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

Nico's POV

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

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

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

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

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

Will's POV

Memories flash through his head the second he wakes up but they're not normal memories but fragmented ones, the ones that are split up by alcohol and night so crazy there's no way he'll ever begin to remember anything more than flashes. But one memory sticks out more than the rest, a memory that brings feelings of love and lust to his chest. The memory of someone on top of him, sweaty bodies mashing together. A chill runs up his spine and he fights for the part of the memory that will tell him who. He tries to remember any detail about her; the color of her hair, of her eyes, the size of her boobs. Fuck. He shoots up as a memory comes back and he buries his face in his hands, a lump rising in his throat. Not boobs. His parents are going to kill him. 

The room spins when he stands up and he falls back onto the mattress, rubbing his face in his hands as he waits for the fog to clear out of his heat. It's one of those mornings where he regrets drinking so much- how much was it, exactly? If the beer cans scattered across his room are any indication, it was so much that there was no way Will was thinking straight. When he feels like he can stand he pushes himself up, taking a slow step on legs that threaten to collapse underneath him. He has to find out who it was. 

"Hey, Annabeth!" she looks up from her book, her eyes clear and bright. Her hair, while slightly more frizzy than normal is still in its place, and all of her clothes are on. "You don't drink, right?" 

"Nope. I'm only still here to make sure this dumbass doesn't pass out in his own vomit." She nudges Percy's body with her toe, his normally vibrant face pasty and slick with sweat. "You look like shit, though." 

"Yeah, I figured." He runs his hands through his hair, glancing down at the floor. Feeling Annabeth's eyes on him brings up a wave of shame and for the second time that morning, he wishes he had never thrown the party in the first place. 

"Anyway, what's up?" 

"Ok, so, someone and I fucked last night." She closes her book over her thumb, a spark of interest in her eyes. "And I can't remember who. But I remember it was a dude. Do you have any idea?" She bites her lips, running a finger across the face of her book. 

"You and Nico Di Angelo went upstairs last night," she says after a long pause. "You both looked absolutely hammered. No idea what happened next, though." Will blows out a slow breath, his heart pounding against the walls of his chest. He feels too hot, sweat sticking his rumpled tee shirt to his back. The room seems to swim gently around him and Annabeth's concerned face is warped in Will's eyes. "Will? You good?" 

"Yeah, yeah, sorry." He rubs his face in his hands, hoping that when he looks up, the mistakes of last night will disappear. Or, was it a mistake? The scariest part is that, despite the alcohol in his body, he remembers his choices feeling distinctly clear that night as he grabbed Nico and kissed him harder than he had ever kissed anyone else. "Do you know where he is? Is he still here?" 

"I think he left," Annabeth says. "I wasn't looking, but someone bolted out the door looking like they were about to throw up. They did, actually, I think." 

"Fuck." Will knows that, at some point, they're going to have to talk about it. And he's dreading that conversation, the one that will probably rip his heart out of his chest. It's going to hurt more than anything else in the world, to confront the feelings that he's been repressing for years. But at that moment the house is still a mess, there are sleeping bodies scattered across the floor and his parents will be back later that night. "Will you help me clean this up?" Annabeth frowns. 

"Shouldn't you try to talk to the guy you've liked for years, who you drunkenly fucked for the first time last night?"

"I will," Will says, scratching his head. The house is a mess; it'll take him hours to clean the whole thing. Hopefully, by the time he's done, the memories of last night will have been washed from his mind. He'll be able to leave for college in a few months, get together with a nice girl who his parents like and he'll never have to think about Nico Di Angelo ever again in his life. That is if he can manage to forget the way his face looked in the moonlight from his window, the feeling of his hands on Will's chest, of their lips pressing together. Normally when he wakes up with a hangover this bad, he doesn't remember a single detail of that night. But as Annabeth talks, every single detail comes back in full focus, and all he wants is the familiar bliss of ignorance. "Eventually." Annabeth doesn't look convinced. "Will you just help me clean this up? Please? My parents are going to be home in a few hours, and-" His stomach gives a lurch and he has to steady himself on the wall, waiting for the room to stop spinning around him. 

"You should take something first. Advil, maybe. You look like you just got trampled." 

"Feel like it, too." He's starting to feel weaker, the truth weighing down on him more than the hangover itself. 

"I'll get started picking up these cans." As she pushes herself up, nearly tripping on her still passed out boyfriend, Will makes his way to the bathroom, pressing a hand to the wall to steady himself. He splashes water on his face as he listens to life stir in the other room, slipping Advil into his mouth and heaving a sigh, gripping the bowl of the sink and staring at himself in the mirror; water dripping off of his nose, face pale, forehead still coated in a light sheen of sweat. He'll go into the other room and clean until his arms hurt. And hopefully, when he's done, the memory of last night will be gone from his memory. 

Nico's POV

He passes out on his bed as soon as he gets home, curling up into a ball and pulling a blanket over his body to protect himself as he dozes off. When he wakes up a few hours later he can hear clattering in the kitchen and when he wakes up his head spins and he presses the heel of his hand to his forehead as he waits for the world to snap back into focus. Maybe he should take some Advil; sleep clearly had no effect on the hangover of the century. 

His Mom is in the kitchen when he steps out of his room, bright red lipstick smeared over her mouth, her black hair coiled and pushed into a high ponytail. "Oh, you're back." Her tone is distinctly bored, and she doesn't question where her son had been all night, and why he came back paler than white and smelling like a combination of beer and mango Juul. "I'm going out tonight, you'll have to make your own dinner." Nico glances over at the bare cupboards, a cheap bottle of wine and a can of expired soup sitting surrounded in the dust. He doesn't mention the empty fridge or the fact that he hasn't seen his mother in about three days. She's in and out, in and out, in and out, occasionally leaving him money so he can walk to the McDonalds five miles down the road but for the most part, leaving him to dig for stale chips in the back of the cupboard. 

"We haven't seen each other in days." 

"You can go to your father's house, then, if you really want to see someone." 

"He's on a business trip." He hasn't seen his father in a week. 

"Oh." His mother pauses, pursing her lips as she pretends to care. "Well, you'll be fine." Nico's shoulders slump and he leans against the counter, gripping the edge until his knuckles turn white. "Bye." 

"Bye." He stays gripping the edge of the counter as he watches his mother leave the room, listening to the door click shut before sinking down onto the floor and burying his face in his arms, folded across his knees. The old house is too quiet, too empty and in a way, it feels like Nico's life; quiet, empty, leaving him to fend for himself. And all the quiet and stillness does is let him think about Will, how his hair falls over his face when he's sleeping, the way his muscles ripple when he shoots the bow, the glisten of his smile in the sunlight. And how, with how perfect Will's life is going, with his perfect college and perfect body and perfect homophobic family, he'd never be able to love Nico. He'd turn out like all the other boys; hot, putting on a guise of kindness and then turning around and stabbing him in the back. At this point in his life, after being lied to and cheated on, it was barely even worth trying.

He isn't sure what to do as he lays across the couch, waiting for the Advil to kick in until he does anything else. His headache has lessened to a dull throb but he knows for a fact that there's still no way he'll be able to hold down food, but by the time the sun begins to set and the headache is nothing but a nuisance in the back of his mind, and he doesn't have an excuse not to think about Will. Will, whose strong hands caressed Nico's body like it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Will, who throws his head back when he laughs. Will, whose blue eyes sparkle when he smiles, a sparkle that Nico was able to first see that night when they were so close it felt as if they were one. It's unfair that Nico still remembers every last detail; it's impossible to forget. 

He can remember holding hands with Percy his freshman year and watching him moon after Annabeth for half a year, and he can remember the way that his heart fell in his chest when Percy finally, finally told him that he was straight and in love with Annabeth, right after Nico had finally gotten up the courage to say I love You. He still does, in some small part of his brain that he keeps tucked away in his brain, shoving it back in whenever it starts to come out. He can't go through that pain again. 

He can remember when he finally forced himself to move onto Octavian, with Will's looks and Percy's slightly too cocky personality. Nico had liked him, as a middle between the two men. That had been all it was for a while, holding Octavian's hand to fill the void that Percy had left in his heart, the one that he wasn't allowing Will to slip into next. Octavian started as nothing more than a placeholder but, eventually, Nico grew to love him; that is until he found out he had been making his way through the entire cheerleading team.

He's feeling it again. Or, he has been feeling it, for a year and a half, ever since the hurt that Octavian left had started to heal, although he knew there would always be a scar. It's that fire in the pit of his stomach, the one that both warms his heart and scorches the inner lining of his body. It's the one that, over the course of the years, he's grown to love and hate. And it's one that he can't stand to feel again, despite the fact that it makes his heart beat faster, and every day seems brighter. 

A part of his brain is telling him that it'll be different, that Will wouldn't cheat on him, that Will is confident in his sexuality and won't stay with him for six months out of sheer pity. Because Will is supposed to be good; he knows Will, he's had classes with Will. People like Will. But people said those things about Percy and Octavian, too, just before they shattered his heart in two. Nico doesn't know if he can stand having his heart broken a third time. 

He'd love it, though. Someone else to fill that place in his heart, the one that past partners and family had never seemed to fill. Because he's lonely, he really is. In a house with parents who don't care about him, constantly feeling slightly out of touch with his friends, he needs someone. Anyone, really. They're just going to hurt you again, whispers the small voice in his head. And Nico agrees with it; he could never really help it. So instead of standing up, walking to Will's and professing his feelings, he buries his head in his hands and cries until his body feels dry. 

Will's POV

He can't stop the memories from flashing in his mind, even after the remnants of the party are long gone and his parents are sitting with him around the dinner table, eating pizza and talking loudly, disrupting the turmoil in Will's mind. As his eyes fly over his family; his parents, Kayla, Austin, shame bubbles up in his chest at disappointing them, their idea of a perfect family. Maybe not Kayla and Austin, though. His parents have spewed bullshit about the sanctity of marriage more times than Will can count, but Kayla and Austin had never mentioned anything about it. Maybe he can start with them. It makes his chest pound but hopefully, they won't kill him. 

"Hey." He walks up to Kayla when he's sure his parents are out of range. Austin is closer in age, but Kayla likes men, as far as he knows. There's some mutual understanding there, at least. "Can I talk to you?" 

"Sure." She sets down her phone, and her wide eyes make him uncomfortable. He shifts underneath his clothes, feeling the familiar taste of bile rising up in his throat. He had thought he was done with the hangover for the day, but maybe he was wrong. 

"So, you know that party I had last night?" 

"The one you sent me to Cecil's house for because you said I was too young to go?" 

"Yeah, that one." Suddenly she looks pissed, and Will wonders whether or not she'll tell their parents, simply out of spite. "I, uh, something happened." She's starting to look concerned. 

"Will?" she sits up, her face more serious than he's ever seen it before. "Is something wrong?" 

"I slept with someone," he blurts out, scratching his head. He's drenched in sweat, and the floor is swimming underneath him. Part of him hopes he passes out, just so he doesn't have to continue this conversation. "A guy. And I liked it." 

"Oh." Her eyes are wide and she's playing with a ring on her finger, twisting it over and over. "I won't tell Mom and Dad. And I don't care who like, just to get that out of the way." Will heaves a sigh, his shoulders relaxing and he's tempted to reach out and hug her, but that might be too much for her. 

"Thank you," he says, feeling as if he might cry out of sheer relief. "Thank you so much. You- you have no idea, how scared I was." 

"Hey, I'm not Mom and Dad," Kayla says with a small smile. "They act like it's still the fifties." She sits up, propping her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands as if she's waiting for Will to tell him a story instead of a personal detail about him that could completely ruin his relationship with his parents. "So, this guy, he just a drunken hookup, or someone you like?" 

"I- someone I like," he says, scratching his life. He's never admitted it out loud before, how he can never take his eyes off of Nico when he walks by in the hallway, how his heart pounds a little harder when he steps into his room. 

"Do I know this boy?" Will bites his lips, his face burning. This is a whole other part of the process; admitting his secret crush is almost as uncomfortable as revealing his sexuality. Kayla is grinning as if it's all a game to her, her eyes shining. Will opens his mouth but all that comes out is a small squeak, and Kayla laughs. "You can tell me you're gay, but you can't even say the name of the guy?" 

"It's Nico, okay?" Will says, almost out of spite. "Nico Di Angelo." 

"Hey, I know him!" Kayla says. She's still too energetic to make Will feel comfortable. "He's great. You guys will be perfect together." Will feels his heart sink; Kayla seems genuinely excited. 

"I can't do it, Kayla," he says. "I can't tell Mom and Dad about him. They'd disown me." Her eyes sink and by her silence, she knows that Will is right. He feels tears welling up in his eyes and he presses his finger to the bottom of his eye, trying not to let them spill over. He sniffs, wrapping his arms around his chest and squeezing tightly as if it'll make the pain in his heart go away. 

"Will-" she stands up, wrapping him in a hug. It's strange; they have the typical suburban sibling relationship, light teasing and nothing more and pretending that they don't care about each other. This hug is the closest they've ever been, the most they've ever shown each other that they care, and it feels good. "Listen, I'm really, really sorry. Mom and Dad suck but just know that I support you, and Austin will support you, and we'll defend you if you need it." She steps back, surveying him with cold eyes and for the first time, Will is struck at how intelligent she is for her age. For the first time, Will is grateful. "And I think you should tell him how you feel." Will was scared she'd say that and as much as he knows it's good advice, it's the last thing he wants to do. 

"I can't, Kayla," he says. "I'll come out to Mom and Dad eventually, but I can't do it now. And I can't do it while I have a boyfriend. I think it'd shock them too much. And I'm not ready." His heart pounds even thinking about it and he shakes out his arm, trying to cool it down. He feels too hot. 

"You don't have to come out to him now," she says quietly. "But you should talk to Nico because he probably feels the same way. And you don't want to come out to them the day before your wedding, do you?" 

"No." He hates that she's right, more than anything. He sighs deeply, scratching his head. It seems good theoretically, dating Nico, albeit in secret. It sounds good to be holding his hand, kissing, talking. It sounds amazing, and it's hard to admit that if he doesn't talk to Nico, he could be giving up everything. But he can't tell his parents, not now, anyway. "You're right. I should." 

"Good." She smiles, and it's the most genuine smile Will's ever seen from her. "I have to do some homework, but let me know how it goes, okay?" She gives him one last hug before grabbing her phone and stepping out of the room, leaving Will to stew in his thoughts until he feels as if he's going to burn alive. 

It takes courage to force himself out of the house and as soon as the door swings shut behind him he's considering walking back in, back to the safety of his room where he doesn't have to confront the boy he likes, doesn't have to confront his sexuality. But he pushes himself through one step after the next, his mind protesting as he turns the corner of the street, one foot in front of the other as he walks down the sidewalk, past the houses lining the streets with glowing TVs framed in the window, the smell of a barbeque drifting out from a backyard. He can hear a dog barking and the whole scene, with the manicured lawns and the white paneled homes, looks like something straight out of a children's book, calm and happy. That's probably what Will looks like, too. He's forcing a smile onto his face and his ever-shining eyes always make him look happy. It's good, though; he doesn't want anyone to be able to sense the turmoil in his mind. 

The houses get smaller as he walks and soon he's rounding onto Nico's street, dark with the faint glow of the sun barely spilling over the horizon. It's quiet, too, almost like a ghost town, and there are no movements that Will can see in the windows that aren't covered by curtains. Despite the fact that it took him half an hour to make it to Nico's house, he's wishing that the walk took longer. As he steps onto Nico's porch, peering into the window to see a body lying on the couch, he can't help but think that he isn't ready. That he'll never be ready, no matter how hard he tries. There could be a million universes, each one of them completely different, and he wouldn't be ready in a single one of them. His heart is pounding in his chest and he's dripping with sweat, airing out his tee shirt. There's never been anything he's been less ready for in his life. He rings the doorbell. 

He wipes his sweaty palms on his pant leg as he hears footsteps, wishing that they'd go away and leave him to stand on that porch for the rest of the life so that he never has to face what's about to happen. He can't do it, can't talk to Nico, can't tell his parents, can't even admit to himself that he likes boys, that he likes Nico. Can't, can't can't. That's all that's running through his mind as he hears the doorknob turn but as soon as the door swings open and Nico is standing in the frame, running his hands through his hair, Will's mind goes blank. "Hey." 

"Hey," Will says, swallowing hard. He can't look Nico in the eyes; he thinks he might cry. Or vomit. Or both. Probably both. "Can we, uh, can we talk?" 

"Yeah." Nico scratches his head, his arm wrapped around his stomach as he stares at the ground, drawing in his lip. He looks pale, his hair a mess and his eyes tinged red. "You should probably come in." He holds open the door for Will, his eyes still trained on the ground as Will steps inside, accidentally slamming into Nico on the way in. 

"Shit, sorry. That was an accident, I swear. I- I didn't mean to, Nico, sorry." 

"It's fine," Nico says, his voice hoarse. Both of his arms are folded across his stomach, and he looks as if he might cry. Or vomit. Or both. Probably both. "You can take a seat on the couch if you want. Do you want a drink, or food, or anything?" 

"No, thanks." Will swallows hard, staring at everything that isn't Nico. He almost trips over an empty bottle of whiskey on the floor and almost as an instinct Nico reaches out and steadies him before they look into each other's eyes and then look away immediately, wearing twin blushes. "Thanks." 

"No problem." Nico's voice is hoarse and he clears his throat as he sits next to Will, their knees brushing together. Will folds his hands in his lap, feeling sweat form in droplets underneath his clothes. He hopes that Nico can't feel the heat that's probably radiating off of his body, or hear the pounding of his heart. Nico's foot is tapping on the wood floor, his arms still wrapped around his stomach. 

"We fucked last night," Will blurts out, feeling his entire face flush as soon as he realizes what he's done. 

"Yeah." Nico's shoulders relax and he glances up at Will, a thousand emotions hidden in his eyes. His face softens and all of a sudden he looks like an angel, and all Will wants to do is kiss him until neither of them can breathe. But that would probably be a bad idea. "What was it, for you? Was it just a drunk thing? Because if it was, it's fine, I won't bring it up again-" 

"Nico, no." He feels bad cutting him off but all of a sudden all of the nerves are gone and he has a million different words running through his mind and he grabs Nico's hand, squeezing it tightly. "I like you. And I know we were drunk, and it probably seemed like just a thing, but it wasn't, not for me, anyway, and I really like you and I want it to be more than just a thing, I think. Like, I think you're really great. And I want to be with you." He's gripping Nico's hand too tightly and he loosens his hold, trying to pull together the words in his mind to form a coherent sentence. "But I get it, you know if you don't want that. Because we were both drunk out of our minds and you probably don't feel the same way, and-" his rambling sentence is cut off when Nico leans forward and kisses him, moving his hand to Will's thigh, a strand of hair falling down to his face and brushing Will on the cheek and right there, with their bodies pressing together, Will knows that he doesn't regret a single thing in the past twenty-four hours. 

But when Nico pulls back he looks scared and he draws back into himself, his eyes filled with fear. "Fuck," he says. "I'm sorry." 

"For what?" 

"I-" he shakes his head. "I can't do this, Will, I'm sorry." He buries his head in his hands, his foot going back to tapping on the floor. "I'm so sorry." 

"What? What happened?" 

"I can't do this," he says. "You're not going to come out to your parents and I can't date you like that, in secrecy, ashamed of our relationship. I've had too many shitty ones, and I'm just gonna end up screwing it up again and it's going to end badly, and then you're just going to be another one of my terrible ex stories. And it'll feel like my fault, and I'll beat myself up for it, and it'll just happen the next time, and the next time, and the next time. You're just going to be another one in the pattern." He raises his head, and there are tears welling in his eyes. 

"I won't be one of your shitty exes," Will says quietly, his eyes scanning Nico's face. "I won't hurt you." 

"How do you know that?" 

"You-" Will swallows, glancing at Nico's hands. They're trembling slightly. "You just have to trust me." 

"I can't." Nico glances at the floor, a single tear slipping out from his eye. "I don't know how." 

"It doesn't have to be immediate," Will says. "I know it won't be. But at least try, because I promise you, I won't hurt you." 

"You're still not going to come out to your parents." Will's chest gives a sharp pang because a part of Nico is right; he can't imagine it, the absolute nightmare of the expressions on their faces, the disappointment, the loathing. But then he looks at Nico's face, at the single tear hanging from the corner of his chin, and there's a sudden spark of bravery in his chest, sending a shiver up his spine. 

"I will," he says. "I'll do it if that's what you need. And, in return, you try to trust me. It'll be a mutual agreement." He rests his hand on Nico's shoulder, wondering whether or not Nico will push it off and when he doesn't, Will gives Nico's shoulder a light squeeze. 

"A mutual agreement," Nico nods. He looks into Will's eyes, dabbing away a tear with the corner of his sweatshirt and Will can see a mess of emotions written across his face, a strange combination of happiness and sadness and fear and excitement and hope. Will knows that feeling well. Nico moves his hand so that it's holding onto Will's arm, and he gives him a small smile. "You promise not to hurt me? And to hold up your side of the agreement?" 

"If you hold up yours." Nico's smile goes wider and nods quickly before leaning in, cupping Will's face in his hands and kissing him until Will feels like they're the only two people in the world. 

Nico's POV

It'll be hard, he thinks to himself, as he and Will kiss, Will's hand on his back, his knee pressing into Nico's. But he can do it. He can grow. 

Will's POV

He's dreading it if he's being honest with himself. It sounds like an absolute nightmare. But, as he feels Nico's soft hands cupping his face as they kiss, he knows it's worth it. He can do it. He can grow. 

Hi guys, so I had absolutely no idea when I was writing this that it would be(I think) my longest update ever at 5.7k words but honestly I'm glad it was because I'm proud of this story. I personally think it's one of my best, and I really hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Also, sorry for any mistakes, I genuinely wrote this so fast that I'll be surprised if I even used the right words sometimes. But I hope it was good regardless!

Nina