When the Artist Touched the Sun

The Artist

I barely saw Will at school. After I heard about what happened, I tried to find the guy and knock some sense into him, but he was never there.  I perpetually fixed my face in a glare that sent people speed walking away from me.  I wore all black with skull shirts and didn't make any friends to make myself seem scarier.  There was no way I was going to be knocked around for my sexuality.  I also used this appearance to scare off whoever beat up Will, when the time came.  I was walking down the hallway and I heard a whimper and a yelp.  Then a choked voice said, "No wonder you don't have a girlfriend, not even a guy would like you." That's my Will.  Always standing up for himself.  I beamed with pride before I heard a wet cough and someone said, "Aw, are you bleeding? You need your boyfriend to kiss your boohoo?" Then a grunt, and a yell. 
"Come out, Nico." Will said softly from around the corner. I didn't know how he knew I was there, but I stepped out.  A boy who I had identified as Bryce Lawrence was kneeling on the floor.  Will was standing over him.  Lawrence held a pocket knife, but his face and wrists were bruised and bloodied.  Will looked just as bad. 
"I'm sorry." He whispered to Bryce.  Bryce just glared at him.  I put a hand on Wills shoulder. 
"Will, lets go." I tried to leave, but he stopped.
"Nico, look.  Look at him. I can't leave him like that. I didn't mean to... I have to help him."  He gestured towards Bryce.  I sighed, nodded, and walked back.  I helped him up, then forced the knife from his fingers. 
"Next time you touch my boyfriend," I snarled, "You'll get a lot worse than a pocket knife."  He winced and snatched his hand away. 
"Oh, look. Another one.  Did Will need reinforcements?" He looked innocently at me, and I resisted punching him in the face.  Instead I clenched my fists, shot him a stony, death glare, and dragged his sorry butt to the nurse.  Then I dumped him on the floor and left.  Will followed.  I helped him home, skipping the flower shop to take care of him. Charlie would understand.  I lay him on the couch and used a wet cloth to wipe the blood off him.  Then I rolled his pants up to deal with the cuts and bruises on his legs.  He, struggling, took off his shirt and revealed even more.  Some had become scars.  I growled, then calmed myself as I cleaned him off and started bandaging.  He told me what to do, as I was no medical expert.  Then he limped to his bed and I started cooking for him.  It wasn't as good as Charlie's food, but she was in the shop and I didn't want to bother her. 
"Nico?"
"Hm?" I hummed as I was just about to flip the light off in the room. 
"Stay here." 
"Okay."
"I'm sorry."
"Why?" I cuddled up next to him and he put his arm around me. 
"Because.. I didn't want you to worry.  You shouldn't have had to deal with him- I'm such a useless loser." He sighed, and his curls brushed my cheek. 
"William Solace! You are not a wimp, you are the bravest person I have ever met! You ran away from a horrible life, lived on the streets, busted out of jail by faking your own death, and moved across the country! That's incredible!  Then you stood up for yourself in front of a homophobic idiot, multiple times, and took his beating while still fighting back.  You're amazing! Don't ever put yourself down again."  I scolded.  He nuzzled his face into my hair and I smiled.  I felt a nod.  Good.  I waited until I heard his slow, steady breathing to fall asleep myself.