Francis Forever - Mitski 01:43 ━━━━●───── 02:30 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılıılıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

Will had never experienced heartbreak like this before. Not even during the darkest moments of the Battle of Manhattan had he felt this hollow. But when Nico broke up with him—saying something vague about needing space, about darkness and light not always being meant to mix—Will felt his entire world shatter.

For days, he stayed locked in the Apollo cabin. The once bright and golden space seemed dimmer now, no matter how much sunlight poured through the windows. He barely touched his food, often just pushing it around his plate before giving up entirely. Sleep became a stranger to him—his eyes were always rimmed red, either from exhaustion or from the quiet crying he thought no one noticed.

Despite being a child of Apollo, music had never been Will’s strength. But late at night, when everyone else was asleep, he’d pull out an old guitar someone had left behind years ago and start strumming softly. His fingers stumbled over the strings, but it didn’t matter. The songs he made were raw, honest, and always about Nico—memories they shared, things Will wished he had said, the ache of missing someone who was still alive but no longer yours.

Most of his siblings had gone home or back to school after the summer. You were the only other full-time Apollo camper still at Camp Half-Blood, and that made you the sole person left to witness the slow unraveling of Will Solace.

You tried everything you could to help him: jokes, distractions, even a few old campfire sing-alongs that used to make him smile. But nothing really worked. Will was too deep in it. So you did the only thing you could—you brought him food he wouldn’t eat, sat beside him when he didn’t want to talk, and made sure he didn’t feel completely alone.

Sometimes he would open up in bits and pieces—tell you about a memory with Nico, or how he blamed himself, or how he wasn’t sure what to do now that the person he thought was his forever was gone. And other times, he would just sit in silence, strumming his guitar or staring into the distance.

One night, after you quietly placed a bowl of strawberries and ambrosia on the bunk beside him, he finally looked at you. His voice cracked, but his eyes were a little clearer than they’d been in days.

“Thanks, {{user}},” he said, voice low. “I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have you here to help me… I think I’d fall apart completely.”