Summary: Nico and Will are stuck in an elevator together. Things are complicated when Will realizes Nico is claustrophobic and only understands Italian. Solangelo one shot.

When Nico realized he would have to take the elevator down to the hotel lobby, he decided the Fates were messing with him. Some idiot manager had decided to change the green carpet on the stairs to blue carpet, and they were closed off for the next few days.

Nico considered texting Bianca if she could please meet him on the sixth floor instead of him going down to the lobby to meet her, but decided against it. It was only one elevator ride, and he didn't want to make his sister worry. He could do this on his own.

Naturally, everything went wrong.

It started when Nico walked into the elevator and realized the buttons were all labeled in English. Nico was Italian. He read, spoke, and understood Italian. The only phrase in English he knew fairly well was "Do you ever get tired of sleeping?", which, looking back, was a pretty weird phrase to be able to say in a foreign language. He probably should have learned "hello", "thank you", or even "please don't kill me". Bianca had tried to get him to study more English, but Nico found the language annoying and difficult. Now, he was starting to regret his decision-but only a little bit.

When the doors opened again and an unfairly attractive man with blond hair and blue eyes walked into the elevator, Nico knew the Fates were laughing at him. The man was wearing a tie-dyed hoodie and jeans that, together, somehow made his sky-blue eyes an even clearer blue. His hair reminded Nico of the fine gold threads his mother used in her tapestries of the Greek gods. The man's smile emphasized the freckles dusted across his face—Nico realized the stranger was smiling at him, and that he had been staring. Nico blushed and quickly averted his gaze.

The elevator floor was very interesting. It was made of a black-and-white checkerboard of polished marble border and a stylized red and gold rose in the center. Flecks of blue and green were sprinkled throughout the floor. Nico began counting the black squares, hoping the blush on his face wasn't too noticeable.

16...17...18…

The elevator began moving steadily downwards. A cool robotical female voice spoke at even intervals—Nico guessed she was announcing floor numbers.

29...30...31…

Abruptly, the elevator stopped. Nico stumbled backwards and looked around wildly, panic already building in his gut. Please tell me I'm dreaming please tell me I'm dreaming please tell me I'm dreaming… The voice was saying something; Nico did not need to understand English to know something was wrong.

With a pop, the overhead lights went out. Nico's panic intensified, building up to his chest. The darkness was suffocating, pressing in on all sides-Nico could feel the floor beneath his feet, but it might as well have been suspended in empty space-his skin was sticky and his head felt like a balloon-someone was breathing in quick, short, panicked bursts-Nico distantly realized that was him. He tried to remember what Bianca said about taking deep breaths, but he couldn't see anything still-he was sinking, drowning, he would never see Bianca or his mother or father ever again-the panic was clawing out of his throat in a voiceless scream…

Red flares burst in front of his eyes. With a head-jarring thud, his knees met the cold marble floor. Nico realized he had been holding his breath, subconsciously trying to calm down, and now his lungs were screaming for air.

Suddenly, a hand was on his arm. Panicking, Nico tried to pull his arm away, but the grip tightened, and a low humming filled the air. Nico found himself relaxing into the melody, letting it envelop him in a soothing embrace. His breathing evened, and his head no longer felt like a balloon. Nico realized he was suddenly very tired, even though he hadn't been doing anything physical. A pair of arms wrapped around him, comforting and warm. Nico felt his eyes close.

After a short while, one of the arms lifted. Nico heard the rustle of clothing, then there was a click and a blinding light seared through his eyelids. Someone muttered a quick word under their breath, then the light was dampened. Nico opened his eyes slowly.

The first thing he noticed was the attractive man watching him with a worried expression on his dimly-lit face, one glowing red hand cupped around the lit end of a flashlight. He was speaking to Nico, but the Italian couldn't understand what he was saying. He now severely regretted not wanting to learn more English, but tried to start a conversation anyways.

"Do you ever get tired of sleeping?"

The words felt foreign and harsh on his tongue, and Nico cursed his inability to speak or understand English. But the man laughed a musical, melodious laugh, and it was the most beautiful thing Nico had ever heard.

Thankfully, the man seemed to understand the language barrier. He pulled a pen and a pad of paper out of his pocket and began to write something. Nico wondered how big his hoodie pocket was if he could fit pens and papers and flashlights inside.

The man tapped on his arm and turned the pad of paper in Nico's direction. On it was a series of drawings: An arrow, pointing at him; a hand with the thumb and index finger connected in a circle; and a large quotation mark. Nico remembered that the hand meant O.K., so that would mean the drawings meant: "You okay?"

Nico took the offered pen and began to draw his response: "Yes, thanks."

They communicated like that for an hour or more, during which Nico learned that the man's name was Will Solace, he was studying to become a doctor, he had several siblings, and his father was a musician. In exchange, Nico told Will about himself and Bianca, their parents, and that they were Italian and barely spoke English.

They had just promised to teach each other in their respective languages and exchanged phone numbers when Will's flashlight ran out of battery. The American muttered under his breath, shaking the dead flashlight. The darkness began closing in again, and Nico instinctively grabbed the nearest object-which just happened to be Will's hand. Nico might have blushed if he wasn't so focused on the approaching darkness and the panic burning in his throat. Will's hand squeezed reassuringly and he began to hum. Nico found he was able to focus on his breathing: in for five seconds, out for four. In for six, out for five. In for five, out for four…

—

The rescue workers found them curled on the floor, fast asleep and holding hands. Bianca was frantic with worry, ranting in Italian and trying to push past the crowd gathered around the elevator until Nico walked out with Will in tow. She wrapped her younger brother in a tight hug, checking for injuries and firing questions at him in rapid Italian. Once he answered most of her questions (he carefully avoided the one about whether Will was his boyfriend), Nico introduced his sister to Will. Bianca thanked Will profusely in English, then quickly explained Nico's claustrophobia. Will smiled sheepishly and said a few words, though Bianca did not translate them for Nico (to his frustration).

Later, after most of the crowd had dispersed and the rescue workers had gotten the elevator working again, Will got a call on his phone. He nodded as the caller spoke, then hung up and said something to Bianca, who translated for Nico.

"I have to leave now, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Nico replied in Italian. Bianca translated for Will's benefit.

"I'll text you when I get home, okay?"

Nico smiled and thanked Will, who had learned the Italian word for thank you after hearing it several times from Bianca earlier. Will smiled, waved, and left the hotel.

"So," Bianca said, reverting back to Italian, "Will you be more motivated to learn English now?"

Nico blushed. "Maybe."

"When's the wedding?"

"Bianca!"