Archive of Our Own

Verona is particularly starry tonight.  A field of flecks and flickers, shimmering silver in the navy night sky. It casts a stunning glow upon the city below, creating an ephemeral appreciation for it all without the usual hustle bustle of the town. Will leans against the window, and from the very top floor of the manor, he can admire the way the moonlight basks the city in the dead of night. Relish in the unnatural, momentary stillness of it all.

Soon enough, that peace shatters (like it always does) and Will finds himself slightly startled when the his bedroom door swings open, lacking a knock or an announcement.

"The Di Angelo's are throwing a masquerade party."

Why was it, Will thinks, not yet entirely pulled out from his rare state of tranquillity, that the peace is always shattered when the name Di Angelo was involved?

These streets could be so sweet if the Di Angelo's didn't taint them with their incompetence. They always sought out trouble, went looking for it like it gave them some sort of sick thrill. Their sense of exhilaration drawn from the quarrels and battles they initiate, detonating with commotion like flames meeting gunpowder, then burning the Solace name alongside it all. 

And all for what? A grudge? One of which that not even many of each house could remember having it happened so many generations ago? 

"Masquerade?" Will replies when Cecil joins by his side, who's peer also takes purchase on the calm Verona below. "They're still doing that?"

Cecil chuckles with derogation, "It's Di Angelo tradition, Will, it's a big deal. And they've seemed to have given the whole of Verona a personal invite, well, all besides from us."

"I can hardly imagine why," the blond mumbles, rolling his eyes because he now knows exactly where this conversation is going.

"Yeah, so I think that we should just crash--"

"No."

Had this been a week ago, Will probably couldn't of been more than pliant to show up. Hell, he might've been the one convincing Cecil to go rather than the other way round. However, now his voice is firm and stubborn, holding that Solace heir authority that runs through his blood.

"Oh come on Will, stop moping about Montes and have a little fun. He's one of them you know, you might even get to see him."

Will feels like he could strangle him with his bare hands for a second.

"It's not about Paolo," he announces bitterly, his face hinting at a scowl, "You know why we can't go. You were there when Zeus said it, any more feuds and we'll get exiled. We can't risk getting caught there and making a scene."

That new regulation has only recently been passed, and though the King's new law may have simmered some of the chaos Will knew it would only be so long until it all bubbles out again. He doesn't think that this decades long mutiny could ever be tamed. 

"The Di Angelo's are thick! They won't know it's us," his closest friend states, stubbornly defending his point, "Besides it's masquerade. Masks. No one will even be able to see our faces!"

"You and I both know that father would have our heads if we went." It's true, Apollo has faced the wrath of Zeus too many times and was even temporarily exiled twice. Though his despise for the Di Angelo's could never be topped he, most of all, understands that a threat like his could not at all be taken lightly.

Will faces Cecil and his dark blue was eyes are swimming with mischief.

"That's only if we get caught."

Will doesn't say anything, only pushing himself off the tall panes of the window, striding across the grand span of his room towards the mahogany door, all with the intention of just kicking Cecil out for the night.

"Think about it Will, Paolo's going to be there," the brunet teases, knowing all too well where Will's personal weaknesses lie.

But god does Will want to see Paolo again. 

"We'll go so long as we're back before midnight," Will caves before forcefully dragging his friend out into the hallway; then slamming the door on his face.

~*~

Will grows to regret his decision more as he stares back at his reflection in the full body mirror.

The suit is form fittingly tailored like any other he owns, anything less wouldn't be considered fanciful enough for a Solace. Which is partly the reason why Will picks out one the the older blazers in the back of his closet, one of which is a deep navy colour that only has a speck of dust on the shoulder. It hugs around his torso a little too tightly but he decides that if he leaves the buttons undone and keep his white dress shirt tucked in, it's barely noticeable. 

He ignores the golden silk tie that's laid sprawled across the desk, upon it embezzled the cursive 'S' as the Solace crest. The material is years old and yet upon it there was not even a spot of fluff. Will casts it aside, drawing out a simple blue tie instead, one of which was only a few shades lighter than his suit. He can't  remember the last time he didn't wear the Solace tie with a tux, but if he wears it tonight, then he's sure to get recognised.

Admittedly, he feels quite bare without it and the new material feels oddly itchy and too tight around his collar, but he bypasses that as he constantly reminds himself he's not a Solace tonight.

And as he peers down at the moderately lavished, bronze coated masquerade mask, he reminds himself he's a simple nobody tonight.

Cecil arrives in no time, dressed in a sleek suit and mask already covering his giddy expression. His mask is mostly scarlet, simple at first sight, but a lot more intricate the more you focus on each curve of detail etched into it. Will's his best friend, so of course he'll recognise him. But in the ignorant eyes of a Di Angelo, he begins to think that this plan may actually have a chance of being successful, so long as they just keep their heads low.

"Ready to get your man, Solace?"

"Shut up," Will mutters back, grabbing his own bronze plated mask from the dresser before they sneak off into the dead of night.

~*~

The party is already in full swing when they arrive and Will dully picks up on the unfamiliarity that comes alongside being a simple guest rather than a host. It certainly takes a lot of heft off his shoulders, allowing him to feel a lot lighter, more free to do what ever he desires without waking up to the inevitable backlash of irresponsibility in the morning. Perhaps he can enjoy himself.

Still though, this is a Di Angelo hosted party. Will's not entirely blown away with the dark, minimalist decor or the way the manor's ballroom is too small to cramp in all their guests. It seems, yet again, the Di Angelo's just made another impulsive decision in a pathetic attempt to one up the Solace's, as if stating loud and clear: 'We can invite the whole of Verona into our home, how can you beat that?'

Will's head is bowed — absentmindedly forgetting the mask serves great purpose at hiding his identity — as he dodges through the crowd, swallowed by frilly ball gowns and concealed by chit chattering lords and ladies. He doesn't want to make any small talk, especially not while incognito. Will only has one reason for his hidden arrival and one reason only.

The blond scans the crowd for his reason, and he smiles dreamily when he finds it. Paolo stands beside one of the various refreshment tables, a fizzing glass of champagne cupped in a smooth, dark hand. An olive dress shirt tucked under his belt, a charming smile radiating confidence as Will can hear that exotic voice be carried to him even from the distance between them. Paolo looks all too dashing, dark, tall and handsome and before Will knows it he's pardoning himself through the crowd towards that very man.

Like everyone else, his face is concealed by a mask; Paolo's is golden, and has clearly spared not expense with the extravagance of the various jewels preciously placed upon it.

"Pardon me, Ma'am," Will intrudes politely, an involuntary smile spreading across his lips despite his desperate need to just have Paolo to himself in the moment.

And Will's just about to ask if he could whisk him away for a dance before the lady turns around. Though her face is prettily covered by black feathers and silver gems that she holds by a stick in her palm, Will falters. It's Persephone. Lady Di Angelo. It's undoubtable, and he mentally kicks himself for not recognising her elegant curls or chocolate skinned arms from afar.

It's not completely intentional, but Will's head does duck slightly as if it would help the case of exposure at all. 

"You don't mind if I steal him from you for a moment, do you?" Will asks but finds his usual tone has increased by an octave. He glances up, his prayers answered as Lady Di Angelo's features don't flicker with rage or recognition.

"Of course not," she smiles, showing off pearly teeth and vivid red lipstick before she's off to mingle with more of her guests.

"And to what do I owe this honour?" 

Oh yeah, Will reminds himself, he doesn't know who I am. Formal talk always gives it away. The blond's manners are the height of exquisite, but he knows that there's certain people around of which he can just release all regulations. Paolo's one of them; certainly the Brazilian would know that. From the few encounters in which their paths collided, Will certain that he wasn't being his most tame self in his presence.

But it's no matter, maybe if he doesn't know him as a Solace, he may actually have a better chance this time round.

"Actually," Will starts, grinning his million dollar beam, "I was wondering if you could do me the honour to assist me in a dance--"

 --And who the hell is that?

It's when Will's gaze promptly latches onto the intricate curves of a pitch black, lacy mask that he subconsciously forgets that he's speaking, or that Paolo is even standing there at all. Now it seems like the blond's spell bound by an all new figure, one who is lithe and pale and seems as if he was delicately crafted by angels. The mask contours like graceful shadows against porcelain skin, similar to the way the stray strands of his inky hair falls from it's tie and frames his carved cheeks stunningly.

He is stunning, he's quite possibly the most beautiful--

"Did you mean to say dance?" 

Will blinks out of his trance, dazed when he realises the man that's still stood in front of him. Suddenly, there's nothing quite so entrancing about Paolo, just a handsome face with a fitting grin, nothing much beyond that. Nothing remotely attractive in comparison to the way Will feels his heart pounding out of his chest as he laid eyes upon the angel in the corner of the ball, shying away from everyone as he fiddles with a silver ring upon his right hand. 

"I, uh... sorry what?" the blond stammers, thoughts hazy as he's not even discreet in the way he stares down the figure.

"You were asking if you wanted to dance."

His sincere grin has no conviction and though he hopes to sound apologetic, it doesn't come across as such.

"Sorry, I just... gotta head out, y'know... um, Merry Masquerade?"

Will practically runs.

Not daring to look back, he decides to drown himself in the crowd instead; it's where he finds himself becoming slightly lightheaded by the mingling scents of sickly sweet, over-priced perfumes. Maybe it's a little swiftly returned karma for his inadequately embarrassing behaviour around the most likely now confused man but Will will accept it graciously if it doesn't taint his approach to the raven haired figure in the corner.

Will nudges his tie a little tighter around his neck upon taking note on just how sharp the gentleman looks in his tux. It's all black and all sleek. Slim fitted trousers doing favours to those legs, under which has a grey button up tucked in. Upon that, a jet black waistcoat hugs him just right, partially visible underneath the perfectly tailored blazer. He appears unapproachable, something to be appreciated from afar, as if he belongs behind glass in a museum. His set jaw and unsociable presence only compliments it, but it also entices Will twice as much.

Will sets off towards the man, parting through the clusters of people, not all that bothered about keeping his head low because he's so close now—

—but then there's a jerky hand on his shoulder.

"Will, there you are, man! I saw Paolo just outside—"

"Get lost," the blond hisses, not very amused by Cecil's poorly timed presence.

The brunet's hands raise slightly in surrender. "Ouch," he begins, "I'm guessing your whole get together didn't go to plan then."

Will's eyes narrow into slits, "No, but—"

"Oh dude that sucks, but have you tried the jalapeño poppers here? Cause trust me Will it will spice up your night better than Paolo ever could."

The Solace takes a long, hard look at Cecil, his mind trying to determine why he's friends with him at all. Still though, he shuts his eyes briefly and takes a deep breath. It doesn't really help to calm, but he just does it to show Cecil just how untimely he is right now.

"I'm over Paolo," Will says, tone calmly tense.

"That a boy," Cecil grins and he heftily pats Will's back, "Just move on, he was never worth your time anyway. I always knew it—"

"I might have turned Paolo down."

Unsurprisingly, Cecil's face collapses before shooting a look of ludicrous disbelief.

"Yeah, right," he says at first before he regards Will's unwavering expression, "Did he say something? Did he touch you?"

"No, he didn't touch me, you idiot," Will states blandly, "There's someone else—"

"—Dear god help us all."

"And I was just about to talk to him until you showed up."

Cecil winces, "So that's why you're so grouchy, because I cockblocked you."

"Yes, Cecil," Will monotones, "It's because you cockblocked me."

The brunet shrugs his shoulders, "Well don't let me keep you from a good time. Remember your own rule though, we're out before midnight."

His best friend delivers a wink before he's off, it's when Will soon after discovers that the beautiful man that stood in the corner is now no longer to be seen.

"Son of a bitch," he mutters to no one in particular, turning on his heel to promptly nudge his way through the crowd.

It's not until he crashed into someone in his irritated strides that he finds out where the man (that was) in the corner is.

Will finds him collapsed in a heap on the polished marbled floor, palms breaking his fall, hair unruly with more strands cascading from its pony tail.

Will stops and stares for a second, because he's just lying there in all his gorgeous glory.

"Thanks for that," is all he says and Will's already hooked onto the velvety accent of his silky voice. It's around the same time when the blond's senses kick in.

"I'm so sorry," Will gushes, promptly extending out his hand towards the unnamed male, "I wasn't looking where I was going, oh fuck, sorry."

When the raven haired boy's palm meets his, Will has to kick away the sudden urge to retract his hand, unprepared for the surge of sparks that shocks his skin.

"It's fine."

"It's not fine," Will replies swiftly, pulling the man back onto his feet and he resists the itch in his fingers to tuck the loose, inky hair behind his ears. It's not exactly to do with the fact that he looks bad, since it's so, so far from it, but there is an expected amount of professionalism to keep up in the presence around here -- and despite his own bad blood with the Di Angelo's, he doesn't want to be the reason to scar someone else's impression on one of the most powerful families in Verona. 

The man brushes his clothes off with his hands in quick strokes, "No, it's alright. Nobody saw and there's no damage done." 

Then he looks up, his bottomless, brown eyes meeting Will's and the blond's breath catches in his throat. They're so deep, almost completely swallowed by abyssal blackness. Against the pitch, lacy mask, they look especially alluring and Will can't stop himself from staring.

Will's brain doesn't seem to process any sort of thought in the short moment their gazes exchanged, the only one being provided is: I'm already in love.   

"Let me make it up to you," he finds himself saying.

A dark eyebrow quirks at this, "How so?"

Fuck.

Will didn't think that far ahead.

And it certainly doesn't help him think when his lithe arms reach up and long, pale fingers pull against the hair tie in his ponytail. It doesn't help that Will's so enticed on the man simply just pulling back silky, stray strands in an attempt to tidy himself up. It doesn't help that Will's well aware that this level of attraction is disconcertingly abnormal, but it also doesn't help that he's already addicted on the sensation of these feel-good chemicals fizzing around in his body, or the way his heart feels like it's one more beat away from breaking out of his ribs. 

Will never realised how much he loves being in love until he's now truly drowning in the emotion.

"We can head out of this party," he grins what he hopes to be his most charming smile,

"Drinks on me."

The way he shakes his head appears to be apologetic, but the way the blood rushes to tint the contours of his cheeks — that's not quite concealed by his mask — doesn't let Will lose all hope in the much anticipated agree to his offer. 

"I'm sorry, I can't," the man rejects, and Will attempts to choke down a dry morsel of disappointment, "I have to stay here. You know, appearances and all."

"Ah, I understand," because he does, truly. But Will's still entirely willing to get goddamn exiled for this man. The weight of responsibility feels so minor in the moment.

As a waiter passes by, one arm extended for formal posture, balancing a silver platter of champagne filled glasses, Will takes two. It's perfect timing, and just about the best stroke of luck he's had the whole night, so he barely contains his smirk as he offers one to the man.

"Would you at least care for a glass?" Will asks, his tone mocking formalities, bowing down a little just to rub it in a little.

It works because the man chuckles lightly and it's the most elated the blond has felt in the entirety of his life. 

"Free champagne? How can I resist? It'd impossible for me not to forgive you," he responds but still accepts the glass, his sarcasm teasing yet a thanks woven into the tone.

Will's not sure on how much time passes as they sip on their drinks and chatter and laugh. He's not entirely sure when about the man escorts him away from the ball and into the more private, and certainly secluded, grand hallway of Di Angelo mansion. And to be completely honest, he's not at all sure on how much time they lasted until the raven haired man's back is pressed up against the wall, and Will's lips press against his.

He's also unsure about how long they spend together with their kisses gliding other each like sparks bursting into flames, but it's somewhere in the midst of their heated session where Will pulls away with the drag of the man's now swollen lip between his teeth.

"I didn't quite catch your name," Will breathes, using the opportunity to catch his breath before diving into his neck to kiss and nip at the soft, supple, untainted skin.

There's a hitch of breath before he replies, "Nico." Then there's a pause in which his fingers bury and intertwine into the golden curls of his lover's hair, "Yours?"

"Will," is all he says before he sinks his teeth into the flesh, eager to make his mark. He sucks and bites until he's there's a maroon bruise blossoming underneath, in which he places a quick peck before returning to Nico's lips that meet him halfway.

He lets his thumbs trace the edge of his mask, the texture of his silken skin juxtaposing the fleecy material. The rest of his fingers cup Nico's jaw, holding him against his languid movements.

The moment could've lasted forever. Will is so addicted to the crackling heat that all he completely forgets of his reservations — who he is, what exactly he's doing. They all slip past some metaphorical trap door, even his Solace title not holding on with enough cling as it also gets burnt away with the intensity of the sensation.

Yet, it would've been too perfect to have lasted forever. Too much of a good thing, something that Will has learnt that his life has never offered. They part abruptly to the sudden pandemonium that could still be heard though the thick walls of the hallway they occupy. Chaos erupted yet again, Di Angelo name surely entangled, and Will kids himself for believing that perhaps he could enjoy himself, in the very household of the enemy.

"Shit," Nico murmurs and is gently pushing Will away, retreating from his place against the lavished wall before he paces out of the room to witness the commotion. His appearance is mussed, and Will tries to warn him but he's already off to the sound of turmoil.

Will stalks right behind him.

He just about catches up when Nico bursts through the crowd, a fire on his trail. 

"What the hell is going on?" Nico demands, loud and clear, authorising his presence amongst the party-goers. 

Will pushes his way through the crowd to see what they seem to be gathered around, some mumbling, some bellowing, and despite how much it pains his ears it just piles onto his curiosity.

But he really, really regrets it when he see's Cecil standing in the centre of it all, his uncovered face not painted with that carefree grin, instead twisted into a scowl he reserves for the ones he hates the most. It's rather fitting considering that Lord Di Angelo is stood there with fury etched into the furrow of his eyebrows, his mask removed to demonstrate his undeniable rage.

"It's Cecil Markowitz, from Solace house!" someone announces loudly, the voice striking as familiar, exotic and accented. It's undoubtable, it's Paolo's. "And he's not here alone," he sneers, "He's brought the spawn too."

Cecil's determined to come across undeterred, but there is a blatant flash of panic as he meets his gaze with Will's, who looks onto the scene, knowing the inevitability of the impending exposure.

Nico barges his way into the cleared span that the crowd circles around, into the tensioned space between the Hades Di Angelo and Cecil. Will knows he's overstepping his position, what authority does Nico have over anyone involved?

"What the hell are you doing here?" Nico growls, laced with unspoken threats, his voice poisonous, "Think you could come here, plot something without being noticed?" 

"And who are you?" Cecil grits out, glaring daggers through his narrowed eyes.

But Nico matches it effortlessly, if not then with even more venom. His lips contour into part of a spiteful smirk, his fingers reaching up to remove his own mask.

"Nico Di Angelo, blood heir of the House of Di Angelo."

Nico Di Angelo.

The whole chaos blurs into the background, the severe accusations dissolve into insignificance as Will's breathlessly submerged in the realisation. He feels like he's frozen, his body becomes tense and his mind seems to have halted to sudden stop. The gears don't shift in his brain, clogged on the comprehension of Nico, the same, beautiful Nico that makes his heart throb like no one else ever has, being a Di Angelo. Better yet, being the one and only son of Hades. 

Will's stumped, and with bleary eyes does he watch the scene unfold before him. The Nico that he's fallen so deeply for, firing accusations and threats at his best friend like it's in his blood. Since it's in his blood.

"He's not the only one," Hades' voice booms that momentarily snaps Will out of his dreary, subconscious state, "Paolo speaks of the son of Apollo's presence too."

Cecil has always been bold, and Will already predicts what his next impulsive action will be, "Is little Paolo here upset that a certain someone turned him down--?"

He's cut off to the crack of a dark, swarthy fist colliding harshly against his jaw. Will's temper exceeds his patience, and with the heavy grunt of pain that resonates from his best friend, even his rational self doesn't want to hold back.

There's no way Will can shy from this. Fuck all with the repercussions, damn the fucking consequences. His calloused hands tears the mask off his face, tossing it carelessly upon the ground with a slight, metallic thud. He steps forward, making himself known, the efforts of staying hidden all night collapsing in the split of a second.

"Cecil!" he yells as Paolo's muscled body pins him to the polished floor, another forceful punch delivered, his what used to be handsome face besmirched with ugly aggression. Will's no fighter, but he rushes forward regardless, gripping onto the slippery, satin material of Paolo's dress shirt, yanking with an adrenaline fuelled fury. Will heavily hauls the man off his best friend, letting him roll over to the side as he immediately bolts to Cecil's aid.

He helps the brunet back onto his feet, Cecil's nose bloodied and cheekbone bruised. Will catches a glimpse of Paolo pushing himself off the ground too, his body poised on the offensive, yet all he gives is a maniacal grin, a small, crazed chuckle emitting through his clench teeth.

"Finally decided to join the party?" Paolo ridicules at the blond, lip curled in disdain.

"I was here the whole time, wasn't I?" he snarks, but when Paolo steps forward Will jerks his arms up in half surrender. "Look, we don't want any trouble--"

"--And yet here you are," Hades cuts off, "Don't test me, William, otherwise you'll see your father's fate." Lord Di Angelo's strides are menacing but Will puts up all his resistance against cowering, "Apollo put you up to this, didn't he?"

"He doesn't know we're here, my father has nothing to do with this."

"What?" Nico breathes, and it's as quiet as a gasp gets but Will still hears above the overlapping taunts of the crowd. The blond dares to catch his gaze, his bottomless, brown eyes blown wide and incredulous, lips parted in obvious shock. Nobody shows any signs of noticing Nico's change in demeanour, but Will sees it as clear as day, and his heart aches as he forces himself to push him to the back of his mind. Nico is not the main worry at the moment, Will knows that, but he can't help but long to wrap his arms around the man and explain himself soothingly against his ear.

"Riddle me this, boy," Hades starts, piercing his pitch black glare through Will's, "Why did you come here?"

Will resists the urge to gulp, "It was of my awareness that the whole of Verona would be invited."

There's an uneasy grin that splits across Hades' threatening features, "Let me make this crystal clear to you, Solace. You and your people will never be welcomed here. Now get the hell out and don't come back, next time, I won't be so merciful."

~*~

Unsurprisingly, sleep doesn't come easily. Even between the silken sheets, crisp and cool, fatigue fails to overcome his active mind. 

The digital clock on his bedside reads 23:25, and still the prior events mingle in his head. The commotion, law breaking, threats, violence, Nico.

Nico.

Will knows it's borderline unhealthy how much he's found himself invested. Yet beauty like that doesn't bless just anyone, skin like moonlight, draped in midnight black. Eyes like a black hole, kiss crazed with quintessence. Light hitting him at the best possible angles, yet still carving out graceful shadows. It's ethereal.

All of it just pains him to recall Nico's expression at the reveal, and though it's ridiculous coming from his side, Will can't help but think that he had betrayed the man, mislead his trust. After everything felt so perfect, it all crumbled in that one scene and Will can't help but shoulder the responsibility.

Fate's always had a knack for lifting Will sky high before sending him plummeting into concrete, to make everything that seems so gifted to later crack under the force of impossibility. 

Yet impulse drives him to damn to hell with fate.

And, impulsively, he yanks of the silken sheets from his body and grabs a jacket.

~*~

As the chilly midnight breeze teeters around him, he's starting to realise his second regret of the evening.

It was pure luck that Will had managed to get out of the Di Angelo manor unscathed, even more so lucky that he managed to get into the Solace manor without raising suspicion. Really, it should strike him as a warning, a wake up call of such, but it's clearly not the case as he occupies the grassy back planes, looking up at the very same dark mansion from earlier tonight. 

Yes, it's beyond idiotic, and Will's very much aware of this. Still though, he's determined and impulse has already gotten him this far that there's no point turning back now. However, it feels like even the crickets mock his stupid willpower, dead silence replaced by their constant chirping, as if laughing at the blond for even thinking about doing this.

To be fair, it is a pretty fucking stupid idea, Will thinks, then shaking his head as he finds himself agreeing with some fucking crickets.

Regardless, Will grabs onto the decorative ribbons of vine, and sends a prayer to every god he knows that the open window on the third floor is Nico's room. 

Then, he begins to climb.

It's a rash and brainless course of action, and just for a second, Will considers what the hell he's actually doing when he's halfway to the goal in his mind. But there's this unquenchable need coiling within him and he just feels like he needs to explain himself to the Di Angelo, and then (though it's gods so wrong) maybe he could actually get somewhere romantically besides from a few hallway kisses and a broken heart. 

He's almost at the open window, and the taunt ropes of vine start to feel slippery as his palms grow sweatier by the second. Luckily, there's a ledge above one of the lower windows that Will can just about rest his foot on for a few moments. It's from that point, Will truly realises how delusion this idea really is.

"I don't need you lecturing me, Jason. I already fucking know it's messed up."

It's a voice, it's his voice. Will's certain of it, he'd be able to recognise that voice from miles away. Velvety smooth and tinged with an accent, it was definitely Nico's. Will subconsciously tightens his grip around the vine as he feels his heart begin to race, feet shuffling more securely upon the narrow ledge. He finds himself holding his breath too, one slight sound and he's dead meat.

"I know, Grace, I know," Nico seethes as Will realises he listening one side of a conversation. He's most likely on his phone, speaking to Di Angelo family friend Jason Grace. "Look-- y-- yeah-- yes! I know what his last name is!"

There's silence on Nico's end, filled with the pacing of his rapid footsteps until he speaks again, "Solace be damned! I don't fucking care about what his last name is, what importance does it have anyways? It's literally just one word that makes this entire thing so difficult. If he was Will fucking Smith, he's still the same goddamn person, but the fact that he is a Solace suddenly makes everything impossible. Sono solo cazzate-- Yes I know who Will Smith is I'm trying to make a fucking point, Grace."

Will's guilt from eavesdropping is suddenly uplifted by the way his heart soars. 

"I don't expect you to get it, Grace," Nico sighs, soft and breezy, "But I know how I feel, I love him."

It was almost as if the gods knew the gravity of the confession, and Will only has a second of jubilance before the crumble beneath his feet sounds. With a sudden yelp, he spontaneously latches onto the vines with a vice like grip, holding on for dear life. The soles of his shoes find purchase on the stony (apparently ancient) wall of the manor, dangerously supporting his body weight like a suicidal abseiler. 

At this point, all Will can do is hope that Nico didn't hear the rumbling rubble or his stupidly loud yelp. 

Will knows it doesn't work as he's met with dead silence, pacing ceased.

"I'll call you back, Jason," Nico says with a trace of hesitance.

Fuck.

The footsteps now are consciously creeping, and get increasingly loud the closer they approach the windowsill.

Fuck.

"Will?!"

Fuck.

"Oh, Nico... Fancy seeing you here."

Will feels like just letting go of the vines completely would be the only way to end this damning embarrassment. 

"What the actual fuck," Nico cusses with bewilderment, and Will tilts his head skywards to see gorgeous face sticking out from the window, mouth agape and eyes incredulous.  "Just— just get in, Will."

Will spares a beat contemplating whether he should actually ascend, since though the ground seems so far away as he glances down, it does appear as the most easy way out of this humiliating situation. Nonetheless, he merely sucks in a quick breath before he hauls himself up and he feels his face burn red with effort.

When he eventually reaches the sill, he slides beyond it paired with the attempt to make himself look least like a fool. Will's not quite sure whether it works though, since when his feet plant firmly onto the laminate ground of the well-lavished bedroom, he's panting to catch his breath and he can feels the slight sweat on the back of his neck in spite of the chilly air.

Nico stands besides the door, guarded and tense with bare arms crossed over his chest. There's an unspoken warning with the way he's poised, and though Will has a good half a head of height over the man, in this moment the blond doesn't doubt that the Di Angelo could kill him if he desired. His build is dainty, but he still gives the impression he can more than defend himself when the time strikes.

It just makes Will's heart swell even more with affection.

"Well?" Nico hisses and yanks Will from his trace like state, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Will desperately sweeps his brain for an adequate response, trying his best to not notice those dark irises burn holes into his skull with the intensity they stare at. "I came here to see you," he replies with as much sincerity as he could muster.

In return, Nico gives an immensely criticising glance, "You're an idiot."

"Maybe," the blond responds because, truthfully, he can't deny it himself. Out of habit, his hand rakes itself through his curls to try to regain his composure. "But I had to explain myself after the party."

"There's nothing to explain, Solace," he presses heatedly, "What even gave you the idea that you could come back here after tonight? What makes you think I even want to see you after I found out who you actually are?"

Nico's tone is abrasive and Will should of expected an angered response. This whole idea was carried out on a whim, the desire to just see Nico again drowned away Will's rationality, and if that wasn't the case, Will would've had a well thought out, thorough plan and would've listed out a thousand different responses to anything that the Di Angelo could say.

Yet that wasn't the case, Will hadn't prepared himself and he relies his entire trust on his spontaneity. 

Which is a grave thing...

"Because.... you... love me?"

Will knew it was the wrong response as soon as it slipped past his (what should have been sealed) lips, so he can't be all too startled when he finds his back thud against the grey walls, pressed into it with a fierce forearm held upon his throat. It happens so swiftly that Will can't help but be impressed; almost relishing in the way his breath forced out of him as the dizziness retreats from his head.

"And what makes you say that?"

It's venomous and Will can't stop himself from wincing at the tone. Everything about the boy screams threats, that face still impossibly pretty even as it scowls. From the inch of space between each of their noses, the blond can feel the Nico's cool breath that he seethes. His bottomless eyes glare piercingly through his own, clouded with surfaced rage, yet the deeper Will delves the more guarded they become.

Will's mouth open and then closes, and he does this a couple times attempting to carefully piece his words together. Even then though, his mind feels fogged, hazed as the only thought that seems latch is how close Nico is to him.

It makes him gulp, twice, but still Nico doesn't relent his grip. He menacingly stares down the blond for an answer, wordlessly demanding it before Will comes out with his answer.

"I may or may not have overheard your call."

Nico freezes, and gives him a look so intense that Will is certain that he's going to get punched. However, within a split second, he forcefully pushes himself away from the blond, regarding Will with a scandalised expression.

"Oh my god!" Nico exclaims; Will can't hold back his reflexive cringe, he knows he's only digging himself a deeper hole to suffer in. "Are you stalking me or something? What even-- What are you even doing here? Fuck, have you ever heard of privacy?"

Will attempts to tame the situation by shooting his hands up in surrender, it doesn't help.

"No, no, look I swear I didn't mean to eavesdrop but I couldn't exactly block it out..."

"That's because you were too busy scaling the walls, trying to sneak into my room!" Nico accuses, anger no long evident but it's all replaced with the sheer horror of everything leading up to this one moment, "I've heard more than enough shit about you Solace's but hell, they should've warned me better."

"Fuck, okay, I know this all sounds messed up--"

"--Because it is!"

"But just hear me out, I had to see you."

There's a pause, Will waits for an interception, but as he spares a glance towards Nico he only then realises that his silence urges for him to continue. Will's hit with reason, and it only comes to him as he takes in the mans angelic features, soft and patient as he awaits Will's next words.

Will breathes, "I love you, too."

Then there's a different sort of silence. Coiling and tightening, almost suffocating and Will swears he can feel the way the air thrum with the confession.

It's Nico's response that he anticipates, and though he already knows the way he feels, Will doesn't think he's ever felt more anxious than he is now.

"Great," is all Nico says, emitting a breathless, snarky chuckle, "I guess we're both crazy then."

Will's just about to frown, retaliate against the statement, but he's caught stupefied as Nico closes the distance between them once more. His lithe hand reaching up and coiling around the back of the blond's neck and dragging him into a bittersweet kiss. 

It's a sad kiss that teeters on the line of potentially being perfect. The movements are long and languid, slow and smooth, yet it ultimately just serves as a reminder of everything they can't have -- everything they can't be. It's crazed with passion, dampened with melancholy, but Will still kisses back with the intention of savouring the moment for as long as it can last.

It's just a brief minute that glamorises the chaos, a peace that shatters when there's an abrupt knock on the bedroom door.

"Nico, I heard yelling, who's in there?"

There's clear panic in Nico's eyes as he abruptly pulls himself away, and Will recognises that voice easily, causing sirens to set of in every corner of his brain and the whole room to instantly flash red.

"No one is here, father. I was just talking to Jason," Nico announces, which isn't entirely a lie, though his tone is still subtly shaky.

"Okay, but let me in anyway, I have a matter to discuss with you and we might as well get it over with."

"Shit," he mutters to himself, then not even a second after Will's caught off guard with the firm grip around his wrist, urgently dragging him across he spans of his chambers.

Swiftly yet silently, he opens the lacquered doors to a mahogany closet, hurriedly pushing aside various dark jackets and shirts before he turns to face Will.

"Get in the closet," he hushes but the wild expression in his irises is so demanding that Will shouldn't dare question it.

But he does anyway.

"But what about--?"

"Look, do you want to die?" Will's 'no' is cut from his tongue when Nico safely assumes the answer, "Cause he'll shoot you if he catches you in here, now get in."

He's not given an opportunity for argument as the smaller man shoves him into the closet with a force unbeknownst to Will, partly stunned due to the impossible strength he has for such a wiry frame and partly biting his lip to stop the groan of uncomfort as his elbow thuds against the solid, hard wood. As soon as he's in, pressed between the closed in walls and clothes that linger with his love's scent, Nico soundlessly slams the door shut. Will can just about see a narrow strip through a slit between the closet doors that don't quite touch, and he watches Nico inhale a deep breath before he hurriedly returns to the source of the knocking, unlocking the knob and letting Hades in.

Will can't quite see him enter, but he picks up on the pair of heavy footsteps and he finds himself seizing his breath, freezing as still as ice.

"What took you so long?" he hears Hades ask as he can see him take a seat on Nico's darkly draped bed through the thin line granting his vision from the completely pitch black closet. 

He can't see Nico, but his response is perfectly clear, "I was getting dressed."

Hades doesn't seem to challenge it, and Will would breath out a sigh of relief if it didn't mean it would lead to his second exposure of the night.

"Take a seat, Nico, we have to talk," Lord Di Angelo suggests, gesturing to the spare space beside him.

The blond can't see it, but with the amount of time it takes for Nico to actually come into view and take a seat adjacent to his father he's quite sure he's quite hesitant about the who situation.

He's proven correct, "Isn't it a little too late to discuss something important, especially after tonight's events I'm feeling a little rundown."

"You have a point, but this is why I think it's best we discuss this now. Originally, your mother was going to be part of this conversation too but I'm afraid she would... sugar coat it."

Nico tenses a little at that, and Will can just about manage to see the cock of a single eyebrow upon his perfect, porcelain face, "What's wrong?" he asks with sudden concern.

"Nothing is particularly wrong, son," Hades reassures, but there's not much conviction in his voice, "You needn't worry about this too much."

Will sees something in Hades that he's never seen before. In all the times he's seen him act, it's ruthless in the eye of an enemy, more than eager to make a Solace life a living hell when possible. Yet now, there's no enemy that Hades needs to intimidate, and Will's merely an unknown outsider looking into a simple father and son having a conversation. For perhaps the first time ever, he sees a more humane side of Lord Di Angelo, and though Will's heart still pounds against his chest out of the fear of being caught, he (almost) no longer sees Hades as the antagonist in the moment.

"What is it?" Nico presses, his impatience running thin as his father appears to beating around a bush.

"Look, you understand that I've always been accepting of you."

The younger Di Angelo seems to be caught off guard from that, "Yes..."

"There's never been a problem even when I knew you're gay, I still love you like the son you always were regardless. Your sexuality isn't a bother to me."

"Where is this going, father?"

Hades just takes in a breath before he continues, "But as you know, you carry a lot of responsibility as the heir and it is your duty to withhold that no matter what. Which is why, in spite of your special circumstances, you must do what's expected of you."

Will's just as bewildered as Nico when he grits out, "Where is this going?"

"You are almost twenty two, Nico, you are to marry," the blond has to cover his mouth with his hand to conceal his own startle as Nico's mouth snaps open, silenced by the firm hand Hades holds out. "Let me finish. It's already been arranged, and I can assure you it's with a beautiful woman-"

"You, what?!" Nico exclaims, unrestrained and wild, "You're fucking joking, right?" He laughs humourlessly -- teetering on the edge of insanely, "Please tell me you're joking."

But Hades doesn't laugh and Will feels his heart plummet for the boy, "I let you have your fun, Nico," he states, now completely stern and strict, "I tolerated you and all your love affairs but now you can't continue this. You know I've accepted you for who you are, but surely you knew that it would come to this."

"No! No I didn't, because when you claimed that you 'accepted' me I didn't fucking think that you'd still force me to marry some random girl!" Nico's no longer perched on his bed, instead he's up on his feet, raking both hands through his open, inky hair as if he's trying to process everything, "I'm never going through with this, you know."

Will's filled with sudden, genuine worry for Nico as Hades stands, and he swears that he feels the temperature of the whole room drop from the action alone, "Enough," he speaks, and Nico doesn't tame at that, still yelling out his string of profanities, "I said enough!" Hades roughly seizes his son's wrists, forcing him to face him and Will see's the bulletproof, steel look in his eyes, "You do not make the demands here, boy, not for as long as I'm around and you will do as I say. The sooner you accept this, the better, because you can't back down from this, do you understand? This family's legacy has been withheld for too long for you just to mess it up because you don't love the same like the rest of us. Your sexuality can't give you a child, Nico, and your duty to keep the bloodline going is your number one concern."

"So what, you're just going to make me marry some random woman? Even though you know that I'll never be happy nor learn to love her and better yet you expect me to have a child with her? Are you insane?!"

Hades' expression is long and grave, "These luxuries come at a cost, Nico. You can't live like royalty and burden the responsibility."

The stygian haired boy has seemed to lost his resilience, instead his voice broken down to something raw, "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for this life."

"Maybe not," his father agrees, "But you were born into it whether you like it or not and you will damn well do what is expected of you."

For the first time since Hades entered, there's complete silence and Will's sure his thundering heartbeat could be heard above it all with how loudly it roars in his ears. There's an eye opening remorse he feels quell around his emotions, accompanied by a filthy guilt since Will knows that he should of had no part in that discussion at all. But now that he is, now that he's heard it he can't help but sympathise for Nico. He can't even imagine Apollo coming out with a bombshell like that, and in spite of Hades' 'acceptance' Will knows that his own father would never force him into such an arrangement. The few seconds of delusion that Hades was a loving father has long evaporated, replaced by a boiling, apathetic ruler who'd do all it takes to keep his legacy going; even if it means crossing his own son.

When Hades leaves with a bid of goodnight, Will thinks that Nico has forgotten about him. All the man does is lie down across his rich bed sheets, staring up at the ceiling as if they'll give him the solution to all the questions surely circulating his mind. The blond doesn't know how to make his presence known, because he can't just spend all night in the closet no matter how much he wants to make things better for Nico.

Reverently, he creeks open the door, poking his head out and Nico doesn't notice at all.

Will doesn't know what to say; doesn't think he can say anything at all to alleviate the situation for the one he loves the most. And trust him when he says he wishes he could, he wishes that he can just make all of Nico's vanish with a snap of his fingers. He longs to carry all of Nico's burdens for him, Will doesn't want to catch a single glimpse of sadness on that face of his ever again. 

"I don't know what to say."

At that, Nico's head rises a little from the mattress, tilting his head to face the blond that has fully stepped out of the wardrobe, his eyes ashen and bloodshot.

"Yeah, well, that's just fucking life, isn't it?" He states, and Will knows that the sarcasm is just a layer of defence to the remorse he truly feels within, and it crumbles as the tone is watery and croaky.

"Nico—"

"Just get out, Will. Please just, I want to be alone."

Will hesitates for a beat, contemplating whether leaving is the best course of action. His decision making has been abhorrently impulsive all day, and he can't afford to make another mistake in a situation as fragile as this. 

"Goodnight, Nico," the blond bids before slipping out the window, paired a silent oath that this will not be the last time he see's the man.

~*~

For the following few days, Will tells himself that he made the right choice. That giving him space was what was best for him, in spite of the way his own heart quells with the need to comfort him. 

There's a scatter of rumours about the Solace infiltration into the masquerade ball, but they never really exceed beyond that. Will's immensely fortunate that no penalty has been enforced for his careless actions, and to be honest the blond doubts there has been any official report of the events at all to the King. Zeus is a far too busy man to go about the streets and listen in to distorted gossip to base his punishments on, and considering this it means that the Di Angelo's didn't file in a complaint about his or Cecil's behaviour from that night. Will initially just assumes they perhaps had just forgotten, which is a highly unlikely chance, and soon enough it becomes clear that they cannot banish a Solace without losing their own men too.

However, Will skirts the streets of Verona now, alone, and in the midst of the broad daylight there's still a subtle chill in the air. He's abhorrently alerted with new rumours within the hustle bustle of the citizens, and he realises that since he doesn't receive any of those strange, dirty looks that they're no longer discussing the Solace trespass. Instead, this new rumour brings an unfamiliar wave of excited energy crackling in the autumn air, and by afternoon, all everyone is talking about is the marriage of Nico Di Angelo and Rachel Elizabeth Dare.

It's a deviating blow of news, and though inwardly he knew that this was inevitable, he had still made a habit of ignoring the nagging outcome. Plausibly, Will's not excited, he doesn't feel the need to rejoice the news. He's not sparked with this merry exhilaration as everyone else is, and it's because (even when he casts his own heart aside for a moment) he knows the truth behind the situation, and the public are just ignorantly buoyant in the truth solely because of the manipulative perception  from the Di Angelo's side.

But then his own heart does take over, and he's charged more with anger than remorse, because Will can't just cast a blind eye and let this happen. He refuses to. Yet what is there for him to do? Will has no place or say in the enemy household and for the first time in forever he's powerless to do anything except from watch the events unravel like yarn over his eyes. 

That leaves his fury unresolved, curled in his fists accompanied with a foreign urge to just become utterly wild and shed off all of the weight of living.

However he just takes in a deep breath, Will doesn't want to cause a scene. He knows that: Sure, perhaps it would be satisfying for a few sky high seconds but then what comes after? Will's all too painfully aware that nothing he'll do will change anything now. 

He's tame, he's stable, he's calm, just like any other abiding citizen should be.

He finds himself applying it with every step along the concrete path he takes.

Tame, stable, calm.

Tame, stable, calm.

Tame, stable, ca--  

--There's a sudden, firm grip on wrist, "Don't say anything, just act normal and follow me."

Will's not too sure why he complies, naturally following the blond haired man the slightly winding path between the crowd. He keeps it cool and nonchalant to the best of his abilities, biting his lip to fight down the urge of casually whistling. 

Still though, he keeps his guard up as he follows the back of the unnamed man into a desolate courtyard, blaming curiosity for even listening to his orders at all.

When the man stops in his tracks, no one around, Will's just about to raise a question until he turns around sharply, letting him recognise his identity all at once. 

Will can't conjure up many good scenarios on why Jason Grace would lure him into an abandoned part of Verona.

He can't imagine Jason Grace's first harshly spoken words being, "Do you love Nico?"

The son of Apollo freezes as if someone had doused him with ice cold water, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb, Solace," the bespectacled man snaps, "We're very limited on time, answer the question and cut the crap."

It's now that Will remember, how Jason Grace is a very close (perhaps closest) acquaintance to Nico. How he is most likely the only one out of family Nico has ever discussed personal matters with. 

How he is the only other person Nico has told his feelings about Will too.

(Shamefully, he remembers how he overheard the very phone call, the guilt of which is still not stripped.)

"Yes," Will finds himself answering with all the conviction he can channel, "I love him a lot."

Jason's stern features appear to soften by a minuscule amount, and though the blond no longer has this whole whatever-it-is marked as threatening, it still doesn't help Will piece together why the both of them are even here at all.

"Good," Jason says, more to himself than anyone else. Then, his electric blue eyes flicker to meet his own, "Then I really hope you can understand why I have to do this."

The 'do what?' never leaves his tongue, because out of the open blue Jason snatches the glasses from his face a shatters them on the stony ground, urgently slipping them back over the bride of his nose. Then his hands swiftly falls into his coat pockets, his fingers coming back out coated in viscous red in which he smears across his upper lip.

"What the hell are you doing?" Will demands in dumbstruck, but then Jason seizes his own hand too, smearing it in scarlet.

"Wait by the boarder of Mantua," the seemingly crazy man hisses before he sprints out of the courtyard, and though Will has no idea what in all of fucking hell is going on, he bounds after Jason, rapidly chasing the trail of running footsteps and... yelling?

"--Where are the guards?! Take the Solace, he fucking dragged me out to physically assault me! Guards?!"

It's an utter havoc as Will appears in the exclaiming crowd. He ruthlessly attempts to push through, to fucking hell with manners, but his arms are caught against his back and his movements are completely restricted all together. Though bellowing against Jason's accusations, his own words are drowned out by the citizens. However, Will hears, as clear as day, the almost silent click of handcuffs digging into his wrists.

~*~

Mantua is particularly bright this morning. The rich sun generously showering the unfamiliar city in a dazzling golden light, creating a relishing peace even paired with the casual hustle bustle of the town. Will leans against the makeshift balcony, and even from the very top floor of the apartment complex, he can't truthfully find it within him to appreciate any of it.

Though it's true, that Will could've gotten much more severe, life endangering consequences, it still feels like fate just mocks him. Because here he is, in the midst of Mantua, and all that clings to him is the vanquished Verona citizenship seized from him for a crime that he was framed for. 

The new city has it's upsides, and Will's noticed them within the 48 hours he's been moved here. There's no longer that dread of responsibility hanging off his shoulders. He has no name here, and if he does end up getting one in the foreseeable future it would be from his own work and not by the (un)lucky chance of inheritance. 

No amount of forced optimism can actually let Will marvel in it too much, though. Not after everything he's forced to leave behind. The blond sighs, raking a still scarlet stained hand through his hair remorsefully. It's scary to legitimately consider what lengths Will would go to even bring just one of his loved ones with him.

But what Will thinks is even worse though is that he almost disregards the people he's spent his entire life with. Even his father and Cecil are ruefully washed ashore as the one singular name haunts his mind like a ghost, the one whom he misses most. The blond doesn't want to forget him, refuses to let the inevitability of time to wash away whatever fragmented memories he shared with the boy. Yet every second that ticks by jeopardises this, and the image of stunning image of Nico etched behind his eyelids it soaked with tears, only so long until he dissolves completely.

When there's a sharp knock against the laminate door, Will is momentarily torn out of his head space, promptly bringing up a palm to wipe away a stray tear or two from his cheeks. 

He looks abhorrently unkempt but he can't bring himself to care, numbly turning the door handle to reveal whoever waits on the other side.

The splitting image of Nico stand there against the frame, and though Will's heart thunders immediately, he blinks a few times in an attempt to haze out the hallucination.

"Will?" the Italian draws out hesitantly, and the accumulated and disbelieving gaiety collapses in a crashing crescendo because he knows that voice. 

"Nico," Will breathes, impossibly relieved as his embraces tightly onto Nico's delicate frame, squeezing as hard as he dares just because, fuck he's actually here. His arms coil around his waist possessively, nose buried into the lithe neck still in ludicrous incredulity. "How?" He mumbles quietly against the supple skin, afraid that if he speaks too loud Nico would vanish into thin air.

The Italian sounds breathless but the blond refuses to relent his grip. "I ran away," he says straightforwardly, as if that explains all the answers of the universe.

Will pulls away at the answer, casting him inside and quickly locks the door behind them, "You ran away?"

"It was either that or marry Rachel," Nico attempts to explain in nonchalance, though there's too wide of a grin painted across his lips to be genuinely considered as such. But then it drops with into a guilt stricken expression, "I'm so sorry about all this, Will"

Will's so over the moon that the abrupt change in tone only causes him to furrow his eyebrows slightly, "For what?"

"For being the reason behind why you got exiled," Nico states, "I put Jason up to it, to frame you. But I tried to tell him to make sure you actually agree with the plan first before he--"

Will promptly presses his fingers against those smooth lips he's missed too much.

"I know it's crazy, Nico, but I don't care. I'd follow you to the end of the fucking earth." 

"Will--"

"I mean it. I've never felt the way I feel about you with anyone else."

There's a faint trace of a watery smile spilling over the Italian's lips before he weakly tugs away Will's finger, drawing the blond into a perfect kiss.

And it's then, and Will pressed back with as the sparking passion he's got, that his fate just might not be so bad after all.