Chapter 9

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A week had passed.

Nico fumed.  Not at Will for snapping back at him.  Not at the stupid rain that wouldn't stop pattering the windows.  Not even at his homework for piling up on his desk nonstop.  He fumed because he was idiotic enough to actually shove Will away.  He knew it was impossible for him to have real friends, but was it too much to hope? He felt like such an idiot and wanted to go apologize so badly, but he didn't, half because he knew Will was horribly upset with him, and half because he wanted to reserve his pride.  He paced the length of his room, then ended up ignoring the books on his desk and picking up a paintbrush and silver paints and sitting down in front of an empty black wall.  He started with the curls.  Then he moved down towards the face, only pausing to splatter it with freckles.  The paintbrush swooshed against the surface, giving the image a misty, dreamy look.  The figure had a sweatshirt on, sleeves half rolled up.  He sat, knees tucked up, on a hill, watching the silver sun set.   Nico looked back at his portrayal of his flat mate.  It was actually very accurate, and Nico thought having him there might make him feel better.  It didn't.  It just made him feel worse, like he'd just lost his only friend, which he had.  He didn't paint Will there because he liked  him, God no.  He painted him there because he was Nico's first real friend, the only person who didn't judge him.  He had made a permanent mark in Nico, just like his silhouette on the wall.  Nico flopped back on his bed, his paintbrush in his mouth.  The paint splattered onto his face, but Nico was used to being messy.  He frowned, then checked the time.  It was 7:30.  Nico stuck the paintbrush behind his ear and opened his door to make dinner.  He started cooking, not making more noise than he needed to for fear of disturbing Will.  

Two knocks on the door- more than had come all week.  Will waited for a minute before opening the door, and a plate of food sat on the floor in front of it.  He sighed and picked it up.  Nico knew he always ate at 7:30.  As he ate, he thought.  Nico would be gone for classes by now, and probably wouldn't return till early morning.  Will timidly peeked out the door, and when nobody could be seen, he left the shelter of his room and sat down on the couch.  He flipped through the channels on the TV until he eventually drifted off to sleep. 

Nico crept in, slowly closing the door behind him.  He usually would come home from class, make breakfast for Will, and then go directly to sleep.  He made a few pancakes, left them on a plate on the kitchen counter, and walked through the living room to get to his room.  Will was sprawled out on the couch, asleep.  His classes started in half an hour, and Nico knew he couldn't just leave him there.  He groaned and then shook Will's shoulder.  

"Will. Get up.  Will. Will! Get up!" 

"What?"

"You're going to be late!"

"Since when do you care about being late?"

"I don't. But you do."

"You don't know anything about me." Will shifted so that his back was facing Nico, and Nico, a little hurt, nodded and left.

"Fine."

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