Archive of Our Own

Nico had never been good at this—dating, especially. The nerves had settled into the pit of his stomach the moment he’d agreed to this, and now, standing outside the carnival gates, his palms were clammy, his chest tight. He fidgeted with the hem of his hoodie, staring at the neon lights flickering above the entrance. The sounds of excited laughter and the smell of cotton candy drifted in the air, but all he could focus on was the knot of anxiety that was making it hard to breathe.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Bryce. Quite the opposite, actually. Bryce was... well, Bryce was everything Nico wasn't. Tall, confident, and with a grin that could probably charm even the most indifferent of people. But that was the problem. Nico wasn’t sure how he was supposed to keep up.

"Hey," came a voice that snapped Nico out of his head. He turned quickly to see Bryce walking toward him, wearing his usual crooked smile and an easy confidence that made Nico’s heart do a strange flip. Bryce's shirt was a little too tight, the sleeves rolled up to reveal toned arms, and his messy hair caught the light just right. Nico felt underdressed in comparison, his hoodie and jeans feeling like a mismatch for the colorful energy around them.

"Sorry I'm late," Bryce said, a little out of breath, but still smiling wide. "Had to grab some snacks for us. You like popcorn, right?"

Nico gave a small nod, trying to suppress the flush creeping up his neck. "Yeah, sure."

Bryce handed him a bag of the buttery snack, still warm, and Nico accepted it with a quiet thanks. Bryce glanced at him for a moment, his gaze soft but playful. "You look nervous," he said, teasing. "You okay?"

Nico swallowed, trying to ignore the way his heart seemed to be racing just a little too fast. "I’m fine," he muttered, not meeting Bryce's eyes.

Bryce chuckled, the sound light and easy. "Well, that makes one of us." He nudged Nico lightly with his shoulder, as if to ease the tension, and Nico’s heartbeat stuttered. "Don’t worry about it. We’re here to have fun, alright? No pressure."

Nico tried to force a smile, but it felt more like a grimace than anything. He glanced around the carnival, suddenly feeling very small. But then Bryce was looking at him again, that smile never wavering, and Nico found himself feeling a little less like a fish out of water.

"Let’s go," Bryce said, grabbing Nico’s hand without hesitation and pulling him toward the entrance. Nico felt his skin tingle where their fingers brushed, but he didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to.

They passed the entrance together, and for a moment, Nico forgot all about the nerves swirling in his stomach. He followed Bryce into the heart of the carnival, the sights and sounds overwhelming but oddly comforting. The flashing lights, the happy screams from the roller coasters, the faint music playing over the loudspeakers—it was like stepping into another world, one where Nico didn’t have to think too much about anything.

And then Bryce was pulling him toward the first ride, a giant Ferris wheel that loomed over the entire park. Nico’s stomach lurched at the sight of it, but Bryce's hand was still in his, steady and warm.

"You’re not afraid of heights, are you?" Bryce teased, his grin wide as he glanced over his shoulder.

Nico shook his head, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "I’m fine," he said, though his voice wavered slightly.

Bryce just laughed, the sound ringing in the air as he tugged Nico closer. "Good. Because I’m gonna make you love this."

Nico’s mind raced as they stood together. The ease with which he navigated everything, the way he effortlessly made Nico laugh, made his heart beat faster in his chest. Bryce had to be his soulmate. After all, how could a sworn enemy make him feel this way?

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Nico met Will Solace on a cold hospital hallway, the kind of place that seemed to suck all the warmth out of the air. It was a place of quiet devastation, where muffled sobs echoed off the sterile white walls, and the flickering fluorescent lights cast long shadows that only seemed to stretch further with each passing second.

Nico had been sitting there, slumped against the cold tiles, his head buried in his hands. His sister, Bianca, was gone. The doctors had told him she didn’t make it, but it hadn’t fully sunk in yet. The world around him felt surreal, like he was watching someone else’s life unfold on the television screen. The weight of it all had made his chest feel hollow, like there was nothing left of him.

The hallway wasn’t very busy, but it wasn’t quiet either. Murmurs of grief filled the air, and every so often, the shuffle of hospital staff passed by in a blur. That’s when Nico noticed him. A boy not much older than himself, sitting a few feet away, head bowed, his expression one of barely contained despair. His blonde hair hung messily over his forehead, and his blue eyes were glassy, filled with a pain that mirrored Nico’s own.

Nico wasn’t the type to notice strangers, especially not in a place like this. But there was something about him—the way he sat, shoulders trembling, like he was holding his breath. He felt raw, open, just like Nico. 

“Why are you here?” The boy’s voice broke the silence, soft, hesitant. It wasn’t accusing—just curious, the way someone would ask about a ghost passing through the fog.

Nico looked up, his eyes red and sore from tears he hadn’t realized he was crying. His voice was hoarse when he replied. “My sister... she was in an accident.”

The boy looked down at his hands, his fingers clenched tightly. “Same,” he whispered. "He didn't make it." 

Nico stared at him, his chest tightening. 

The boy raised his head, those blue eyes meeting Nico’s again, filled with both pain and disbelief. “I'm Will Solace."

The name hit Nico like a physical blow. Will Solace – the name etched on his right wrist in angular script. He instinctively pulled his sleeve down further, even as his mind reeled. This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not here.

Before Nico could respond, a doctor in blood-stained scrubs appeared, his face grave. “Family of Bianca di Angelo?”

Nico shot to his feet, his heart in his throat. “That’s me. I’m her brother. Is she…?”

The doctor’s expression said it all, but the words still came, each one a dagger to Nico’s heart. “I’m so sorry, Mr. di Angelo. We did everything we could, but your sister’s injuries were too severe. She didn’t make it.”

The world seemed to collapse around Nico. He staggered backwards, his legs giving out as he sank back into the chair. He was vaguely aware of Will hovering nearby, concern etched on his features. 

“I’m so sorry,” Will murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

Nico couldn’t respond. He sat there, numb, as the doctor continued to speak, words like “internal bleeding” and “massive trauma” washing over him without really registering. It wasn’t until the doctor mentioned the other car that Nico’s attention snapped back into focus.

"Mr. di Angelo, I'm sorry about your sister, but the police are waiting outside. Since it was your sister's car which collided with Mr. Fletcher's, I believe it's time you pay the cops a visit with Mr. Solace here to settle the legal and financial sides." 

Will made a choked sound, and Nico looked up to see all the color drain from the other boy’s face. 

Nico froze, his mind struggling to process what he’d just heard. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst through his chest. “His car... hit hers?”

The doctor nodded. “That’s what happened. They collided.”  

Nico didn’t know what to say. Anger surged in him, hot and overwhelming. He clenched his fists, his knuckles going white. “It was his fault.” 

“No,” Will said, his voice sharp, unwavering. “It was your sister who hit him. His car wasn’t the one that caused it.” 

Nico could feel the fire in his veins, the rage searing every nerve. “That’s bullshit!” His voice cracked as he shouted, the sound echoing in the sterile space. “She would've never-”

Before he could finish, a pair of nurses rushed toward them, their presence swift and firm. They grabbed both boys, pulling them apart, separating their quivering, heated voices.

Nico struggled against the hands that restrained him, his fists still clenched. “Let me go!” he yelled, his chest heaving. 

The nurses managed to lead him away, their grip steady, but the fury in Nico didn’t fade. He was dragged back to a quiet corner of the hallway, still seething, while the boy—Will, he’d said his name was—was ushered toward another part of the hospital.

As Nico sat back down, his body trembling from both exhaustion and rage, his mind replayed the encounter. Will Solace. The name which had etched itself into his memory like a curse.  

In that moment, as grief and anger warred within him, Nico was certain of one thing: Will Solace was his enemy, the harbinger of his greatest loss. 

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The dim fluorescent lights flickered overhead as Mr. Henderson droned on about some ancient empire Nico couldn't care less about. He was half-listening, his attention fixated on the screen of his phone, subtly tucked beneath his textbook. A grin spread across his face as he read Bryce's latest message: "Thinking about you in that boring class. Wish I was there to distract you."

Nico quickly typed a reply, "Me too. This is torture. Mr. Henderson's voice could put a narcoleptic to sleep." He hit send and slid his phone back into his pocket, feeling a surge of warmth at the thought of Bryce.

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over him. Mr. Henderson, his face a mask of disapproval, stood towering above him. "Mr. di Angelo," he boomed, his voice cutting through the classroom murmur. "Perhaps you'd care to share with the class the fascinating content of your text messages?" 

"I wasn't—" Nico started, but Mr. Henderson raised a hand, cutting him off.

"Save it. Detention. After school. Storage room."

Nico’s jaw clenched. This wasn’t how he wanted to spend his afternoon. He knew better than to argue further. With a nod he slumped back into his seat and gathered his books. 

As the final bell rang, Nico trudged into the storage room, the creaking door echoing in the empty hallways. The smell of dust and old supplies hit him as he stepped inside. He immediately spotted Will sitting on a stack of crates, arms crossed, eyes glaring back at him.

Nico sighed again, louder this time. Will was already annoying enough, and now they were stuck together.

A week after discovering that Will was in his high school, Nico was fuming. His days were consumed by annoyance. Every time Will crossed his path, Nico could feel his stomach twist. His family’s money had always gotten him what he wanted. But as much as Nico wanted to rely on his family’s influence to get rid of Will, the reality was that his father’s money couldn’t expel students like that. 

Eventually, Nico resigned himself to ignoring Will’s existence, convinced that if he stayed out of Will’s way, Will would stay out of his. But the plan didn’t last long.

Every class Nico shared with Will became a battleground. Will wasn’t just there—he was hellbent on making Nico’s life miserable. He didn’t shy away from competition, declaring himself an academic rival to Nico at every turn. His smug grin and constant jabs were enough to keep Nico’s temper on edge. 

"What are you doing here?" Nico asked, his tone clipped.

Will rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall. "Looks like detention isn't exclusive, di Angelo." 

Nico ignored him, tossing his bag onto the floor. He wasn’t about to engage with Will’s snarky remarks.

Mr. D entered the room a few moments later, clearing his throat dramatically. "You two are tasked with cleaning out the storage room. Everything. Organize, tidy, and maybe, if you're lucky, dust something off." 

Nico groaned inwardly. Legend had it that the storage room was a haven for dust bunnies, forgotten sports equipment, and the occasional stray rodent. 

Nico shot Will a glare. "Great. A whole day of listening to you complain."

Will smirked. "Oh, trust me, the feeling’s mutual." 

They spent the next hour in silence, except for the occasional grunt or sharp retort. Nico found Will's constant presence infuriating. Every time Will muttered under his breath or fidgeted, Nico felt an overwhelming urge to snap at him.

"Can you stop moving for five minutes?" Nico asked, his patience thinning.

"Can you stop being such a drama queen?" Will shot back, unbothered. 

He glanced at Will, who was now meticulously dusting off an old trophy. Nico couldn’t stand it. Will’s hair, curly and always effortlessly messy, seemed to be perfect no matter how much dust they stirred up in the storage room. It wasn’t fair.

And those baby blue eyes of his. They glinted in the sunlight whenever Will smiled, making even the rudest people soften, as if the world itself couldn’t help but be drawn to him. But not Nico. No, he wouldn’t fall to those charms, no matter how irritatingly perfect they were.

Every grin Will threw his way only fueled Nico’s frustration. 

Hours later, the storage room was almost completely cleaned. When Mr. D finally dismissed them, Nico stormed out without a word. Bryce was waiting for him outside in his car, already scrolling through his phone when Nico climbed in.

"Hey, babe," Bryce said, leaning over and kissing him. "How was detention?"

"Detention sucked," Nico grumbled. 

"Enjoy your drive, Romeo," Nico heard a drawl. He looked out the window to see Will smirking and climbing into his rickety bicycle, a triumphant glint in his eyes. He shot Will a cold glare.

"Do you want me to go talk to him?" Bryce said, breaking the silence.

Nico sighed, slumping back against the seat. "No, it's fine."

Bryce glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "You sure?" 

Nico didn’t respond. Instead, his mind lingered on Will—how infuriating, how annoying, and yet how impossible to ignore...

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Looking back, Nico should have seen the warning signs early on.

It was their sophomore year. Nico and Bryce had been dating for a year then. They were invited to the parties of one of Bryce's football friends. Someone whose name rhymed with Jayden or Braden or something. 

The music thumped through the walls of the crowded apartment, voices blending into one loud, chaotic mess. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat, bodies pressed together in a dance of distraction and escape.

Nico stood near the edge of the room, watching the party swirl around him. The bright lights of the disco ball spun overhead, casting shifting shadows across his face. He clenched his jaw, his discomfort growing with every passing second.  

"Hey, Nico!" Bryce called out, his voice barely audible over the music. "Come here!" 

Nico pushed his way through the crowd, finally reaching Bryce. "What's up?" he asked.

Bryce grinned, holding out a glass filled with a vibrant, swirling liquid. "Try this," he urged, "It's amazing."

Nico eyed the drink suspiciously. "What is it?"

"A special concoction," Bryce winked. "A secret recipe." 

"I already told you I won't be drinking."

"It's not anything alcoholic. Chill."

Nico hesitated again, but Bryce's enthusiasm was infectious. He really didn't want to seem like a spoilsport. "Alright, alright," he conceded, taking the glass.

Bryce raised his own glass in a silent toast. "To us," he murmured, his eyes fixed on Nico.

Nico took a sip, the liquid burning his throat. It tasted… odd. Not unpleasant, but definitely different. He frowned. "What is this exactly?"

Bryce shrugged nonchalantly. "Just some soda. Drink up." He tilted the cup, making Nico chug the entire contents of it. 

"Are you sure this isn't spiked?" Nico asked, feeling the liquid burn its way down his throat. 

"It's not," Bryce grinned. "Don't you trust me?"

Nico felt a sudden wave of dizziness. The room seemed to tilt, the music suddenly deafening. He clutched at the back of a nearby couch, his vision blurring.

"You okay?" Bryce asked, his voice laced with concern, but his eyes held a predatory glint.

Nico tried to speak, but only a slurred groan escaped his lips. He felt himself sinking into the darkness, the last image he saw being Bryce's drunken smile. 

The next morning, Nico groaned as he sat up in a dimly lit bedroom. His head throbbed, his vision blurry. Where is he?

He stumbled to the bathroom, catching his reflection—pale, hollow-eyed, and disoriented. The faint memory of the party trickled back. Bryce… the drink…

His stomach churned, and his hands trembled as he searched for his phone in his pants. A text from Hazel popped up—"Are you up? Bryce isn't answering any texts. Connor said you're at his apartment. Dad's furious."  Nico's heart sank.

He tapped it with shaky fingers. "Did he say anything?"

It took Hazel a few agonizing minutes to reply. "He's angry at you for not informing him. Just come home. He's mostly concerned."

Nico breathed a sigh of relief. 

The door creaked open, and there Bryce stood, his usual calm demeanor intact. But there was something different in his eyes—an arrogance that made Nico’s stomach churn further. He could feel the anger rising, sharp and clear. He had told Bryce he didn’t want to drink. He had told him, and Bryce had ignored it. 

"What the hell, Bryce?" Nico spat, his voice rising. "I told you not to do that!"

Bryce sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "I was just trying to help. You’ve been so uptight lately. You needed to loosen up."

"Loosen up?" Nico shot back. "I said no. That was my decision, Bryce."

Bryce took a step forward, his voice low. "Look, Nico, I thought—"

"Thought what?" Nico interrupted, his chest heaving. "That you could just ignore what I wanted? That you could decide for me?"

Bryce fell silent, his expression hardening. "I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Nico. I just wanted you to feel better."

"But that’s not your decision to make," Nico said, his voice shaking with anger. "What if something happened to me? You can’t just… ignore my wishes like that."

Bryce took another step closer, his eyes searching Nico’s face. "I didn’t mean to—"

"Enough, Bryce," Nico interrupted again, his voice cracking. "You need to understand—you don’t get to decide for me."

Bryce stood there, silent, before finally turning and walking away. The door clicked shut, leaving Nico alone in the quiet bathroom, his heart pounding.

He had to reach home before his father got more angry.

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Nico stood near the entrance of the Museum of Modern Art, arms crossed and lips pressed into a thin line. The hum of excited chatter from his classmates grated on his nerves. Field trips were supposed to be a break from the mundane routines of school, but for Nico, they were just another excuse to be forced into social situations he’d rather avoid.

Mr. Brunner wheeled himself to the center of the group, clipboard in hand. His voice, calm and authoritative, carried over the din. “Alright, class, listen up! I’ve assigned you all into pairs for today’s activity. Each pair will receive a worksheet with questions to answer as you explore the exhibits. Remember, this is a museum, not a playground, so keep your voices down and respect the space.”

Nico barely suppressed an eye roll. A worksheet? Couldn’t they just walk around and look at the art? He adjusted his aviator jacket and went to collect his worksheet. 

“Nico,” Mr. Brunner called, scanning his clipboard. “You’re paired with Will Solace.”

Nico groaned inwardly. Of course. He glanced over at Will, who was already waving at him with that annoyingly sunny smile. Nico stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets and trudged over.

“Hey, Death Boy,” Will said cheerfully. “Looks like we’re partners.”

“Don’t call me that,” Nico muttered, barely meeting Will’s gaze.

Mr. Brunner handed them their worksheet. “Stick together and make sure to complete all the questions. We’ll regroup in the lobby in two hours. Have fun!” 

The class dispersed, pairs scattering into the labyrinth of exhibits. Nico was already dreading the next two hours when a grinning Bryce sauntered up to them. Bryce’s cologne was overpowering, like he’d bathed in it that morning.

“Will,” Bryce said. “Why don’t you switch with me? I’ll pair up with Nico.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “No can do. There are assigned pairs for a reason. Mr. Brunner’s orders.”

Bryce’s smile faltered. “Come on, man. You know Nico and I are together.”

“Yeah, no,” Will said firmly, crossing his arms. “Nico’s stuck with me, and I’m not about to let him wander off with you. Rules are rules.”

Bryce’s eyes narrowed. “Whatever,” he muttered before stomping off, leaving a trail of cologne in his wake.

“Was that necessary?” Nico snapped, glaring at Will.

Will shrugged, unbothered. “You guys are way too co-dependent. I'm doing ya'll a favour.”

Nico scowled. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Will held up the worksheet. “Alright, Mr. Sunshine, third floor it is.”

As they climbed the staircase, Nico lagged a step behind, hoping Will wouldn’t try to make small talk. Naturally, Will didn’t take the hint.

“You know,” Will began, “I think you’d actually like some of the art here. A lot of it has that dark, brooding vibe you’re so fond of.”

“I don’t have a vibe,” Nico snapped.

“Sure you do. It’s very… gothic chic.”

Nico glared at him. “Are you done?”

Will grinned. “Not even close.”

They reached the third floor and stopped in front of a large abstract painting titled Eclipse. Swirls of black and gray clashed with streaks of fiery orange, creating a chaotic yet mesmerizing effect. 

Nico tilted his head, studying the painting. He hated to admit it, but there was something about it that resonated with him.

“So, what do you think?” Will asked, pen poised over the worksheet.

“It’s… unsettling,” Nico said reluctantly. “Like a storm that’s about to break.”

Will nodded thoughtfully. “Good observation. I’ll write that down.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not,” Will said, scribbling on the worksheet. “See? We make a good team.”

Nico snorted. “Hardly.”

They moved on to the next exhibit, a series of sculptures made entirely of recycled materials. Will couldn’t resist making a joke about how one of them looked like a lopsided skeleton. Nico’s lips twitched despite himself.

As they continued through the museum, their bickering became less sharp-edged. 

They reached the entrance where their classmates were already gathering. Mr. Brunner waved them over, his clipboard now resting on his lap. As the group reassembled, Bryce shot Will a glare.

Will, ever oblivious or just unfazed, was still jotting down the last details on their worksheet.

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The first time Nico felt a sliver of doubt creep into his mind was during his graduation.

The air in the auditorium crackled with anticipation, the scent of freshly cut grass mingling with the nervous energy of the graduating class. Nico, clad in his cap and gown, felt a familiar flutter in his stomach as he searched the crowd for Bryce. He spotted him across the auditorium, his smile radiant as he waved. 

As the principal droned on, Nico's gaze drifted across the room. 

He spotted Reyna, sitting a few rows behind Bryce, deep in conversation with a group of friends. Reyna had always been kind to him, a quiet observer with a gentle smile. He smiled back at her, a fleeting acknowledgment of her presence.

He didn't think much of it. It was a simple, friendly gesture. But then he looked at Bryce. His face had gone pale, his eyes narrowed into slits, a possessive glint in their depths. He was staring intently at Reyna, his jaw clenched.

Nico felt a shiver crawl down his spine. The rest of the ceremony was a blur. Nico received his diploma, his smile fading as he noticed Bryce staring at him, his expression a mask of icy fury. As they celebrated with their families after the ceremony, Nico felt a growing sense of unease. Bryce avoided his gaze, his usual warmth replaced by a chilling distance. 

That night, lying in bed, Nico replayed the events of the day in his mind. Had he done something wrong? Had he inadvertently crossed some invisible line? The unease lingered, a shadow hanging over the joy of graduation.

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The dorm room was small, with just enough space for two beds, two desks, and a shared closet. Boxes were stacked haphazardly near the door as Nico and Bryce carried the last of their things inside. Nico wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, his dark hair sticking to his skin.

“I’m not going to miss lugging all these boxes around,” Nico said with a faint smile, dropping a box onto the bed closest to the window.

Bryce chuckled, setting his own box down on the other bed. “You’re lucky I did most of the heavy lifting, babe.” He walked over to Nico, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind. “I think I deserve a thank-you.”

Nico rolled his eyes but leaned back into Bryce’s chest. “Fine. Thank you, Mr. Muscles.”

Bryce grinned, leaning down to press a kiss to Nico’s temple. “That’s better. Now, let’s unpack so this place can feel like home.”

They worked side by side, opening boxes and organizing their belongings. Nico carefully arranged his books on the shared shelf while Bryce set up his gaming console and TV. Occasionally, Bryce would glance over at Nico, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“You know,” Bryce said, breaking the silence, “I like the idea of us having our own space. No one to interrupt us, no one to… distract you.”

Nico paused, a book in his hand, and glanced over his shoulder. “Distract me? From what?”

Bryce shrugged, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “From us. From me. I know how people look at you, Nico. I just don’t want anyone getting any ideas.”

Nico’s brow furrowed, but he laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous. No one’s looking at me like that.”

Bryce stepped closer, brushing Nico’s hair behind his ear. “You don’t see it, but I do. That’s why I have to look out for you.” His voice was soft, almost tender, but there was an edge to it that Nico couldn’t quite place.

Nico looked away, his cheeks flushing. “I can take care of myself, Bryce.”

Bryce’s grip on Nico’s arm tightened ever so slightly before he released him with a smile. “Of course you can, but that doesn’t mean you have to. That’s why you have me.”

They continued unpacking, the air lightening as Bryce cracked a few jokes to make Nico laugh. By the time the room started to resemble a livable space, Nico had almost forgotten the strange tension from earlier.

Almost.

As they sat on Nico’s bed, sorting through a box of trinkets, Nico found himself glancing at Bryce out of the corner of his eye. Something about his earlier comments lingered in Nico’s mind, a faint unease curling in his chest. But when Bryce looked up and smiled at him, warm and genuine, Nico shook the feeling away.

It was probably nothing.

“Hey,” Bryce said, nudging Nico’s shoulder. “Stop daydreaming. We’ve got work to do.”

Nico smiled back, pushing his doubts aside. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it.”

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The university canteen buzzed with chatter, clinking utensils, and the occasional burst of laughter. Nico sat across from Jason Grace, his tray half-filled with barely touched pasta. Jason, on the other hand, tore into his sandwich like he hadn’t eaten in days.

“So, Professor Whitman’s class,” Jason said through a mouthful of food. “Good luck surviving that.”

Nico smirked. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine. You’re the one who barely takes notes.”

Jason grinned. “Hey, I’ve got you now. You’re my secret weapon.”

Nico chuckled, shaking his head. It was strange how quickly he’d grown close to Jason. Their friendship had started with Jason’s relentless determination to “get to know the guy who doesn’t talk much.” Over time, Nico found himself opening up, enjoying their banter and camaraderie.

As Jason launched into a story about nearly tripping over his own feet during soccer practice, Nico felt it—a prickling at the back of his neck. Someone was watching him.

He glanced around, scanning the canteen, until his eyes landed on the window. Outside, Bryce stood, his gaze fixed on Nico. His boyfriend’s expression was... off. It wasn’t anger or sadness, but something in the way his eyes bore into Nico sent a shiver down his spine.

“Everything okay?” Jason asked, noticing Nico’s distraction.

“Yeah,” Nico replied quickly, waving Bryce over with a hesitant smile.

Bryce didn’t move. He just stood there for a moment longer, then turned and walked away without a word.

Nico’s stomach twisted. “I’ll be back,” he muttered to Jason, who raised a brow but didn’t press.

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Nico couldn’t shake the unease that settled over him. When he returned to his dorm that evening, he expected to find Bryce waiting. But the room was empty.

His chest tightened. Where is he?

The sound of the door clicking shut behind him made Nico turn sharply. Bryce stood there, his posture stiff, his face unreadable.

“Bryce,” Nico began, taking a cautious step forward. “What happened? Why didn’t you come inside earlier?”

Bryce didn’t answer. He closed the distance between them in a few long strides, his movements sudden and deliberate. Before Nico could react, Bryce shoved him roughly against the wall, the impact sending a jolt through his body.

“Bryce—”

Bryce cut him off with a kiss, hard and urgent. It wasn’t like their usual kisses—it felt possessive, almost desperate. Nico froze, unsure of what to do, his heart racing for all the wrong reasons.

When Bryce finally pulled back, he cradled Nico’s face in his hands, his grip firm but not quite painful. His eyes were the same as earlier, intense and searching.

“Do you love me?” Bryce’s voice was low, almost a whisper, but the weight of his question hung heavy in the air.

Nico swallowed hard, his confusion and fear mixing into a tangled knot in his chest. “Y-Yeah,” he stammered, nodding slightly.

Bryce’s thumbs brushed against Nico’s cheeks, his gaze never wavering. “Good,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to Nico’s forehead, softer this time.

But as Bryce stepped back, his hands falling to his sides, his demeanor shifted. His expression darkened, and for a moment, it seemed like he wanted to say something—something important.

Instead, he turned away, pacing to the door. “You’re mine, Nico. Don’t forget that.” His tone was calm, almost too calm, but it left a chill in the room as he opened the door and walked out.

Nico stood frozen, his back still against the wall, his breaths shallow. He felt his heart hammering beneath his ribcage.

Bryce’s words echoed in his head. You’re mine.

Something about Bryce’s behavior wasn’t right, and he didn’t know if he could ignore it much longer.

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The car hummed softly as Jason drove down the nearly empty highway, his hands steady on the wheel. The sun had set hours ago, leaving the road bathed in the pale glow of streetlights. Nico sat in the passenger seat, still buzzing from the energy of the soccer game they’d just watched.

Jason glanced over with a grin. “You have to admit, that last goal was insane. I mean, who does a backflip kick and actually scores?”

Nico rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “It was reckless, not skillful. He could’ve broken his leg.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t. And now it’s all over social media.” Jason laughed, his enthusiasm filling the car.

Nico leaned back against the seat, letting the warmth of the heater and Jason’s chatter lull him into a comfortable calm. For a moment, everything felt... normal.

Then it happened.

The blinding headlights appeared out of nowhere, searing into Nico’s vision as a car barreled toward them at an alarming speed. Jason barely had time to curse before the impact hit, metal crunching against metal, the force sending their car spinning like a toy.

The world became a chaotic blur—shattered glass, the screech of tires, the sickening jolt of the crash. Nico’s head slammed against the window, and pain exploded through his body before everything went eerily still.

When Nico’s eyes fluttered open, the air was thick with the smell of gasoline and smoke. The world tilted and swayed as he tried to make sense of the wreckage around him. The windshield was gone, shards of glass glittering like stars on the crumpled hood. Jason’s side of the car was mangled, his body slumped against the steering wheel.

“J-Jason…” Nico croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

A shadow loomed in the dim light, moving closer. Nico squinted through the haze, his heart lurching as he recognized the figure.

Bryce.

His boyfriend stepped out of the other car, his stride unnervingly casual as he approached the wreckage. His face was lit by the faint glow of the streetlights, but his expression wasn’t one of concern—it was cold, almost amused.

“Well, well,” Bryce drawled, crouching slightly to look at Nico through the shattered window. His eyes glinted with something cruel. “Guess you won’t be running around with other people anymore, huh?”

Nico’s stomach dropped, the words twisting like a knife in his gut. “W-What…?” he managed to whisper, pain and confusion clouding his mind.

Bryce tilted his head, a mockery of concern flashing across his face. “Maybe this will teach you not to cheat on me again. Think about that while you’re lying here.” He straightened, brushing nonexistent dust off his jacket. “See you around, Nico.”

And then he walked away.

Nico’s vision blurred as he tried to move, each motion sending fresh waves of agony through his body. His trembling hand reached for Jason. “Jason…”

Jason didn’t respond. He was unnervingly still, blood streaking down the side of his face. Nico’s heart clenched in panic, and he forced himself to crawl, ignoring the searing pain in his ribs and legs.

“Jason…” he rasped again, but his voice faltered as the darkness around him deepened.

Distantly, he heard yelling—voices shouting, sirens wailing in the background. His strength waned, and his body felt heavier with each passing second.

As his vision dimmed, a figure leaned over him. Baby blue eyes gazed down at him, filled with concern and determination.

“You’ll be fine, Nico,” a voice said softly, steady and reassuring.

And then everything went black.

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Nico’s eyes fluttered open, the sterile white of the hospital room blinding after what felt like endless darkness. His body throbbed, every movement sending sharp pain through his limbs.

His vision was hazy, but the first thing Nico saw was a mop of blonde hair slumped over in a chair beside his bed. 

“Jason?” His voice came out as a croak, barely louder than a whisper. The blonde head turned slowly.

It wasn’t Jason.

Will Solace’s face appeared in the dim light. His expression was solemn, his usually bright golden eyes dulled with worry.

“Nico,” Will said softly, his voice steady but tinged with concern.

Nico blinked, his throat tightening. “Will?”

Will gave him a small, hesitant smile, brushing a hand through his messy blonde hair. “You’re awake.”

Nico winced, trying to sit up, but a sharp ache in his ribs sent him back down with a groan. Will moved quickly, adjusting the bedrails, concern etched across his face.

“How… How long was I out?” Nico managed, his voice still weak.

“Almost two days,” Will said gently. “The doctors have been in and out, trying to stabilize you.”

Will stood, moving to grab a glass of water from the nearby table. As he returned and handed it to Nico, he noticed the hesitation in Nico’s gaze.

“I need to call the doctors,” Will said softly, his tone cautious.

But before he could turn away, Nico’s weak voice stopped him. “Wait, Will.”

Will paused, turning back to face Nico.

“How is Jason?” Nico asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Will hesitated. The sadness in his eyes deepened, and he didn’t answer.

The silence spoke volumes. Nico could see it in Will’s face—his expression was heavy, burdened by an unbearable grief. He didn’t say anything. Instead he gently laid a hand on Nico’s shoulder, offering what little comfort he could.

Nico felt his chest tighten, the reality crashing down on him. Jason, gone. His friend. His anchor. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes.

“No,” Nico whispered, the word barely audible.

Will’s gaze shifted away, unable to hold Nico’s for long. He clenched his jaw, the sadness radiating from him.

Nico’s thoughts spun. It felt like every time they crossed paths, it was when another loved one was lost. First Bianca, now Jason. Was this their fate? To meet when everything fell apart?

Will squeezed Nico’s shoulder gently before stepping back, his own sadness evident.

“I’ll get the doctors,” Will said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Nico watched him leave, his mind clouded by grief and agony.

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