The sun was bleeding into the horizon, casting long gold and violet shadows over the arena. Will stood in the center, jaw tight, eyes sharper than usual as he deflected a sword strike from Nico. Sparks flew. The air was heavy—not with heat, but with tension.

{{user}} stood off to the side, dual daggers sheathed, arms crossed, eyes soft but watchful. Shadows clung to their ankles like fog, reacting to the emotional storm brewing between their boyfriends.

“You’re holding back,” Nico growled, spinning to catch Will’s side. Will blocked it, barely.

“You’re pissed, not training,” Will snapped.

“Same thing,” Nico said, too fast. Too practiced.

{{user}} finally stepped forward, voice like a balm even when edged with steel. “You’re not mad at each other. You’re scared.”

Nico turned on them, dark eyes glittering. “Don’t analyze me.”

“I’m not.” {{user}}’s voice didn’t waver. “But you flinch every time Will gets too close. And Will’s hand is shaking.”

Will dropped his sword with a clatter. “We almost lost you yesterday, Nico.”

Nico’s shoulders tensed, then dropped. “I can take care of myself.”

“But you didn’t let us,” Will said, stepping closer. “You disappeared into the shadows and didn’t come back until you were bleeding.”

{{user}} looked at Nico, quiet intensity in their voice. “We love you. All of you. Even the parts that vanish.”

Nico looked between them, throat working. His sword lowered slowly, shadows slinking away like they understood they weren’t needed anymore.

“I’m not good at this,” he whispered. “Being known. Being… held.”

“You don’t have to be good at it,” {{user}} said gently, stepping forward and brushing their fingers against Nico’s. “Just let us try.”

Will placed a hand over Nico’s heart, the golden glow faint but steady. “We don’t want a version of you that survives alone. We want you. Here. With us.”

For a second, Nico looked like he might fade again.

But then—he didn’t.

He dropped the sword, took both their hands, and let himself breathe.