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“Well, this is certainly a sticky situation,” Will said, because he was at the moment stuck to a wall. A rather archaic trap, but effective, apparently.
No one laughed at his joke, but he figured that was fair. He wasn’t laughing either, but he was smiling like a lunatic. An unfortunate side effect of a dizzying concoction nerves and confidence born of escaping many sticky situations without too much trouble.
“Gentlemen,” Will said converationally, casually trying to pull his sword arm out of the tar his entire front side was glued to. “I’m sure we can talk this out.” The scent of it was pure awful, burnt rubber invading not only the nostril that was fully submerged, but the free one as well. He was already mourning the death of his natural scent of sawdust and daisies that he always thought made him seem quite fetching. Now he would smell like the lovechild of a (non-romantic) fire and one of those monstrous machines that were becoming quite popular with Prince Nico’s Uncle Hephaestus. Fabulous, really.
It seemed the nice gentlemen didn’t want to talk it out because one of them wrapped his filthy fingers in Will’s (previously) freshly washed hair, yanking him back and causing a wonderful tearing sensation between the skin and hair stuck in the tar and the skin and hair that wasn’t stuck in the tar. It was like his face was having a civil war.
“Where’s the prince,” he growled in his ear, making the phrase seem much more like a statement than a question.
“Interesting that you should ask that,” Will said, wincing when the man pulled harder and actually pulled Will’s face out of the tar. He wondered vaguely if his eyebrow had survived. “I’m starting to wonder as well.”
The man slammed Will’s face back into the tar rather harshly and then spat tobacco on the side of Will’s face that had previously been clean.
“We’re not going to get anything out of him,” one of the other men said. “He’s trained by the Royal Guard.”
“That is true,” Will pointed out. “And I could tell you wonderful stories of my times during training. You know, there was this one night when my cohorts and I snuck out-”
“Could someone please shut him up?”
“I wish whoever the brave soul is luck in that endeavor,” Will said because he’d just caught sight of a lingering shadow in the one window that was in his line of eyesight, and he’s rolled lucky at the pub down in the city. The Fates were smiling at him today, truly.
The same filthy man from before (Will recognized him by his pungent scent of garbage that had fermented in the sun for a couple of days) leaned in again, his foul-smelling breath mixing with the already foul air of the tar. “You got something up your sleeve, pretty boy?”
“You think I’m pretty?” Will asked just as the front door of the cabin exploded.
Chaos ensued, although much of it Will was unable to see. He heard the familiar growls and barks of Nico’s three headed wolf and the screams of the men that had been holding him, and he assumed enough.
When a heavy silence descended over the room and only the contented panting of the wolf heads remained, he ventured to speak. “Well, I must admit that you’ve saved me from a rather sticky situation.”
He heard a sigh. The sheathing of a sword. “How many times have you made that joke since getting stuck to the wall?”
“Only enough to be annoying,” Will responded, and in the quiet that followed, Will imagined that Nico was smiling. “Do you have a suggestion on how to free me from my current prison?”
“Mrs. O’Leary,” Nico said, his light feet moving about the room, “please take care of this buffoon.” Mrs. O’Leary, the previously mentioned three headed wolf, bounded over to Will immediately, her three pink tongues digging into the tar surrounding him and lapping it up like it was a particularly nice treat.
“So,” Will drawled as Mrs. O’Leary went to town on his tar-covered trousers, “how’d you spend your hours free of me?”
“The theatre,” Nico responded, followed by the swishing of rope, “followed by a tavern that serves the greasy foods that Persephone’s mother so hates.” More rope, followed by the casual sliding of dead weight on the wooden floor. “And then tracking you down.”
“How exciting.” Mrs. O’Leary had made quick work of his legs and had moved on to his torso. It was torture to resist laughing. “Tell me, my dear prince, was it worth it?”
Nico grumbled something unintelligible, and then seemed to purposefully lose himself in the work of tying up the culprits (all of which were still breathing, despite the drama they’d all fussed about it) and gathering them all together.
At last, Will was unstuck from the wall, and he stepped back, stretching out his neck and admiring the Will-shaped hole in the tar. Much still clung to the front of his clothes and the side of his face, but it was better than being stuck. Mrs. O’Leary propped her paws up on his shoulders and slobbered happily over his face.
Will was a relatively smart man, and so he kept his mouth firmly closed during this ordeal, although he kept an eye open and observed the prince.
He was standing, back straight and positively regal, against a wall. He had unsheathed his sword while waiting for Will to be freed and was polishing the pure black metal with a cloth that Will knew he kept in his bag. His face was tired although his body didn’t seem to be, and his hair looked as if he’d just rolled out bed, directly contrasting the awake posture. There was no crown adorning the messy curls, and Will suspected that was on purpose.
When Mrs. O’Leary had finished with Will’s face and had moved on to the side of his head where (hopefully) hair remained, Will dared to speak.
“I told these nice men that I was the prince, but they didn’t seem to believe me,” Will said, gesturing to the tied up men and crossing his arms as Mrs. O’Leary made his hair stand up only on that one side.
“You look nothing like my father,” Nico said without looking up from his sword. “It’s no wonder they didn’t believe you.”
“Really?” Will asked. “I’ve always thought my nose was quite similar to his.”
Nico finally looked up at him then, dark eyebrow raised. Will could see it took a lot for him to maintain that expression and not break into a fit of laughter, no doubt at Will’s expense. “It seems the tar has had a fight with your eyebrow,” he said, confirming Will’s worst fear.
“Who won?” Will asked, touching the offending eyebrow and immediately knowing the answer. Only a few hairs were left.
“The tar. Most definitely.”
“I’ve sacrificed so much for you, Prince Nico. How much more are you and your dastardly schemes going to cost me?” The was the second time in as many weeks that Will’s glorious (if he did say so himself) appearance had suffered because of Nico. First it was being forced to cut his long, luxurious hair to just around his neck, and now it was this. One whole eyebrow. Gone.
“It wouldn’t be so bad if you could save yourself, William,” Nico said, sheathing his sword once more and stuffing the cleaning cloth into his black leather bag. “What’s the good in being my personal knight when I’m the one saving you?”
“You say this as if the reason you’re having to save me isn’t that you are constantly putting me into bad situations,” Will quipped, and Nico scowled.
“Is that any way to talk to a prince?”
“I suspect not, but I’m mourning the death of my best eyebrow, so you must excuse me.”
This is what made Nico’s face crack open into a crooked smile. Will thought it belonged right beside the stars. Nico ducked his face, quickly controlling his errant facial muscles and clearing his throat. “We must alert my father immediately concerning the kidnapping attempt,” he said, all prim and proper business as he straightened out his peasants’ shirt.
“These men will have to accompany us on our return to the castle,” Will responded, catching Nico’s stride in conversation and rolling with it. “Mrs. O’Leary will prevent them from leaving while we go and summon a carriage and a pull cart for the prisoners.”
They walked out of the cabin together, Nico having changed back into his princely attire and directing Mrs. O’Leary to stay behind. Will still wore his tar-stained white knight tunic, and he had picked up his golden sword from where it had been tossed when he had first entered the brawl with the unknown gentlemen. He was sure he was quite a sight what with the stained royal clothing, missing eyebrow, and slobbered on hair (which, thankfully, had survived the tar).
“It doesn’t look that bad,” Nico said, a sad attempt at reassurance tinging his voice as he pulled his golden crown out of his bag and fit it atop his curls.
“Well, if you’re saying that, then I know it’s bad.” He tried in vain to comb his wet hair covered in hellhound spit over the empty space, to no avail.
“You’re right. It’s hilarious.” Delivered in a deadpan. Nothing less of the prince, Will supposed.
“Speaking of bad,” Will said, eager to direct the conversation away from his missing eyebrow, “let’s discuss your habit of running away while in my care.”
“I’d rather not,” Nico grumbled.
“I’ve avoided telling your father,” Will continued as if Nico hadn’t spoken, “for your sake as well as my own, but I believe that it has become an excessive and needless problem.” Will cast a sideways glance at Nico as they entered the outskirts of the town. “The other knights say you’re perfectly behaved in their care. It’s only me you despise so much.”
“I don’t despise you,” Nico said, but that was as far as he got because they were then swarmed by townsfolk, demanding to know if it was truly the Prince of the Underworld standing before them. They reached out to him, but Will stood in front of him, hand on the hilt of his sword and eyes narrowed.
“This is indeed the prince you speak of,” Will said, making the line of the crowd push back a few steps. “And so you shall treat him with the respect he deserves.”
They all dropped to a knee or both knees, murmuring their prayers and praises for eternal life and prosperity. For Nico as well as themselves.
Despite Will being certain that Nico was quite embarrassed with this display, he jut his chin out and looked down the impressive hooked nose he’d inherited from his father. “Rise,” he said, and they did. Will stepped to Nico’s right side, hand still on his sword for the purpose of safety. Nico regarded the crowd with his deep set eyes, and then he spoke again. “My knight and I require a carriage for the purpose of returning back to the Underworld. We will also be needing a prisoner’s cart.”
The crowd looked around at each other. “We don’t have a carriage fit for a prince,” said a man with enough authority and sympathy in his voice for everyone to agree.
“A carriage fit for two people, whatever status, will be perfectly fine,” Nico replied, and the people sighed in relief. “The carriage will be returned, and a reward will be paid to its owner, as well as the rest of the town, for your hospitality.”
A chorus of praises rang out, and Will and Nico were escorted to the finest inn to await the preparations of the carriage and the prisoner’s pull cart.
Once they were alone enough, Will looked over at Nico, smiling broadly at him. “So you don’t despise me,” he prompted. Nico scowled.
“I’ll have your other eyebrow shaved off in your sleep.”
-
The men, after an interrogation conducted by Will that lasted far less of a time that he thought it would, were low-level criminals hired by an unknown person to kidnap the prince. For reasons unknown. What a great help they were, truly.
Will’s eyebrow grew back slowly and painfully, and he found himself checking its progress everyday in any mirror or flat surface of water when he had the chance. It had finally reached acceptable levels when Will was caught preening at his reflection in the waters of a fountain that stood in Persephone’s garden.
“One Narcissus is enough,” Nico said, and Will stood up from his perch on the fountain, saluting him and then breaking into a grin.
“At least I wasn’t making kissy faces at myself,” Will said, relaxing as Nico sat down on the fountain ledge and raised an eyebrow at him.
“You were far too close to the real thing for my liking.”
“So what is to your liking?”
Nico’s eyes fell to his lap, and he turned away from Will, facing the fountain waters. He seemed quite interested in counting the amount of golden coins that had been thrown into the magical waters.
“What brings you through the gardens in such a late hour?” Will asked, making Nico lose count of the coins.
“Well,” Nico said, still not looking at him and instead fiddling with his thumbs. “I was planning to sneak out.”
“Ooh,” Will cooed, sitting beside Nico at a safe distance for the both of them. “And you’re actually telling me as opposed to keeping me in the dark?”
“I’ll run now if you continue being strange about it,” Nico snapped, and Will laughed.
“Sorry, pretty prince. I’ll stay quiet.” Will mimed zipping his mouth shut. The pretty prince glared at him, pale face ablaze with a pink blush.
“There’s a festival Upstairs that I’ve been wanting to attend,” Nico continued, not breaking eye contact with Will, probably out of spite. “My father doesn’t like the idea because of the hitmen from that time-”
“Smart man.”
“-And I know he’s warned the knights about being persuaded by me-”
“This is true,” Will admitted with a nod. Hades had made the announcement earlier that day.
“-But I know that you have some things that you’d prefer my father not know,” Nico finished, expression blazing and determined. Will couldn’t help but laugh.
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“Yes,” Nico replied without hesitation.
“Prince Nico,” Will said, smiling a shaking his head, “if you wanted to invite me to the festival, all you had to do was ask.”
“So you’ll take me?”
“Sweet prince,” Will said, patting Nico’s cheek. “Absolutely not.”
Nico blanched, his perpetual scowl turning fierce. “But you just said-”
“That I’d be delighted to accompany you on a nice date through a festival, yes,” Will said, standing up and stretching out his limbs. “However, as much as you think I’m an idiot, I still believe in my duty to you and you father.” He offered a hand to Nico, which he took, and he helped the prince stand. “I swore to never purposely put you in harms’ way, and I plan to stand by that.”
“Why is it now that you choose to be valiant?” Nico asked, dropping his hand and shaking his head.
“Oh, little prince, I’ve always been valiant,” Will said, planting a hand on the small of Nico’s back and guiding him out of the gardens. “You’ve just never given me a chance to show off.”
Will took him back to his bedroom, making sure to keep his feet safely outside of the threshold. “Please sleep, Prince Nico,” Will said as Nico glared up at him. “Perhaps next year I can accompany you to this festival you so desire to attend.”
“Yeah, next year,” Nico scoffed, and then punched Will so hard in the jaw that stars danced in his eyes. He fell to the floor, and all went black.
-
Will woke up to a splitting headache and the familiar rumble of a carriage. Except the rumble was making his head rumble, and that was neither familiar nor pleasant. He groaned. His jaw throbbed.
“It’s good that you’re awake,” a nice voice said. Prince Nico. “We’re almost there.”
“You punched me,” Will said, opening his eyes and glaring over to Nico, who sat leisurely across from him.
“And cast a sleep spell on you,” Nico said, as if this wasn’t extremely offensive and criminal.
“For what purpose?” Will asked, sitting up and rubbing his aching jaw. He noted the warmth and weight of Mrs. O’Leary beside him with her heads resting in his lap. He gave her a pat.
Nico looked out the carriage window, scowling.
“I’ll find a way to turn this carriage around,” Will threatened.
“I’m never allowed freedom,” Nico muttered after a small space of silence. “Always guarded, always protected, as if I was never taught to defend myself.”
“You’re the only heir to an important kingdom - arguably the most important,” Will said. “What do you expect?”
“My father can walk outside of his kingdom, and he can do it without a bodyguard or a knight in shining armor.”
“Your father is also objectively terrifying.”
Nico’s sharp gaze turned on him. “Are you saying I’m not?”
“I must admit I’m biased,” Will said, and Nico rolled his eyes.
“Everyone is always preventing me from going out because of some mysterious threat,” Nico continued, shaking his head. “As if I won’t be threatened for my entire life. These things happen, and they happen, and they happen, and they never stop happening. And I’m told to cower in the face of things happening.”
Will pursed his lips. “What are you trying to prove, Prince?”
Nico turned his steady gaze to Will, all sharp angles and contrast. “That I’m not afraid to have fun.”
-
Having fun with Nico was probably the best thing that Will had ever semi-chosen to do. Nico was dressed in his peasants’ clothes, and he forced some on Will, too, and so they blended into the crowds of festival goers.
There were bright lights hung up on strings and stalls that glowed with the promise of prizes or food or both, and it was divine to hold Nico’s waist while attempting not to lose him in the crowd and pretend.
Pretend that they weren’t a knight and a prince. Pretend that they weren’t bound together by duty. Pretend that things were very different.
They took a break from the games at an empty picnic table, the spoils of their dominating the festivals games stuffed into cheap moleskine bags that they put by their feet. In front of them was a single plate of something fried and sweet with strawberry sauce, and already their fingers were covered in sugar and grease. Mrs. O’Leary sat upright, begging for a taste, and Nico let her lick three of his fingers.
“Now you know what you missed out on every time you abandoned me,” Will teased. “A good time with lots of laughs.”
“Oh, be quiet,” Nico said, swatting at the air. He didn’t look annoyed or angry, though, and in fact looked as though a smile was fighting its way to the surface.
“It’s okay to do that more often, you know,” Will said, lost in the pretend.
“What?” Nico asked, looking up from the plate of sugar. The smile was there, caught in the phase before its birth, right when it started to sparkle in his eyes.
“Smile,” Will said, pretending it didn’t take his breath away when the smile broke across Nico’s face. “It’s quite stunning.” Brighter than the festival lights, that’s for sure.
“And you wonder why I always ran from you,” Nico said, shaking his head and hiding his smile with another mouthful of the sugary sweet.
Will was still trying to figure out how to respond when someone yanked his head back and cold metal was pressed against his throat. Given that it was sharp and uncomfortable, Will guessed it was a knife. Within a millisecond, Nico was standing, sword unsheathed. Mrs. O’Leary leaned close to the ground, growls low in her throats. But neither of them made a move. The picnic table was surrounded.
“Move and he dies,” said the person holding Will’s hair.
“What business?” Will asked, putting on his best imperial voice and tilting back his head to look his attacker in the eye. He was wearing a mask, a ridiculous one from the festival, and it wasn’t hard for Will to metaphorically look down his nose at him.
“We’re here for Prince Nico di Angelo of the Underworld, renowned dark sorcerer, heir to King Hades,” said one of the other attackers, also wearing a festival mask. That must’ve been how they were able to slip under Will’s radar, disregarding his distracted state.
“This is he,” Will replied coolly, and the group of attackers advanced. Nico opened his mouth, but Will shot him a look.
“The smaller one looks like him,” one of them commented, and Will rolled his eyes.
“We are wearing glamours,” he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That one is my white knight, disguised as me in the case of this kind of event.”
The attackers shifted uncomfortably. “You’re lying,” said the man holding the knife to Will’s throat.
“Am I?” Will challenged. “See how quickly he drew his sword. See how he is ready to defend me although there are so many of you. He only stopped because I started talking.”
Will was sure Nico would slap him for this later.
None of the attackers seemed to be able to argue with his logic, but none of them were willing to take it at face value. The knife at his throat pressed harder. “Why would you expose your ruse if you are the prince?”
“I would like to survive the night,” Will quipped. The knife dug in harder.
“That’s not enough.”
“And I love him,” Will blurted out, acting as if the words hurt him to say out loud. They did, but in a different way than what he was portraying. He cast his eyes downwards. “I love him, and I would rather be taken than allow him to fall by your hands.”
The attackers laughed, and Will raised his eyes to lock gazes with Nico. He was surprised, he could tell, but Will didn’t bother wasting precious facial expressions when he was being so closely watched.
“Please,” he sobbed pitifully, squeezing his eyes shut. “Take me and spare him.”
“Don’t do this, Prince,” Nico warned.
“My only wish is for you to be safe, my love,” Will said, opening his eyes and levelling a look heavy with meaning at him. “Safe and happy.”
Nico seemed to be relaxing into his character. His sword hand dropped, and he leaned forward, pleading and open. “How could I ever be happy without you by my side to protect?” he asked, and Will actually felt his heart squeeze in response.
He turned his face away. “Do not make this harder than it has to be, darling. Let me go.” Nico was a really good actor. He looked as though his heart was breaking.
“What a show,” the man holding Will’s head snarled. He yanked Will up so that he was standing, knife still pressed against his throat. “Beck and Selina, stay behind and take care of the knight. The rest of you come with me.”
Will was paraded off, the knife coming off from his neck as they entered the crowded parts of the festival and taking its place at the small of his back. “Scream, little prince, and I’ll make sure your death is slow and torturous.” Will nodded silently.
He was unceremoniously shoved into a carriage, a blindfold tied around his eyes and a gag stuffed into his mouth. They tied his wrists behind his back and took away his sword. And then they laughed and talked about the festival, as if they were normal and not currently kidnapping someone.
About an hour passed (Will had counted), and then he was paraded off the carriage and into someplace cold, and then to someplace cold and dark, where he heard locks clicking and the laughter fading. He counted, and prayed Nico was okay.
-
A day passed on the floor of the cold cellar - surely it must’ve been a cellar with how cold and damp it was - with no change. Will was hungry, but not starving, and although he was cold, he wasn’t freezing. All free thoughts were spent praying that Nico had made it to safety.
He was less sure the more time passed.
Another day passed, and then another. He was dehydrated and weak and probably the worst situation he’d ever been in because of Nico. But he didn’t blame him. He only begged the gods that he’d made it home safe.
It was during the third day that Will was forced up and poked and prodded through hallways and up staircases until he was panting with the effort to keep his balance. And then a hand shoved at his back, and he was forced to catch himself with his knees on hard, cold floor.
“Remove the blindfold,” said a rasping, cold voice that fit right in with the atmosphere. The blindfold was removed.
The bright light of day was harsh on Will’s sensitive eyes, and he was forced to close them right after he opened them. Slowly, he opened his eyes again, though they watered and burned, and he raised his face to stare at his captor.
It was a man withering away. Centimeters from death, though it looked as if he was closer to simply turning to ash. His hair was long and gray and brittle, seamlessly blending in with his beard, which matched the color of his robes, which matched the color of his skin. The only hint that he was alive at all was the surreal glow of his golden eyes, disks of color pressed into a statue of a dying man.
He sat on a throne made of gold, and the rest of the room was a mess of black and white. But Will spared only a glance at that. He focused on the man’s eyes, defiant without saying a word.
“You’re glamour has lasted a long time,” the old man said, as if it was a joke.
“No less quality expected for a prince,” Will replied, his voice rough and grating without an ounce of water to smooth it out.
“Where is the prince?”
“You’re looking at him,” Will replied, and there was a kick to Will’s back that made him double over in an attempt to catch his breath.
“He knows you’re lying,” said the voice of the man who’d captured him.
“Luke,” the old man chastised, “let’s be nice to our guest.” The golden disks had never left Will. He knew this even though there were no pupils to speak of. “I will ask you again. Where is the prince?”
He was asking it so nicely, but Will felt the aura of power and dread. He wasn’t a fool.
“Perhaps you should listen to what I’ve told you,” Will said, catching his breath. “You’re looking at him.”
“Tell us where the prince is, and your life will be spared,” the man said, sounding bored.
An unexplainable hope barreled through Will’s traitorous heart, and he found himself saying: “The prince is here.”
The man sighed, waving a frail hand. “Take him away.”
The one called Luke hauled Will to his feet rather roughly, and then shoved him to the door. And then the door burst open, and Will whirled, kneeing Luke between the legs and diving to the side as Prince Nico barged into the room, slashing Luke with the knife so quickly, the boy had no time to dodge the blade as it tore open the skin of his face. Luke cried out, falling to the ground and pressing his hands over the bleeding gash.
Nico stood like a knight, black sword unsheathed and sharp face positively warrior-like as he stared down the man in the chair. The air crackled with power, and then Will laughed.
“I told you,” he said, and then Nico helped Will to his feet as he continued laughing. The man said nothing.
“I will be taking what’s mine now,” Nico said, throwing out a hand and making the shadows of the room circle around each other to make a portal. He was just about the push Will through when the man spoke.
“I will find you again, Nico,” he said, calmly, patiently. “And when I do, you will be giving me what I want.”
“You’ll find me again, Kronos,” Nico said, just as calmly. “But I’ll find you first.”
And with that, he pushed Will through the portal and then jumped in after him.
-
When Will woke up, Prince Nico was resting his head on the hospital bed, fast asleep even as he clutched one of Will’s hands in his own.
Will had been catching up on the nutrients he’d missed out on while in captivity, and on sleep, which he’d been doing most of the hours of the day. Nico had visited over the past couple of days, but this type of vulnerability was uncommon. Will nudged him awake.
“Hey, pretty prince.”
“You’re feeling better,” Nico grumbled shifting and rubbing his face with his free hand. Will noticed that he didn’t let go of Will’s hand, and he tried not to focus on that too much.
“You’re entirely correct,” Will said, voice quiet even though he had his own personal room. But it was still dark, and it felt wrong to speak too loudly. “I feel ready to take on a few hydras and perhaps some greasy food.”
“You’ll throw it all up,” Nico replied, his voice rough with sleep.
“You sure know how to talk sweet to me,” Will teased, and Nico looked away. “But you’re correct. I would probably throw up all the hydras.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Nico said, and Will laughed, keeping it low in his throat, closer to his heart.
“You should be more clear with what you mean.”
“You first,” Nico quipped back.
“That’s fair,” Will said reasonably. “I meant that hydra skin is so tough and an absolute hellion to cook, and so eating it at present would be-” He stopped, laughing again when he saw Nico’s scowl. “Kidding.”
“I don’t know why I saved you,” Nico grumbled, burrowed his face into the hospital blankets.
“Well, technically, I saved you first,” Will said.
Nico shifted so that he could see Will, and one of his starry smiles pulled at his lips. “Then that makes us even.” He squeezed Will’s hand, and Will’s heart skipped a beat in response.
“You’re entirely unfair,” Will whispered, and the smile spread over Nico’s face, lighting up his eyes and showing his teeth, almost against his will.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Will squeezed his hand and brought it up to his lips, where he pressed a kiss to Nico’s knuckles.
A beat of stunned silence. Nico’s face was blazing.
“And you’re calling me unfair,” Nico said. “What was that for?”
“Saving me,” Will said, kissing Nico’s knuckles again.
Nico blinked, his breath hitching. “And that one?”
“Because I wanted to,” Will said, pressing another kiss to his knuckles. “Because I meant it when I said I wanted you to be happy and safe.” Another kiss. “Because I meant it when I said I loved you.”
It was a confession. A dangerous one, and they both knew it.
But Nico just ducked his head, pulling their conjoined hands down to his lips, and pressing a kiss of his own to Will’s knuckles. “Because I meant it when I said I couldn’t be happy without you by my side.”
It was dangerous. It was probably looked down upon. But when they fell asleep again, dawn close and warm, their hands were still together, and smiles rested on their lips. The waking sun didn’t disturb them, but it welcomed them with open arms.