Solangelo One Shots

I Grow For You, You Grow For Me

It's not that big of a deal but this has some mature-ish themes in it(just sex and stuff, with some swearing) but I don't know how old you all are and what you are and aren't comfortable with, so this is just a warning before you start reading. Anyway, enjoy!

Nico's POV

He wakes in a strange bed, with the rays of the sun piercing through his skull, a pounding headache that makes his skull feel as if it's about to explode and his limbs tangled in a mess of limbs, legs wrapped around legs and arms intertwined. He's able to push himself up, his arms like jelly and he groans, wanting nothing more than to collapse back into the bed and sleep his hangover away. But he has to find out who the mystery boy next to him is, the one who's back is slowly rising and falling in a rhythm that Nico finds oddly soothing, the one with a lightly freckled hand resting on his chest that sends a shot of ecstasy shooting up through his veins. 

His legs are shaky when he stands up, his head spinning and he takes a second to steady himself on the bedpost as his eyes sweep the room. There are empty beer cans scattered across the floor, clothes piled in heaps giving off a stench that only a teenage boy's clothes can emit. He flips over a white sweatshirt with the corner of his toe, the blood draining from his face when he sees John Hopkins University written over the front in blue writing. A lump rises in his throat as he rounds the corner, eyes scanning the soft golden hair spread out across the pillow, the light dusting of freckles across his nose. The blanket has fallen down around his waist, showing off the smooth curves of his muscles, the way his abs press against his skin. Who knew archery was such a good workout? 

No, no, no, no. He stumbles back, grabbing his clothes off of the floor, jumping back into his underwear and pulling on his shirt. It's backward but he doesn't care, and he scans the room for anything else that might identify him before casting one last look at the boy in the bed. He's beautiful- unfairly so, really. He's glowing in the sunlight from the window, shine cast over his hair. His mouth is slightly parted and even though his face is mashed against the pillow in a way that would have made Nico look like a goblin, it only shows off the chiseled bones of his face. He looks like a Greek God, and Nico can't tell if he loves it or hates it. 

When the boy in the bed groans Nico's heart freezes up and he darts out of the room, pressing his back into the wall and waiting for any other signs of life in the room behind him. When there's nothing his shoulders relax and for the first time that morning, he feels emotion begin to grip him. His breath hitches but he pushes himself off of the wall, swiping underneath his eye once as he makes his way through the house. It's a beautiful house, really, perks of having your whole family be doctors. But that morning there are sleeping bodies slung across chairs, curled up on the floor, chips scattered across the floor and empty beer cans littering the carpet. It's going to be a beast to clean up and part of Nico feels bad about leaving, but he has to get out. He's about to break down, and he doesn't want it to be in the house of someone he had just drunkenly fucked, surrounded by about ten of his classmates and still so hungover he could probably keel over and vomit anywhere. 

He manages to slip out the back door and as soon as he's outside his hand is flying to his stomach and then he's throwing up in the bushes, and it feels like all of his emotions are coming up with all of the junk he put in his body last night. He's dry heaving five minutes, his hand pressing into his stomach and when he knows he's done he sinks against the side of the building, burying his head in his hands and letting sobs take over his body. His head throbs and his hands are wet and salty with tears and with each gasping sob it feels like months of sadness and repressed feelings are coming up out of his body in the form of liquid pain. He isn't sure how long he was there; he knows that it was more painful than the vomiting, and must have taken at least twice as long. But when he's done he pushes himself up on shaky feet, wiping his mouth. He's beginning to hear life moving inside of the building so he steadies himself on the side of the building before stumbling home.