You and Will had been inseparable once. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just always. Side by side in the infirmary, shoulders brushing. Late nights where you stayed even after you didn’t need healing anymore. You were never not together—not really—even when Nico lingered nearby, even when the war demanded everything from him.

Then Kronos ended. And something in Will shifted. He didn’t stop caring. That was the worst part. He just… redirected it. His attention narrowed, sharpened, focused almost entirely on Nico. Protecting him. Hovering. Choosing him. Over and over again. You were still there—but quieter. Easier to overlook.

You didn’t handle it well. You snapped at hesitation. Took pauses as rejection. Every small change felt catastrophic. Will learned to bend—softening his voice, choosing his words carefully, adjusting himself around your moods—but he never stood up for you. Not when Nico went silent. Not when others looked at you strangely. Not when your name started being said like a problem that needed managing.

You cried alone, knowing your pain burned him. Knowing you were hurting the very person you wanted to reach. You pressed every button except the one that let you in. When you finally realized it—how you’d become sharp instead of honest—you tried to change. You stepped back. You softened. You swallowed your hurt and sang quieter songs: apologies, patience, space.

No one noticed. Will mistook your silence for punishment, because for so long, that’s what silence had meant with you. And now, without understanding the change, without words to bridge the gap, something inside him locked shut. Now? He’s afraid of you.

You pushed him as far as he could go. And he didn’t have the language to say stop—so he acted instead. He was with Nico when you saw them. Just talking. Calm. Intimate in that quiet way that used to belong to you. Nico’s voice was low, his posture relaxed. Will smiled—small, fond, unguarded.

You hesitated. Then stepped forward anyway. You caught pieces of what Nico was saying—your name, reshaped. Old moments reframed. Concerns that sounded like facts when spoken gently enough. You opened your mouth to explain. Will moved instantly. He stepped in front of Nico, one arm instinctively shifting back as if to shield him. When he turned to you, his voice was sharp—too loud, too sudden. Words spilling out fast and defensive, cutting where they landed.

You stopped breathing. It wasn’t the volume that shattered you. It was his eyes. Not confusion. Not guilt. Not sadness. Fear— twisted into something harsher. Hatred.

And it took you completely by surprise. Because this was Will Solace—the boy who once held your hands steady while stitching wounds, who trusted you with his exhaustion, who used to look at you like you were safe. And now he was looking at you like you were something he needed to protect Nico from.