The problem with trying to convince yourself that you don't think something is true is that deep down in the dark recesses of your brain, you know that you wouldn't even be trying to convince yourself otherwise if you didn't believe the thing you were trying to forget was at least partially true. Which is confusing and annoying and extremely frustrating. As you might have guessed, that was my current situation, only I was starting to move past blatantly denying it and on to questioning every single moment of my life since Will Solace had shoved his way into it. After I invited him, but that wasn't the point.

I cursed myself inwardly for agreeing to take that stupid pie over to his house, like I wouldn't have met him at some point if If I hadn't, like that would solve everything. I leaned against my headboard, working my jaw before trying out the words that had been tumbling around inside my head since I woke up. I'm gay? They felt so strange, they seemed so foreign, foreign enough that I kept rejecting them even though I knew that they were true. It wasn't like I could just kiss another guy and like it and still claim to be straight.

I'd never even considered the possibility before, it just didn't make sense. I felt like I should have known before last night. . . or at least suspected it. Why would I just want to kiss Will out of nowhere without ever really thinking about him that way before? Without really thinking about any guy that way before? Or any girl, for that matter.

And yet, I remembered how happy he had always made me feel and how I felt so safe whenever he was around, the weird, invasive emotions that I didn't understand, but then just pushed away to the back of my mind. Maybe I had liked Will for a while and I just hadn't realized it. It made sense, I hadn't had a friend for so long that I probably didn't realize that the things I was feeling about Will weren't the most platonic in the world.

I sighed in frustration, tangling my fingers into my hair and slumping down onto my pillows. I dragged my hands over my face and pressed my palms against my eyes. It's just not right. It's not natural. I'm disgusting. Then I flinched, remembering his voice at the café, the anger and hurt raging in his eyes. Is that how you see me now? Am I disgusting? And I remembered how, in my head, I had screamed and fought against those words. Will wasn't disgusting in the least. He was one of the most caring and nice people I knew, but was it okay, to think of him that way? Because, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop remembering his lips on mine, the way his fingers had felt brushing over my skin, how right it had felt, how my heart had seemed to expand until it was being constricted by my rib cage. And most of all, how deep down, I'd give anything to feel all of those things again.

No, I thought. It's not okay. It's not right.

I stood up, walked across the room, and looked over the words Will had written, Who are you to judge the life I live? I know I'm not perfect, but before you start pointing fingers, make sure your hands are clean. They were much higher than anything else penned on top of the black paint, and his handwriting was a lot nicer than mine too.

I suddenly felt a rush of annoyance and frustration and kicked the wall angrily to compensate, "Accidenti a te." I leaned my head against it, hitting my fist against a poster. "Dannazione." I wanted to break something. "Mi sono trasformato in un ragazzina malato d'amore, si cazzo culo."

I pulled away from the wall, pacing across the room and running my hands through my hair, and then I flopped ever so gracefully onto my bed face-first, and muttered, "I hate everything," into my comforter.

I laid there for about ten minutes before the doorbell rang and Hazel yelled up the stairs that it was for me. "I wonder who that could be. What a mystery," I grumbled sarcastically. "I just have so many people that could possibly be wanting to talk to me." I considered telling Hazel to tell him to go away, but ultimately decided that I had to face my problems some time and hauled myself out of bed and down the stairs.

My warm and inviting step-sister had left Will standing awkwardly on our front step with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets. I stepped outside with him and shut the door behind me, folding my arms over my chest and pressing my back against the door like I was trying to disappear into it.

Will just grinned at me, straightening his shoulders, his eyes glimmered just like they always did. Like he was actually happy to see me and he didn't have anything better to be doing, like he was completely care-free. At first, I'd been jealous of it, how he smiled and talked and laughed and lived so easily, but now I felt lucky just to be witnessing it, like he was sharing some of that spark with me, feeding life into the hollow husk that was my skull. That was my entire being.

"I was bored and I thought we could go somewhere."

"But what about--" I cut myself short, feeling blood rush to my cheeks, and immediately averted my gaze to the ground. "Uhm, y-yeah. Where do you want to go?"

Will shrugged, for once not making a comment about my sudden change in complexion. He was the exact opposite of everything I was feeling: the awkwardness, the embarrassment, the confusion, the way my heart was going a million miles an hour and my brain was flying twice as fast. "What about CiCi's?"

I nodded, smiling through the sick feeling in my stomach. I was only half-listening to Will's rant about the latest episode of Scrubs he'd watched as we walked, the majority of my brain was dedicated to trying to figure out why he was acting so normal. We had kissed last night, and I confessed my darkest secret to him, and I had sobbed into his shirt. At least I thought I had. My mind did a 180. I'd been asleep. . . and Will had come into my room to get me. . . I had woken up in my bed.

Merda.

I stopped in my tracks, staring at my shoes in horror. Maybe it had all been a dream. . . an extremely vivid dream that I remembered every single detail of. . . It wasn't impossible, in fact, it actually made a lot of sense. But why, why, would I dream about kissing Will? And why, deep down, did I wish it had been real?

"Nico?" Will asked, turning around and looking at me with concern, "Are you okay?"

I swallowed and looked up at him, faking an easy smile, "Yeah, I'm fine. What are you gonna get?"

"Probably just the usual, what about you?"

"Yeah. . . that sounds good. . ." I answered distractedly, not looking at him.

Will nodded and continued jabbering away.

No, no. There's no way it was a dream, I thought. People don't fall asleep and wake up in their dreams. . . and dreams just aren't that real. But I still couldn't figure out why Will was acting this way. It was like he didn't care, like it didn't happen at all, except I was positive it had happened. Maybe I was even a little scared that it hadn't, because I couldn't imagine feeling all of this and not having it reciprocated.

Not having it reciprocated? I'm not supposed to be thinking like this at all.

I looked up at Will, watched as he grinned widely at the cloud-ridden sky like it was an old friend. I wasn't sure how I'd managed to ignore this for so long, the stupid, achy feeling in my heart. I'd thought that that description was just some dumb cliché that someone had made up, but my chest felt like it was physically twinging and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

No. Stop. This has to stop. I can't think like this. It isn't right, I mentally scolded myself, shaking my head, making hair fall into my face that I pushed back carelessly.

I spent the rest of the walk there trying desperately to focus on what Will was saying and not how he looked while he was saying it. How his eyes lit up and his lips stretched into smiles that were impossibly large and breath-taking. I was failing miserably and I didn't get it. I had pushed all of this aside so easily before that I had hardly even noticed it, but now that I'd finally acknowledged it I couldn't seem to forget it. It was like that stupid phrase, 'She didn't deserve it.' I was getting really sick of caring too much about things that I didn't even want to remember.

"Hey, Neeks!"

I turned around to find a very amused Will standing in the doorway of CiCi's, "You passed it."

I glared at him and stomped over to the door, which Will obviously found pretty hilarious because he had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. "What a little ray of sunshine," he intoned jokingly, and I couldn't help but smile a little.

"Shut up, Will."

"Not in a million years, Neeks."

We got our usual single bowl of pistachio and stracciatella, like we'd planned, and sat at a table near the back. Will held a spoon out for me and I ended up knocking it out of his hand in a clumsy attempt at grabbing it. That's when I noticed that I was extremely, unexplainably nervous and the way Will was laughing and calling me a klutz as he waved the plastic appliance in my face teasingly wasn't helping matters any. I snatched it out of his hand, muttering a quick, "Thanks," before I scooped up a large helping of gelato to get me out of talking momentarily while I tried to pull myself together.

Will grinned at me, scrunching his nose cutely, and I had to look away to hide the blush spreading over my cheeks because, yeah, he was really cavolo cute.

No, no he is not, I refuted, horrified with myself.

"Neeekkkksss!"

I turned back to Will, my eyes widening in surprise, "W-what?" Great, now I was stuttering, and I couldn't come up with a single thing to say to him, which really sucked because it had been so easy to talk to him before.

"You okay? You seem kind of off." He tilted his head to the side inquisitively, like a confused bird, smiling at me warmly.

"Uh, yeah. I'm fine. Just a little distracted, I guess." By you.

Will nodded, taking a bite of the gelato. "Thinking about decorating the ceiling?"

"And so what if I was?" I almost sighed with relief, because I'd finally found something normal to say and I hadn't tripped over my own tongue in the process.

Will shrugged, and I found myself reflecting that even that simple movement seemed graceful coming from him and that just wasn't fair. "Just wondering."

I grinned at him, You fake emotions all of the time, you're fine, just pretend you're calm. "You know, you still haven't helped me decorate mine."

Will laughed, leaning back in his seat. "I didn't know you still wanted me to."

I shrugged, smiling a bit, "It was just a suggestion."

He nodded, looking off to the side, but I didn't follow his gaze, my eyes were too busy scanning over his face.

I tapped my fingers against the table restlessly, dropping my gaze down to watch them. Stop it. Stop it. You can't do this. This is wrong, I reminded myself, blowing out a deep breath and wondering for the millionth time why I had to be so stupid at the lake. If I wouldn't have kissed him, then just maybe I wouldn't feel this way.

That's what I was trying to tell myself, anyway, but the truth was, I'd felt like this long before that, I just hadn't accepted it, and even if I hadn't kissed Will, I'd still realized something there. I shook my head slightly, trying to clear that thought away, to forget.

A warm hand wrapped around my own, effectively stilling my fingers. I jumped in surprise and looked up at Will, sucking in a gasp that caught in my throat as I met his gaze.

"Nico?"

I opened and closed my mouth, trying to figure out why my arm was prickling and my heart was beating twice its normal pace. I tried to swallow, but my by throat was too dry. "Hm?" I asked, willing myself to pull my hand away, but somehow unable to make my muscles comply.

He wrapped his fingers around mine and the thundering in my chest grew even louder. No, no. Stop. I can't do this.

"You seem anxious. Are you sure you're alright?"

I shook my head, reaching up with my other hand to gently disentangle my fingers from his. It gave me another excuse to pull my gaze away from his for a few seconds. "No, I mean, I'm fine. I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night. . ." You know, because I was awake half the night. Kissing you. "I'm a little out of it."

I wasn't even the slightest bit surprised when his face immediately tightened into worried lines. "Hey, do you want to go home? If you're tired, you should sleep."

I should've said yeah. I should have yawned and pretended I could hardly keep my eyes open and then agreed that it was probably best if I got some rest, but for some reason I suddenly didn't want to leave Will. For some reason, being alone sounded a lot more dangerous than the unfamiliar thoughts invading my brain.

"No," I said, maybe just a little too quickly, the underlying desperation seemed just a fraction too apparent. "I-I'll be bored at home alone," I explained hurriedly.

Will nodded, his attempt at casualness was even worse than mine. "Okay, Neeks. We should probably finish this before it melts." He gestured toward the bowl sitting between us and I nodded.

I let him have most of it, I wasn't really feeling up to eating a ton right then, and when it was time to go I trailed after him tentatively like I was afraid of where he was leading me. In a way, I kind of was, just not literally. But did I really not want to be feeling like this? Was it really so bad? A tiny voice at the back of my head whispered that it definitely hadn't felt bad at all when I'd kissed Will. That same tiny voice was practically having a seizure because, yes, I'd kissed Will Solace and he'd kissed me back.

I found myself staring at the back of his head, a million miles beyond confused, because, if he was acting like this now, did he really like me? Maybe he'd just been taking pity on me at the lake. Maybe that stupid kiss hadn't meant anything at all. At least not to him. That didn't make sense either, though. He'd looked so absolutely hurt when I'd scrambled away from him. Maybe he still hadn't forgiven me.

That didn't matter, though. Of course it didn't matter, because I wasn't supposed to be even considering this. All of my life, everyone around me had taught that being gay is wrong, that it's a sin, and while I wasn't supposed to hate gay people or treat them any differently than everybody else, because they were, of course, people, and they had their own choices to make and love thy neighbor and all. . . and what reason did I have to think that my parents, the people at my church, were wrong? Why would they lie to me? Of course, they wouldn't intentionally be lying, but still. It didn't make sense. Nothing about this made sense, especially since I kept referring to "gay people" like I wasn't one of them.

And apparently Will, the stupid kid who was responsible for all of the idiotic thoughts raging around in my head, had stopped, and apparently I should have been paying more attention, because I smacked right into his chest, and he stepped back, taking me by the shoulders and laughing, teasing me. And he was much too close and I could just reach up and. . .

I stepped back hastily, mumbling an apology and trying desperately not to meet Will's eyes.

"Are you sure you're okay, Neeks?"

I was forced to look up and meet his gaze, which really didn't work in my favor. "Yeah, I'm fine," I told him, trying to act confused like I had absolutely no idea why he would ask.

Will pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and started gnawing on it worriedly, which was something he did all of the time, but I was just now realizing that he looked really good when he did it. "You sure?"

I swallowed and muttered, "Mm-hm," because I didn't think I'd be able to manage anything else right then.

"Okay. . ." he said, but his eyes were still troubled, "Where to now?"

"Your house?" It seemed like the perfect solution, we could just sit in Will's room and talk like we always did, I wouldn't be alone, and I didn't feel like being surrounded by the dark interior of my room. I needed something that was a bit more subtle and happy.

Something a bit more like Will.

-

It was nearly night time and the only light in the room was was a dim lamp that gave off just enough glow to illuminate half of Will's room.

He was stretched out across his bed, one arm thrown carelessly above him and the other slung across his stomach. He had his eyes closed and he smiled as spoke, his voice was light and drawling, almost like he was half asleep. He wasn't worried about me at all, everything was the same.

Everything is the same, I told myself. The only problem was that if everything really was the same, I wouldn't be crammed into the corner where his headboard met the wall with my knees pulled into my chest like I was trying to shield myself from him. I would be over there, stretched out next to him, laughing too hard at his stupid jokes and secretly loving when he shifted and his arm pressed against mine, or when he turned his head and his face was so close to mine that I could pick out the tiny flecks of gold around his irises.

I could have pretended that all of that was normal.

Will turned his head towards me, opening his eyes and grinning. I quickly pulled my face into a smile of my own. Will frowned.

"What's wrong?"

I developed a bewildered expression, "What?"

He drew himself into a sitting position, "I know you, Nico. I can read your facial expressions by now and I know when something is off. What aren't you telling me?"

You know, Will. You should know.

"Nothing's wrong." I did my best to sound amused, "I just have a default pissed off face. If you know me so well, then you have to know that."

He still looked doubtful, "Yeah, but--"

"No buts, everything is fine."

He studied me for a second, "Are you sure?"

I nodded, and he gave me a small smile, "Then get over here, you don't have to sit ten feet away from me."

A muscle in my face twitched, part of me was afraid of getting too close to him. I was afraid of what I might do, small things I would regret later.

I moved out of my corner, out of the safe, enclosed crevice. Some people hated being in constricted areas, but most of the time, it made me feel like I was harder to reach, to hurt, if I was pressed into a small space.

Will waited as I crawled my way over to him. I was blushing as he smiled and bit his lip to keep from laughing at how awkward I looked.

We talked for a while after that, it could have been hours or minutes, I wasn't keeping track of time, but somehow we ended up laying down, me on my back, staring up at the ceiling, and Will curled up on his side next to me. He'd fallen asleep a while ago, all I knew that it was late at night and the top of his head was nearly pressed against the side of mine and my shoulder was flush against his chest.

It was impossible to even think about sleeping when I could feel his hair brushing my face and his breath against my neck. When he was lying so close to my side and his hand had fallen on top of my chest a while ago when he'd turned over in his sleep. Somehow I managed to fight the urge to turn to face him and snuggle even closer.

I could have spent the night with my face pressed into his chest and my arm around him and then pretended that it was an accident in the morning, but I didn't. I didn't because I knew Will would see right through me, and if there was anyone that I absolutely had to keep this from other than my family, it was him.

I still regretted it, though. I needed to stop letting myself get so close, but it was already so much harder than it should have been.

-

It wasn't like I was just aimlessly doodling and then his face appeared, even though I sort of wished it had happened that way, then I could pretend it was just a coincidence. The truth was that I couldn't help but want to draw him, no matter how hard I fought it, and eventually, I gave in. I started off with small things: his lips; grinning, smirking, laughing, and just resting normally, his eyes; wide, crinkled at the edges like they always were whenever he smiled, filled with concern like they were so often for me, and winking at me teasingly, his nose; the freckles dotting it, the way it scrunched up when he laughed, his hands; beautiful and strong and calloused and gentle. And then I started drawing his whole face, and then his collarbones and shoulders and his arms and his torso until I was drawing full-body renditions that were so accurate it scared me. I never realized how much time I spent studying him, how it seemed like I knew him better than I knew myself.

I felt like I was addicted, like I couldn't stop. I drew him over and over, my pencil tracing the same paths that my eyes had so many times before until I finally realized why I hadn't been able to draw him before this. It was because I was blocking out the most vital part of him-- maybe even of myself-- that I knew, the way he made me feel. Even if I didn't want to feel these things, even if they confused me and me sick to my stomach, they were vital and they were real, they still mattered. I hated that most of all. They mattered. I couldn't just get rid of them because some part of me liked them.

I dropped my sketchpad like it had scalded me, watching it topple to the ground and fall open to a random set of pages. Ones that were filled with Will, of course, the first was fixed on a rough sketch of him playing his guitar, his head tilted forward and strands of hair hanging over his face, he was lost in his own music. The second was a detailed drawing of him at the lake, leaning back on his hands, hair plastered to his forehead and water running down his back in rivulets.

I had entire pages dedicated to trying to get the color of his eyes right, entire pages trying to describe how he made me feel and how I hated it and how I didn't want to feel anything anymore. The whole thing was one giant, stupid diary of Will Solace. It was the only outlet for all of this.

"What's wrong with me?" I muttered, dragging a hand over my face.

This wasn't supposed to happen. People weren't supposed to feel this way about other people of the same sex, and yet, here I was, doing just that.

"My parents would be disgusted," I told myself. It didn't change anything.

Nothing changed it.

I was starting to worry that nothing could.

I was starting to worry that Will could completely smash me to pieces and I would feel like this.

I felt more broken than I ever had before. More confused. More at odds. But sometimes I felt happier than I ever remembered being in my entire life, and that scared me the most, because if I did succeed, if I did forget or stop feeling, that would go away too, and I didn't want it to.

My hands were shaking as I bent down and picked the book up again. I sobbed quietly, clutching it to my chest, looking up and whispering to God to make this stop. I just wanted everything to stop.

-

The curve of a smile, the taste of it, moonlight spilling over a pair of shoulders, the graceful arch of a neck, muscles rippling under my fingers. . . calloused hands. . . I crashed onto my bedroom floor, jerking awake and managing to get myself hopelessly tangled up in my blankets.

"Cazzo." I muttered, kicking my legs in order to extricate myself from the covers.

I hauled me and my duvet back onto my bed and flopped down onto my pillow. Normally, I couldn't remember my dreams, but this one was as fresh in my mind as if I had actually lived through it. I blew out a breath, suddenly realizing that I was shaking.

Cazzo.

I shucked the blanket off, I felt like I was being suffocated by my own thoughts. The very air in the room was pressing down on me, hot and dry, carrying words and accusations that I didn't want to listen to. They swirled around me until I was forced to acknowledge them.

"What's wrong with me?" I asked myself for the thousandth time since that day last week.

I turned and curled in on myself, trying to forget, to remember what it was like to not have this crippling weight on my shoulders, this knowledge. It had become heavier and heavier every day. My mouth felt too dry, I couldn't swallow and it made me feel like I was choking, struggling to breathe through sand being poured down my throat.

I dragged myself out of bed and down the stairs into the kitchen for a cold glass of water. The cool liquid chased away the drought in my throat but not the images from my dream. Skin and sweet caresses, gasping breath and singing nerves.

I clutched the cup so tightly that my knuckles turned white and I was afraid the glass would shatter and cut into my palm. A tiny, insignificant part of me wished it would, maybe that would be enough to make me forget this, if even for a second. Even if it was white-hot pain that drove away these thoughts.

I clenched my eyes shut, figures burned behind my eyelids. I couldn't escape. It was silly to even try, I almost laughed.

I found myself remembering how Will had climbed up to my window twice before, how the first time he'd stayed with me the whole night to make sure I had a good night's rest. How I woke up to find him just a couple of inches in front of me, still sleeping peacefully, his face relaxed and beautiful. He always looked beautiful. I remembered how my bed had smelled faintly of him after he left and how I had pretended that it didn't bother me when it faded away completely so soon afterwards.

For a moment, I imagined climbing in Will's window and snuggling into him. I wondered how he would react, if he wrap his arms around me and whisper something soft, if he would shuffle away and ask why I was there. And what would I tell him? The truth? That I was seeking comfort and the very thing that was bothering me was what I was doing right then? It scared me that Will was the first thing my mind turned to when I was in distress. Especially when he was the person that caused me so much confusion

It wasn't his fault, though.

Now I was picturing the second occasion, when we'd raced through the woods in the dead of night, when I'd. . . but those memories were dangerous.

I pulled myself out of the chair I was sitting in, leaving the glass on the table. I tried to sleep when I got back into my room, but almost as soon as I started drowsing I was dreaming of him and then I was jolting awake all over again, shaking and confused.

Him.

I spent the rest of the night trying to pull myself together and I never succeeded. I tried to convince myself that Will was just my friend, that that was how I should think of him because that was what he should be, but it never worked.

My alarm clock started screeching at me and I had to haul myself across the room to turn it off before I flopped back onto my mattress for another thirty minutes. By the time I actually started getting ready I barely had time to change clothes and grab something to eat as I rushed out the door, shrugging my jacket on the rest of the way and combing through my hair hurriedly with one hand as I clutched my uncooked Pop Tart with the other.

-

I trudged into my first-period class and dropped into my seat with a thud, burying my head in my arms and ignoring Leo, who was perched on the desk in front of mine. He'd started hanging out in my class until the five-minute bell rang, when he'd scurry down the hall to get to his own class. This had annoyed me at first, but I'd actually kinda grown to like the guy. Kinda. Sometimes I still wanted to rip his head off just so he would shut up, but he was Leo, so that was to be expected.

"Nico?"

"What?" I grumbled, my agitation leaching into my words.

"You look like crap," Leo stated chirpily like he was announcing that it was a beautiful day. Which, for the record, it was not. Up until a few days ago, you would have thought summer was still in full swing except for the leaves changing color and falling off of their branches. I'd always thought it was a bit morbid that people wondered over the beauty of a tree that was slowly killing itself just to survive. Especially since they looked so skeletal once they'd sucked all of their life into their core like a person cutting off their circulation above an injury so they wouldn't bleed out even though they could lose a limb later. Of course, most people didn't look at it that way, but I wasn't most people.

"Thanks." The word was pulled taught like a trip wire that was just waiting for some poor soul to stumble across it.

I imagined Leo smiling smugly. "Much obliged."

I rolled my eyes, lifting my head tiredly to give him a halfhearted glare. Leo's smile faded a bit, apparently me stumbling into a room with tangled hair and circles under my eyes so dark they could have been eyeshadow wasn't concerning, but the fact that I didn't even have enough energy to be pissed at him was.

"Hey, are you alright?"

I grunted, letting my head drop back into its previous position. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just haven't been getting a lot of sleep," I mumbled into the sleeve of my shirt.

"Is it Will?" My head snapped back up at the question, which Leo apparently took to mean, 'Yes,' because he rolled his eyes and fixed me with an exasperated look. "I'm not dumb Nico, you two are so obvious that a blind man could see it, and now you're acting all weird around each other and you're even worse when you aren't around each other."

He gave me a moment to stare at him with wide, panicked eyes before he sighed and continued. "Did you guys have a fight? Did you break up?" He sat there for a second, and then grinned wildly, which really didn't seem to fit the current situation, and it also didn't help the huge mass of confused, swirling thoughts inside my head. "Well, don't worry, bro. I got you covered, Leo Valdez may be a bad boy, but he's also quite good with the ladies. . ." he coughed awkwardly, "Well, in your case it's a gentleman, but it can't be that much different, right?"

I just stared at him some more, there was so much going on in my mind right then that it seemed like nothing was going on at all because I couldn't quite hold on to any of my thoughts; they were there and then they were gone and a whole hoard of new ones was flooding in and overriding my system. I finally forced one out that seemed to be coming back more frequently than all of the others, "We're not dating."

Now it was Leo's turn to stare in confusion, "You mean. . . not anymore, right?"

I shook my head. "No, I mean, we're not. . . we haven't ever. . . I'm. . ." What? Straight? That's such cazzate and you know it.

"Oh."

I looked away from Leo, shaking my head. Don't tell him. Don't tell him. If you tell him it just becomes that much more real. Don't tell him.

"So, then. . . what is bothering you?"

I shook my head again, "It's nothing." I told him. Will's voice whispered in the back of my head, You seem to say that a lot, 'It's nothing.' When is it going to be something, Nico?

Leo rose his eyebrows, "You wouldn't be acting like this over nothing."

I worked my jaw, looking down at my hands, noticing for the first time that that I had smears of paint here and there, blue and gold mostly. And different swathes of caramel. "You should probably go, the five-minute bell is going to ring any second."

Leo opened his mouth to say something, and then he shook his head defeatedly as more people started trickling into the classroom. He hopped down from the desk, "Fine, Neeks, but I'm not letting this go. After school, you're telling me exactly what's going on."

Normally, I would have retaliated and yelled something at his back in an attempt at discouraging him, but I wasn't in the mood. I felt drained.

"Only Will calls me Neeks. . ." I muttered weakly, but he was already gone.

-

After a day of beatings, taunts, and seemingly worthless work, I'd forgotten Leo's promise, but apparently he hadn't.

"What was up with you this morning?" he asked, breaking the casual silence that had stretched out between us. I hadn't thought much of it, I'd even been relieved that Leo wasn't jabbering for once, but now I realized that he had probably been trying to figure out how to bring it up. He looked awkward and nervous, which was out of character for him. My guess was that he wasn't used to giving advice and asking about people's problems. I couldn't blame him, I didn't have much practice myself.

I sighed in annoyance, "I already told you, I was just tired." That was true, well, maybe not the 'just' part, but I had only gotten three hours of sleep.

"Is there any particular reason why you were tired?" he ventured.

I paused for a second, seeing Will's flashing smile in my mind's eye, the hesitation was slight, but I think Leo noticed, I saw him glance over at me with his eyebrows raised. "Yeah," I said, lacing the word with sarcasm, "it's called lack of sleep."

Leo rolled his eyes, "You know what I meant."

"Yeah, and that was my answer. Why is it so hard for you to believe that there's not anything bothering me?"

"Because I've seen you sleep-deprived before, and you might look like shit and be a bit distracted, but you never let yourself show that much outward distress, Nico. Even when-- even when Percy and them are jack-holes you act like it's no big deal. So, something must really be getting to you for you to have acted like that."

"Jack-holes?" I scoffed, but inwardly I was beating myself up. How could I be so stupid? How could I let my guard down like that? I'm not supposed to show weakness. Snapshots of all of the times I'd broken that rule in front of Will flooded into my head and I pushed them away, feeling a slight blush touch my cheeks.

"Don't try and change the subject, Nico." Leo sounded more amused than annoyed.

Am I really that transparent?

"I wasn't, I was just pointing out that 'jack-hole' sounds lame."

"Okay, whatever helps you sleep at night."

He was silent for the next thirty seconds and I was beginning to think that he was going to drop it, but then he blurted, "You know, I'm not going to leave you alone until you tell me," and I barely refrained from letting out a groan.

"There's nothing to tell."

"I don't believe you for a second."

He kept pestering me the whole way and he didn't make the turn when we got to his street. I wheeled around to face him as we approached my house, "Bye, Leo." I fixed him with a pointed look.

"No," he said stubbornly, "I'm not leaving until you tell me."

I glared at him, "Yes, you are," and then I turned and started making my way up the drive.

I heard Leo following behind me, "Nico, so help me, I will follow you into your house."

I turned to face him again as I stepped onto the bottom stair. "No, you won't."

He raised his eyebrows at me, something in his eyes said that he would come in whether I wanted him to or not. We had a silent stare-down for a few seconds, me glaring daggers at him, and Leo obviously trying to make himself seem both parts concerned and menacing at once, which wasn't working out so well, as you might imagine.

"I can stand out here all day, di Angelo." Leo leaned casually against the supporting column of the house, folding his arms over his chest, he was neck and neck with me for the wimpiest muscle award.

I worked my jaw for a second and then I sighed in defeat, mostly because I didn't want Leo bothering me about this for the rest of eternity. "Fine."

Leo grinned triumphantly, "I knew you would come to your senses sooner or later."

"Shut up before I change my mind."

Leo made a zipping motion across his mouth and I rolled my eyes, pushing the door open.

Neither of us said a word until we were up in my room, sitting across from each other on opposite ends of my bed. Even then, we stared at each other awkwardly for what felt like ten minutes before Leo finally spoke up, which wasn't surprising.

"Are we just going to sit here all day, or are you going to explain?"

I considered telling him some elaborate lie, but I couldn't think of anything that would have put me in this situation except what had actually happened, so instead, I closed my eyes, blew out a breath, and said, "You have to promise me you won't laugh."

"I wouldn't--"

"Just say it." I said, my eyes were still closed. I couldn't believe I was doing this.

"Okay, okay. I promise." Leo's face was full of confusion.

My head was spinning, trying to figure out how to put everything I was feeling into a few words. I like Will. Oh, Dio, I like him, and I can't. . . I shouldn't. . . I remembered the way Leo had seemed so blunt and casual about assuming that Will and I were together. I remembered Will standing and storming away so quickly that his chair crashed into the tile, yanking my heart with it.

"I need you to promise you won't get mad. You can't freak out, okay?"

Now he just looked exasperated, "Why would I be mad?"

"Leo, I promise I have good reasons. . ." I was already panicking.

"I swear I won't get mad."

"No matter what."

He hesitated for a second, I probably would have too if someone was acting the way I was, "Yes. . . No matter what." He didn't sound so sure.

I sat there for a bit, picking at a string that was unraveling from my jeans, "So. . ." I cleared my throat. I was trying to put off saying it out loud for as long as possible. "It is about Will." His name came out sounding fragile and quiet, as if I was afraid of it.

Leo managed to look even more confused, "Wait. . . so. . ."

My throat felt like it was closing up and my cheeks were flaming, "I think. . . I think I like him," I choked.

"Oh. . .?" He was still waiting for me to get to the point. He didn't understand that that was my problem, that was my awful, horible secret that kept me up at night.

I shook my head, raking a hand through my hair, "You don't get it. I don't want to like him."

"What do you mean, 'you don't want to like him'--" His eyes widened, "Oh."

I clenched my eyes shut, dragging my knees into my chest and hugging them tightly. "Just go," I muttered, that one word, or rather the way he looked-- the way he sounded-- when he said it, summed up everything he was thinking. He thought I was disgusting, but for a whole different reason than the one I had pinned on myself.

"Okay. . . but before I go, I want to ask you something." He didn't give me any time to object, "Why?"

I opened my eyes again and looked at him, I wondered if I looked as much like a corpse as I felt. "Because. . . because everyone says it's wrong, Leo, and they're right. They have to be right. . ."

He shook his head, "I don't get that. Why do they have to be right?"

I looked down, "Because I believe that everything else they say is true and if this isn't, then I don't have any reason to believe anymore and I just can't. . . I can't do that. And my family. . ." My tone was desperate, like I was frantically trying to make my words make sense. As if someone else agreeing with them would make this any easier to bare.

Leo swallowed, "Nico. . . I just. . . want you to consider something." He shifted his position slightly, "How is it right to tell a person that they can't love someone?"

". . . Because love isn't supposed to be like that." I felt tears falling over my cheeks and I didn't even try and brush them away. Leo was just confusing me even more because what he was saying made sense. It wasn't supposed to make sense.

"Do you really believe that?" His voice was quiet and sad.

Did I?

Maybe.

Yes.

Of course.

I couldn't not believe it.

"I. . . I don't know," I muttered.

Leo shifted uncomfortably, that nervousness again. "Does it feel wrong to like him?"

I looked down at my hands. No. No, it feels so good. He makes me feel important. "Things that feel good aren't necessarily good, Leo."

He was silent for a long time, "I'm not sure how to help."

I laughed, finally wiping the wetness off of my face. "I didn't expect you to solve all of my problems."

"I know, but--"

"I kissed him," I said, just loud enough for him to hear me. I wasn't sure exactly why I was saying it, especially at such a random moment, I guess I figured that I might as well throw everything out at once. "I kissed him and then. . . I sort of freaked out. But then it was okay and I. . . We were okay. And now he's acting like it never happened and I'm not sure what that means. I should be grateful but I. . ." My voice drifted off, Leo was looking at me with a knowing expression.

"What do you mean, 'It was okay'?"

I looked down, remembering how he'd held me in his arms and whispered to me softly. "I guess it didn't really mean anything. . . he probably thinks that I want to pretend it never happened."

"Well, do you?"

Silence again.

"Maybe."

Leo nodded, "You can text me if you want to, Nico." His tone told me that he was leaving.

"Okay."

The door clicked shut and I sunk down onto my bed. Tears rolled off of my cheeks silently, they made the material of my pillow damp, my skin felt sticky where their trails lingered.

How am I supposed to choose between Will or my religion? Will or my family?

-

I was rushing out of my last period the next day, hoping against hope that I wouldn't see them again when a huge, meaty hand gripped my shoulder. I whipped around and immediately stiffened when my eyes landed on Frank, glancing around, trying to pick out the rest of them through the crowd.

"They're not here, I just want to talk to you." He spoke in a reassuring voice, holding his hands up like he was trying to prove that he was harmless.

I eyed him suspiciously, "Why?"

He unslung his backpack from his shoulder, "I have something to give you."

Instinctively, I took a few steps back. It had to be a trap. I glanced around again, trying to pinpoint someone filming or people slowing down to watch, maybe a few kids who were trying to hide smirks or others who were looking at me sympathetically but wouldn't want to intervene and become the object of their torment along with me. I didn't see anything unusual, just people rushing to get out of here, talking to their friends and laughing.

Frank was unzipping his backpack and I snapped my attention back forward, watching what he was doing warily. Some part of me whispered that this might be a diversion, the real show might be going on somewhere else. I looked behind me quickly, saw nothing, and switched my focus to Frank again.

"I know I should have given this to you sooner, but. . . Nevermind, I have it now, though."

My mouth dropped open, "That's. . ."

"Your drawings, yeah." He was holding my sketchpad out expectantly, the one that had been in my backpack the day they'd dumped me in an alley, but I was still worried that he had some sort of hidden motive.

"Are you serious?"

Frank looked amused, "Yeah, I'm serious."

I reached out tentatively and pulled it loose from his hand, "Thanks. . .?"

He nodded. "You're really good at drawing, by the way."

My face paled, my sketchpads were basically the equivalent of a diary or a journal for me, they held all of my secrets and my thoughts. Luckily, they were a lot more abstract than just words on paper, but I still felt violated. "You were looking through them?"

He at least had the grace to be embarrassed. "A few of them." He cleared his throat and looked around like he was afraid someone might be listening before leaning forward and whispering, "Look, Percy and them are waiting for you at your locker so you should probably leave right now."

I stared at him like he'd just sprouted wings. This couldn't be for real, he couldn't just be doing this out of the 'goodness' of his heart. "How do I know I can trust you?"

"What could I possibly gain from this?"

I thought about it for a second, the answer was nothing. I shrugged.

"Exactly. Do you have anything in there that you need?"

"I just don't get why you're helping me all of the sudden," I said instead of answering him.

Frank pursed his lips, "I've never wanted to be a part of this, Nico."

"Then why are you? Couldn't you just help me out or try and discourage them or something?"

"It's not that simple--"

I rolled my eyes, "Whatever. I'll see you later, Frank."

Then I turned and hurried out the doors, clutching my sketchpad in my hand trying not to wonder what he had meant. I didn't need something else to worry about.

Sorry, this chapter feels kind of. . . choppy idk. It's not my best.

I always have so much to say to you guys and I feel like the long A/Ns are really annoying, so I apologize in advance. Anyway, here we go.

Okay, first of all, the awesome art that I attached was done my Interweb bestie, littleduckwrites. I WAS FREAKING OUT SO MUCH WHEN SHE SHOWED IT TO ME-- LOOK AT IT, LOOK AT HOW CUTE HE IS-- JUST LOOK AT HIM!! I love it so much 9ojvfjdvj. Thank you sososososo much, Núria, you're the best, like seriously. *happy Ashley noises* *is still fangirling* *whispers* look at Will's freckles *sobs* *i am broken*

I would also like to say that I am aware the Atramentous!Leo is a lot different than canon!Leo but this is an AU and a lot of the characters are very different *cough*basicallyeveryonebutNicoandWill*cough*

I really want to put Grover in this, but it would just be weird to not have him be Percy's friend and there's no way I'm having him be a bully. . . because I just can't see that. And I keep coming up with ways to put him in and then I realize that it wouldn't work because of something I have planned later. *sighs*

And there's so much stuff about Will's POV of this story that you'll never know and that kind of makes me sad... *Ashley noises*

But, guys, please go read Allysallymeowy's book, The Hades Demigods, it's super good. It's not your traditional Solangelo book (it's more focused around a whole other plot), it's super original, and she added this OC that she does a super good job of building a character for. The plot is awesome, and she's an awesome writer no matter what she says, so yeah. :D

The other books in my reading lists are also fantastic (FREAKING CHECK OUT CreativeName__ AND Archangel777 AND LIKE 50 OTHERS) and I need to update my reading lists cuz there's a ton of really good fics that I haven't put in there. . . I'ma do that rn actually

Now would also be a good time to tell you guys that if you ask me to read your stories, I'm more than happy to, but I don't actually spend a lot of time on Wattpad reading (I've been reading a lot more lately tho idk but it's mostly been Phan cuz I've just had a lot more random free timem than usual XD), so please don't feel bad if I start reading and then it's like a month before I read more... cuz idk I just tend be writing when I'm on here, not reading.

I'm going to try and make these a lot short in the future.... I think I might regret saying that

I might also publish this 5,000 word one-shot some time today, so you can look forward to that, I guess :D

BUT GUESS WHAT DAY IT IIIIISSSSSSS-- (no, it is not Hump Day, guess again.

That was a frick ton longer than I meant it to be