The swing had obviously been hanging from its tree for quite some time, the thick rope that kept it there had cut deep gouges in the bark over years of constant friction, but the sturdy hickory branch that was holding it up was far from breaking. In fact, the rope was at a higher risk of snapping, as it showed obvious signs of weathering in various locations. I couldn't help but think that the little hunk of wood looked a bit desolate, just swaying back and forth beneath the nearly barren tree the way it was.

My attention was jerked away from the lonely make-shift swing by strong but gentle fingers under my chin, "Have you even been listening to a word I've been saying?" Will asked, noticeably trying to keep his frustration under control.

I dropped my eyes away from his as soon as he let go of my face, the truth of the matter was that I hadn't been, and it wasn't on accident either. I didn't even want to look at Will because he made me feel like an open book, and I couldn't afford to be open.

"Nico, there's something bothering you, and I'll bet it has something to do with the bruise on your jaw. Don't feed me that crap about being clumsy either, because I'm not buying it."

"Will," I pleaded, and then I forced myself to drag my gaze back upwards again. "I'm telling the truth."

It hurt so much to look him in the eye and lie to him like that, especially when he was looking at me like that. Like he just wanted me to be okay. Like he wanted to help make me okay. I wasn't okay, though, and I didn't believe that Will could do anything to help. I thought I was doing what I had to.

"Nico," he whispered desperately as my eyes slipped off to the side, focusing on the little swing across the street again. Anything to keep my eyes off his. "You can tell me anything."

I found myself remembering the conversation that had won me the bruise Will was so intent on. Percy had been acting off lately, instead of walking around like he was the king of the world, he seemed withdrawn and sad, and the dark circles under his eyes never seemed to go away.

I told myself that it didn't matter, that I had no reason to worry over him when he was nothing but horrible to me, but the truth was that I couldn't help but be bothered by it. Maybe it was the words that kept echoing through my head every time I saw him: She didn't deserve it. It was the phrase Percy had screamed right before he smashed my head into the school. I hadn't been able to remember it at first, it had danced just out of sight, at the edge of my subconscious, taunting me, and now that I had it I just wanted it to go away. I wanted to stop caring.

I couldn't though, and it was that fact that had made me stupid enough to go up and confront the stronzo about it.

I sped up, dodging past people in order to catch up to him and caught him by the shoulder. Percy turned his head to look at me, then wheeled completely around as he saw who it was. "Don't touch me, scumbag," he sneered, smacking my hand away.

I glared at him, "What's your deal?" I snapped. I knew the situation was already taking a turn for the worse, but there wasn't much I could do about it now, except try to be civil, so I took in a calming breath and continued in a less aggravated tone, "You've been acting weird."

Percy's jaw clenched, but I didn't miss how his eyes widened momentarily before becoming cold again. "What does it matter to you?"

I hesitated for a few long moments, I honestly had no idea. "I don't know. . . but you should probably talk to someone about it."

Percy laughed mockingly, "Talk to someone? Talk to someone? Who, Nico?" he sneered, "Should I go crying about it to my friends like you do? Yeah, I bet you think that's a great idea." he was advancing on me now, forcing me to back up. "That would just solve everything, wouldn't it? My problems would just vanish because I moped about them to some poor soul?" He shoved me, "Bullshit, di Angelo. Bullshit."

"Yeah, well, it would be a Hell of a lot better than taking everything out on me, you asshole." I snarled, and you can probably guess what happened next.

"At least tell me something. Anything, Neeks. It can be anything." Will begged.

I closed my eyes, readjusting my backpack on my shoulders, "Okay." I heard his sharp intake of breath and I knew that he thought I was going to tell him everything right there. "I'm fine, Will. I'm better than fine." I looked at him again and found nothing but deep sadness. "Will. I really am, and I want you to stop worrying about me, you don't have to worry. I really am okay, and I'm grateful that you're my friend, I honestly don't know how I survived being so lonely before. . ." I sighed, rolling my eyes and smiling a little for effect, not all of the words I was saying were lies, but my outward emotions were completely false now. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's more than enough for you just to be my friend. You don't have to keep running so many extra miles for me."

I could tell he wasn't buying it, but he nodded reluctantly after a second, probably realizing that he was never going to get it out of me. "Okay, Nico," he relented. "Let's go home."

-

She didn't deserve it.

I flopped onto my back, my eyes snapping open, searching out my alarm clock and discovering that it was almost two A.M. I kicked my covers off, pushing them down to where Mrs. O'Leary was curled up on the foot of my bed, rolling onto my stomach. I was too hot, too restless. Too exhausted. I couldn't fall asleep, though. I rolled onto my side, curling up in a ball, sighed, and flopped onto my back again.

She didn't deserve it. What did that mean? Who was she? What didn't she deserve? Why do I care so much?

"I don't," I told myself, reaching up and touching the bruise on my jaw gingerly, reminding myself why I shouldn't.

My feet were getting cold now, so I pushed them under the blanket that was shoved to the end my bed, tangling them up in it. I need to stop thinking. I clenched my eyes shut, took in a gulp of oxygen, released it again. Don't think too much, can't think too much. Don't get anxious, can't get anxious. I'm okay. I can be okay.

It wasn't working. I wasn't calming down. I'm not fine.

I pushed the covers off of my feet and rolled on my stomach again to sit up on my knees facing my window, and then pushed the curtains aside, revealing an array of random items spilled over the surface of my window sill. Among them was my latest silver Sharpie; I picked it up, uncapped it, and proceeded to scribble over the wall that jutted in to form the small, cluttered ledge.

She didn't deserve it. Who? What? Why do I care? I don't want to care. I want to forget. It's stupid. He hates me, I hate him. I shouldn't care.

It usually helped to get my thoughts out in front of me, to face them head-on, but now, staring at my worries, I just felt even more stupid.

I sighed, taking the pen to the wall again.

Things I should care about:
• myself
• my family
• Mrs. O'Leary
• drawing
• books
• school
• Will

Will. I shoved aside a few things on the sill to grab my new phone, which was an exact replica of my old one. My parents had offered to get me a better one, but I'd declined, all I needed was to be able to contact people, nothing more. It was what I needed right then, to spew thoughts at another human being.

You're most likely not awake. I typed, But I am. I don't really know why, but I can't fall asleep, so I'm just going to text you, even though you won't see this until morning. It's something to do.

I sent the first message and started typing the next right away.

I don't really get my head, Will. That sounds stupid, but I don't. My thoughts are all screwed up and they're keeping me awake and I just really want to sleep.

Send. I laid down and curled up on my side, and then continued.

I kind of just want them to go away. My thoughts, I mean. I'd be a lot happier if I didn't do so much thinking.

Send.

I really hope your phone is on silent, Will.

Send.

This is stupid.

Send.

I don't really care.

Send.

Why are you even my friend, Will?

Send.

Don't answer that.

Send.

It's kind of lonely being awake in the middle of the night.

Send.

I'm so tired, Will. I just want to sleep. My brain won't shut down.

Send.

Maybe it would help if I didn't have a screen shining in my face.

Send.

I don't want to stop texting you, though.

Send.

I've heard that the government keeps tabs on our cell phones. Like, they can read our texts and listen to our calls and stuff. Something about preventing terrorists or something.

Send.

Anyway, if that's true then they must think I'm a complete dweeb.

Send.

I am a complete dweeb.

Send.

You're not, though. You're good at talking to people and you're funny and it you make it seem easy. But it's not. Not for me. Not unless I'm around you. I think having someone familiar around makes it a lot less daunting.

Send.

Dio. I just want--

My phone buzzed, and I jumped in surprise, which, because of my position, was really just an awkward jerk of my whole body that caused me to hit myself in the face with my phone.

Two new messages from Dickhead. I laughed a little, partially because I just been scared by my phone buzzing, which was a completely normal thing for a phone to do, and partially because I'd forgotten that I'd changed his contact name to that.

I opened the texts in quick succession.

My phone wasn't on silent, Nico.

How in the world do you type so fast on that thing?

I smirked and little, feeling both parts guilty for waking him up, and a little glad that he was, in fact, up. Sorry. And it's just pra

My phone vibrated again, and a notification popped up, filling the whole screen and interrupting my typing. One new message from Dickhead.

Hold on.

My face scrunched in confusion. I erased my earlier message and replaced it with What? but I didn't get an answer.

Five minutes later, when I was staring at my ceiling and trying to decipher pictures from the random, blotchy patterns in the plaster, trying to distract myself, my window suddenly jerked open and I nearly had a heart attack, yelping and toppling off of my bed. No wonder Mrs. O'Leary had been acting so weird. I groaned and swore under my breath, glaring up at nothing as Will laughed heartily, sliding the window closed.

His face appeared over the edge of my bed, and I had to bite my lip to stifle a laugh of my own. His hair was an absolute mess, pressed flat on one side and sticking up at all sorts of odd angles on the other.

He grinned, propping his head up on his hand, "How's the weather down there?"

"Pretty good." I answered, tucking my hands behind much head casually, "Windy up there, I assume?"

"No, not really. Why?"

"Because that's the only thing I can think of that would give someone that hair," I said, grinning at him mischievously.

Will glared at me playfully, "At least I don't shriek like a little girl when I'm scared," he retorted, disappearing over the mattress.

I pulled myself to my feet in order to glare back at him, "I did not shri--"

"You did." He settled back against my headboard, looking quite pleased with himself.

I climbed onto the bed, smiling. "Okay, maybe I did, but you can't really blame me."

"Fair enough." he said, patting the space next to him, "Come here."

I obliged, grabbing the blanket along the way and draping it over both of us as I sat next to him. "Why did you decide to drop by, again?" I asked, reaching out in an attempt to calm his unruly hair into a slightly more acceptable style.

"I wanted to make sure you're okay," he told me, grinning as I combed my fingers through his hair. "You know, it's just going to get messed up again when I sleep on it."

I laughed, "Yeah, but you look like an idiot. I'm just helping you out."

He rolled his eyes, "Geez, thanks, Neeks."

I mimed tipping an imaginary hat, "Much obliged, Mr. Solace."

"Have you slept at all tonight, Nico?" he asked, examining me worriedly.

I sighed, twisting a piece of his hair around my finger, "I haven't slept very well for a while, but tonight I haven't been able to sleep at all."

"Lay down, you're not going to be able to fall asleep sitting up like this," Will ordered, his face bending into a concerned frown.

I felt my smile flicker for a second and dropped the strand of hair I'd been playing with, "Are you leaving?"

He shook his head, "No, I'm staying right here. Now lay down before I make you."

I grinned at him and shifted into a horizontal position, "Yes, Doctor Solace."

"I actually want to become a doctor," he mused, moving to close the curtains.

"Really?" I asked, my eyes following him as he crawled over and laid down in front of me, pulling my blanket up to his chin.

He nodded, smiling, "I've kind of always wanted to be a doctor. Something about the human body fascinates me, you know?"

I wiggled my eyebrows at him suggestively, "Oh, I'll bet it does."

He laughed, "Shut up. You know what I meant."

"I know." I sat there, just looking at him for a second, "I think you'd be really good at it."

His eyebrows shot up, his expression was full of hope and excitement, like a little kid on Christmas morning. "You really think so?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "You love helping people and you're good with kids and your smart. . . there's only one problem."

Will's brow furrowed quizzically.

"Your handwriting is too nice," I told him, and Will burst out laughing, shoving my shoulder.

"That is a cruel stereotype, Neeks."

"Maybe, but all stereotypes have a bit of truth in them. Or they did at some point in time." I pointed out shrugging.

Will didn't answer for a few seconds, so I closed my eyes, opening them when I felt his fingers brushing over the scar cutting through my temple. "Nico?"

"Hm?" I asked, realizing that Will had successfully calmed me down without even trying.

"Why did you call me that night?" he asked, scooting closer that our foreheads were nearly touching, "I mean, I had been a jerk to you earlier, and you could have called your parents, but you called me."

I blinked in confusion, I hadn't ever really thought about it before, "I wasn't mad at you, Will. I was the one who'd screwed up."

"I still shouldn't have yelled at you. . . and that doesn't answer my question."

I shifted, frowning. "I just. . . you were the first person that came to mind. . ." I answered truthfully, smiling at the shocked expression on Will's face. "What?"

He shook his head, "Nothing. You should get some sleep."

"Okay," I muttered, already closing my eyes. "Thank you, Will."

"Sweet dreams, Neeks." I wondered vaguely what that undertone of sadness meant, but my mind was already drifting away, and then I was out.

-

"Are you sure your parents are okay with us just showing up like this?" I asked, stopping in the middle of Leo's tan cobblestone driveway to look up at his house uncertainly. It turned out that he didn't actually live on Parr, but at the end of a discreet little side road that led away from it. The place itself was a massive, sprawling four-story affair with cream-colored stucco walls adorned with balconies and iron trimming. The roof was flat on most sections, and was made of low-pitched clay tiles, and the entire thing was dominated by the massive red mahogany doors and garages.

"Of course they will!" he exclaimed, jogging up the steps jovially, "They'll be overjoyed to see you."

"It's huge." Will breathed into my ear as he came up beside me.

I nodded, "You can say that again." I muttered.

The door swung open as we approached the bottom step, and Will and I both stopped in our tracks. Honestly, I was expecting a maid or a butler to be standing there waiting to polish our shoes before we came inside, but instead we were greeted by a large man in his late forties who was sitting there in a wheelchair. He might have been a little younger or a little older than forty, but it was hard to tell through the scarring covering most of his face, marring one side of his mouth so that you could see a few of his teeth even though his lips were firmly closed. He was dark-skinned, with long, frizzy black hair, and one good eye that was a deep brown.

He sat there, seeming to assess us for a moment, and then his face broke into a permanently distorted smile, "Leo, you didn't tell me you were bringing friends." he said, his voice was a deep, slightly gravelly rumble.

Leo shrugged, "It was kind of a last minute decision. Anyway, this is Nico, and that's Will." he informed the man, who I could only assume was his father.

He nodded, "I'm Hephaestus, Leo's dad, it's nice to meet you both." he announced, pulling and pushing his wheels in different directions to turn around, "Come on in."

I couldn't help but stop to admire my surroundings once again as I entered. The whole place had a rustic-type of feel, and yet it still managed to seem modern as well. For some reason, I had never even considered that Leo could have lived in a house any nicer than mine or Will's. He didn't dress in designer clothes or act like a stuck-up rich kid, but this was a whole new level of living altogether.

Hephaestus was already rolling his way out of the room, and Leo was jabbering on, not taking any notice of the expressions on Will and I's faces as he strode across the pearly white tiles and pressed the up button on the elevator (yeah, elevator) like it was completely normal.

"We got this so my dad could get around after his accident, but there's no reason we should have to suffer through walking up the stairs, right?"

"Right," Will croaked, his eyes wide, and then cleared his throat awkwardly, "I think I'm coming down with a cold. . ."

I rolled my eyes at him, smiling, and he threw a grin my way, dropping a wink along with it before he turned and stepped into the elevator after Leo, closely followed by me. It wasn't some big, eye-opening experience, just your everyday elevator ride. You know, jumping at just the right moment so that you got that sense of zero gravity when the contraption starts moving, and then standing awkwardly waiting to get to the next floor and wondering what would happen if you pushed the little red alarm button, but I couldn't help but feel like I was completely out of place, especially as he led us through the beautiful hallways of his home on the way to his bedroom.

And his room was, apparently, the only one in the house that was above the fourth level, and it was bigger than mine and Will's combined, stretching over an entire section of the estate. At first, I'd thought he'd led us into some sort of workshop. Two rows of shelves divided the room in half, nearly overflowing with miscellaneous junk and power tools and extending across the entire length of the room except for a small portion that allowed access into the other half. Every bare inch of wall seemed to be housing some sort of tool or blueprint, and a large work table dominated the center of the floor, housing a couple of Leo's latest projects. Off to one side were a couple of large machines whose purposes completely evaded me, but what was really remarkable about the place was the ceiling; contraptions of every kind hung down from the soaring rafters, from working chandeliers to mechanisms of Leo's own creation, to license plates and street signs.

I found myself staring up with my mouth hanging open as we dodged past boxes and machinery to cross into the second section of his quarters. The floors shifted from wood to plush, dark grey carpets, the walls went from plain white to an alarming shade of orange (except the whole right wall, which, on this side, was one huge window that tilted inwards), and the ceiling became a giant collage of photos and sketches and notes. This half was a lot more ordinary, though, consisting of a large, metal bunk bed with a desk and shelves underneath (it kind of looked like the Latino had welded together a bunch of random spare parts and called it good) in the top left corner and a white wardrobe in the top right corner next to a leather couch of the same color.

My favorite feature, though, was the fish tank tucked into the shelf. It was a pretty good size, and some of the shelving had been taken out to accommodate for it. Fish of all sorts of different kinds swam through a mini model of a post-apocalyptic city, complete with soaring skyscrapers, little delis and laundromats, streets, streetlights, and trees. . . it was unbelievably detailed to say the least.

"This is. . ." Will whispered, looking around at everything in awe. He turned to face our friend, "You didn't tell us you're filthy rich!"

Leo shrugged, grinning elfishly, "It never came up as a topic of conversation."

"Did you make all of this yourself?" I asked, after letting Will take a moment to regard him with exasperation, running a hand along one of the supports of his bed.

He shook his head, "I wish. My dad helped. He taught me everything I know."

"It's still amazing. . ." I said, looking around again.

"Yeah," Will agreed, "You and your dad are really talented."

"Why, thank you," Leo replied cockily, plopping down onto the sofa.

"And humble too," I amended dryly.

"Yes, I'd like like to think that's one of my best qualities."

"If that's one of your best than you don't got many," I joked, and Leo grinned.

"Hey, I must be alright or you wouldn't still be hanging around me." he retorted.

"You're the one who's been hanging around me," I corrected.

Leo snorted contemptuously, "Only because you seem to like me so much."

"Yeah, whatever, Valdez."

"Hey, Neeks."

I turned around to look at Will, who was crouched down in front of Leo's bed behind me, looking at the stuff crammed into the shelves there. "Hm?"

"Leo and you have the same music taste."

"What?" My eyebrows shot up and I made my way to his side, hearing Leo as he followed behind me. Will was right, I knew most of the bands on the CD's in Leo's shelves. It wasn't every day you found a person who hoarded CDs like I did, what with MP3 players and iPhones and all, which was probably why Vinylust was usually so empty.

I turned to face the elfish boy, "I never took you to be a rock kind of guy."

Leo shrugged, "You never took me to be a rich kid either. You can't tell everything about a person just by looking at them." He paused, looking at me meaningfully, "You should know."

Will's brow creased and a muscle in his face twitched, his eyes darting between the two of us. I was glaring at the Latino, and Leo was glaring right back, Tell him. I shook my head, a small, barely noticeable gesture. Leo rolled his eyes, seeming to give up, but Will wasn't backing down that easily. There were questions to be answered, and he wasn't going to let them remain a mystery.

"Nico, what's he talking about?" I felt his eyes flicker from my temple to my jaw, pinpointing my imperfections quizzically like he was studying a specimen in a lab.

I shot Leo one more look before I turned to face Will, sighing. "It's nothing, Will."

"You seem to say that a lot, 'It's nothing.' When is it going to be something, Nico? Why don't you trust me?" I almost thought he was joking. Not trusting Will? The idea was absurd, but looking into his eyes, I knew he was completely serious.

I gaped at him, "What? Will, I do trust you."

"It doesn't seem like it, Nico. You obviously told Leo something, and for some reason you won't even tell me. I'm your best friend, I just want to help."

I shook my head, "Will, I didn't tell Leo anything, he's just being dumb."

"Hey!" Leo protested, but neither of us paid him any attention.

"Then what was he talking about? It obviously meant something to you."

I gritted my teeth, clenching my hands into fists, my heart was beating faster. Don't force me into this. Oh, Dio, don't force me into this. "Will, please."

"Please, what, Nico?"

I was close to tears, but there was no way I was going to let either of the people in that room know that. Looking at the ground taking a deep breath, I forced out, "I just. . . I don't. . . I don't want you to look at me differently, Will." I was being completely honest, I didn't want Will to see me as some sort of victim, but of course, that wasn't the whole reason. I never gave anyone the whole truth. Except Mrs. O'Leary. She couldn't spread the information, she probably didn't even understand me. She was a safe outlet, Will was not.

I knew he was staring at me, I felt the questions buzzing in the air as the silence stretched out far too long. I knew he was probably looking at me with soft concern, a furrow between his eyebrows. In my mind's eye, I could picture the set of his shoulders perfectly, the way his folded arms were probably tensed up.

"It sickens me how much you two say each other's names," Leo chided, trying to sound light-hearted, to break the awkward tension. "You sound like a couple of. . . Just like a lovesick couple."

I looked up and found that Will was still staring at me, our eyes met and he gave me a small nod, apologizing, saying he understood, that I didn't have to tell him anything I didn't want to, all with one simple gesture. I thought I was imagining it, you couldn't tell that much from a tiny movement of the head. The moment was there, and then it was gone, and Will was laughing easily, making a joke, touching my back comfortingly when he noticed that I still looked sad.

Later, when Will and I were leaving, he stopped me when we were a good distance from the house, holding me by the shoulders, and said all of the things I'd seen in that little gesture and more, and then he'd hugged me tightly, and we stood like that for a while. I don't know if he realized that I was crying, but he didn't say anything about it, he just rubbed my back, and then he let go without protesting when I pulled away, and we kept walking, falling back into our usual routine of teasing and laughing and just talking. It was almost like he could see inside my head, like he knew exactly what I needed without me telling him; he knew what I needed better than I did a lot of the time.

-

My mind eased into materiality and I rolled onto my side, groaning. Waking up in the middle of the night topped the list as one of my least favorite events. Tap, tap, tap. My eyes fluttered open. Tap-tap, ta-tap, tap. Tap, tap. I sat up, there was definitely something outside of my window. My throat tightened, Or someone. I swallowed painfully, glancing over at Mrs. O'Leary to find her staring at the window intently, her ears perked. Oh, Dio. I'm too young to die.

I shook my head and drew back the curtain slowly, then immediately rolled my eyes. Will gestured for me to open the window and I complied.

"I couldn't sleep." he explained as he clamored in, trying to be quiet but failing as his long limbs and backpack knocked against the window. He greeted my dog, who was apparently overjoyed to see him, scratching her behind the ears, and the turned to me. "I was wondering if you wanted to go to the lake with me."

I balked at him, glancing at my alarm clock, "It's one AM!"

Will nodded enthusiastically, "It'll be fun!"

"Why do people always say that? 'I don't want to go to the store' 'Oh, come on, it'll be fun!' 'We're getting your teeth pulled-- Oh, come on! It'll be fun!'"

Will regarded me with his eyebrows raised, "You really need to stop being so optimistic all of the time. Spending time with me is much worse than getting your teeth pulled."

I grinned, shoving him playfully. Will let himself fall back onto my bed, laughing, his hair spread out around his face like sun rays. He looked up at me, tugging on the hem of my t-shirt like a little kid, I was suddenly extremely grateful that I hadn't decided to sleep in nothing but boxers tonight, not because I was embarrassed about Will seeing me, but because I was terrified of it. My bruises were my second biggest plot twist. "Please come with me. It'll be boring without you."

I sighed, "Fine. I couldn't sleep knowing you were deprived of my presence."

Will huffed, "Other way around, Neeks. Get your bathing suit on."

I laughed, "Okay, turn around."

He turned so he was face-down on the bed and said something that was muted by my blankets. I guessed it was some intelligentone comment.

I got into my bathing suit, made sure the number of bruises on my calves wasn't too obscene, grabbed a flashlight, and then climbed onto the bed and flicked Will's ear, "I'm ready."

He glared at me, rubbing his ear, "Ow."

"Payback for waking me up." I said smugly, heading for the door, but Will shook his head.

"We're going out the window." he intoned seriously.

"No, we're not." I replied firmly.

"Fine." Will said, climbing out onto the roof, and then he smiled mischievously, "RACE YOU TO THE LAKE!"

He turned and I didn't even hesitate before bolting to the door; I threw it open without even thinking about my sleeping family, leaving Mrs. O'Leary standing uncertainly in the middle of the floor as the door slammed closed, and ran down the stairs and out the front door. By the time I was halfway across the lawn Will was jumping down from the wall and running after me. I picked up my pace, running as fast as my legs would carry me.

I burst through the trees with Will hot on my heels. My flashlight's beam flew widely across the terrain, highlighting random sections of multicolored leaves and forest floor. I didn't turn around, just willed my legs to move faster. Unfortunately, he had legs like a giraffe and was in a lot better shape than me. He passed me up, whooping loudly and laughing, I yelled something at his back that I probably shouldn't repeat and kept running, dodging a low-hanging branch and stumbling in the process.

We reached the crest of the hill and my foot caught on a tree root; I was pitched forward and down the hill, rolling like an abnormally large and awkwardly-shaped soccer ball, and my flashlight was launched off somewhere to my right. I landed on my back at the bottom, all of the breath was sucked from my lungs like I'd just been kicked in the chest. Believe me, I know how it feels.

Will stumbled the rest of the way down the hill and crouched next to me, looking horrified and clutching both of our flashlights, "Are you okay?"

"I won." I croaked, touching my fingers to my bloody nose.

Will laughed, "I'll take that as a yes."

He helped me to my feet and pulled a towel out of his backpack, pressing it to my nose before I could protest. We walked over to our usual spot, sitting there until my nose had stopped expelling every once of blood my heart managed to pump out.

Once Will was positive that my nose wasn't broken and I hadn't suffered any further injuries besides a few scrapes and bruises, he told me to wash my face in the lake while he hung a lantern in a tree. After he'd done that, he joined me at the water's edge, sitting on a large rock that jutted a few feet out over the lake. The water lapped halfway up his shins where it only covered my feet, and he kicked his feet back and forth, leaning back on his hands.

"Nico?" Will said after a moment, staring down into the water.

I looked over at him, smiling a little. "Yeah?"

"Remember when we first met and I told you that I didn't think you were boring because I couldn't figure you out?"

"Yeah. . ." I said, my brows drawing together. Sure, I remembered it, but I couldn't see why Will was bringing it up.

"Well. . ." he said, pausing to kick his foot up, making sparkling drops of water spin upwards and plink back into the lake in a symphony of tiny splashes. "I still haven't figured you out."

I laughed, "What's the big mystery? I'm Nico di Angelo. I'm dark, withdrawn, and generally huge pain in the culo and my best friend is Will Solace."

He finally looked up at me, half of his face shadowed and the other half full of the reflected moonlight off the water, flickering along with the ripples and waves. "I feel like I don't really know you," he said quietly, and then looked down again. "I mean, I know you. . . but I don't know you, you know?"

"I know that you just said, 'know' way too many times."

He punched me in the arm softly, smiling, "Shut up, I'm being serious."

I laughed, "Okay, okay. How about we play a game?" I proposed, looking out across the water. "You ask me a question, and I answer it, simple as that. And if you've figured me out by the end, we both win."

He nodded, "Okay, but if this is a game, I feel like it needs more rules."

"Rules?" I asked doubtfully.

"Rules." he confirmed.

I sighed, "Will, you're asking me questions, don't make this more complicated than it has to be."

"Fine." he relented grudgingly, pulling his feet out of the water and turning to face me, I followed suit. "Okay. . . So, we'll start simple and then work our way up to the more complicated stuff."

I nodded. "'Kay."

"Favorite color?"

"Black."

"Surprise, surprise."

"You said it yourself, I'm a man of mystery."

"Right. Okay, favorite book."

"Are you kidding me? I can't choose just one."

"Okay, fair enough. . . uhm. . . Favorite food?"

"Gelato."

"Does that even count as a food?"

"It tastes good, it fills me up when I'm hungry, and it's not lethal." I ticked off on my fingers, "So, yes."

"Technically, if you ate too much of it, it could kill you."

"If you eat too much of anything it can you."

"You're really starting to piss me off."

"Because I'm right and you're wrong?"

He glared at me, "Favorite thing to draw?"

"Nice change of subject. Basically anything. . . but I guess faces are my favorite."

"Why?"

I smiled, "A person's face can tell you more about them than just about anything else about their physical appearance, and I like capturing that."

"That's kind of beautiful."

"The pictures you take are beautiful."

". . .thanks."

"You're welcome."

He cleared his throat, blushing, and I couldn't help but grin. "Uh. . . Favorite place?"

"Italy." I answered immediately, "The little park by my old house. . ." I sighed sadly, shaking my head, "I miss it."

Will studied me silently for a bit, chewing his lip, which I'd come to realize he did when he was trying to make a decision. "If you and your dad love Italy so much. . . then why did you leave?" he wondered tentatively.

I looked down at my hands and started picking at the grass, tearing it to shreds. My brain was entering in full panic mode, rebuilding walls and setting off every alarm I had in there. "I-- well. . . You saw that picture on my dresser, right?" I began carefully, trying to sound normal.

"Yeah." Will answered quietly.

"That. . . That was my family. My real family." I told him, and then I took a few seconds to work things out in my mess of a brain. "The girl holding my hand is Bianca. . . and the woman standing next to my dad is Maria. My mom."

I forced myself to look up at him and saw that his eyes were full of unanswered questions, like the opposite of a magic eight ball. Shake it up and it gives you a bunch of questions that you'd rather not answer.

"So. . . What. . . What happened?" he asked. He knew he was on slippery ground right then.

"It wasn't. . . I mean. . . It was too painful to stay there." I dragged my hands over my face, letting out a hollow laugh. My fingers were shaking. "I haven't told anyone this before."

"Nico--"

I shook my head. I had enough secrets already. I wanted Will to know this one, I wanted him to finally be able to unravel a piece of me that I had kept buried.

"They died in the fire." I blurted, "My mom and my sister. Bianca was twelve and. . ." My voice trembled and I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

"Nico you don't have to--" Will started, moving forward, but I plowed on, afraid that if I paused for even one more second I would lose this sudden surge of confidence, or desperation, or whatever this was. "The firemen were too busy getting me out, the roof collapsed. They didn't get to my family in time. . . I could hear them screaming inside. . ." My chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace. "And in the end, the flames burned everything I'd ever known to black, so it just seems fitting that everything I will know should be black too. . ." I turned my face away from him, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and grief at finally sharing the cliché metaphor I'd lived by for so long, the next part came out choked and barely audible, "because no one has ever cared about me like that since then."

I looked up, my cheeks hot with embarrassment, my eyes full of fear for what I would find in Will's, but what I found was such a chaotic whirlpool of emotion that I couldn't distinguish any one of them specifically. He stared into my eyes for a moment before whispering, "I care about you," like it hurt him physically that I hadn't realized it.

Something I'd never felt before crashed through me, splitting my heart open and squeezing my chest, suffocating me, and yet, creating a sense of longing, and fear, and joy, and pain, and relief all rolled into one. A sense of Oh, this. . . This is it. Only I wasn't really sure what it was. This, however, was the kind of thing I had read about so many times in so many different ways and it just didn't make sense that I was feeling it after all of this time. Especially not right then, looking at Will. My best friend. I was suddenly painfully aware of how close he was, and then the distance seemed like entire oceans. Oceans that I would do anything to get across.

My eyes skimmed down Will's face, grazing his cheekbones and across his jawline and eventually resting on his lips. It was like I was seeing him in a completely different light; the image of him I had painted in my mind crumbled instantly in that moment. I noticed the curve of his lips, the way they were slightly parted, the soft, brilliance of his eyes, the sharpness of his collarbones before they disappeared under his shirt. I'd never thought that a boy could be defined as pretty, but Will was beautiful. I wanted to paint him a thousand times from a thousand different angles.

I remembered my science teacher telling us that gravity is the force of attraction between two objects, and if that was the case, there was definitely a gravitational pull between me and the fair-haired boy sitting so excruciatingly close. I don't even think I realized that I was slowly moving towards him until his nose was brushing mine and I could feel his warm breath against my skin.

His lips brushed my own and my hands lifted almost involuntarily and tangled themselves in his hair, pulling him down to me, wanting him closer. All at once I realized the magnitude of what I was doing; I was a boy and Will was a boy, and my hands were in his hair, and his lips were parting mine, and his hands were cupping my face. My senses were full of him. Will. Will, Will, Will. But this was so incredibly wrong and I couldn't figure out why it felt so right. My mind became a tornado of thoughts raging against each other. Plain desire against my better judgment.

Will's calloused fingers danced over my cheekbones and I shivered.

So wrong.

They brushed down my neck.

Oh. . .

They paused at my shoulders.

Dio.

His fingers began moving down my arms, setting my nerves on fire in a way that was almost painful. I jerked away from him suddenly, scrambling back, my hand flying to my lips. My chest was heaving.

What was wrong with me? This was wrong. And I. . . I. . . I liked it.

Will's head was tilted down, his eyes clenched shut, teeth gritted like he was facing off his worst fear, the moonlight filtered through his soft waves of hair, highlighted the dips of his cheekbones, and reflected back into the night, making him look like an invaluable painting. "Nico?" His face crumbled into defeat as he spoke. His voice reminded me of a priceless vase, speeding towards the ground, beautiful even as it faced its certain doom, then crashing against the earth and shattering into countless little bits across the floor. Destroyed, broken, just that easily. And I was the one who had pushed it from its precarious perch at the edge of the drop-off.

I drew in a sharp, quivering breath that sent my whole body shaking. Will lifted his gaze slowly and took me in, my pale fingers covering my thin lips, bony knees pulled into an even bonier chest, my entire being trembling. I knew he was probably wondering what he ever saw in me, regretting that first day when he'd told me I wasn't boring.

The look of hurt and shock on his face was enough to set tears streaking down my cheeks and I buried my face in my knees. I don't want to hurt Will. I can't hurt Will. I let out strangled sobs, I was just so confused and angry, at myself, and maybe even at Will for making me feel this way.

"I'm so sorry, Nico. So sorry. I. . . I'm so, so sorry." He cursed under his breath, and I felt soft fingers touching my hair lightly, glancing over it like he was afraid I would shatter too, and I wasn't entirely sure that wasn't true. He kept repeating himself over and over, apologizing again and again.

It just made my heart ache even more because I couldn't stand him touching me like that. I wanted him so much closer, but I couldn't, I just couldn't let myself think like that. It's so unbelievably agonizing, to have your heart and your mind at war like that.

I pressed my eyes harder into the denim of my jeans, trying to block out the rest of the world. Will's fingers kept brushing over my hair, he kept telling me that I was okay, that he was sorry, that he would understand if I never wanted to see him again.

And that's where I broke.

I lifted my head and threw all of my weight into him, clutching at his shirt like a child and burying my face in his chest. His hands hovered over me, completely and utterly shocked at this abrupt change in a predicament, and then he slowly wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into him and running his slender fingers through my hair, no longer cautious but strong and sure. He murmured soothingly to me, and my muscles relaxed almost immediately, my senses full of everything that was Will, everything that was familiar, and safe, and beautiful.

By the time my breathing had calmed down and the tears stopped flowing, there was a huge wet spot on Will's chest; I didn't let go and neither did he. I was clutching him like he was my lifeline, and he held me carefully like he wanted to protect me from everything. Including himself. But really, what I needed protecting from were my own thoughts.

"Nico," He whispered my name as if it was a marvelous beauty, "Neeks, are you okay?"

I shook my head, cuddling into him, forcing away the thoughts that told me I shouldn't, because I wanted this. I wanted Will to hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. I wanted to feel his arms wrapped around me and hear the beating of his heart. I wanted to feel warm and secure. I think that, subconsciously, it was what I had wanted for a while, only I had always denied it.

"Neeks," Will whispered again, and I couldn't help but think that he sounded almost amazed, "I still haven't figured you out."

I was quiet for a for a few seconds. "Just don't let me go." I requested quietly, surprising myself with my own words and the desperation lacing them. "Please."

I felt his lips brush my hair as he spoke, more to himself than to me. "I never would."

pfft, I'm really happy with this chapter honestly. . . even though it was v cheesy. This whole thing is cheesy af, what am I talking about? And the whole thing was almost 10,000 words (and I wasn't even done yet) until I finally took out the end part and made it part of the next chapter... 0.o It's still almost 1,000 words longer than usual though)

If you wanna cry go listen to Falling To Pieces by Junior Doctor and pretend it's from Atramentous!Nico's POV. It hearts my heart so much every time I hear it. I have ruined myself.

ALSO I just realized that I never really thanked you all (I don't think) I mean, I'm constantly thanking people in the comments, but I've never really thanked all of you at once... well, maybe I have... I vaguely recall writing another A/N like this but I think that was on Heart Beat... I'M DOUBTING MYSELF NOW-- but I'ma do it again if I have (cuz I'm too lazy to check and I can never thank y'all enough). I can't believe how big this story is even though I take forever to update and everything and you people are so nice and supportive and like I'm not even that good but you guys make me feel like I'm Madeline Miller (i wiSH-- THAT WOMAN BROKE MY HEART) or something. Whatelsewhatelsewhatelse. I would obviously be nowhere without you guys so I'm so grateful for all of you and yOuR COMMENTS LITERALLY MAKE MY DAY IT'S GREAT WIN-WIN RELATIONSHIP RIGHT THERE! (shut up it's 3 am I'm tired) AND PEOPLE IF YA WANNA TALK THEN MESSAGE ME TELL ME ALL ABOUT YOUR PROBLEMS I WAS KILLING BEFORE KILLING WAS COOL (YOU'RE SO COOL! YOU'RE SO COOL! sO COoL!) I DON'T BITE (UNLESS YOU INSULT MY DUMB GAYE SONS THEN YOU'RE GOING DOWN) AND I DON'T REALLY KNOW WHY I'M YELLING. ASHLEY OUT.