Will watched the trails of ink swirl across his palm, sketches that simply existed without anything close to the lift of a pen on his end. He watched, transfixed, as words finally formed.
Hello.
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Nico held his breath as he waited anxiously for a response. What if his soulmate didn't like him. What if he was mad at him for drawing on his hand so much? Was it distracting? Should he stop?
Finally, he got a reply, and a seemingly careless one at that.
Hi. My name's Will. What's yours? I like your drawings! I can only draw stick people... How did you learn to draw so good???
Nico wasn't sure whether he should sigh in relief or grimace at the words his soulmate had practically vomited onto his arm.
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Will waited all day for a reply. He lay in bed and flipped through one of his old books. His parents couldn't keep up with the speed he finished his books, so buying new books without spending too much money had become a challenge.
His stepfather wasn't having any of it, however. He opened the door to Will staring intensely at the ink marks on his hands, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "I don't understand," he muttered, "he hasn't written back all day. Did I say something wrong?"
Hyacinthus just tilted his head and smiled sadly at his stepson. He wondered briefly if he should leave the boy be, but the thought was dismissed as quickly as it came. "William," he said quietly, "whether you like it or not, you need to get your homework done. I know your upset, but I'm sure they're just busy. They'll probably write back before dinner."
Will grinned a little at that, but it did little to soften the unease that had settled heavily in his heart.
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Nico wanted to say he wasn't fazed by his father's sudden appearance.
His foster parents were kind. They gave him food to eat. They gave him a clean bed to sleep in. But they were distant. And temporary, he reminded himself, as if reflexively.
A knock on his bedroom door startled him awake.
"Come in."
Mia Ferylle opened the door slowly. Her smile was sympathetic, her posture spoke of her nervousness. "There's someone here to see you."
Mia was a small, blonde woman. She was kind, and she treated Nico like her own son. Nico knew she had initially wanted to adopt him, but her husband, Tom, wasn't sure he liked Nico too much, though he'd never admit it outright. He was unnerved by Nico's quiet presence and dark, pessimistic comments, when he did speak.
Nico got out of bed slowly, not even bothering to change out of his pajamas.
Who would visit at this time of night? And visit him, of all people? Curiosity writhed and burned within him.
He raced down the stairs was greeted by a sight that nearly stopped his heart.
A face he hadn't seen in years.
A face he hadn't seen since his sister had been alive.
"D-Dad?"
