine he'd been tending to and inched closer to the bed like he was approaching a wild animal, "Can I see your wrist?"

Nico, suddenly feeling defensive for no particular reason, recoiled from him. "Why?"

The nurse quickly rolled up the sleeves of the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing under his scrubs. Nico choked, closed his eyes, opened them again. it was still there. Di Angelo, printed in his own cramped handwriting.

"What's your last name?"

"Solace."

Solace. Nico's hand caught on his wrist, finger wearing away at the writing that was still hidden from view beneath the blankets.

"He's your soulmate," Percy gasped, and Nico nodded, feeling dazed, not knowing where to look. "Yeah... He is... He's..." His voice hitched and his eyes caught on Will's. Someone like that, so kind and beautiful, didn't deserve the kind of baggage Nico came with, so he reached out and grabbed his hand, giving him a fiercely serious face, "He deserves better. Not me."

"No-" Will started, but Nico cut him off, voice choked, "No, just believe me. You don't want... Just believe me."

-

What happens when your curse suddenly has a name, a face? How are you supposed to feel when he has kind eyes and gentle hands and never, not once, does he stop smiling and joking with you? When, no matter how you avoid his eyes or keep your answers to questions curt and emotionless, he never gives up?

Nico fell in love, and on that last day, he almost did something stupid. Something like telling him, like asking him out. Like dooming him to a life of the misery that was Nico di Angelo.

Instead, he did something much, much worse: he left without even a goodbye and doomed himself to a life without Will Solace.