Hello, everyone. Tis time for another sad one-shot, that I vomit out when I listen to City and Colour and Daughter. Warning: this is a fanfic that has implied self-harm, and explicit (meaning evident, not M rated) self-loathing and homosexuality (not that sexuality ought to be a problem), as well as some possibly triggering situations. The power of words is infinite, and we often forget just how powerful they are. Know your limits and please don't exceed them. That being said, those who continue on, please enjoy this angst-y one-shot, which turns into something unintentionally happy. Hopefully, this will bring a sad smile to your face, and let me know if it did. I would highly recommend you listen to Smoke, Run, Youth, Candles, Landfill and/or Smother by Daughter, Ocean and/or Atlantis by Seafret, I Found by Amber Run (Acoustic) and/or Mess is Mine by Vance Joy. Let me know if you like this kind of thing, because I have more ideas for sad and fluffy Solangelo one-shots.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, the settings, nor the songs listed above.
-LEXI
Nico closed his eyes as he rolled his suitcase out of the thirteenth cabin of his, now previous, home, a piece of Elysium on Long Island, New York. His door closed behind him, as a tear rolled down his cheek, and he angrily sniffled as he wiped it away forcefully. This piece of Heaven was just another place that couldn't afford to be tainted by the darkness that would always surround him, the son of a death god, a soul that got its ass kicked by the torturous part of karma he deserved. He took a shaky breath, and took the first step on a long journey away from the only peaceful place he'd ever known. Silence surrounded him uneasily, as the other campers slept, as if he were at a crime scene. He slung his bag over his shoulder, which was covered by a thick leather jacket he'd been given by Piper McLean, a friend he'd acquired out of pity and need for each other's abilities. Nico grabbed the straps he'd buckled across his suitcase and picked it up, with a huff of effort. Slowly, he began to make his way to Half-Blood Hill, the vantage point he'd use to say goodbye. He was painfully aware of the crunch of gravel beneath his boots, and the suffocating, tight feeling he had in his chest, whose grip seemed to tense with every step. Another tear fell onto his pale skin, whose returning olive tone had disappeared with the lack of blood, sucked away because of his sadness.
As the moon shined too brightly for the liking of Nico, he reached the top of the hill. As if the weather gods were looking down on him, the moon was soon hidden by a thunderous cloud, and what had once been a light breeze, seemed to be powerful enough to blow away his delicate frame. He dropped his suitcase onto the ground and took in the shadow-cast camp he'd grudgingly grown to love. His eyes flitted over each cabin, the third, which belonged to his old love, and then to the one that housed the first person to know about his darkest secret. The one made of grey stone, where one of his greatest supporters claimed she slept, and the silvery one, that should have had his sister. The sunny yellow cabin, that seemed eerie in the light, or lack thereof, and made the grip on Nico's chest tighter. The pink and frilly cabin he hated, and the red cabin, full of angry or protective campers. Lastly, his dark and dull eyes landed on the one that he'd left only minutes ago, his old home, and the final resting place of any sliver of life he'd had. He parted his lips slightly, and whispered his goodbye, his voice cracking every time a tear raced down his gaunt face, and faded into the shadows.
Disappearing had always been a talent of Nico's—whether it is running into or away from a crowd, or just hiding from a single person, the options were endless with his rather remarkable ability, the manipulation of shadows, his only friends, and the very source of his darkness. There were always whispers in the shadows, and if he closed his wide eyes, he could almost see the faces that the lost souls had once bared. Now, after playing with the darkness as he often had, they were nomads in twilight, never leaving nor seeing light, forever surrounded and alone. They were everything Nico intended to be, however his heart always managed to foil his plans. His peace was ended abruptly, as the spirits began to scream at him, to leave and to never return, banishing him to the world that hated him possibly more than he hated himself, the world that had witnessed and caused so many of his scars, both on his body, soul and mind; images of guilt and lifeless eyes of people he'd loved, and people he'd pushed away in the hope of preventing the pain he'd inevitably cause them, as he would never fit in. He was doomed to a life on the sidelines, always wanting what he couldn't have, and always being a disappointment to those who would try and fix him. His life was long gone, and was never returning, left in the cabin he'd just emptied.
Ground, solid and sprouting annoyingly green grass, was now beneath his boots, blowing in the wind. Nico's brow furrowed—he hadn't visualized anywhere when he'd begun his shadow travel. This should have left him to dissolve into the shadows. Unless, of course, his own damn self had betrayed the universe again, and had rescued him when he hadn't needed nor wanted it. This was just another great example of the stupidity of the human, or half-human, heart; it just didn't know when to stop, when its selfishness was going to burn down the world. Nico's eyes travelled down the hill atop which he stood. With their back to him, a blond-haired, tanned person, clad in a plaid shirt and worn white jeans, sat on the hill and looked at the dark playground in front of them. Nico began to back away, not wanting to disturb them, until he heard a voice that stopped him in his tracks, and made him want to simultaneously run to the shadows and to the person before him. "I know you're there Nico." His breath caught in his throat, and defiant words died there too, tangled in the lack of oxygen. "Come on, Nico. You didn't think you could hide from me, did you?" In a fashion slower than seemingly possible, he turned around to face the speaker. The sky blue eyes that were set high on a tanned and angular face looked at him curiously, piercing through his barriers as they once had. Blond hair glinted orange in the light of a streetlamp. Nico pressed his dry lips together, and licked them, before opening his mouth to speak. However, his words were still fighting their way through the tangle of his breath and shock, and he was left to bite his lip instead. The tension of the scene rose up from the ground and threatened to choke both of the figures.
"How did you do it," he finally croaked. The person before him, a teenaged boy with shaggy hair, changed his expression from intuitive to confused. "Pull me out of the shadows. Why did you do it? I could—I should have faded there, Solace. What the hell?" His anger, the conflict built from the experiences past and present, boiled over into his words, filling him with white-hot frustration. His previous caretaker shook his head, disappointed, but Nico couldn't tell if it was directed to himself, or the world.
"You should never have left camp, Nico," he whispered, as if he were scared of the power of the volume his voice, like Nico was a candle he was afraid of blowing out, a fragile flame. "You needed more help than you had, and it's my fault. I should have stayed." Nico lifted his eyes from the ground, the glare softened to wide and surprised eyes. The shock in his gaze hurt his companion, as if he were expecting Will Solace to hate him for something beyond the control of anyone with a good heart. "I'm sorry." Nico's breath hitched again, and this time it gave him a welcome pain. Shock wasn't a flattering feeling, and the pain gave him something else to focus on, other than the apology, the vulnerability that was being laid before him, just as it always had.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Will," Nico replied, his voice equally soft. "You just helped me realize what was right." Will sighed, as if his words weighed him down.
"I have everything to apologize for, di Angelo," he looked up as he said Nico's last name, as if hoping to spark something. Dull eyes blinked back at him in response. "Obviously, I needed to stay. You still think you aren't worth saving, you still think you're a shadow on a wall no one looks at, but Nico you're painting it black to hide yourself. You've shut out everyone again, and I know you really just did it to protect yourself, and what you think is protecting your friends. But you're only hurting everyone." Nico swallowed hard, his brow furrowing in an effort to stop the tears that fell down onto his cheeks. "Please, Nico, please. I'm begging to help you again, to make everything just stop hurting all the time." Nico's brows knit together in an even tighter manor.
"You can't help me, Solace. No one can, there's no way to stop me hurting, because karma's a bitch, but we all get what we deserve, right? So, stop messing with everything and everyone, and just leave me alone," Nico began to scream, careless with his anger, lifting the lid from the burning pot, allowing his rage to steam, and hurt everyone around him, so they could feel what he did.
"Nico, please." Two words, two damn words, were all it took Nico to understand what he was really doing. He was burning Will, the one who'd be persistent and insistent on healing him, refusing to let the shadows take him. "Will, I—" Nico attempted to apologize, but he was interrupted by a waving hand.
"No apologies Nico," he sternly said. "Doctor's orders, remember?" Nico's wall began to crumble as the boy before him made him smile. "Come home with me." Nico looked at the suitcase that lay forgotten beside him, and nodded hesitantly. "Okay then. Let's start again."