Solangelo Oneshots

Wounds of The Past

(TW: Self Harm. If you or someone you know have suicidal or self-harming tendencies call the crisis hotline at 1-866-488-7386, or if you'd prefer text CONNECT to 741741 to get help. You're not alone, there are resources, hang in there)

        Sometimes people have rough days. Most of the time these rough days seem enormous, but are eventually swept away with a sea of good days, happy moments, smiles, and laughs. Even though bad times may create jagged rocks, the ocean of joy still sails and navigates threw. For Nico di Angelo this metaphorical would look much different. Instead of an ocean, with a few jagged rocks, the son of Hades' life felt more like a desert.

         A rocky miserable desert where the sun blanches all surfaces of any moisture. Where nothing but the overly adapted may exist. Where the whole world is nothing but dry, harsh rocks of bad days and tears. Where the occasional drops of joy blessed from the clouds are quickly soaked up into the coarse sand. When one is in such a place, you feel stranded, lost, stuck, desperate for water you know isn't coming. Currently Nico was exposed in this environment, stripped of all comfort and protection, lying still.

         Will was unaware of this, unaware that his lover was in such turmoil. Instead, he was continuing his normal work in the infirmary alongside one of his half-sisters. Today was rather uneventful for him, a couple scrapes, bruises, and fevers, nothing ambrosia or nectar can't fix right up. 

            "Hey, we need a refill on nectar, and probably some more ambrosia too, mind getting it for me?" The blond requested of his sibling, while checking the supply. There was some grumbling, but the younger child of Apollo walked out to go secure some more of the miracle cures. Once she had gone, Will realised he was quite alone in the tent now, and decided to take a load off his feet, sitting in one of the waiting room armchairs.

         His mind wandered to his boyfriend for a minute, praying that he wasn't shadow traveling, or putting himself in dangerous situations. Not that he didn't think Nico could take care of himself, he had proven that many a time, no he just had a natural worrier's spirit. Sometimes the Italian would tease him, and claim that the blonde was just a southern middle aged mother in the body of a teenage boy. Though this memory brought a smile to Will's face, he still felt something was deeply wrong. His suspicions were confirmed when one camper came in, holding a second.

         The supporting camper was the one and only Percy Jackson, except he didn't exactly look heroic at the moment. His orange camp t-shirt was stained red down the front, and his sea green eyes were wide with panic and worry upon looking at the camper in his arms. The boy in question had dark hair, his eyes were shut, his skin was pale, was most certainty Nico di Angelo, and had arms covered with cuts and scarlet liquid.

           Will shot up from his seat, all notions of rest forgotten, and he shot over to where the hero of the camp, and his lover were. He had no words, completely unable to express what his mind was concluding and deciding. Clearly by the angle of the cuts Nico had done it to himself, the bleeding suggests he had been found very soon after when they had been made, and the panic on Percy's face suggested that the son of Apollo better get into doctor mode quickly.

          "Lay him right there," Will instructed, gesturing to the bed nearest to the bandages, which the blonde was already grabbing as fast as humanly possible. Percy obeyed the command quickly, also lost for coherent words, and made sure to place the injured boy carefully.

         The doctor in training all but shoved the son of Poseidon from his vicinity, quickly dropping next to the unconscious boy. He surveyed the cuts once over and, thankfully, determined they weren't extremely deep. The he swiped them over with a pad meant to remove any germs, or other particles that that entered the wounds. Now that the scars were clearly visible, no longer obstructed by a huge puddle of blood, Will could see they spelled out a crudely carved word 'SORRY'.

           At that moment the blonde almost lost it, almost broke down, almost considered copying his boyfriend's actions, but he didn't. Tears fell from his eyes, but he managed to properly bandage the mutilated arm, slowly wrap by wrap. Once the job was done he just stared at the boy he loved so much, the one he would lay down his life for. The gaunt pale face still showed no signs or response, though Will had checked for, and found a pulse several times. The blond resided in the fact that all he could do was wait, wait for the ambrosia and nectar, wait for all the questions, wait for all the pity, and wait for his death boy to come back to life.

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         A couple hours passed, Will didn't know how many. He stayed in the chair alongside Nico's bed for each and every one of them though. Unlike the cliche he did eat, he did take a nap, he just did so right alongside the boy he had bandaged previously. Finally though, he saw dark brown eyes open and squint into the infirmary, confusion held within them.

       "Shit, where the fuck am I?" Nico asked to himself, looking around in a hazy confusion as events slowly began to be remembered. The second he spotted his boyfriend he felt more relaxed, then worried as the blonde looked pretty rough, hair a mess, residue of blood on his fingers, eyes and cheeks stained with tears.

         "You're in the infirmary Neeks, do you remember why?" Will questioned softly, using the same tone he did with all patients. He was trying himself to sort through his emotions before he fired them at his lover, now of course he was extremely happy that Nico was once again awake, and it wasn't fair to be mad at the Italian for harming himself, but dammit if he wasn't a bit upset at him.

          "I- Oh gods," The ravenette muttered upon seeing his bandaged arms and remembering what he did. The crying, the cutting, the screaming, gods he had been a total wreck, and here Will was, having to deal with him. Nico felt an inner hatred light up, not quite as strong as the one that had actually made him harm himself, but still there.

          "Are you ok? Well clearly not I guess, but is there something I can do?" Will asked, desperately wanting to help. He could bandage, have bedside manner, even console people in dark places, but this was a different ball park. This was the boy he loved most in the entire world, breaking down enough to physically maim himself.

         "Just stay, Solace, stay,"

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