thefuzzzz

The Fuzz

Writer and Occasional ArtistHe/him read my pinned!thefuzzzz.carrd.co

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Rant To Me (i Like The Sound, I Like Your Voice) On Ao3

rant to me (i like the sound, i like your voice) on ao3

“Nico! You're finally here!”

The ever too-chipper voice took Nico out of his thoughts. He had plans that consisted of brooding and staring, but it seems like Will Solace didn't think that behavior is appropriate for a party.

If whatever it is that's happening can even be considered a party; the Apollo cabin and some other campers decided to get together near the lake, with some soda cans, Doritos bags, and sour gummy worms. There's some music playing and chatter going around, but Nico's foam earplugs do a great job at keeping the volume low enough so that it's not overwhelming. He plays with his fingers, practicing the alphabet in sign language. Tatiana, a daughter of Nemesis, was hard of hearing. Nico became close to her since both of them would usually sit in the shadows, a few feet away from the crowds. It was easy to be around her, and he was making an effort to learn sign.

Will's voice was a little muffled by the earplugs, but taking them out would be much worse. Nico just gestured towards him, pointing in a general direction that is a little further from the noise and confusion. Will understood, because of course he did. They walked a few steps in silence, and Nico didn't bother correcting Will that he'd been here for a few good minutes now, he just didn't want to interrupt Will's conversation with Connor.

He wasn't wearing his usual orange shirt; the blue fabric suits his eyes and looks nice under the moonlight. Nico knew he's clad in cargo shorts and flip-flops without even having to look down—that's what he wears all the time, even when Nico thinks about him before going to sleep, when he thinks of the two of them under the soft orange of a sunset, sharing McDonald's fries, maybe making jokes, hands just one or two millimeters away from each other, itching to touch, aching to be intertwined…

He couldn't afford to think about that right now.

As they reached a tree, Nico offered Will a sweet smile. They were far from the crowd, watching from a distance so that they could hold a conversation even with the earplugs. It's the little things Will does; the accommodations, the giving, the gifting, the understanding, the treating him as an equal that makes Nico have some thoughts that he'd rather keep to himself.

(“Nico, I've noticed you wince and flinch when it gets too loud. What do you think of trying some earplugs? They might help. I wear them sometimes.”)

(“Nico, can you come body double me? I need to clean the infirmary and I can't do it if I'm just there by myself.”)

(“Nico, I have bad days too.”)

(“Nico, would you mind hanging around for just a little longer? I had to treat a head injury today. I don't think I'll ever get over it.”)

“Have you been having fun?” Nico asked, feeling the deep rumble of his voice in his chest. He only now noticed how Will's eyelids and cheekbones seemed to sparkle and glimmer under the moonlight. Lou Ellen must have been experimenting with makeup again.

“Yes! It's been good.” Will raised his voice just enough so Nico could still hear him through the earplugs. It's the little things, Nico's brain supplied.

“How was your day?”

After a lot of practicing with other campers, Nico realized that he enjoyed asking questions. They were an easy way of navigating a conversation and he had a premade list of questions to use in any social setting. For the most part, he asked and listened, keeping only a few bits of information, glancing at the other person's forehead and nose bridge occasionally to mimic eye contact. With Will, however, he didn't have to overthink. He'd ask, but because he actually wanted to know. He'd look at the ground while paying the most attention he's ever paid. He'd fidget and fiddle with his necklace, humming and nodding, while storing every single bit of Will's stories, stitching guides, camp rules, and so much more.

“It wasn't that great, if I'm being honest,” Will said, picking at his fingernails, “but I've been managing. It was just… hard. At the infirmary. Being by myself.”

“You could have asked me for help,” Nico said, swinging back and forth on his ankles. “I didn't do much today. I could have at least been around. Make you feel less lonely.”

Ever since Will started opening up about his mental health and struggles with himself, Nico found it easier to do so, too. Some campers thought of the Head Counselor of the Apollo cabin as this perfect, do-no-wrong, ever-happy, feel-good Care Bear. Will played the part really well, having fooled Nico at the start, but then he understood. He saw the insecurities, the blood—Will's own—pooling and drying around his fingernails, the teeth marks on the bottom lip, the nervous ticks that would come out after an especially long day. Sometimes, though their wounds were far from equal, Nico felt as if he was looking into a mirror. Maybe not a mirror, but a murky reflection on a lake. A resemblance, something similar enough to his own, but with different shapes and jagged edges.

So, as Will listed his fears and how he wished so, so badly he could be someone else, Nico felt comfortable enough, for the first time in his life, to revisit his self-hatred and coax it out for a walk. Will took it and acknowledged it, but didn't yell at it or scare it away. It was almost as if he said, “Hey, I have that, too,” and Nico finally understood the many meanings of the word gratitude.

Nico never thought he'd be able to help someone feel less lonely. He'd also never thought he'd withstand a party—a get-together—just to catch a glimpse of blonde, defined curls and butterfly-blue eyes.

It's the little things.

“I know what you will say, but…” Will caught himself, stopping mid-sentence. “I didn't want to be a bother. A hypocrite, I know, but this happens sometimes. I'll try to not let it happen again.”

“Good.” Nico smiled, feeling the warmth from inside.

It was warm enough that he'd ditched the aviator jacket, but he still kept the jeans. The breeze coming from the lake was a nice touch to the night. He looked down, finding a spot dry enough for both of them to sit, and reached out to tug at Will's hand.

He couldn't pinpoint when he had gotten so… used to physical contact. When he had started to initiate it, even. But then again, he couldn't pinpoint when Will had become Will.

Will took the hint and sat down right beside Nico, scooting closer to him so that the skin on his calf touched the black denim. It was a common position to them. Comfortable. Nico's back didn't hurt as much and he didn't feel pressured to maintain eye contact. Will got to relax his posture and relax his legs from standing all day.

“Do you want to talk about what happened today?” Nico initiated, fingers tapping on his knee. “About what made you not have such a great day.”

No one had ever ranted to Nico. They were always afraid he wouldn't care or that they would be putting too much on him, as if he were a thin, fragile table, built to break at any point. Will didn't.

So Will said, “Yeah, I think that will help,” and started.

Nico listened.

He made sure to store every tidbit of information in his Will Solace-shaped mental drawer. He would remember, in the future, that the infirmary had a shortage of darker-colored band-aids, and he would point it out next time he and Will went supply shopping. He would remember, in the future, that Kayla had offered Will coffee with hazelnut creamer and he drank it all so as to not dismiss her, but he actually hated that flavor.

(Nico already knew that. If he wasn't having his coffee black, french vanilla was the go-to.)

He would remember how Will's fingers flexed as he told Nico how he had to patch up this new camper, almost as if he was going through the motions again. He would remember how Cecil's comment about his off-tune singing while washing his hands post-procedure made Will's heart sting, though he was used to the mockery, but it just hadn't been a good day. He would remember that Will hadn't slept well that day because the sheets had been recently washed and someone had used fabric softener on them, causing the texture to be plastic-like and that it made Will's skin itch. He would remember, and he would fight against every part of his brain that forced him to forget.

Once Will deemed his rant finished, Nico finally looked at him. He looked… pretty. The golden hue that came from the sun was perfect for Will's features, but the silver complimented him. It was the missing part. It hit his skin and bounced right back, catching on the glitter on his eyelids, cheekbones, and cupid's bow, making the chapstick on his lips shine a little more, exposing the chipped pink nail polish on his fingernails.

Nico didn't think boys were supposed to be considered pretty, but most common rules made no sense to him, anyway. Will was pretty. Accepting that fact had been complicated enough. He would not put up a fight against his thoughts.

“I like hearing you talk,” Nico confessed, straightforward as always. “The sound of your voice is very calming, like a stream of water. Constant.”

“That was a very sweet compliment, Nico,” Will replied, smiling wide. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

In the background, the party was still happening. Nico could hear laughter, cans being opened, fire crackling, stomping, soft tones and chords. But Will was next to him, seemingly not wanting to go back to the crowd, so he just settled into his makeshift seat a little more.

Maybe, in the future, Nico could ask Will if he liked him back. For now, he'd rather keep making a list of the little things. Little by little, he could have Will. He just needed some time to build up courage. Maybe, in the future, Will would slip out his ideal love confession or first date.

Nico would remember.

Rant To Me (i Like The Sound, I Like Your Voice) On Ao3

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