Will and Nico

Part 2

WILL

For the first couple of days after the war I barely sleep. I nap when I have an hour or so to spare, but the infirmary is too hectic for me to take a proper break.
We've lost enough people as it is, I don't want to be responsible for any other deaths.
'Will?' I come to, unaware I was in a daze. It's Kayla. Hand on my shoulder, 'You okay?'
'Fine. Yeah.' I say, quickly.
'You need to sleep.' She says, 'how long have you been working?'
'I don't...I don't know. It's fine. I'm fine.' I say.
'You need a break.' She insists.
'I'm fine.'
'If you can tell me the day then I'll let you keep working.' She says. I stare at her, thinking. I try and count the sunrises. I've missed a few. I go to speak but nothing comes out, 'okay, go eat. Go sleep. Just a couple hours, Will.'
'Tuesday. It's Tuesday.' I say.
'It's Friday.' She says.
'That's...what I meant.' I say. She smiles a little, bemused.
'Will, we'll be okay. Me and Reve know our stuff. You don't have to worry.' She says, 'just a couple hours.'
'Just a couple hours. Okay. Okay.' I agree, 'but you send someone if you need anything. If anything looks off at all.'
'We'll send for you.' She says, 'now go sleep.'
I leave the infirmary and find it's still dark out. Early morning or evening. I can't tell. I go to my cabin and fall into bed. I set an alarm before I pass out. I've never been in a deeper sleep.
The alarm rings and I have to fight every bone in my body to stop me from hitting snooze. But my sister in the bed next to me chucks a shoe at me to get me to turn it off, and that wakes me up pretty easily.
I get changed quickly, a camp shirt and shorts. Socks and shoes. I leave the cabin and find it almost pitch black. I have no idea what time it is, but I head to the dining area.
As it's so late, I figured I'd be the only one there, but when I get to the infirmary, I see Nico. He sits at his table, a mug of something beside him. He faces away from me.
'Hey.' I say, gently. He turns, surprised, 'Sorry. I didn't want to make you jump or anything.'
'Hi.' He says. I feel as though he wasn't prepared for interaction.
'Can I...?' I ask, gesturing to the bench opposite him. He looks at me, thrown.
'Sure.' He says, carefully. I imagine he'd rather be left alone, but I haven't seen him since I asked him to come to the infirmary.
I think of coffee, and a mug of cappuccino appears in front of me. I take a small sip.
'Are you...' Nico starts, but trails off. I don't imagine he's great at small talk. I wait, but he doesn't continue. I smile, amused at his attempt.
'I'm taking a short break.' I say, in answer to the question he didn't ask, 'for the essentials. Sleep, food-'
'Coffee?' Nico asks. I laugh a little, surprised.
'Yeah, coffee.' I agree, taking another sip, 'you too?' I ask, gesturing to his mug.
'No, tea. I read somewhere to helps you sleep-' he cuts himself short.
'You not sleeping well?' I ask, gently. He stares at the table. I'm guessing he didn't mean to open up, 'because tea actually has caffeine in it. Not as much as coffee, but still enough to keep you up.' I explain carefully.
'Great.' He says, putting his mug back down, 'that's great.'
'Here.' I say, thinking about the nighttime tea my mother used to have. It appears before me and I push it towards Nico, 'it's nighttime tea. Without the caffeine.'
He looks to me, wary. I'm about to make a remark about it not being poison, but I remember that there's a reason he's so untrusting. I keep quiet as he tentatively picks it up and takes a sip.
'Good?' I ask. He nods, 'you know, there are ways I could help.' I say, 'if you're not sleeping well. There are herbs and all that.'
'I don't like the...' He trails off. I can see how hard it is for him to talk, 'I don't like the stuff that messes with your head.'
'Messes with your head?' I ask. He stares daggers at me, but he answers.
'Like dreams. Makes you dream more.' He says.
'I'm sure I could figure something out. It's kind of my thing.' I say, 'you have bad dreams?'
He grips the handle of his mug so hard his knuckles go white. He doesn't answer.
'Sorry. I didn't mean to-'
'Not dreams. Just.' He lets out a short sigh, 'just memories.'
I look at him. He shakes ever so slightly. He looks as if he's ready to dash off in an instant.
'I can help with that.' I say, gentle still. He looks up, wide eyes. He looks ever so slightly hopeful.