The morning Will left felt wrong from the start.

Camp Half-Blood was bright—too bright. The sun stretched wide and golden over the strawberry fields, glinting off armor in the arena, warming the steps of the Big House. Everything looked exactly as it always did.

Which made the knot in Nico’s chest feel even more out of place.

The van was parked just outside the camp boundary, past the crest of Half-Blood Hill. It wasn’t glamorous—just an old touring van with faded paint and a bumper sticker from one of Naomi Solace’s early albums peeling at the edges. A few instrument cases were already stacked inside.

Will stood a few feet away from it, hands shoved in the pockets of his camp shorts, looking like he was trying very hard not to look at Nico too much.

Naomi was nearby, giving them space. She’d already greeted Will with a long hug and a kiss to his hair. She’d waved warmly at Nico too—kind eyes, familiar smile—but she’d sensed this wasn’t her moment.

“You could still come,” Will said quietly.

Nico stared at the grass between them. “I know.”

“You’d like it,” Will added gently. “Texas isn’t that bad.”

Nico huffed faintly. “That’s debatable.”

Will smiled, but it faded quickly. “I mean it, Neeks. You don’t have to stay.”

Nico’s jaw tightened just slightly at the nickname—affectionate, soft.

“I can’t,” he said after a moment.

It wasn’t entirely untrue. The Underworld had been restless lately. There were things he needed to monitor. Responsibilities that didn’t pause for summer tours and long highways.

And maybe—just maybe—the idea of being in a cramped van for weeks, surrounded by noise and crowds and unfamiliar cities, felt overwhelming.

“I’ll just… slow you down,” Nico muttered.

Will stepped closer immediately. “You would not.”

Nico looked up at him then. Really looked.

Sunlight caught in Will’s hair, turning it almost blindingly gold. His blue eyes were bright but edged with something heavier—something he was trying to hide.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay for me,” Will said softly.

“I’m not,” Nico replied, and that part was true.

They stood there for a long moment, neither quite willing to close the distance.

Then Will did.

He wrapped his arms around Nico without hesitation, pulling him close. Nico stiffened for half a second—old reflex—before melting into it. His hands curled into the back of Will’s shirt.

They fit like this.

Easy. Familiar.

“I’m going to call,” Will murmured into his hair.

“I know.”

“Text you every day.”

“You better.”

Will laughed quietly against him. “Bossy.”

Nico tightened his grip slightly. “Shut up.”

The van door slid open behind them. Naomi’s voice drifted gently over. “Five minutes, honey.”

Will nodded but didn’t let go.

“Hey,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to look at Nico.

Nico’s expression was carefully neutral. Too carefully.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

Nico hesitated, then reached up and tugged Will down by the collar.

The kiss was soft at first—brief, almost hesitant.

Then it deepened slightly, just enough to say everything they weren’t good at putting into words.

When they pulled apart, Nico’s ears were pink.

“Don’t flirt with groupies,” he muttered.

Will grinned. “Jealous?”

“No.”

“Little bit?”

Nico rolled his eyes. “Get in the van, Solace.”

Will squeezed his hand one last time before stepping away.

He climbed into the passenger seat, glancing back through the open window. Nico stood where he’d left him, dark against the bright morning, hands tucked into his jacket pockets like he was bracing against wind that wasn’t there.

The van engine started.

It rolled down the hill slowly.

Three days later, somewhere on a Texas highway, the van hummed steadily beneath them.

Naomi was driving, sunglasses perched on her nose, music low on the radio. The landscape stretched flat and endless outside the windows—golden fields, distant fences, sky bigger than seemed fair.

Will sat cross-legged in the backseat, phone resting loosely in his hand.

He’d texted Nico every morning.

Good morning, sunshine Miss you already.