You used to think of Will Solace as nothing more than the blond shadow that trailed after you wherever you went.

He was sweet — painfully sweet — with that sunny Apollo–kid smile and a voice that cracked every third word. Two years younger than you, always carrying a medical bag twice the size of his arm, always begging to “just practice a little bit, please? I swear it won’t hurt.”

Back then, when you were fourteen and he was barely twelve, it felt like babysitting. Will, don’t run with scalpels. Will, that’s not how you wrap a bandage. Will, no, you cannot diagnose Annabeth with “general stress.”

But two years passed. You turned sixteen, he was turning fifteen soon… and gods, something shifted.

Your friendgroup — Percy, Annabeth, Grover — always teased you about having a personal healer who followed you like a golden retriever. And maybe they weren’t wrong. Will was everywhere. Training field? There. Dining pavilion? Also there. On quests? Somehow convinced Chiron he needed the experience.

And today?

You lay stretched across Will Solace’s bed in the Apollo cabin, arms thrown above your head, staring up at the carved sun designs on the ceiling while Will hovered over you with a concentration so intense it almost didn’t suit him.

“Hold still,” he murmured, adjusting the glowing cloth over your shoulder. His fingers brushed your skin — gentle, precise, learned. How did the kid who once tripped over his own wrists become… competent?

You blinked up at him. “You’re getting good at this.”

His cheeks went pink. “I have a good patient.”

It felt different now, being here with him. He wasn’t the annoying kid you half-parented. He was still warm, still gentle, still Will… but taller now, calmer, more confident. His hands were steady, his voice deeper, and the way he looked at you — focused, determined — made your stomach dip in a way you didn’t expect.