Sorry this is so late, I had no clue this was going to end up being 11k words(I'm sorry in advance) and it was super hard for me considering this is my last part after working on this book for almost 5(?) years, but I hope you like it:) This has been such a special journey for me, so thanks for coming along for the ride!

Octavian's POV

He marches down the hallway after morning prayer, head held high, and chin tilted up. He can hear whispers behind him; about him, about Will and Nico, about the three of them. The rumors have already started to spread and they run through the school like wildfire, scorching the ground they touch on. As he walks to Father Seymour's office, ready to deliver the news, he has five people stop him in the halls, asking if it's true. When he confirms it, they always burst into giggles and walk away. For the first time at St. Mary's, after his fantastic relationship with his teachers and his amazing grades, it feels like he's done something with his life, to purge the school of evil and purify it. 

He waits a couple of seconds before knocking on Father Seymour's door. He can hear him scratching something out on a piece of paper, and he clears his throat. Octavian almost doesn't go through with it. He can't stop thinking about how broken Will had looked last night, how crushed Nico had looked. He's never seen two people look so destroyed at something he had done. But, Octavian tells himself, it's their fault for sneaking around, their fault for indulging in something they knew was wrong. So Octavian pushes the image of Will and Nico's faces to the side and knocks on the door. 

"So, Octavian, what was it you had to tell me?" Father Seymour says, flipping through a pile of papers. "And please, if it's another suggestion for how to make the morning prayer session "holier," I really am not interested." 

"Well, I do have a couple of suggestions for that," Octavian says. Father Seymour shoots him a glare. "But that isn't what this is about. It's about Will Solace and Nico Di Angelo." It's out now. No going back. Not that Octavian would want to. Of course not. 

Father Seymour raises an eyebrow, and the pen he's been using hits the desk with a quiet clatter. "Continue." 

"They've been breaking curfew," Octavian says. "And sneaking out into the chapel, and- and- making out. I caught them last night. I don't know how long it's been going on for, but it's at least multiple occurrences." His heart pounds and Father Seymour sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. 

"And why were you out past curfew?" Octavian's heart stops in his chest. He can't exactly tell Father Seymour that he's been stalking Will and Nico out of jealously and spite. 

"I saw Nico sneaking out of his dorm on my way back from the bathroom," Octavian says, the lie spilling out of his mouth as easy as if he were saying his morning prayer, or talking to a teacher. "I thought it would be best to break curfew- just that one time- instead of letting them get away with whatever they were up to." 

"And do you have any proof?" 

"Well, uh, no," Octavian says. "But you know I wouldn't lie to you. And you know you can trust me." 

Father Seymour purses his lips, scrubs at his forehead. "You know these are serious accusations, and-" 

"But you know Nico's record," Octavian says. If Father Seymour thinks he's lying, his reputation, his relationship with his teachers, his admittedly sub-par relationship with his classmates, could all go up in flames. "And you know I've helped you out a lot over the past couple of years." 

"Will Solace is one of our best students." 

"So am I," Octavian says, lifting his chin. "And you know how loyal I am to the school." 

Father Seymour purses his lips, staring down at the stack of papers on his desk. The office is eerily quiet, and Octavian can hear quiet talking in the halls. "Thank you for bringing this to my attention," Father Seymour says at last. His voice is slow and steady, and he's already pulling files out of his desk drawer. "I'll look into this. You can go now, Octavian, I'll call you down if I need any more information." 

"Thank you, Father," Octavian says. He stands up, his chair scraping against the wooden floors. Father Seymour pinches the bridge of his nose, flipping through papers on papers on papers. Octavian steps out of the office, taking a breath and staring around the empty hallway. It feels different today, as if he's detached from the rest of the school. He sees a lone student walking to the bathroom and he feels a world away from her, as if he's floating in the middle of life and death, watching his world move on without him. It feels almost wrong to go back to his first period class so he wanders the halls in a daze, peering into classrooms he's never visited and seeing people he's never talked to. At some point he makes his way into the bathroom, and from the inside of the big stall at the end, he can hear crying. 

"It's going to be okay," someone says. Octavain can see two pairs of shoes, the tips touching as someone cries. "We're going to get through this together." 

"How do you know that?" asks a second voice. "We're screwed. Octavian wasn't in class today; you know he was in Father Seymour's office ratting us out."

"Maybe you should have more faith in him. He could have been taking a really big dump." Octavian's heart sinks as he realizes who's in the stall. Of course, Will and Nico wouldn't go to class, just to watch their life fall apart around them. He hadn't thought about it before, but Nico is clearly the one talking and Will-the person Octavian has known since they were fourteen, the person who always manages to keep up with Octavian in academics(and trust him, that's hard) the person who never makes fun of Octavian quite as bad as the others-is the one crying in the stall. 

"He hates us, Neeks, he would never do anything to help us," Will says. "He thinks we're going to hell. We're done." He sniffles, and the two pairs of feet get closer. "We should go back to class. People are going to start suspecting something." 

"Octavian's probably already told all of his friends." It's true. That morning at breakfast, he had spilled all of the juicy details to his lunch table, and when they had gone off to their separate classes, Octavian is sure that they spread it to classmates, friends, teachers; anyone who would listen. The whole school will be buzzing by lunch, and it's all Octavian's fault.

"Whatever. Maybe if we're super good, they won't kick us out. It's gonna be hell for the rest of the year, but at least we'll be together." 

"Sounds almost worse to stay here, but whatever you want. Whatever happens, we'll get through it together." Octavian freezes as he hears the lock unclicking but before he cam move, the door is opening and Nico and Will are staring at him with tearstained faces and angry eyes. 

"So you're evesdropping on us now?" Nico asks, his arms crossed over his chest. There are dark bags underneath his eyes and his hair is disheveled. Not like any of that is new, but now it feels like Octavian's fault. "You can't just ruin our lives and get on with your day?" 

"You ruined your own lives,"  Octavian spits back. "Shouldn't have broken the rules." 

"You didn't have to tell people," Will says quietly. His face has been crushed ever since he saw Octavian, almost as if he expected something different, to get to his first class and not have his classmates buzzing with news about his illicit relationship. Well, that's on him, anyway. Octavian did the right thing by telling people, and as long as he believes that, the crushing guilt in his chest won't cave in. "You could have kept it a secret." 

"That would be wrong," Octavian says. He keeps his nose up high. He did the right thing, he did the right thing, he did the right thing. He keeps repeating it over and over again, trying not to think about how Will looks close to tears, or the rage that flickers in Nico's eyes like a flame. "And I always do the right thing." 

The PA speaker crackles in the hallway, and the receptionist's voice booms through the school. "Nico Di Angelo and William Solace to Father Seymour's office, Nico Di Angelo and William Solace to Father Seymour's office." The PA system shuts off with a click and the bathroom falls into silence. Octavian hears Will sniffle, and then Nico breaks it.

"Come on, Will. It'll be okay." He puts his hand on Will's back, and even the tiniest bit of intimacy shatters Octavian's heart. No one has ever touched him like that, like they cared, and Octavian keeps questioning whether or not he did the right thing. He stares at the tiles of the bathroom, watching as Nico and Will walk out of the bathroom. 

"Wait!" Octavian calls just before Nico opens the door. In his peripheral vision, he watches Nico's hand linger in the air, still contemplating whether or not to open the door and leave Octavian alone. But then his hand drops, and his head hangs, and Will's shoulders shake once, twice, there times. Nico squeezes Will's hand. 

"What?" Nico asks. His voice is soaked in rage, and Octavian is sure that Nico is going to hit him. He would deserve it. 

"What are you guys going to do?" 

"We're going to tell the truth," Will says. His voice is cracked with pain. "Because our lives are going to be hell no matter what, so why not be proud?" Nico and Will walk out together, and Octavian is alone, listening to the hum of the radiator on the wall and the beat of his own heart.

Will's POV

He's pulled into the office almost immediately. His last glimpse of Nico is of the boy he loves sitting alone on one of the hard wooden chair outside of the office, being stared down with a mixture of disgust and fear by the receptionist. But then Will is in front of Father Seymour, and he isn't thinking about Nico anymore because Father Seymour is pulling out a file with his name on it, and even though Will is sitting, he's so dizzy he thinks he might pass out. 

"Let's start with the obvious question here," Father Seymour says. "Is what Octavian told me true?" Will's heart skips a beat, and he considers lying. His social life will be horrible, with rumors swirling, but at least he won't be sinning in Father Seymour's eyes. But then he thinks about Nico in the chair outside, Nico who believes in their relationship, Nico who told him that he was done hiding. Will straightens his back. 

"Yes," Will says. "For two and a half years." He's shaking so hard, he thinks he can hear the chair rattling. Father Seymour sighs. 

"Listen, Will, you're easily one of our best students," Father Seymour says. "This is completely out of character for you. If you're under some sort of peer pressure, or-" 

"Nothing like that," Will says. "It's completely consentual. We both enjoy it, and that's not going to change, whatever you do to us." He holds his head up high but he can feel his body shaking, an earthquake that starts in his heart and sends tremors through his limbs until he feels as if he's going to crack. 

"The point still stands that I think you still have some good in you, and I still think you can be helped," Father Seymour says. "St. Mary's doesn't tear it's students down, but makes sure they are the best versions of themselves. You are a broken version of yourself, Mr. Solace, but I believe you can still be fixed." Will doesn't feel broken. He feels free. If he jumped off the roof right now he wouldn't fall but would soar on two wings, up to the sky and into the sun. "I've already talked to Sister Johnson, and she agrees with me that an extra bible study would do you good. It will be every Friday mornings, right before breakfast. Hopefully, by the end of it, you will repent your actions and you will be a better person." He smiles at Will as if he thinks he's doing something good. Will feels his blood boil, and he finally understands why Nico is always angry. It feels that whatever turn Will takes is going to be a wrong one. 

"What's going to happen to Nico?" Will asks quietly. The expression on Father Seymour's face, the one that won't stop promising Will that he can be fixed, falls. 

"That's between the two of us," Father Seymour says. "Unless you have anything else to say to me, Mr. Solace, we're done in here. Sister Johnson will see you early Friday morning for your first session." 

"How many sessions will we have?" 

Father Seymour's eyes glint. "As many as it takes. Now, send Mr. Di Angelo in. I have to discuss things with him." Will stands up, the legs of his chair whining against the floor. He has so much he wants to say. He wants to yell his love for Nico from the rooftops, he wants to show the school what they're doing wrong, he wants to scream at Father Seymour until his face turns blue and he ends up in the hospital. But he does none of that. He nods, says goodbye, and hangs his head as he walks out the door. Everything that Nico said, about being proud, all went out the window, and Will is halfheartedly accepting his punishment of diet conversion therapy. 

Nico looks up when Will walks out of the office, and Will's face breaks into a smile. He wants to tell Nico everything, to comfort him, to spend one last minute in his arms before they're brutally ripped away from each other. But the receptionist is berating him to get back to class, and the last glimpse he gets of Nico before he's shut away in Headmaster Seymour's office is his face, beaten down by the world and so close to giving up. 

Nico's POV

Looming dread hangs over his head like a dark cloud as he walks into Father Seymour's office. A wave of heat rolls through his body as he sits down on the chair, and Father Seymour looks at him with disappointment on par with how your mother looks at you when you've broken her favorite dish, or the look your teacher gives you when you fail a test you were supposed to ace. "I heard most of what I needed to hear from Will," Father Seymour begins, taking out a file folder marked with Nico's name written in bold black marker. "Unless, of course, you have any changes you'd like to make to the story?" 

"What did he tell you?" Nico asks breathlessly. 

"That everything Mr. Caesar told me was true." 

Nico lets out a sigh of relief. Amid all of the craziness, the fear and the anger, Will had kept their story straight(or at least as straight as it could be, all things considering.) Even if they leave the school in a blaze of fire, they'll leave honest, and they'll leave proud. Nico sits up straighter. "Well, then, I don't have any changes." He stares Father Seymour in the eyes, trying to challenge his authority. Suddenly he feels like he's being lifted up and this man, with his bright white shock of hair and the beard that hides his smile, doesn't feel quite as intimidating as he used to. 

"Well, than, let's discuss punishments," Father Seymour says. He flips open the folder and from what Nico can see, it's a list of everything he's ever done, the times he's spoken out of turn in class all the way up to his fight with Octavian in bible study. "Mr. Solace has a spotless record, and I believe we can still salvage him." The way Father Seymour talks about Will makes Nico uncomfortable. As if he's a car that's been in a crash, or a child's toy that's been ripped apart by the family dog, instead of a living, breathing person. Nico wonders if that's all Father Seymour sees them as, nothing more than objects who can either be saved or thrown to the streets, never to be thought of again. "You, on the other hand, have had an eventful time here at St. Mary's, haven't you?" Nico blinks. He isn't sure what he's supposed to say. Is he supposed to get down on his hands and knees, beg for forgiveness and say he regrets everything? Because he doesn't. Because he doesn't want to lie, now that bravery surges through his bones and he feels invincible. 

When Nico doesn't say anything Father Seymour sighs his heavy sigh. He looks at Nico like he's a problem that he just wants gone. "You treat your classes like jokes, you treat your teachers with disrespect, you've been in verbal and physical alterations with students, and now this- sneaking out of your dorms and engaging in, ah, romantic activities with another male student." Nico fights back a laugh as he watches Father Seymour try to describe gay kissing in a way that wouldn't sound too 'sinful.'

"You realize how bad this looks, Nico, don't you?" 

"I do." 

"And you're not going to say anything about it?" 

"Nope." Nico doesn't care what happens. His secret is out, Father Seymour officially thinks he's doomed to burn, and his entire world is collapsing around his ears. He feels better than he has in a long time. 

"Listen, Nico, I'm going to give you two options," Father Seymour says. "You can leave the school. You won't have to say why you left, and other than your parents, we won't be obligated to tell anyone. Or you can be difficult about it and we'll have to expel you, and we will be obligated to tell any future schools why you were expelled." 

"That's basically blackmail," Nico says. He feels too hot, like a wave of fire rushing up through his veins. "You can't do that." 

"We have reasonable cause to expel you," Father Seymour says. "The rule breaking, the fights, not to mention that your actions with Mr. Solace go against the school's own personal code of conduct. I urge you to take the first option. I'm only trying to help." The wave of fire barrels into Nico's heart and suddenly his entire body is on fire. He's lit up from the inside and he wants to scream, cry, yell, break something, hit something. After going to a school that's beaten him down, made him feel worthless, made him feel like there was something wrong with him for three and a half years, when they tell him to leave, he feels like he's being cruelly evicted, even from a place he never wanted to be in the first place. 

"Are those the options you gave Will?" Nico asks, his voice cool even though his body feels like it's being burned from the inside out. 

"Like I said before," Father Seymour says. "Will is one of our best students, and I think he can still see the error of his ways and change. You have been given too many chances as it is. My greatest recommendation would be to take the first option and leave the school with your parents being the only people who know what happened. If you are officially expelled, we have to give a reason for your expulsion, and I can't promise that other school leaders, or college admissions officers, will be as forgiving as I am." 

Nico stews in his anger, in his hatred for the school and in his sheer rage that feels like it consumes him. He doesn't want to willingly leave Will at a school that will do nothing but squash him like a bug and make him rethink his entire identity, but he has no other choice. He's gone either way, and one option is significantly better than the other. 

"I'll be out by the end of the week," Nico says. 

"Excellent," Father Seymour says, slipping Nico's file back into a desk drawer. Nico stands up, and his limbs feel heavy, dragging him down to the floor and making him wish he was a pile of mush capable of sinking in between the floorboards. After his efforts, trying to find himself, trying to love himself, Father Seymour rose up on top, and everything that Nico has gone through is for nothing. Nico doesn't want to look at him anymore but as he starts to leave, Father Seymour calls his name. 

"Yeah?" Nico says. He doesn't turn around. This man is no longer his headmaster, no longer worthy of his respect, but Nico still stays. 

"You understand I have to tell your parents about this." 

"I wouldn't expect anything less." Nico walks out of the office with tears streaming down his face. He will never lay eyes on Father Seymour again. 

Nico doesn't know where to go, so he wanders. He isn't a student anymore so he doesn't have to go to class, doesn't have anything to do except for pack up his dorm and leave as soon as possible. So he wanders, his footsteps heavy and his tears thick and salty. He doesn't have a direction in mind until someone pulls him into the quiet chapel and shuts the door behind them. 

"Hey," Nico says, his voice thick with pain. "I thought you'd be in class." 

"I'm already in enough trouble," Will says with a wry smile. "What's a couple of skipped classes going to do?" 

Nico's laugh is watery and he sniffs, wiping at his cheeks as he watches salty tears fall to the floor of the chapel. It feels only fitting that the place he had first fallen in love is also the place where his heart shatters in two. "What are you going to do?" Will asks, wiping a tear off of Nico's chin. 

"I have to leave," Nico says. "Seymour gave me an ultimatum. I either drop out on my own, or he kicks me out and tells every school I've applied to why." 

"Are you going home, then?" 

"Doubt it," Nico says. "I can't imagine my family will want me. You know how they are." Will and Nico fall silent and Nico is reminded of all of those family dinners, the nasty words hurled. But this time, they won't be thrown at a celebrity wrapped in rumors, or his dad's coworker. This time they'll be hurled at Nico in all their disgusting glory, and Nico doesn't know if he can take it. "What about you? What'd he give to you?" 

"He said it was an extra weekly bible study with Sister Johnson," Will says. "I'm pretty sure she's going to try to change me or whatever. That woman scares the shit out of me. And with what everyone's saying about me- I don't know how I'm going to get through this without you." They're both quiet again. Nico can hear Will begin to cry, and he can hear the stomp of footsteps, like a heard of animals barelling towards their next victim. If anyone notices their shadows, black against the stained glass windows, no one comes to check. 

"I should go," Nico says. His voice is raspy. "I have to start packing." He'll have to take down his band posters. The ones that have hung for almost four years, the ones that Percy was scared of his first year but had slowly grown to love. But now, they're coming down five months too early. 

"Want me to walk you back to your dorm?" 

"You're not scared of what everyone will say?" 

"They already know about us, what else could happen?" Will says. He picks up Nico's hand, gives it a squeeze. "I'm here for you, now and forever." Nico squeezes back and they walk out of the chapel holding hands, back intothe jungle filled with lions and tigers and everything waiting to bite.

Will's POV

His parents were not happy to get the call from Father Seymour. One call on the phone later and Will is promised that, unless Sister Johnson reports major improval, Will won't have a home or a college fund come graduation. As he slips into Nico and Percy's dorm to help Nico pack, he can't get the threat from his parents out of his mind, that he could have nothing  if he doesn't all but forget Nico's name. But as he helps Nico peel off the band posters that have been up for four years, he has to push all of those worries away. 

"So you're out completely?" Percy asks, helping Nico drag all of the junk out from underneath his bed. "Your parents aren't even letting you come home for a bit?" 

"Nope," Nico sighs. "They're renting me an apartment in the next town over for a month, although I think that's just so they'll have an address to ship my stuff to. But they've made it pretty clear that they never want to see me again." He takes a shaky sigh and Will steps away from the wall, watching Nico swipe a tear away from his eye. 

"It's going to be okay," Will says, wrapping an arm around Nico's shoulder. 

"No, it's not," Nico says. "I have no place to go after this month, I have no job, no way to pay for college, and nowhere to go. At least you've got another chance." Will swallows hard. He has another chance, as long as he shoves down his sexuality, his feelings, his love for Nico. As long as he pretends he's straight for the rest of his life, he can still have a family. 

"I guess," Will says quietly. Nico is supposed to be out tonight, and Will's chest aches thinking about how this might be the last time he gets to hold Nico in his arms, kiss his cheek, remind him of how much he loves him. 

"You're always welcome at my place," Percy says, emerging from underneath the bed with a pile of old mythomagic cards and happy meal toys. "I mean, it might not be the best idea to tell her you're gay. I'll just tell her you're taking, like, a summer job in the city and you need a place to crash. You're welcome too, Will- just in case." He walks up to them, clutter piled high in his arms. "Where do you want me to put this stuff?" 

Nico frowns, his eyes going over the pile in Percy's hands. "Throw it all out," he says finally, with a heavy sigh. "I probably won't have much space for junk." Will doesn't like hearing Nico call his thinks 'junk.' Sure, the mythomagic cards have been shoved underneath the bed for years, and the happy meal toys were coated in dust, but each one brings back a memory, of Nico grinning ear to ear trying to teach Will how to play mythomagic in the quiet of the library, or when they had escaped campus one sunny junior year weekend and eaten all the happy meals they could fit in their mouths. 

"You're sure?" Will says. His hand is on Nico's back and Nico's back hitches with a poorly held back sob. "You used to love those things." 

"I know, but I might be moving around a bunch." 

"I thought you were set to finish the year at the local high school?" 

"I know, but location wise," Nico explains. "I won't have a house in a month, so I'm either gonna have to figure out a way to keep the apartment my parents rented for a month, or get used to living out of a backpack." Will's heart plummets, and he aches at the idea of seeing Nico around town while on trips out, sleeping on a park bench or shivering through the cold January yet to hit. The boy he loves, living out of a backpack. He can't stand the thought. "You should go, shouldn't you? Father Seymour said we're not supposed to be together." 

Nico is right. After their walk through the campus, hand in hand, Will had been called to Father Seymour's office and was told in no uncertain terms that, if there was any prolonged contact with Nico, Will would be thrown out of the school without hesitation. It's a risk just being in his dorm, under the guise of helping a friend pack. "You're sure you don't need any more help?" 

"I'm all set," Nico says. He stands up and Will isn't sure if he's imagining it, but he swears he can see the hint of a tear in the corner of Nico's eyes. "Percy can help me from here." 

"Yeah, you should get going," Percy says, starting to strip down Nico's bed. The mattress is bare underneath the sheets, not like Will didn't already know, but it feels like with each second he stands there, more and more of Nico is being torn from the room he's spent so much time in. "After all, you gotta look after yourself now. You have to be extra careful." Will frowns. The idea of skirting around Father Seymour's eagle eyes for the rest of the year, making sure to get extra good grades and making sure not to act 'too gay' makes him anxious just to think about, but he doesn't exactly have another choice.

"I guess," Will says. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?" 

"See you tomorrow," Nico says. He wraps Will in a hug and Percy turns away while they kiss, tears mingling with their lips in what might be the last time they're able to that year. And then they're breaking apart, and Will is slipping furtively into the hallway, trying to avoid being seen. Because being seen in his boyfriend's dorm would be too much to handle for most people at the school,and he'll never forgive them for that. 

"You know you're not supposed to be in there, right? I could report you to Father Seymour for that." Will spins around to find Octavian lurking in the shadows, half his face taken up by the bags underneath his eyes and the other half by the sneer on his lips. 

"Go right ahead," Will says, crossing his arms. "See if I care." 

"I know you would. But I'm not going to." 

Will arches an eyerbow. "Why?" 

Octavian shrugs, pushing himself off of the wall and stepping closer to Will. "I don't want to. That's probably one of the last times you two will see each other, anyway, unless you have any other plans cooking. Which I'm sure you do." He waits a beat to continue talking, but if he's expecting Will to spill their plans- to go to college in the same city, to find an apartment together, to finally have the life together they deserve- Will doesn't spill.

"Why are you still talking to me? Don't you have something else to do?" 

"Well, I actually have something I want to say to you." 

"Oh, yeah? You wanna try to ruin my life again." 

Octavian sighs, rubbing his face. His face pinches and he looks like a rat, desperately scouring the floors for a spare bit of cheese. Any grandeur he ever possessed is gone and Will may be disgraced, hated, and lost, but he'll never fall as hard as Octavian seems to have. "I wanted to apologize. I didn't think it would be this bad." 

"You told us you wanted us out." 

"Yes, but-" 

"You hate that we're gay." 

"Yes-" 

"And you had no trouble marching down there to Father Seymour's office to tell him everything," Will says. His chest feels tight, and if he wasn't on such a thin line already, he would probably have hit Octavian a long time ago. "So I don't want to hear it." 

"I'm sorry, okay?" Octavian spits out. He looks physically pained to say it. The apology must have taken so much out of his ego he probably dropped a couple of pouds. "So won't you just accept my apology so I can sleep at night again?" 

"Fuck you," Will spits. "You don't deserve that much from me." He leaves Octavian slumped in the hallway, and he doesn't look back. If Will is lucky, he'll never have to see Octavian again.

He collapses onto his bed when he's back in his dorm. His shoulder shake with sobs and aches, and he can hear Austin shifting on his own bed. Sheets rustle and objects move and soon Will can feel a slow, steady hand rubbing circles on his back as he pours his tears and heartache into his pillow. "You know you're still one of my best friends," Austin says quietly from above him. 

"It's okay if you hate me," Will says. His voice is muffled by the pillow he cries into, and his voice is raspy with tears. "I don't really expect people to like me after this." 

"Yeah, well, I still do," Austin says. "I might be a bit confused, and very surprised, but I'm willing to learn." 

Will sighs shakily, flipping around so that he's staring at the bright light of their dorm above him. Yellow rings emenate from the light, and he feels himself zoning out, speeding to a different world, anywhere other than his. Throughout his journey through the universe, through worlds where he and Nico feel comfortable kissing at school dances, where they can hold hands in public and not fear for their lives, Austin stays with him, sitting(admittedly awkwardly) on the side of the bed, but staying with Will nonetheless. When Will's mind comes back to his body and he's returned to the world where Nico has to leave school, and Will's soul feels like it's being torn in half, he sits up, wiping the tears off of his face. "You really don't hate me?" 

"You'd know if I hated you," Austin says. "Like, Octavian knows. Besides, I feel like I don't have any reason to hate you. Like, I'm confused, a little, but you're still the same guy as before." He smiles, and he looks like he's trying so hard to fight everything that's been fed to him since a kid, that Will bursts into tears again. "Are you going to be okay?" 

"I really don't know," Will says. "I mean, Nico's leaving tomorrow, my parents hate me, half the people here probably hate me, and literally every adult is watching me like a hawk. I know I have a chance at staying, and redeeming myself in Father Seymour's eyes or whatever, but I don't even know if it's worth it." His head hangs as tears stream down his face, and Austin pats his shoulder awkwardly. 

"What are you going to do?" 

"I have no idea." He buries his head into Austin's chest and as his world collapses around him, buildings on fire and streets caving in, Austin lets Will cry into his chest before everything goes dark and Will is floating in a black sea of pain, the consistency of wet cement seeping into his body and crushing his heart as it dries. 

At some point Austin takes off his shoes, pulls his comforter up to his chin, and shuts off the lights. Will sleeps for hours on hours on hours, but he's plagued with nightmares, shadowy figures screaming in the depths of his mind and black tar that grabs onto his feet and doesn't let go, pulling him down, down, down, into a sea of murky despair that fills his mouth until he can't speak, fills his nose until he can't breathe. 

When he wakes up in the dead of night, when the owl screams to the moon and the coyotes rule the forest, there's a glass of room temperature water and a turkey sandwich with withering lettuce on his bedside table. Will drinks as if he's been lost in the desert for months, eats as if he's been held captive by a cruel enemy force. Austin is passed out on top of his blankets, his foot hanging off the edge as if he's ready to jump out of bed at any second, to wake Will from a nightmare or assure him that, no matter how tight his chest feels, he's going to make it through the night alive. Will almost wonders whether or not this positioning was on purpose but then he's falling again, through layers of tar and cement and pain, and he's back in his world of shadowy nightmares and cold hands grabbing at his limbs before another thought crosses his mind. 

He's vaguely aware of Austin shaking his arm that morning, worried face hovering at Will's level as the tie for his uniform hangs undone around his neck. "Take the day off," he says. His voice is just above whisper level, as if Will is an antique ready to shatter at the next loud noise. "I'll tell them you're sick or something. Just rest. You can see Nico before he's gone." Will doesn't think pretending to be sick will be too hard. There's no fever, no nausea, but every time he sits up the world spins in a disorienting haze around him, and he falls back to his pillow, begging his bed to be there to catch him. Will wants to say something. To thank Austin for looking past Will's sexuality, for seeing him for more than his relationship with Nico. But then that same sticky black tar from last night is filling his lungs, and he's falling, falling, falling. Austin is gone, and Will is alone.

The next time someone is shaking him awake, the movements are rougher. More urgent, and Will bolts up, panting like he's just ran a marathon. He's been in bed since he got back from Nico's dorm yesterday afternoon but still, making his body support himself rather than his bed makes him dizzy, and he grabs onto Austin's arm for support. 

When he looks down, there are tears in Austin's eyes, and Will's heart plummets. "What?" 

"Will, I'm so sorry." 

"What happened?" 

"Nico left this morning. I just talked to Percy; he said that Headmaster Seymour busted into their room when they were both half asleep, told Nico that if he didn't leave he'd get campus security to do it themselves. I just found out- I'm so sorry." 

It takes a couple of seconds for Will to register what had happened. Any trace of Nico taken from campus when Headmaster Seymour knew Will would be asleep, and Will unable to leave campus as part of his punishment. Their last moments together, possibly until graduation, ripped from their arms, with no hope of communication, no final goodbyes. Nico, gone as if he had never existed in the first place. Austin holds Will as he cries.

The next week passes in a haze. Will pretends to be sick for a couple more days, spending the hours in his bed, tossing with nightmares that grip his brain and make him ache as Austin brings him food, water, reassuring words that are the only things keeping Will from descending into a dream state filled with shadows and pain. He can't imagine what the outside world is like, the hallways he used to walk so confidently, the chapel he used to spend his nights in. Once, when the touch of early December sun had woken him from a painful sleep, he had stood up, legs shaky underneath him as he drew up the blinds of the window. Just barely he can see the chapel, coated in a fine layer of snow with tracks leading up to the door. Will hadn't even known it snowed. He spends the rest of the hour crying himself to sleep, until the pillow is damp with his pain and he doesn't know if he has any energy left in him to cry. 

The Wednesday after Nico left is when he emerges from his state that existed somewhere between life and death. A pile of homework sits next to his bed, along with a couple of notes from the couple of people who still like him, get well notes to help him through the mysterious flu that Austin had told the school he was sick with. Once, the pile of work would have broken him but now, after spending the past couple of days in agony, he finds that he can't make himself care about sometime as trivial as homework. He scratches out a couple of math problems before deciding that there's no use and falling against his pillow, memories of his time with Nico dancing through his head. 

The next week is a living hell. People stare at him as he walks through the hallways, murmuring things under their breath so quiet that Will can't make out what they're saying. His friends rally behind him, acting as shields for the nasty words hurled in the hallway or at the beginning of class. But they can't be there all the time, and when Will walks out of the bathroom with a black eye and a bloody eye, he knows that he can't put his friends in danger alongside him. So he pushes them away, traipsing through the hallways alone as words beat at his back and hands lay claim to his face. When he crawls into bed he winces in pain but he pushes Austin away. He hopes Austin doesn't hear as Will cries himself to sleep, rocked by the pain of his injuries, and the pain he carries in his heart. 

Private bible study with Sister Johnson is even worse. If Will had thought religion class with her was bad, it's nothing close to sitting in her empty classroom on a Friday morning, listening to her voice drone on and on and on about the negative affects of "homosexual sin on the human body." Not that Will needs any more education on that. There's already a bruise forming underneath his eye, and he's starting to walk with a limp. He feels trapped in a school that only exists to beat him down until he's pulp on the ground. 

The days pass in a blur. He doesn't talk to his friends any more. He doesn't want to put them in the path of the fists of his classmates as a punishment for defending him so he takes the beating alone, holding his head high even when every wall that has ever existed inside of him crumbles into a pile of brick and morter. He doesn't study for tests any longer and when Sister Johnson asks him why his grades are slipping, he brushes her off, dully repeating the bible phrase that she's been spitting at him to make her think he's been paying attention. When Will agrees to repent his sins and to give up his indulgences, Sister Johnson stops bringing up his grades. 

He gets into Johns Hopkins, and all he feels is numbing emptiness. This should have been a time of excitement, and if everything had gone right, he would have been celebrating with Nico in the chapel. Instead, all he can think about is whether or not Nico got into the colleges he had applied to in Baltimore, whether or not Nico had money for food, whether or not Nico's rent was up, whether or not he was on the cold wet streets, whether or not Nico still thought about him. He doesn't tell any of his friends, or any of his teachers, or any of his family members. It feels wrong to let them celebrate an achievement that makes him feel nothing. 

He doesn't look at Octavian anymore. Someone who used to be the butt of all of his jokes, who used to invoke blood boiling rage in his veins, is simply a background character in his life. In class, when he'll make some snide remark or blurt something out in class, Will only sinks lower into his seat, hugging his arms to his chest. He sees Octavian looking at him, though. It's almost like he has a stalker. Every chance Octavian gets, he's looking at Will, trying to catch his eye or say something. Sometimes, Will wonders what he has to say. Whether or not he would apologize again, or revel in the achievement of tearing down Will's life piece by piece. But even if Octavian had the most heartfelt apology prepared, Will wouldn't care. The damage can never be undone, and he won't give Octavian the satisfaction of caring. 

The only person Will talks to anymore is Austin. Most of Will's days are spent in memories of the past, reliving his first night in the chapel with Nico, the first time he told Nico he loved him. The present is simply too painful to live in, and sometimes he feels like a ghost walking through the hallways, unable to interact or speak or live. But on nights when the pain gets too much and he cries so much he can't breathe, Austin is there, sitting on Will's bed and staying with him until the sobs subside and Will talks. On nights like that, the only think Will can do is talk. He tells Austin of the first time he caught Nico's eyes in the hallway, of when he started to question his sexuality, of when he finally realized his feelings for Nico. On nights when Will's head aches with tears and his heart aches of loss, he spins tales of his time with Nico that shimmer with the golden thread they are woven of and soon, Austin has heard a tale of discovery, love, and heartbreak, all told on the edge of Will's bed. 

Christmas break is a snapping point for Will. He had been stealing food from the dining hall for weeks, shoving it into pockets and sweatshirt sleeves to save for Nico. He had planned to visit Nico before taking the bus back home, just to be able to hold him again, to feel the warmth of his boyfriend underneath his hands. But the day before break started his parents had shown up on campus, faces made of steel and words cut from iron. They were taking every precaution to make sure Will couldn't see Nico again. He spends the car ride back in complete silence, thinking of the food stewing in his suitcase. 

His parents don't say a single nice thing to him all vacation. Instead, it's steady reminders that he's sinning, that he needs to get better, that if he ever thinks of doing anything like this ever again, he won't have a family to come back to. He's kept at arms length, the family embarrassment destined to remain so. And after the harassement at school, the bible studies with Sister Johnson, the contempt from his teachers, the knowledge that his own parents no longer love him is what breaks him. 

He takes all of his valuables from his room. The china set from his grandmother, the gold watch for his sixteenth birthday, the stuffed animal that he's had since a kid. His bags bulge by the end of his vacation, but he doesn't know when he'll be back in the room. Maybe never. There are some things that he can't stand to lose, and those things are wrapped in his uniform sweaters, tucked into secret pockets in his duffel bag. When his parents are downstairs, having wine with his family and pretending that Will doesn't exist, he sneaks into his parents room, digging around underneath his parents' mattress for their rainy day fund. He comes up with three thousand dollars in cash, a thick wad that he's able to jam into his pocket. If his parents are rich enough to send their son to a boarding school that crushed him from the inside, they're rich enough to help him get a head start on his new life. Especially because, once they find out what he's about to do, they might never talk to him again. They can think of it as a severance gift. 

He spins around, money in pocket, to find himself facing Kayla, her hair pinned up on her head and a skirt poofing up around her waist. She hates skirts, but their grandparents are downstairs, and when their grandparents are downstairs, their preferences go out the window. "Was that Mom and Dad's rainy day fund?" 

"No." 

"You don't have to lie to me. They're assholes, Will, I hear what they say about you." Will's heart shatters into two. If he's cried himself to sleep thinking about what his parents had called him over the phone, to his face, he can't imagine what his parents say behind his back. Kayla is old enough to know truth from lie(at least he hopes so) but he can't imagine what his younger siblings must think about him. 

"What do they say about me?" 

Kayla's face falls. "I think you already know. I don't wanna repeat it. But you have to know that I don't believe it, and whatever you're doing, be safe. And try to stay in touch with me? Even if you don't talk to mom and dad." The room goes quiet, and Will fights to keep tears from forming in his eyes. He doesn't want to cry in front of his little sister, the girl he helped with math problems, who he helped ask out her first boyfriend. But they start to spill, and she hugs him tight and for once in his life, she supports him unconditionally, letting him cry on her shoulder while the adults clink wine classes and talk quietly downstairs. "I'm not going to make you tell me what you're doing," Kayla says. "Just promise me you're going to be safe?" 

"I"m going to be safe," Will says, pulling away from the hug and wiping a tear off of his cheek. "This is going to be really good for me." 

"I love you," Kayla says. "And this is for you."  She holds out a wad of cash, what must be a couple hundred dollars in fives and tens and twenty. "To start out whatever you're doing with." The fives, tens, twenty, tell a story of summers spend dog walking, babysitting, mowing lawns. A summer of hard work, sitting in her hand, ready for the taking. 

"I can't. That's yours." 

"Will, please, take it. I need to know you're going to be okay, and this is the only way I can do it." She pushes out her hand, and Will slowly takes it, hours of hard work sitting in his hand. 

"You're sure?" 

"Of course, I'm sure. It's the least I can do." She gives him a soft smile, and Will is reminded of their childhood, of the books read and the movies watched and the toys played. When they would shove extra cookies into their pockets at coffee hour in church, staying up late and playing games on Will's Nintendo just because they could. When Will leaves, it feels like he's going to lose all of those memories, let them slip out of his ears until they're a puddle on the floor. "You know everything's going to work out in the end, right?" Will only wishes he could believe her. 

The car ride back to St. Mary's is silent. Will sits in the front seat of his dad's car, listening to Christian rock all the way there. The car rocks gently undereatn him and he falls asleep a couple of times, nodding off to the sound of the music and the gentle movement of the car. When he wakes, his dad is still staring straight ahead, unblinking and unmoving. They don't talk and after a curt goodbye, the car is spitting up dust and Will isn't sure whether or not he'll ever see his father again.

Austin helps him pack up. In the dead of night they empty out Will's dresser, dig stuff out from underneath the bed, take down artwork on the walls(drawings of his friends, paintings from an artist in the city, old band posters, shitty drawings he did when he was younger and make him cringe to look at). Most of the things go into a donate pile, old jeans with tears in the knees and college tees with the letters worn down to the point you can't tell what they said in the first place. Nico was right when he said he had to pack light; Will doesn't know where he could be in a month or two. 

In his duffel bag, he shoves a couple of his favorite tee shirts, his favorite books, an old photograph of him and Nico. In their sophomore year, when Leo had taken a photography class, he had gone around, snapping pictures of all of their friends and laughing when he caught someone off guard. Most of them turned out a blurry, hazy, mess, but one of him and Nico, laughing underneath an oak tree on campus with October sun shining over them, had turned out good, all grainy and just fuzzy enough so you can't see how in love they were. They were so young then, Will thinks as he slips the picture in between the cover and the first page of one of his books. So young they didn't know what could come of their romance, so young they didn't see the whirlwind of pain and ache and suffering coming their way. Nico looks so happy in that picture, and Will fights back tears thinking about it. 

He feels a hand on his shoulder and turns around to see Austin smiling at him. "You all ready?" 

"Yeah," Will says, brushing a tear off of his face. His bed is stripped bare, all but a fitted sheet and a comforter shoved into his bag. The rest went in the donate pile that Austin promised to bring to Goodwill over the weekend. He'll sleep on a bare mattress that night. "I'm going tomorrow, I guess." His words feel hollow. Part of him doesn't think he'll actually go through with it, that he'll sit in class and do his work and talk to his teachers like he would any other day. But the other part of him knows that he can't keep living in a life where he's hated by everyone he walks past. He has to get out, no matter what it takes. 

He barely sleeps that night, tossing and turning on his bare mattress, shivering in the cool air. Austin snores gently in the bed next to his, and outside, the night sings its songs and Will listens to everything it has to say. The chirps of the crickets and the hoots of the owls tell a story of loss and heartbreak, and the next morning when the sun stretches over the horizon, Will is sure of what he needs to do. By the time Austin is awake, Will is ready to go, sitting on his bed fully dressed with his backpack on and his duffel bag in hand. "Do you need anything before you go?" Austin asks. 

"Not really," Will says. He stares down at his sneakers. He tries not to cry. He's about to leave his life behind him, and even though all the bad is going to be gone, so will the good. Never again will he listen to Austin's bad poetry that he banged out in English class, or swim in the pool on the weekend, or sleepily stumble through breakfast, laughing at every one of Percy's bad jokes. His childhood is dissolving, and even though he was made to feel like an outsider, like a sinner, he'll be sad to see some parts of it go. 

"Listen, if I never see you again-" 

"You'll see me again." 

"I know, but just in case-" 

"Austin," Will says firmly. "I'm not cutting you off. Or any of my friends who supported me. I would have been lost without you." 

"I just want to know how much I care about you," Austin says. "And that I'm thinking about you every day, and all I want is for you to be safe and happy." He wraps Nico in a hug. "Make sure you write. And tell Nico to start sending a couple of letters. I haven't heard from him in weeks." Will's hug with Austin is just another last. His life is a series of lasts, lining up to take their turn at punching Will in the gut. But on the other side of that line is a door, shining with golden opportunity. Will just has to do one more thing to get there. 

"I will, don't worry. But I should get down there before people start coming out of their dorms. I don't want to make a scene." 

Austin nods, and his eyes shimmer. "Good luck out there." 

"You, too." And then Will closes the door of his dorm for the last time ever.

------

"Will, I didn't know we had an appointment." 

"We didn't. But I need to talk to you." 

Father Seymour sighs, setting his glasses down on his desk. He looks more haggard than Will remembers, this all-powerful man reduced to nothing more than a tired person sipping on morning coffee to get ready for the day. He seems so normal, at this pivotal point in Will's life. "What is it? I'm busy." 

"I'm leaving. And I'm not coming back. I don't care what paperwork I have to do, send it to me or something. Or send it to my parents or whatever, because I'm not coming back." His breathing is rapid and his chest feels like it's being squeezed, a cobra around his chest pulling tighter and tighter until he feels like he's going to shatter. Father Seymour only raises his eyes. 

"What's this about, Will? I've been seeing some really great improvements in you." 

"Yeah, well, I feel like shit." Will has never sworn in front of his teachers before, let alone Father Seymour. He doesn't think anyone else has, either. If someone had, they're not around to tell the tale. "And I hate it here, and I hate what you're trying to shove down my throat, and I hate that you're trying to change me, and I'm leaving, and you can't stop me." He bites back tears, and Father Seymour stands up. He looms above Will, his presence so grand he feels like a giant, blocking out the sun. 

"You do understand, William, that this might be your last chance to be saved," Father Seymour says. "If you calm yourself and work on reconnecting with God, I can help you. But if you walk out that door right now, I can't guarantee what happens to you." 

"Good," Will says. "That's how I want it anyway." He turns around, walks out the door without saying another word. The office door slams shut behind him and he waits, breathless in the hallway, waiting to see if Father Seymour comes after him. But the world has gone still, and Will feels like he's a ghost in the hallway, seeing it from the perspective of a new life blooming for the very first time. 

"So that's it?" says a voice from behind him. It's nasally, the kind of high-pitched that always digs at the back of Will's mind. "You're out of here for good?" 

"What do you care, Octavian?" Will says. "You're probably glad to see me go. You'll have less competition in class, anyway." 

"You know, I can't help but think, this is partially my fault." 

"Oh, it's mostly your fault. My life was fantastic before you butted in." 

"Well, I'm sorry, okay? So if I never see you again, just know that." Octavian scratches his neck, and Will wonders why, in this final hour of Will's presence on campus, Octavian is apologizing. Is he only doing it to ease the guilt he feels at ruining a couple of lives, or does he actually feel some sort of remorse, in his cold soul?

"A while ago, that would have meant something to me," Octavian says. "But now, I don't really care. Bye, Octavian. Have fun with the rest of your life." He picks up his bags and he's gone. He knows that Octavian wathes him go but eventually, Will rounds a corner and they part ways forever.

Nico's POV

He drags a thick blanket over his body, shivering in the icy air of his apartment. He was able to scrape up enough money for another month's rent, through his shitty waiter job downtown and the sympathy of a kind teacher at the local high school who seems to have taken a liking to him. But the heat is broken, he barely has enough money for hot food, so Nico has resigned himself to a winter filled with cold nights, stuffy noses, and being able to hopefully keep at least nine fingers. 

He's in the middle of cramming out his homework on his day off that week when he hears a knock on the door. Panic floods his body, and a million different scenarios roll through his mind. It could be Percy, just dropping by for a friendly visit, bringing hot food or extra blankets. He's been doing that a lot in the past month and a half or so, doing his best to make sure that Nico doesn't freeze to death while Will was kept under lock and key at school. Or it could be his parents, coming to make amends and offer him back his old room and a hot meal, not that Nico is even sure he would want that. Or it could be Octavian, over to give him a nice gentle beating, simply for being gay. 

He makes his way over to the door warily, keeping the blanket tucked around his shoudlers. He fiddles with his locks, his fingers too shaking and cold to do much good. It could be a serial killer, he reminds himself. Or a kidnapper, or a homophobe from his school who had somehow figured out why he had transferred. But when the door is finally open and he sees who's standing in the opening, Nico suddenly has helium in his feet, and he's floating so high he could bump into the ceiling. "What are you doing here?" he asks, flinging his arms over Will's shoulders. "I thought you weren't allowed to leave campus?" 

"Yeah, so, the thing about that, is that I don't actally go to St. Mary's anymore," Will says, scratching his head awkwardly. That's when Nico notices them; the bulging backpack, the duffel bag that seems to be pulling Will's arm down. "Can I come in?" 

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Nico says, stepping forward to let Will into the apartment. As Will's eyes flit from wall to wall, a lump rises in Nico's throat. Suddenly the walls he never has time to clean are absolytely coated in cobwebs and dust, and he's just now noticing the dishes piled high in the sink. "Sorry, it's kind of messy in here." 

"It's perfect," Will says with a wide smile. "I mean, you even have a bed! And a table! I thought it was going to be completely empty in here." 

"Yeah, well, the bed was the first thing I got," Nico says, scratching the back of his head. "The mattress was a hundred bucks at a yard sale; I was tired of sleeping on a yoga mat. And the neighbors were getting rid of their old table, so I got that for free. But I didn't want to get too much stuff. Just because I'm living month to month, and I don't know how long I'm going to be able to afford this place." 

"Well, we've got another month or two covered," Will says, holding out a handful of cash. It's sticky hundreds and crumpled twentys, all smushed together into a pile that must be worth a couple thousand dollars. Nico sighs looking at it, the money that tells a story Nico isn't sure he wants to hear. 

"You still haven't told me anything. Do your parents know where you are?"

Will smiles wryly. "I don't think they'll really care after they found out what I did." 

"What, exactly, did you do?" 

"I dropped out," Will says. "Well, kind of. I'm starting at your school in a week- just gotta find a job first. But you should have seen Father Johnson's face when I told him I was leaving. It was priceless." 

Nico swallows hard. "I hope you didn't ruin your future just for me." 

"I didn't ruin it. I got into Johns Hopkins, and I'm assuming you got into your art school, so as long as we finish high school, we're set. Besides, I didn't do it all for you. It was horrible there. I hated every second of it with you gone. And I tried to tough it out, but I couldn't, so here I am. Ready to try to hold down an apartment with you, and start a new life. If you'll take me in, of course." A tear glitters in his eye, and Nico's heart shatters thinking about what Will has been through in the past month and a half. Sure, Nico had delt with cold nights and scrutiny from his classmates and trying to scrounge up enough money to eat breakfast, but Will had been completely alone in a place that time and time again told him he was worthless. At least before, they had been able to get through it together. 

"Of course, I'll take you in," Nico says, wrapping Will in a tight hug. Will's tears start to leak onto Nico's neck and before Nico knows it he's crying, too, expelling years of self-hatred and pain onto his boyfriend's sweatshirt. For so long, it had felt as if Nico would never be happy. He always felt so different, less than everyone around him. He kept waiting, thinking that he would feel better, would feel like he would be fixed, and that moment never came along. Meeting Will had felt like a breath of fresh air, and over time, he had helped show Nico that there was nothing wrong with him. Over time, Will proved time and time again that their love was invincible, an unbreakable bond that would stretch days and miles and any walk of life they may be in. "I love you so much," Nico whispers into Will's ears, his voice choked with tears. 

"I love you, too," Will says. That's all Nico needs to hear. A couple of words and Nico has the fuel he needs to keep going, to push against the world that leans against him, to keep walking through life until he found the happiness and peace he so craves. And he knows that he'll find it because Will is at his side and with Will, he's invincible, held together by the force of their love and the strength of the bond they share. 

Hi guys, so since this is my last update ever(which is absolutely insane to type out!) I feel like I need to write you all a little note, because you've all impacted my life in ways I never thought could be possible. The first time I published an update on here, I never thought it would go anywhere. I was just a bored middle schooler trying to find a way to fill time. And this book grew and all my readers let me grow with it, and as I grew up, so did my writing and thus, this book. It's insane to look back at the beginning and see my writing grow from seventh grade to a rising senior in high school, and I'm so incredibly thankful to have such amazing readers. This book has helped me grow as a writer, has helped my self confidence, and I have a book coming out this week, and I couldn't have done it without you guys. Your love and support has been one of the greatest gifts I could ask for, and you can't possibly know how much your kind comments have impacted me as a writer and have helped me keep going. Thank you for giving me the confidence to write and to keep going, and for supporting me no matter what I chose to write one week. It feels super super wrong to me to just not post on Wattpad after doing it so consistently so I'm gonna write a Destiel fic, probably about 10 parts so hopefully that will be up in a month or so. Thank you if you got to the end of this little message, and just know that you all mean the absolute world to me, and having the privilege to write for you will be something I cherish for the rest of my life. I'm crying a little bit writing this and it's also five in the morning so I should probably stop writing, but just know that I love you all and, as always I hope you liked it.

Nina