Will watches from across the room as one of his course mates giggles and speaks lowly to her boyfriend. He doesn't know either of them, not really, but he's seen them around campus plenty of times; always together, always hands locked, no exceptions. And it's not exactly them he's even looking at.
The faint, pulsing white glow can be seen on their chests through their shirts. Stable beat, beautifully synchronized. Will counts 82 beats per minute.
Will tells himself he's not jealous. Not about the people, at least. Instead he reminds himself again that he should be grateful for having no such distractions. Pre med is hard enough as it is, no need to throw unnecessary soulmate drama into the mess. He's happy enough with Paolo, has been for months now; they don't need the lights to be happy, to make a relationship work.
That's what Will tells himself, anyway. And yet, every time he holds Paolo's hand he can see him look for a heartlight they both know won't turn on. Not with them.
"You're being a creep again, Will", Cecil mutters with a pointed nudge of a shoulder and Will snaps out of it. "I keep telling you it's weird to stare at people's chests like that, but it's like you actually want to be called a weirdo behind your back."
Rolling his eyes, Will leans back on his uncomfortable chair and picks ups his pen again. "They don't have to when you do it to my face."
"Just saving you from the humiliation, sugar." Will doesn't ask how that equation works in Cecil's brain. He's learned the hard way that most of the time he doesn't want to know. Cecil looks up at the girl for a moment and then frowns at Will. "They're not even nice boobs."
"And you say I'm the creep?"
Will knows Cecil won't tell Paolo about the staring. It's bad enough that Paolo keeps looking. Will is afraid that if Paolo knew he was looking, too, there would be no way to keep the relationship up anymore. So Will keeps his eyes on check whenever he's out with Paolo, makes sure to not let his gaze linger on the lights he sees, takes extra effort to hold Paolo at night when he feels guilty. (He holds Paolo a lot, these days.)
Sparing the couple one more quick look (this time taking notice on the boobs, thanks to Cecil – and yes, maybe he's seen nicer ones, but it's neither here nor there), Will sighs and starts doodling on the cover of his note book. The same abstract circles on and on, exactly like he's been doodling them since high school every time he has something on his mind.
It's not like Will doesn't feel complete without his soulmate. Or that he feels like his relationship with Paolo is missing something (other than the lights – but they don't need them, right?). But he can't deny the fact that soulmates are a very present part of their culture, and it's impossible to avoid the questions. They pop up very early on when you meet a new person. Has your light developed color yet? Have you met your soulmate yet? My heart feels like it's burning every time the light turns on; how about you? Will considers himself a patient person, but he's getting tired of answering with a polite smile, a shake of his head, and a negative choice of words.
Maybe that's why he likes hanging out with Cecil so much. Cecil has a platonic soulmate, and he doesn't feel the need to gush about her twentyfour-seven. Will has met her – Lou Ellen is small and fun and a deadly addition to Cecil's hyperactivity – and unlike other soulmate pairs he's seen around, Cecil and Lou aren't all over each other. They don't keep touching just to see their blue light go off, and even when they do touch, the blue is much less preponderant than gold. It's refreshing.
Maybe that's also the reason when, once they're done with classes for the day, Will accepts Cecil's invitation to hang out instead of going to ask if Paolo wants to come over for dinner like he originally planned to. He feels a little guilty, yes, but he tells himself he deserves some time with his best friend every once in a while. It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that he's not sure he can handle Paolo's disappointed eyes right now.
When Paolo texts him later to ask if he wants to grab a bite and come over for a movie, Will only regrets it a little when he texts back that he's busy.
It's not that Nico actually hates hanging out with Jason and Piper. Jason is his best friend, and Piper is his friend by default, and they're both amazing and cool (don't tell them he said that), and it's always better than hanging out back at home with the chef that barely speaks any English anyway.
But Nico definitely hates hanging out with Jason and Piper.
"Can't you at least sit on opposite sides of the table or something?" he mutters to his palm where's he's resting his chin. He dips a fry to his milkshake rather violently. "You're giving me a headache."
Piper at least has the decency to look sorry, even if Jason only rolls his eyes. She scoots across the booth to make some distance between herself and Jason, and the pulsing glow on their chests dim and go out.
"Don't blame us for your hangover, Nico." Jason sounds annoyed, and it's true that this is far from the first time Nico asks them to limit the PDA around him, but he still thinks Jason has no right to be annoyed about it. "No one made you drink the whole liquor cabinet. That was all you."
They all know that Nico would be complaining about the lights even without hangover, but for some reason Jason is on a faul mood (probably thanks to his own hangover, not that he'd ever admit it) and makes it all Nico's fault. Maybe it is, maybe Nico is to blame, maybe it is his own fault for not finding his own soulmate yet – after all, he is the one avoiding physical contact like a plague. But that doesn't mean Jason has to be such a bitch about it.
Most of the time Nico actually pretty much wishes he's one of the few people who don't have a soulmate at all. It would make things so much easier. Of course there's no way of knowing for sure – the needed skin contact makes that kind of hard. There are average ages and estimations on when you will have probably found your soulmate, but there are too many exceptions for Nico to trust any statistics on soul chemistry. His own father found his second soulmate (a rare case, hardly documented) barely two weeks ago, twenty years after even the most generous estimation ages.
When Nico was little and his mother died, he had asked father if he would marry again. It seemed like a fair question for a boy of eleven – for Nico, who was scared as all hell every time he was left alone with his father. Father, usually so cold and collected and unattached, had looked at Nico with a strange face and said he was likely never to remarry. And Nico had believed him. Father wouldn't lie.
Well, father didn't lie, exactly. He just said it wouldn't be likely.
Instead he found Marie Levesque on a business trip to Chicago, got married a week later, and informed Nico that he now has a half-sister.
Thus the now empty liquor cabinet in father's home office and Nico's raging headache.
"Yeah, well, didn't see you trying to stop me", Nico mutters and hides behind the menu (like he doesn't know it by heart already; they've come to the same diner every Saturday for years now) so he doesn't have to see the heart eyes Jason is no doubt sending Piper across the table. "Some friends I have."
They order their early lunch (brunch, as Piper insists they call it, even though Nico keeps telling her that's too fancy for greasy burgers and banana milkshakes), and the blinking light on the window sign is at least as annoying as the heartlights from the couple three tables down. Nico wants to snap at them like he snapped at Jason and Piper, but even he knows when he's being too rude.
Jason keeps ranting about his mid terms, and Piper tells them about a guy in her bio chem class that was definitely staring at her boobs the other day, and Nico offers a small laugh. No, he thinks, of course he doesn't hate hanging out with Jason and Piper, and this is why – Jason has been his best friend since he was a toddler, and when Piper came around last summer she blended in their group seamlessly. Nico doesn't dislike either of them, as long as they keep their hands to themselves.
He looks up when the waitress places their drinks to the table, and is greeted by the heartlights once again.
"Jason Grace, keep your feet on your side of the table or so help me god I will kick you so hard you can join the church choir and sing soprano for the rest of the semester."
So okay, sometimes Nico definitely hates hanging out with Jason and Piper.
Paolo's words take a long moment to register in Will's mind. When they do, he stops chopping the vegetables, places the knife slowly to the counter and turns to look at Paolo, who's face is more emotionless than Will would like.
"You… found her?" Will hates how weak he sounds, how much hurt is already etched to the words.
"I did." Paolo keeps his distance, doesn't step into the kitchen. Will feels conflicted about that. "Grocery store. She reached out for the same bottle of milk."
It's so unfair. Paolo was just supposed to quickly run to the store for milk while Will started preparing dinner. Then he was supposed to come back to Will's place, and they were supposed to cook together while listening to Paolo's stupid Portuguese rap songs that Will doesn't understand a word of. Then dinner, cuddling on the couch with cheap wine and re-runs of O.C., making out until they're a sweaty stack of limbs and finally tumble to the bedroom.
But instead Paolo quickly ran to the store for milk and had a stupidly romantic encounter with his soulmate, then came back to Will's place to drop the news. Just like that. While Will's chopping vegetables for what was supposed to be their two year anniversary dinner.
Will has been trying so hard to make this work. He doesn't even like rap. Or O.C., for that matter. It's so fucking unfair.
He clears his throat and looks down at Paolo's feet because he can't look at his face, not now. "What's her name?" he asks, even if he's not sure he actually wants to know.
"Maya", Paolo answers, and Will hates to hear the way he says her name. Softly and sweetly, the way he's never said Will's. Will wishes he could blame it on the accent but knows that he can't. She's Paolo's soulmate. She's different. "We didn't have time to talk much yet, but I'm taking her to dinner tomorrow night and – "
The choked sound of Will's watery laugh makes Paolo snap his mouth shut. Will bites his tongue; he has no right to cry, no right to be upset about this. It was never said aloud, but it was always implied that if Paolo ever found his soulmate they would have the priority in Paolo's life. That Will would be cast aside and Paolo would ride off to the sunset with them.
Will always thought that he'd be ready. Or maybe, somewhere deep down, he hoped that he'd find his soulmate before Paolo did. He's heard that it's sometimes easier to be the one breaking a heart than be the one with their heart broken. He has half a mind to ask Paolo if he feels relieved, now that he's found her and is supposedly getting free of Will, but he's too busy having his heart tampered to the floor. Will doesn't realize the tears are actually falling before he feels them drop from his chin.
"So, like, that's it?" Will probes, because even if he was ready, even if he could find it in himself to be happy for Paolo right this moment, he still doesn't understand how Paolo can throw away two years like they were nothing. He knows he sounds bitter, but doesn't he have a right to? Even just a little? "You stumble upon a stranger in the fucking corner store, where we've gone a hundred times before, and now you've come to tell me it's over? Just like that?"
"She's not just some stranger, Will – "
"I know!" Will doesn't mean to raise his voice but does it anyway. He squeezes his eyes shut and turns back towards the counter. Maybe this will be easier if he doesn't have to risk looking at Paolo. "I know, and I'm sorry, but it does not make this any easier."
Paolo doesn't say anything when Will picks up the knife again to continue chopping. The sound of the blade knocking on the cutting board is usually therapeutic to Will, almost preferable to any kind of music, but the apartment is so quiet and tense now that each chop echoes in his head, bounces on the insides of his skull, making his head throb.
The tears keep coming. Will names each of them Brutus as they blurry his vision.
It only takes that one slip.
"Fuck!" The pain sharpens Will's focus enough that he sees the blood, drops the knife, and rushes to the sink. He holds his hand under the running water and watches the water turn pink. He's reminded of Sunday school back in Texas, and Jesus turning water to wine. Maybe this is how he actually did it. The bleeding doesn't seem to stop.
Will doesn't hear Paolo getting closer, and it's already too late once they're shoulder to shoulder. Paolo reaches to touch Will's wrist. "Will, let me – "
"Don't." Will wants to take a step back, doesn't want to stand this close to Paolo right now, but he needs the running water. "Just don't."
"Will, you need to go to the hospital. That's going to need stitches."
"What I need is a minute for the bleeding to stop and then some bandages – "
"Don't be an idiot." Paolo hastily wraps Will's hand in a kitchen towel and gestures Will to hold the hand up, just like Will taught him months ago in a similar situation. "Let's go."
Will lets Paolo drive him to the hospital but makes it very clear that he's taking a taxi back. He comes home alone three hours later, five stitches in his hand and a pharmacy bag in the other, and the first thing he sees is his spare key on the small table by the coat hanger. Paolo's trainers are gone from the shoe rack, there's only one tooth brush in the bathroom, and the coffee table is lacking of any Portuguese rap albums. Paolo has left a green sticky note to Will's laptop. It says "I'm sorry".
Will flops down on the couch. From there he can see the bottle of wine on the kitchen counter. He wishes he could drink it now like originally planned, all of it, but knows better than to mess with the pain meds. So instead he curls on the couch with his throbbing hand and stares at the black TV screen until the sun starts to rise.
"No, Jason. Absolutely not."
Nico should have known that when Jason asks him to join him for lunch out of the blue on a Wednesday it would never mean anything good. Jason is a teacher, for fuck's sake. It's not like he can just casually spend his lunch wherever he wants, whenever he wants. (Or maybe he can, Nico never really paid that much attention to what teachers did when he was in high school, and he sure as hell isn't asking Jason.)
"And why not, Nico? Just hear me out." Jason places his glass back on the table. Nico is actually surprised Jason thought this might be a good idea at all. "He's nice, not bad looking according to Piper, and has a dog. You like dogs, right? He volunteers at that homeless shelter down on Fifth. And his soulmate is platonic, so that wouldn't be a problem – "
"And what about my soulmate, Jason? You don't think that's going to be a problem to him?" Nico seethes as he tries not to break the glass in his hands with the force he's holding it with. "You don't think he's going to have a problem when I find my soulmate, especially if they turn out to be romantic?"
That's not even the reason Nico is so against the idea of a blind date. He couldn't care shit about whether the guy has a problem with his soulmate or not, and that's because he is not going on the date to begin with. It's not the first time Jason and Piper have tried to set him up, and Nico doubts it's going to be the last, but he's just so sick of it.
Jason picks up his glass, looks at it for a moment, then puts it down again. He doesn't meet Nico's eyes. "Nico, I think you should consider – "
"Dating? Why, because you think I'm lonely? Because you feel like I'm missing out on something when I'm not in a relationship?"
"You should consider the possibility that you don't have a soulmate."
Whatever it is that Nico had expected Jason to say during this conversation, it isn't this. Never this. Because no matter how many years they have known each other, no matter how many times Nico has complained to Jason about the whole matter of soulmates, no matter how many times Nico has genuinely hoped that he didn't have soulmate and told that to Jason… It's always been Jason to try to convince him otherwise. Jason, who once talked him out of wearing gloves around the clock to avoid physical contact with anyone. Jason, who even after finding his own soulmate made it a point to include Nico to his plans. Jason, who has a way with words to sometimes make even Nico believe that there's still hope for him, that he can still find his soulmate.
But the truth is that most people meet their soulmates before they turn twenty. That's a fact. Some surveys say the age stretches to twenty-three, but that doesn't change the fact that Nico is twenty-seven and still hasn't seen the light pulsing through someone's chest when they shake hands. And no matter how much he tries to convince himself that he doesn't care, he does. He does care, and the fact that even Jason has given up hope for him?
That hurts. That hurts more than it probably should.
"You have always told me", Nico says slowly, trying to hold his anger and disappointment back as much as he can, "that I shouldn't give up hope. You and Piper both." He can't even look at Jason in the eye.
He hears a sigh, and that makes him so much angrier. "Neeks, we just want you to be happy. You know we do. And as cruel as it sounds, you're not getting any younger, and the odds to find your soulmate now are getting really thin – "
Nico throws his napkin to the table, knocking out Jason's half empty glass of water. "Thank you for reminding me."
Without another word, Nico gets up and leaves – leaves Jason, this conversation, everything. Including his jacket, which he only regrets once he's already outside in the pouring rain. He doesn't stop until he's by his bike.
He knows it's foolish, to act like this. And Nico isn't even upset about the fact that it seems like he really does not have a soulmate after all. Well, maybe he is a little. But mostly he feels betrayed that Jason, his best friend, has given up hope. Hope is something Nico has always associated with Jason, since the very beginning of their friendship. To hear that Jason wants him to reconsider accepting that his soul might be a lone one is like hearing his mother died. Again.
Usually Nico drives carefully. The bike might be a way for him to rebel against his father (so far unsuccessfully), but that doesn't mean he doesn't know what he's doing. He has his helmet, and he knows how to drive safely. He's mindful of other traffic, and when it's raining cats and dogs like it is now, he knows to keep the speed down.
Usually, that is.
But Jason has ticked a nerve, and Nico is on edge. He knows better than to take the bike while upset, but he does that anyway, and he's already three blocks away by the time Jason reaches the parking lot and yells after him.
Nico doesn't hear him, of course. Because all he can hear is the screech of brakes, someone screaming, and his own body hitting the concrete before everything blacks out.
"John Doe, motorcycle accident", a nurse says as Will steps in, and he nods as she keeps listing already found injuries. There are already six people running around the bed, and Will only manages to get a flash of black hair before the heart monitors go nuts.
"He's crashing", Will mutters sternly and takes the lead on the reflation.
Working at the ER isn't Will's favorite part of being a doctor for this very reason, but it is the part that sometimes gives him most satisfaction. At the ER saving people is very prominent, very concrete, and you can see with every choice you make how that affects your patient. It's fulfilling in an entirely different way than the rest of the job, but Will really doesn't like the part where a patient's heart stops beating.
But Will is good at ER. He knows that, his head of ward knows that, and every nurse and doctor in the hospital knows that, so he has no other choice but to do his job without complaint, even when he's been assigned to ER for the fifth time in a week. And to be honest, it gives Will the world's biggest adrenaline rush when he has to do everything he can to get that heart monitor beeping again. Nothing beats that feeling.
This time the clinical beeping sound from the machines isn't all they get, though. Will's world stops spinning for a few seconds.
Will has seen many heartlights in his life, especially since he started working in the hospital and got to see soulmates and whole families on a daily basis. But not once has he seen one this close, with his hand on the patient's chest, touching the white glow that's still irregular but that gradually gets stronger as the seconds pass by, feeling like the whole world has stopped around them. Not once has he looked at someone and felt his own heart start burning and beating like he just finished a race.
Will looks down, and sees his own chest pulsing a strong, steady, pure white glow through his scrubs. It feels like all the air has been squeezed out of his lungs.
"Oh", he whispers, unaware of the looks he gets when he doesn't move, unaware of the way everyone around him keeps working to save the patient.
The patient. Will's patient – Will's soulmate. Who is in critical condition.
"Is the theater ready?" he asks without moving his eyes from the light. It's not steady, it falters and it's still so weak, and Will is going to do everything in his power to make it strong. His voice is emotionless and stiff when he yells orders, but inside his chest is a hurricane.
They let Will hold his hand all the way to the theater, but when he turns to get ready for the surgery he's stopped by Michael, who looks at him with stern eyes.
"I don't think it's a good idea for you to be there, Will", he says quietly, and Will is ready to fight. "I know you're the best, everyone here does, but – you're too close to this."
Will knows Michael is right, that he's too close to this, that this operation would be too emotionally draining for him. But he also knows that he's going to go insane if he's not allowed in, if he has to stand back and pace around the waiting area, knowing he could be there, helping…
"I have to do this, Michael."
"No, you don't. Will, look at your hands." It takes a moment for Will to focus on what Michael means, but the he sees the way his hands are shaking like leaves. "You would do more harm than good operating like this. I know it's hard, but you need to trust me when I say I will do everything in my power to save him. Okay? And so will everyone else in that theater."
Will squeezes his hands to fists, tries to stop the tremble. He isn't sure if he's is shock or just angry for not being allowed in. "But I can help – "
"Not in this state, you can't. Trust me, Will, this is for the best." Michael's hands on his shoulders feel heavy like blocks of concrete. Will can't look up from his own fists. "We'll keep you updated. I'll have someone come check with you every twenty minutes, okay?"
Will knows it's the right call to make. He knows he'd be the same, if it was another doctor with their soulmate being wheeled in. He knows he'd never let anyone operate with shaky hands like his, and he knows he'd be practically useless if something started to go wrong in there. He knows all this, but when Michael leaves him with a nurse who's name he doesn't remember, all Will wants to do is either crumble to the floor or punch Michael in the face.
But it's too late to start throwing punches now, and besides, if Will isn't allowed to the theater Michael is their only hope. So Will slumps down in a chair and hides his face to his hands, and for the first time since he was thirteen he actually prays. Just a few words, but still. He doesn't really believe that anyone's listening, but it can't hurt to try.
Like promised, Will gets updates every twenty minutes. At first it's just more info on the injuries; a bruised liver, punctured lung, internal bleeding in what sounds like everywhere. It wouldn't sound good to anyone, and as a doctor Will knows it's not good. The first good news he gets is that they've settled the compound fracture on the left femur, but right after that they have to restart the heart again, and Will is going mad.
He can't sit still. He paces around the waiting area, never going too far in case someone comes looking for him with new information, but unable to stay in the same place for too long. He gets up to get a cup of water, but empties it to the nearest sink on his way back. He picks up a magazine and puts it back down after five minutes without taking notice even on the name. He goes through his pockets and finds a candy wrapper, and before he knows it it's shredded into pieces in his lap.
By the time John Doe is wheeled to the recovery room, Will has lost the pen from his chest pocket, track of time, and, he feels, a part of his sanity.
Will is a romantic at heart. Of all the times Will has imagined the way he'll meet his soulmate, it has never been like this. Never in his darkest dreams has he thought he'd be the one to restart his soulmate's heart, only to find that it's unclear when he'll wake up, if at all. Not in his wildest nightmares has he sat by a hospital bed, holding the hand of an unconscious man, watching the white light pulse in time with the heart monitor.
Will hates it. He hates it with every cell of his sleep-deprived body. He sits there at the ICU, holds a hand that stays completely limp in his hand no matter what he says, and doesn't register a thing anyone tells him. All he knows is that his soulmate is out of surgery, stable but unconscious, and he can't leave him there alone. Not when he doesn't even know his name.
Things like sleeping and eating are futile. All Will can do is sit there and watch his John Doe with unseeing eyes, keep holding his hand and try to wake him up with his willpower. He knows it won't work, but it doesn't hurt trying. Somewhere in the back of his mind Will finds out he has been given a few sick days so that he can stay at the ICU, and he's thankful. But he's already dreading the day when his superiors stop being so understanding, and hopes that his soulmate will wake up before that.
Kayla is the one who finally manages to talk Will over. He leaves the hospital a little after three in the morning, walking in a daze the three blocks to his apartment, sitting in the shower for the next hour. He feels numb. He doesn't even register the water has turned cold until his teeth start clattering. He wraps himself in semi-clean clothes and a blanket and sits down on the couch, knowing he should try to sleep but being too aware of everything that could go wrong with his soulmate to even close his eyes.
His soulmate. A man who he's been destined to meet since the beginning of time. A man who's lying in a hospital bed with so many cuts and bruises and injuries that Will feels his chest tighten and a lump rise to his throat.
Inside his apartment, away from the prying eyes and pitying looks from his coworkers, Will finally lets himself cry. He lets the tears fall freely down his cheeks and neck to the pillow in his lap, and he can feel his whole body tremble – from the sobs or from the leftover cold from the shower, he doesn't care anymore. He doesn't think he's let himself cry like this even on the day Paolo left, not this freely and wholeheartedly. Now he feels like he owes Paolo an apology; he would have done the exact same thing for his own soulmate.
Will cries for what feels like hours, then falls asleep for barely twenty minutes. He's restless, he can't just sit around waiting for news; he has to do something. He's been taken off of the John Doe case, but he can still work. So he changes for his work clothes and goes back to the hospital, even if it technically is his day off.
Kayla doesn't seem happy when she sees him walk in, but her frown is quickly replaced by an unreadable look when she calls for him.
"A man came in an hour ago, asking for him", she says, and Will doesn't need her to tell him who she's talking about. He's already taking the fastest route to the ICU. "We've got personal information and medical records for him. Will!"
He doesn't slow down.
When Will walks to his soulmate's room two minutes later, he has to blink when he does actually see someone already sitting in the chair he's claimed for himself for the past thirty-six hours.
The man looks miserable, almost as miserable as Will feels under all the numbness. He has short blond hair, military cut, and his broad shoulders are hunched, like he's dispirited and given up. His hands are covering his face, so Will can't really see him, but he's seen enough of grieving relatives in his line of work to recognize a distressed human being when he sees one.
"H-hello?" Will asks softly and hates how uncertain he sounds. This is what they've been waiting for, right? For someone to come in and identify their John Doe – his John Doe? "Can I – are you – " It's surprisingly hard to find words in a situation like this.
Hearing his voice, the man looks up. His eyes are piercingly blue, and if Will had any energy left in him he'd probably jump at the intensity of them. The stranger looks like he's been crying all morning, and Will can't blame him. That's what he's been doing all morning, too, and he doesn't even know the patient the way this man clearly does.
"Are you his doctor?" the man asks, his voice deep and raspy and tired. "They said his doctor would be in shortly. How is he? How long has he been like this? Is he going to wake up – "
"Yes", Will interrupts, and the word snaps the other man's mouth shut. Will knows it sounds fierce, but he has to believe it. He has to believe his soulmate will wake up. "I mean, no, I'm not his doctor, not anymore. I was, when he was first wheeled in to the ER, but under the circumstances…" He lets his voice fade as he takes one step closer to look at his soulmate's face again, the face he's memorizes and that hasn't changed since he left four hours ago. "But he will wake up. I'll make sure of that."
The silence is filled by the beeping machines that Will has already accustomed to his soulmate. His heart is thumping in his chest. This man in the room, this blond stranger, knows his soulmate. He can tell Will teal things about him, his past, his likes and dislikes, his name.
Will is going to learn his soulmate's name.
"What – " the man clears his throat, confused. Will turns to look at him. "What do you mean, under the circumstances?" There's panic in the blue eyes, now, and Will tries to turn to his Doctor Mode to deal with this. It's surprisingly hard. "He's going to be okay, right? He's not – "
No one has told him. Will swallows, suddenly nervous. "As far as we know, there's no reason why he shouldn't make a full recovery." Once he wakes up, that is. "Sorry, I'm being terribly rude – I'm Will. Or, Doctor William Solace, but please, call me Will. I'm not here as a doctor."
The man stands up slightly to shake his hand briefly. Will's fingers almost break. "Jason. Jason Grace." He sits back down. "Now, what circumstances are you talking about?"
Will takes a deep breath and tries to figure out how to go with this. "I – I think it's best if I just like… show you." He knows he's being weird, but how exactly do you explain to your soulmate's – friend? Brother? Probably not, they look nothing alike, but how would Will know? – that you found out about your heartlights while trying to save his life?
So, just like so many times in the past thirty-six hours, Will closes the distance between himself and his soulmate and takes one lifeless hand to his, watching as the bright light takes over the room and momentarily blinds him. He notices that somewhere between leaving earlier that morning and coming back now his light has developed a very faint golden hue, but thinks that it might be just his tired eyes playing tricks on him. It's not like his light could really turn golden before he actually gets to know his soulmate, right?
"Shit." For a brief moment there Will had forgotten all about Jason Grace, focusing solely to the light, but now he turns his attention back to him. "You – you're Nico's soulmate."
It's not a question. Even if it were, Will wouldn't have been able to answer, not with his head spinning a thousand miles per hour with Nico, Nico, his name is Nico. He thinks it's ridiculous, but Nico might just be the single most beautiful name in the world. He turns to look at the man in the bed. Nico. The name fits so achingly well that Will is amazed he didn't figure it out by just looking at his soulmate's face.
Jason Grace sighs deeply, sounding like he's trying to collect himself. Will turns to look at him but doesn't let go of Nico's (Nico, Nico, his name is Nico) hand.
"Your lights, they're… they're really strong", Jason mutters. "I don't think I've ever seen heartlights quite that strong."
It's something Will has noticed himself, too. Most of the heartlights he's seen have been bright, but dimmed by the layers of clothing. At first Will had thought that the light looks so intense because his soulmate is only wearing a thin hospital gown, but the more time he spends with Nico the more prominent it is that his own light is just as bright, no matter if he's wearing his scrubs or the thick jumper he found from the lost and found basket in the break room.
"God, this is fucked up", is what Jason says next, and Will doesn't understand it at all. Jason runs his hands through his hair and looks like he's on the verge of panic when his eyes land on Nico's chest again, focusing on the light. "I mean, it's great, but it's so fucked up, I can't…"
Will waits for Jason to explain. He gives him a minute, then two, but when Jason hasn't done anything but pace around and mutter to his hands for five whole minutes Will finally snaps and asks as patiently as he can, "Why is this so fucked up to you?"
And Jason lets out a hollow, humourless laugh when he looks at Will and points at the bright light pulsing through his shirt. "Because that light – or, I think I should say, the lack of it – is the reason I managed to piss off Nico enough that he stormed out to the rain and didn't pay enough attention while driving."
