AN: And, when the world needed them most, they returned to give you: the end.

He couldn't believe he was back. Nico was standing in the middle of his room, staring at the closed door. His phone, hot from the long walk home, was resting on his desk. He started to pace the length of the room.

"You idiot," he said under his breath.

Why did every action he took directly counter the one before it? Why had he left with every intion to die only to invite someone over to watch him all night? It had always been too easy to buckle for Will. Every goodbye, he found himself not wanting it to be the last.

A wave of guilt rolled over Nico. His indecisiveness was making it worse on everyone. He hated when he had actually picked to die, he hadn't been able to go through it.

It was his fault.

He wanted something, anything, to shock him, to inject him with the pain he knew he was causing. And maybe he wanted to see Will again, but he didn't care what condition Will found him in.

It was over an hour before someone knocked on his door. He couldn't see it. He was sitting on the floor behind his bed. His head rested against the sideboard, staring blankly at the wall in front of him.

"It's not locked," Nico called, still looking forward.

The door creaked. He didn't turn his head, too tired. Soft footsteps explored the room, padding over the carpet. They came to a stop, and someone was kneeling next to him.

"Hey," came Will's voice. "How you doing?"

Nico turned slightly. Everything started spinning. It was a few seconds before his eyes could focus. Will's brow was furrowed under his curly hair. His mouth was set in a thin line. Nico watched his eyes moving over him, flicking from his face to his newly bleeding arm, to the exacto blade he'd forgotten he was holding.

"Can I have that?" Will asked.

Nico followed his eyeline. The exaco was still loosely gripped in his hand. He turned it, it's blade catching the light and reflecting over his face. He held it out.

"Here."

Will's hand closed around the knife, pulling it gently out of Nico's grasp.

"Thanks. Ok," Will said. His voice shook. He ran his hands through his hair. "Ok. I'm going to touch you now."

He took Nico's mangled arm, still bleeding in places, some blood clearly old, dried, starting to flake off.

"Oh, sweetheart…"

"I'm not going to die," Nico said flatly.

"No, I know," Will said. He shook himself slightly, looking around. It was like he was trying to find something else to focus on. "You're probably going to need stitches."

"That's embarrassing."

"We should wash this off."

Nico reached behind, searching, one-handed, under the bed. He felt the familiar plastic shape and brought out the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. The liquid swished, hitting the sides of an almost empty bottle. He yanked his arm away and began unscrewing the lid.

"Hey-"

"I'm doing what you want," Nico said.

He emptied the bottle, pouring it straight on his arm. It stung. He turned his cry of pain into a kind of sharp inhale. His arm twitched and began to bubble. It shook, and dripped onto the already stained carpet.

"Stop. Please, let me help you."

"It doesn't matter," Nico said.

"It kinda means a lot to me."

Nico half shrugged.

"Whatever."

Will held out a hand, and like so many times before, Nico took it. Another wave of dizziness overtook him. He could feel it running down his throat and into his stomach. He stumbled forward. He would have fallen if not for Will's hand.

"I'm fine," he managed over Will's sudden, concerned question.

"How long were you like this?" he asked.

Nico raised his eyebrows.

"No. The whole time? Really?"

"I'm tired," he said.

"Don't pass out."

"Oh yeah, I'll just make that happen for you," Nico said.

"Good to see your sense of humor is intact."

Will took him to the bathroom and made him wait, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, while he ran the water warm in the sink. He pulled Nico's shirt over his head. It left red lines where the blood had pooled around the neckline.

"Let me know if it hurts," Will said, pressing a damp cloth to Nico's arm.

Nico would not have said anything even if it had hurt. He wanted the sting of the alcohol under his skin, making the injury feel painful, worse than it really was.

The slow repetitive motion on the cloth, gently pressing and lifting and pressing was warm. There was so much care put into it. The dried blood turned bright and wet again, slowly lifting off his skin.

The gentle touch cracked into the underlying sadness Nico felt as he watched Will wring the cloth out into the sink, staining the water pink.

"You look terrible," Will said.

Nico sighed heavily.

"That pretty much sums it up."

The fact that he was sitting half dressed, while Will bandaged him up wasn't romantic. It was a testament to how little Nico could care for himself. He was incapable of acting like a normal person. Why was it so hard for him?

The meeting at the school had shaken him thoroughly. It was a physical manifestation of everything he had been telling himself. He wasn't smart enough to finish the school year. He was letting his family down. He was ignored and unwanted. He wasn't real. He was tagged by a string of meaningless numbers.

Nico scowled, looking at the floor, letting the bitterness rise up in him.

"What's my ID number?"

The cloth stopped moving, as Will looked up at him. His eyebrows were creased together.

"Nico, I don't know."

It was his own name that caused the crack inside of him to break. It had felt like a long time since someone looked at him and simply knew him by name and nothing more. It was the first time anyone had said his name in weeks. He hadn't realized how lonely he had felt the last few weeks, while he had been wandering the streets. He'd been left with only the voice in head for company. And that voice was the one intent on killing him.

Tears filled his eyes. He wiped them away with his free hand.

"I'm going to die," he spoke between choked sobs. He crossed his arms over his chest, folding in on himself.

"What happened?" Will asked.

He knelt down in front of Nico and put his hand on Nico's shoulder.

"It's my fault," Nico said. He knew Will couldn't possibly understand.

"It's not," Will insisted.

He held out his arms, and Nico found himself sinking into them, immediately comforted by the touch.

"It'll be alright," Will said.

He repeated it over and over until it didn't sound like words anymore. Nico wasn't sure if Will was trying to tell him, or trying to convince himself.

Will pulled away, but kept a hand over Nico's.

"Please, tell me what you feel. I know you hate it."

Nico shrugged, noncommittal to an answer.

"I don't know. Disappointed."

"Why," Will asked.

It was because he hadn't been able to kill himself, and now he was stuck. He couldn't lie his way out of the situation.

"I keep getting worse," he decided on.

It wasn't untrue. He felt unrecognizable from how he'd been last year. Last year, he'd been content to stay in bored apathy, and now he constantly felt a minute away from a breakdown. His emotions seemed mixed up, wrong for the occasion and threatening to break through the thin veneer that was all that held him together.

"Can I tell you how I feel?" Will asked above him.

"If you must."

"I feel frustrated. I don't know how to help you anymore," Will said. "And...I feel like it's my fault you got this bad."

"It's not," Nico insisted.

"I have this thing where I want to fix everything myself, and I won't ask for help even when I know I need it. I'm kind of like you," Will shook his head. "I should have stepped away."

Nico was transported back in time, sitting on a bench outside of the guidance counselor's office. "I just have to step away. I... I'm not fucking good at this. I'm not good enough to trust myself anymore…"

His life was on repeat. Every couple months he was going to find himself back here again, and it didn't help that the only thing he could think of was an old phrase his dad would sometimes say.

"Chi nasce tondo non può morire quadrato," he found himself saying.

"Hmm?" Will asked.

"We just did this, just last spring. It's the same as last time."

"It's worse."

"Next time will be even worse."

"I don't want there to be a next time," Will said. "I don't know what to say. I really want to tell you everything will be alright. You need to stick with it, and life will get better. But I know you won't believe me."

Will's hands found his face. They brushed the hair out of Nico's eyes, traced the sides of his face, lingered over the nose that was too downturned to be classically handsome, and dotted over the freckles on his cheeks.

"You scare me."

"What are you doing?" Nico asked.

"I don't want to forget your face."

It was choked and quiet, and absolutely destroyed Nico. This was a rare moment that Nico saw beyond himself. How hard must it be to have to go through the day, not knowing if someone was still going to be there at the end of it. In what bruised state would you see them next, and knowing you were powerless to stop any of it. To spend life always on edge would drive anyone mad.

Nico pulled his face away, unable to look at Will any longer. He shrunk into the wall of the bathtub, his arms crossed over his chest.

Will reached out slightly, but Nico shook his head. He didn't feel like he deserved the comfort anymore.

Will's hand dropped. He sighed, disappointed.

"Do you have bandages?" he asked.

"Downstairs."

Will made to get up, but paused.

"Can you stand?"

It took a great deal of strength that he felt he didn't have, but Nico managed to drag himself up, reaching behind, inching up the wall until he was sitting back on the edge of the bathtub again.

"I'm fine," he said, quietly feeling extremely accomplished.

Will returned a few minutes later.

"You still good?"

Nico nodded.

"Can I?"

Will gestured to the roll of bandages.

"Go ahead."

And so Nico let Will hold on to him again, as he wrapped the bandage around his arm.

"Almost done," Will said, fastening it in place. He slid his hand over the fabric, and down so it covered Nico's.

"You want me to drive you to get the stitches?"

Nico's eyes were still fixed on the bandage. He ran the tips of his fingers over it, just brushing it. He couldn't feel his arm under. It felt good. He didn't want to take it off.

"Later," he decided.

"You'll get scars."

Nico snorted. He'd already fucked up his body to the point of no repair. What were a few more scars going to do.

"Whatever," he said, not bothering to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"Sorry," Will said. He stood up. " I'm an idiot. I know."

Will tilted Nico's head, so that he was looking up. Will tucked Nico's hair over his ear, his hand lingering for a second longer than it should have. He began to clean the scratches on Nico's neck with the same gentle repetitive motion.

"You realize I have to tell your dad about this," he said.

Nico was about to nod, but he didn't want to move.

"Why?" he asked instead.

The word seemed like disbelief more than an honest hope. It was pleading "lie to me". Like if he did, that would somehow make everything ok. Water dripped from the leaking faucet while Nico waited, his breath baited.

"Are you serious? I can't leave you like this."

"You're turning me in again."

Will sighed heavily.

"I can't help you," he said.

"Why can't you just stay with me."

"Because I can't make you happy," Will said.

Will was pretty much the only thing left that did make Nico happy. He was all that was left of what had been the best part of Nico's life.

"You do."

"I don't-not in the way you want. I distract you from yourself."

"That's all I want," Nico said.

There was a horrible, metallic, grinding noise. Will had wrenched the faucet off. The drip stopped.

"Don't," Will snapped. "Don't use me that way."

"I'm not asking-"

"Nico, I can't keep talking you down. One day, I'm…" Will took a deep breath. "...not going to be able to do it."

"You love talking me down," Nico's voice was breathless and he felt giddy. He was thinking of the bridge and it was giving him the same butterflies Will did.

"I absolutely don't," came Will's answer.

"Then why do you pick people like me?" he asked. "Why do you pick projects?"

"I don't think you're a project."

"I think I'm a project," Nico said.

Will didn't say anything. He stayed in frustrating silence as he unwrapped a few bandaids and places over the scratches.

"Hmm, it looks like you had quite the night now," Will said. " It's better than before."

Nico shrugged.

"Give me one and put another bandaid over it. Then people will be staring for the right reason."

"Not tonight," Will said. He held out his hand. "We're done here."

Nico stood, still holding Will's hand. He walked the few feet back to his room by himself, just to prove he could. He still felt very tired. He pulled on a mostly clean shirt from the floor and lay down on the bed.

"I know you're tired, but don't go to sleep yet."

Will had followed him back into the room.

Nico shook his head. Still, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to stay up, he sat up and rested his head against the headboard. He found his phone and flicked through the tabs until one caught his eye. The room was quiet for a few seconds.

"Whatcha reading?" Will asked.

He crossed the room so that he was standing at the foot of the bed.

"It's the 8th issue of the Spideypool comic," he said.

"How is it?"

"It's fine. I've already read it. It came out in August."

There was a slight pause before Will asked "Can I read it?"

"Sure."

Nico handed his phone over. Will settled himself next to Nico, his back resting against the headboard. The bed was really too small for two people but Nico didn't complain. Will reached out an arm and pulled Nico next to him, so he could see as well.

"Want to listen?"

"Ok."

Will started to read aloud. The words seemed less and less important as Will talked, but Nico focused on the sound of his voice. This was how he wanted to remember him. It was in the tone of his voice. It was the way his voice rose and fell, as he narrated the story. It was how he began to talk faster and as he got more excited, like he was trying to pull Nico along so that he was living the moment alongside him. There wasn't any concern creeping into his words, and Nico couldn't help but think that this was how it should have always been.

The issue was short. It was over far too soon, but Will didn't let go when he had put the phone down. He pulled Nico onto his lap and held him, arms wrapped loosely around his waist.

This, too, was how Nico wanted to remember him. He could almost feel the comfort radiating from him. He couldn't help but feel eternally grateful. Will had done more for him than anyone ever had, and it was so much more than what Nico could have hoped for.

"You know what you said earlier about projects," Will started. "You're right. I do "pick projects". I don't know why. But I do know who I like, and it's you."

"Ok," was all Nico said. He was still half trapped in his musings.

Will shook his head.

"I think it's really sad how badly you take compliments."

"I'm trying," he said. "I was thinking."

"You think a lot."

"Yeah."

"What were you thinking about?" Will asked.

"Just now?" Nico said. He allowed a small smile to cross his face for a moment. "I was thinking about you."

"Really?" Nico felt Will shift beneath him. "What about me?"

"Things I want to tell you, but don't."

"Why?"

Nico shrugged.

"Tell me?" Will asked.

"I wanted to tell you I love you," Nico said.

His words sounded slow tinged with a sadness that Nico wouldn't have expected to hear.

He heard a small inhale, and turned to find Will, his eyes impossibly large again. It looked like he was about to cry and his lips were pressed together.

"I love you too."

His voice was strained.

"What's wrong?" Nico asked, confused.

"I thought I was never going to get to tell you."

"I'm sorry."

Nico was silent for the reminder of the night. Will, it seemed, was also done with talking. He had kept Nico in his arms and buried his face in the crook of Nico's neck, his eyes pressed into his shoulder, like the thought Nico might disappear if he let go for even a second.

The sun had set before he even moved.

"Have you thought about what I said?" Will finally asked. "I know you don't believe it, but everything really will be worth it one day."

"I've thought about it."

Will looked worried.

"I need more time," Nico said.

"How much more time?"

"I don't know. I need to think."

"But you've thought all day."

"I-I know. I-" he broke off, not knowing how to explain.

"It's ok, just promise me something," Will said.

"Sure."

"Please...be here when I wake up."

"Ok."

Will finally let him go just long enough to cross the room and turn off the light. Not he minded, Nico thought as Will pulled him into his chest for the night. However, it did upset him to have seen Will so sad. He was more shaken than Nico had initially realized, and Nico didn't know how to tell him not to worry anymore. His nervous mind kept him spinning long after Will had fallen asleep.

Pink light was starting to creep into the room. It was still chilly and a mist clung to the windowpane. Drops of dew hung over the trees beyond, like they were all crying.

Nico had woken early from his uneasy sleep. He had unwound himself from Will and climbed out of bed. He went to the window and spent a few minutes watching for cars from his window. It was still cold outside, he could feel it through the glass. His street was empty. It was too early in the morning.

He slipped the silver ring off his index finger. After the second's hesitation he unclasped the two red earrings, untangling them from his hair. He looked at them in the palm of his hand and began fidgeting, turning the jewelry over as he looked out the window.

Even now he still felt the pull from the bridge, though he couldn't see it. It would be easy to slip away. He'd be there before anyone had even noticed he'd left. He'd done everything he'd wanted to do. His life, looking back, seemed remarkably happy. It was an odd feeling, looking back, knowing in the moment he had been miserable, and now only seeing it as the best part of his time. Surely, it had been more than what he should have gotten. He could be at peace with the end.

His gaze fell on Will, barely visible, still tangled under the blankets. Will was right. He wasn't going to be able to keep talking Nico down, and Nico wasn't going to be able to resist the temptation the idea brought him for much longer. His borrowed time had run out. This was all the time he had left.

And yet.

There was still something lingering around the edges. Something that kept his feet planted on the floor every time: a feeling that he needed to be better, so he could live up to something. It was something he couldn't see, but the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that it was there. He was important to someone: important enough that he'd drop everything and come find him. He had spent months trying to help him when it would have been much easier to walk away. And he'd said he loved him, even when he knew Nico didn't even like himself.

Will wanted what was best for him. Why didn't he listen. Why was it so hard to tell him anything. It made him feel distant. It drove him in circles looking for answers to problems that weren't even real. And the worst part was, that he knew he was making the wrong choices, but wasn't able to stop himself.

The bridge was the easy way out. It was easy to understand. People were hard for him. They were hard to understand, hard to love, and hard to trust, but Nico knew the important ones well enough - his dad, Hazel, and Will. They wanted him, no matter what state he was in, and if he left right now, it would break their hearts.

It was almost like he had stepped out of himself. Nico watched as the world shifted almost physically around him. His vision seemed clearer. He wasn't going to be breaking any hearts today.

He closed his eyes. He could feel the floor under him and the way his hands rested on top of each other on the windowsill. He heard the birds outside and when they stopped, he could hear his own breath. He felt dizzy and head started to spin, and under it all, he could feel his own heart beating. It was steady, still strong after he'd put himself though. Everything was remarkably still: the voice in his head gone. His eyes flicked open. His shoulders fell as he finally relaxed.

It was over.

He went and took a shower. This was one event he wanted to look clean for.

He was sitting on the side of his own bed, his knees drawn up, his feet resting on the bed frame. Will was wrapped in the blankets so much that Nico could only see his hair. All that remained to do was to wait and let everyone else catch up to him. It was a long time before anything happened, but Nico remained stubbornly sitting without distraction. He was determined to be the first thing Will saw when he woke.

The pink light left the sky and finally Will stirred. He pushed himself up so that he was sitting and stretched.

"Hey," his voice was soft. "You're here."

He reached out and touched Nico's face, almost like he didn't believe he was really there.

"I am."

Will leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. He exhaled heavily.

"Worst night of my fucking life," were exhaled along with the air. "Ok, what are we going to do today?"

"Well, I'm going to go and check myself into the hospital today," Nico said. "I don't know about you."

Will visibly straightened, suddenly alert.

"Really?"

"I...was…" but Nico couldn't say "I was wrong" out loud, so he changed it to "You were right. And I need help."

"Ok. that's good-what is it?" Will asked, noticing the pained look on Nico's face.

"It was weird to say. I don't think I ever… thought that way before."

"Oh my god," Will said. He tried to get up, but was too tangled in the blanket. The rushed movement only twisted him up further. "Ok, ok. Tell me."

Nico paused. He didn't know what was going to come next.

"I'm going to go to the hospital, and I'm going to tell them everything," he decided.

"Ok."

"And I guess I'll do whatever they say next."

He shrugged and looked to Will for some kind of encouragement. He seemed shocked.

"You're actually gonna do it?"

It would be a start. If the hospital didn't help, there would be plenty of psychology books out there Nico hadn't read yet. He'd find something that worked, he would get better, even if it took years, because he never wanted to go back to how he felt now. He was done with being miserable and he wanted to be that better version of himself that Will saw.

"Yeah," Nico said. "I am."

Nico looked over at Will again. He was still very quiet, staring at his hands. As Nico watched, he slowly raised one hand, touching his wrist for just a second.

"Thanks," Will spoke to his hands. His voice was soft, the tone lost, intentionally held back, but Nico thought he sounded relieved.

"When are you going?" Will asked.

"Now," Nico said. "Don't worry. They'll take me. My meeting with the school would be enough to convince anyone I need medical help. I've got a bunch of bloody detention forms to prove it."

"I'm really happy for you. I really am," Will said. "I don't know why I…"

"It's because I'm your project," Nico said. "You're disappointed."

"I am going to miss you," Will said. "I'm going to miss this you."

Nico shook his head.

"Well, I'm not going to miss this me. This me sucks."

"I know," Will said. He smiled. "You should go now, before you change your mind. Bring me a new person and I'll fall in love with him again."

"I will."

Nico's hand was on the door handle, but he turned back to take one last look at Will. He was sitting up, legs still tangled in the sheets. His curly hair was sticking up in odd angles. When he saw, he flashed Nico a wide smile and mouthed "good luck".

"I'll come find you," Nico said. "When I'm ready."