He knocked on the door. Once. Twice. First a little timid, but slowly gaining more confidence. Again and again, his fist hammered against the firm wood, making it tremble under his rising frustration.
No response.
He wasn't going to give up though. Obnoxiously loud he continued.
"Nico!"
The son of Hades wouldn't dare to leave camp in his state, at least the healer hoped so. On second thought, that was exactly -
"What!?"
The door yanked open, and Will had to take a step back. He swallowed at the harsh tone before reminding himself why he was here. The head of cabin 7 examined the younger demigod.
He was not amused.
"You look like shit," Will declared and Nico's frown deepened.
What? It was true. His hair was a mess, eyes hazy and unfocused. A layer of sweat coated his skin. It was far too pale, even by underworld standards. Nico di Angelo was a disaster - albeit an adorable one.
"I thought I told your scrawny ass to chill." Will crossed his arms, but there was no heat behind his words, just honest concern and a hint of disappointment.
Nico turned his face away. "My body, my rules," he grumbled, slumping ever so slightly against the door frame.
Will rolled his eyes and handed him a brown paper bag. His stern gaze was fixed on the other until the Ghost King accepted the offer reluctantly.
Nico inspected its content and sighed. "Thanks." He ran his fingers through his hair and his lips twitching almost unnoticeable upwards.
For a second the son of Apollo was thrown off track. Victory usually didn't come that easy, however, he wasn't one to pass up an opportunity. "I expect to see you tomorrow at breakfast," Will told him.
"Sure," Nico shrugged.
Will seemed suspicious but nodded, taking his word for it. One last time he glanced at him before he left.
.
.
.
Watching Will go, Nico winced. He may have missed a couple of meals in between his graveyard shift, and sure yesterday's late-night activity was extremely exhausting, but it was nothing to worry about.
He went inside - even managed to lock the door before another wave of dizziness hit him. His vision blurred and the ground swayed dangerously. The bag in his hand dropped, spilling a neatly wrapped burger with a golden M and fries everywhere. Without being able to stop, Nico felt himself falling forward, one foot after the other caught his momentum and he prayed to the gods that he would make it to -
His legs gave out.
Face-first he crashed, landing thankfully on his mattress instead of the hard floor. His eyes had closed in reflex and Nico didn't bother to open them again. Sleep. He just wanted to sleep - to curl up in bed and never get up again. When death was close dreams tended to be kinder anyway, after all, they were old friends and he knew how to navigate their dark borders.