Chapter 3- Does Every Story Start at the Beginning?

The next day, Will picked me up from my cabin, and held my hand as he tugged me along to the dining hall.

"Why do you seem extra happy today?"

"I don't know. I just have a feeling," I smiled at him. He acts so much like my real-Will it's actually fascinating.

"Well, act on gut instinct. It's usually right,"

What was I saying? For a whole year at the psychiatric ward I was 'acting on a gut feeling' that that life was fake. Look where that got me! In a psychiatric ward for three years. Three years!

Will sat down with me at the Hades table, Chiron usually just letting it slide from now on. He watched me as I ate my breakfast.

"What?" I mumbled.

"I don't know. You just look great. I just... I missed you,"

"I..."

"I know. You didn't miss me. You were out cold. I'm just glad that you're okay," I was suddenly hyperaware of our legs pressed together, his breath tickling my ear.

"But I love you," I said softly, so softly I could hardly even hear it. Will smiled endearingly at me and kissed my shoulder.

"I love you too,"

The first ever time I said "I love you," to someone other than the immediate family was actually more smooth than I expected it to be.

And it followed a very intense make out session, which I didn't expect either.

Here is what I thought it would be like. I'll set the scene. The setting sun hovering over a long stretch of beach in my hometown in Venice, a nice italian girl with long braids and a nice body. She would smile at me, perfect teeth and full lips. She'd say 'I love you' in Italian and then we'd kiss, me murmuring it to her as we held hands walking down the beach. I'd probably ne around 20 and she maybe just younger, at 19.

I've just got to say, that was what I had though in my hallucinations. When I was 'in the 30's' (because that's so possible). And when it was unacceptable for me to kiss another man.

Here's the reality, again, let me set the scene. Midday, the sun high and burning in the sky. Will had knocked on my door at around 11am and had decided to stay in my room, talking about anything and everything, on my bunk, his arm around me as we looked up to the ceiling.

He rolled over so he was on top of me, staring down at me with wide eyes. "I have infirmary duty in 10," He said softly. Wow. How romantic.

"Okay," You too, mini-me. Very romantic. I guess when you're 16 and 18, romance doesn't come as naturally as one would have liked.

Will leant down and kissed my cheek bone, then my nose.

And then it just tumbled from there. He pulled off my black hoodie, then I tugged his ugly orange camp shirt off. But, then, he caught sight of the clock on my bedside table and quickly rolled off.

I may or may not have been quite thankful he did, for the lower regions. That would have been embarrassing for my boyfriend to see that. Again, I was only 16 and I had thought I was from the 30's.

He pecked my cheek before he jogged out, tossing an 'I love you,' over his shoulder.

"Love you too," I called back, looking back up at the ceiling and grinning, my hands under my head.

I think we registered that at the exact same time, maybe 40 seconds after he left. He came sprinting back in just as I bolted up.

"Did we just,"

"Yeah," I breathed out, my voice airy.

"And you meant it...?"

"Yeah,"

"Me too,"

"Yeah," He stepped forward and kissed me on the forehead, cheek then lips, before dashing off.

You see, quite awkward compared to my dream, but I wouldn't want to have it any other way. Because it was my Will. Well, my Will at the time. My fake-Will now.

Life gives you so many things. Choices, free-will, love, memories of happy times, but then it can give you things that are so contradictory to good that it's actually nearly impossible to think that both things can exist in the same universe. How can choices and free-will be in the same universe as dicators? How can memories of good times be in the same place as bad ones? But, then again, for some, they don't remember things. They get hit in the head. They get brain malfunctions that leave them in a vegetable state and with nothing but strangers standing around you claiming to be family. Claiming to know you, even if you don't know them- if you don't know yourself.

Why, you may be asking, am I telling you this? Because these thoughts are all mixed in my head every single day. Things this deep float around in my head, and are sent straight to the front of my consiousness at the smallest things.

Will's large bright smile. Radiating love. Boom. The first thing I think is 'is this fake? Is this real?'

Will's shiny doctor shoes. Momentarily blinding me. Boom. That memory was fake. Faux. Non-existant.

My dad telling me that he wants me to be happy, when I was young and 14 and confused about what was going on inside my brain and inside my pants. But then, was that even real?

Seven months of waiting. Seven months of thinking camp half blood is totally just hallucinations in my brain, because I was hit by a bus or a car or a train or a segway and trauma does wonderous things to people. But how could the two lives, so separate, yet so dependent on eachother, belong to the same Nico di Angelo, in the same universe, with the same shocking after waves of pure hurt.

Christmas flicked by, then January 28th. My birthday. Again. Apparently while I was in my "coma" (notice quotation marks. As my coma was not at all a coma, but I am currently probably in a coma, and Will is probably sitting just outside this universe, holding my hand, or not. Or he could have given up a long time ago. But I'm getting off topic here. Back on track. While I was in my coma...) my dad had visited. Let's just say utter chaos as children scared of gods and anything magical because they're noobs and children scared of death caught a glimpse of my father 'god of the Underworld' talking to a certain terrified 'son of Apollo.' Of course this never happened, but I guess this had to happen for the dream to play out.

So, Will knew it was my birthday. Yay! Not. I woke up to him snuggling my bare shoulder with his nose, humming some song he probably knew and I definitely didn't. When I turned around and gave him a kiss, he smiled.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart,"

"Sweetheart?"

"Deal," He smiled at me and I huffed back. "Happy 20th birthday Neeks,"

"Thanks- wait what? 20?"

"... that is how old you are. Look I know it's a bit of a shock, because you were just 18 when you went under, but-"

"No that's not it,"

I was in that psychiatric ward for 3 years, give or take maybe a month or two. Yet here, Will was saying that I'm 20? What the heck?

But, it registered quite quickly, that time is different in dreams. Mortal books and dreams with a son of the sleep god confirmed that. (Wait what? They were all part of hallucinations. And did I just say Mortal? What the fuck? (But then again, my resolve was quickly crumbling again, my constant effort to keep up the facade that I knew what was happening, was crumbling))

"Neeks, are you alright?" Will smiled at me and I smiled slightly back. I may sound like some high schooler, but he was the only thing tethering me to this world. Again, being cliché as fuck, he's my rock.

"Mental war with myself whether to go back to sleep or kiss you really hard,"

"I'd go for the latter,"

"Then come here," He lesnt forward and rolled, straddling my hips.

But, that excuse of time just didn't sit well with me.

What's this? An update? *le gasp!* Can we all say a nice big loud what the duck? (Love you to autocorrect)

So, thoughts anybody? I've been in a super deep phase, and I've been watching deep movies all week. Dead Poet's Society, Forrest Gump, (about to watch Shawshank Redemption) I have no idea why, but what can I say? Carpe Diem :)

So I kinda went uber deep with the last part. And I should also point out that usually a flashback is like a slingshot with time. Nico's sitting in his little chair, the present, and he's flung backwards so Y'all can see his flashback, but the flashback doesn't always sit him back in the same chair again.

If that made sense. Which it probably didn't. It's late here, so sue me. (Don't actually lol)

So, I'm out. Update will probably be in the next 6 days. Yay!

Song Listening to while uploading/writing-

Hello, I love you by the Doors. (I'm actually terrified at why I'm listening to songs that are like, double my age, but oh well.

Nicotine by Panic! at the Disco (snickers every time and is now determined to write a oneshot about Nico-tine. Will be out in under 2 weeks)

Arabella by Arctic Monkeys

If you guys are into old(er) music, or rock, or just not pop, check them out!

** Edit** Just placing Chapter title in...

ALSO JUST REMEMBERED PLEASE GO CHECK OUT MY POLL

Who would win out of the Big Three Children? (Age so doesn't matter as well) Thanks!