Chapter Summary: "When do you," Nico begins quietly, "get to decide what 'gives me closure'? When do you get to decide what's best for me? When do you even begin to have an inkling of understanding about what happened and how I'm coping? Because I am coping! I don't need this. I don't want to – I don't want to –" He leaves the sentence hanging, but they both know what happens to people who go to the authorities about sexual assault cases.

Status: Chapter 8 of ?

Notes: this was supposed to be posted earlier because i wanted to write a valentines day fic. this chapter is unfit for the valentines mood.

finally, bringing in the legalities. All mistakes and misinformation are mine. Legalities in the future of this fic will follow the Canadian standard b/c idk American laws.

tw: mentions of misogyny + homophobia in the modern legal system, self-harm

Chapter title from "Neptune" by Sleeping At Last

PITCH BLACK, PALE BLUE

A sheet of paper lined with neat handwriting falls out when Nico opens his locker after the confusing encounter with Will the previous day. He stares at it for a while and then he bends over and picks it up, thumb and forefinger pinching the edges of the paper, half of it on the ground and the other curved against the door of the locker.

He notices the writing first: neat and meticulous, like a medical report – letters all lined up against each other and perfectly spaced. Yet there's a delicate quirk to it that he can't put his finger on – perhaps it's the way that the lines that cross the t's are slightly slanted, almost like a minuscule tremor in the orderliness. He then reads the words on the page, no longer than four lines.

And in the very far right corner, written in tiny upper-case letters: Margaret Atwood

Nico's not sure what he should be feeling, but somehow the poem whoever has copied and then left him has managed to evoke a stirring feeling in his upper chest, right below his throat – not the telltale scream of anxiety and discomfort, but something else entirely that he can't quite put his finger on. It's strange; a slight tightening of his chest and then release before a hard thump or two of his heart against his ribcage.

He frowns and then folds up the piece of paper, putting it on the top shelf of his locker and slamming the door shut.

Will's absence is the most significant part of Nico's day.

He can't help the feeling of swooping down low and then falling down and down and down like there's no bottom so he's stuck in a state of mobile inertia. The only up is when Percy offers him a smile in greeting when he sees Nico, and once that may have left him enthused, but now it makes him think of Will Solace, and then he spirals into thinking if he really does feel something for Will or if this is just the momentary thought of possible infatuation with said person mistaken for the real thing.

Then it keeps spiraling downwards to his repetitive thoughts yesterday that Will has confirmed wasn't true over and over again. And it all ends with Nico wishing he could carve out his feelings – just reach inside of him and pull out his heart, a scalpel held in a latex gloved hand slicing down the dotted lines where all of his feelings lie and then wrench the bloody essence out until there's only a gaping vacancy where he used to feel things.

It's such a stupid thought, Nico thinks, but oddly, so strangely satisfying in his own imagery that it stays with him long after the idea has surfaced. And without Will to curb his alarmingly despondent behaviour – which for some reason makes him feel better in a twisted way – he's allowed to dwell on these thoughts for the entirety of the day; he savours it.

Nobody bothers him the entire day. There are no unwanted stares and hushed whispers circling around him, and Nico takes the small blessing to soothe over his own wounds from the verbal lashing – intended or no – these past few days. During the lunch break, he spots Reyna and Piper underneath the oak tree once again and this time he gets the hint.

Nonetheless, the bleachers are surprisingly empty for a warm spring day, silver metal warmed by the relentless glare of the sun. He climbs the steps all the way up to the upmost seats, setting down his backpack and letting the soft breeze muss up his hair, tossing loose black strands that are a little too longin his face. From the top, Reyna and Piper look like tiny unimportant shapes that resemble human figures. The urge to keep going upwards overwhelms Nico, and he finds a part of himself wishing he could reach higher and higher until the ground disappears, swallowing all of the tiny humans with it until there's nothing left but clouds and sunshine for miles and miles.

Hazel texts him when the day is almost over, telling him that she can't pick him up after school today and then a line or two of apology.

NICO [sent at 2:38pm]

It's ok.

He's always been walking home earlier in the semester, when Hazel's college classes were in session. What he doesn't understand is why she's making it seem like a big deal. A thought occurs to him right after he sends his reply: she doesn't trust his own ability to take care of himself.

A bitter smile makes its way on his face. Of course she doesn't trust him anymore. Maybe a part of her thinks exactly what anyone else would think if they knew the truth: it's his own fault. He was practically asking for it. He can't act responsibly and became the victim of non-consensual acts. He's not a fucking man.

Nico wants to throw his phone across the room, but the teacher is droning on and on about the exams and he's certain that he's going to draw unwanted attention to himself if he did it. Just like he drew unwanted attention to himself that night.

He scratches his nails hard down on his right wrist, tearing apart pieces of the first layer of his skin, indicating by the peeling white flakes where his nail ravaged a path. Then he takes a breath and exhales before turning on his phone again, changing over to his text history with Will and reads them over starting from the beginning.

Will had texted him last night, and it feels almost like their almost-argument yesterday had never happened. He took Nico's words to the heart, letting the conversation slip away from his mind, but Nico's not quite sure if he can do that. He's still not sure where he stands with Will, and reading through the text messages has not made his understanding any clearer. He wonders if he'll go through a fall out like Reyna and Piper and the maybe in two years –

No, he can't be thinking like that. Unlike Reyna and Piper, there's nothing substantial between them. Nico's just confused about his own feelings. And Will… Will is a shrouded mystery hiding behind a sunny demeanour. Sometimes, but only rarely, does Nico see Will's imperfect-self leaking through, but never long enough for Nico to decipher what it means.

He turns off his phone, shutting off the messages, and then turns his phone screen-down on his table. There is no point in thinking about something that does not even exist. If luck is on his side, he won't ever see Will again after the exams and then Nico can close the short chapter of the William Solace part of his life.

The signs come in three:

There is an expensive sports car in the driveway of his house. It does not belong to the financially impaired Hazel or his eccentric stepmother who's been away on a 'business trip' for weeks.

He can hear someone shouting inside, and it sounds like his half-sister. Hazel, who is interminably patient, is screaming at someone.

When Nico is at the door, the last person he expects to see opens it.

They both stare at each other, wide-eyed and silent before Will clears his throat, looks up and down at Nico, and then looks away. Nico looks down at the ground, wondering if he is really that painful to look at right now even though he can't find anything evidently wrong about his appearance. His mind also starts wandering. He's not entirely sure how he knows where Nico lives, why he's here, and why he was with Hazel. He hadn't even know that they were acquainted, and the pessimistic and self-hating part of himself gives the worst answer in all possible worlds.

Will is sleeping with Hazel.

It makes him feel terrible, lower than the garbage that Will must step on every day, and he scratches down his wrist again in the same place. His heart pounds in his chest, feeling like it's crawling up his throat at every beat. And the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense to him in his already scrambled logic. He remembers back on Saturday morning, when he overheard bits and pieces of Will's conversation with someone over the phone concerning his condition. Maybe he was talking to Hazel, and he felt responsible the entire time not because it put his scholarship at risk, but because it put his secret relationship at risk.

And that's why he hasn't debunked any of the myths about his sexuality going around – because it kept people from digging into his sexual history and finding Hazel Levesque, the rumoured gay boy's elder sister. If they were searching for a man, they wouldn't reach the same conclusion. People only see what they want to see, after all.

He doesn't wait for Will to say or explain anything. Instead, he forces himself accepts his conclusion as the truth, even though he knows that it has an equal possibility of being false too. But that's the thing. He can't anymore – he can't keep letting himself get dragged along by the Will Solace Feelings train because that's exactly what they are. He needs something to block his path to a disaster, and accepting this is a step back from his overwhelming feelings. Will is not his, never his, and never will be. The sooner Nico learns that, the less heartache he'll experience.

Nico forces himself to stand a little taller and say, "Hello, Will," without a tremble in his voice even though he does not feel the bravado he is projecting. He doesn't look at Will, can't make himself do it lest he bursts out into a rambling madman. Then he maneuvers his way into his house, shoulder bumping into Will without intention. A spark runs down to his gut from the short but warm touch, but the tightness of his chest mitigates the feeling. Nico wants to do something reckless right now, but he doesn't know what.

Hazel calls out to him. "Nico, wait." Her words are croaked, scratchy from screaming or something else – Nico doesn't want to think about it any longer.

He ignores her, taking the steps two upstairs two at a time until he reaches his room. He slams the door shut and then releases the breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. The solid door presses into his back, and Nico closes his eyes, arms crossing tightly over his chest.

(He doesn't want to admit it to himself. What he really wanted was to pull Will close and just hold him and press his face into his chest and hear his steady heartbeat until it calms him. He wanted to run his fingers through Will's blond locks. He wanted to press his lips against Will's for just a heartbeat even if it doesn't mean anything to the other boy.)

There is no bravery in the way that he escapes the two of them. He hides in his room for the entire day, ignoring the buzz of his phone at Will's lone text message. He turns off his phone after that, burrowing under his covers and reciting math formulas in his head to keep his mind occupied. When Hazel calls him down for dinner hours later, both of them are unwilling to speak, letting the silence drag itself through the entire house to the point where Nico feels the need for destruction just to get a rise out of his sister. It sounded like Hazel and Will were having a fight earlier – maybe their relationship was falling apart because of a mess named Nico.

"I'm sorry," Nico finally says after much contemplation, sitting rigid in his seat and looking at Hazel. He watches the way she looks up at him, expression split between confusion and sorrow, her curly hair framing her feminine face. He wonders if he would be having so many problems right now if he were born a female instead of a male. Maybe then he wouldn't be pining uselessly after straight boys who have no interest in him. "Sorry that I…" He's not even sure what exactly he's sorry for, only that he's a pitiful chaos of parts that make up a human being.

"What are you talking about?" Hazel asks, tone partially questioning and partially sharp, remnants of the earlier argument with Will. "Nico, I don't understand."

He doesn't want to say it out loud, but perhaps it's best if he gets it over with. "For ruining your relationship."

There is an audible beat when Hazel drops her fork on the table and then, "What?"

"You and Will." The sentences are getting shorter and shorter, his throat clamming up every time he thinks he should explain himself.

"Nico," Hazel says, adapting Reyna's vocative tone. "There is absolutely nothing going on between myself and your classmate."

"Then why were you – Why was he here?" Nico's torn between feeling relieved and dismayed at the same time.

Hazel doesn't spare him the pain of ignorance and cuts corners, voice monotone, completely sick of Nico's recent desire to burn down every relationship around him, no doubt. "We were talking about what happened on Friday night and the legal actions we could take, and we had a slight disagreement."

They haven't discussed that night in what feels like forever. "When did this start?" Nico demands, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of what happened. At the thought of the authorities, trials, and disbelieving voices. You were asking for it. You're a man – can't you fend off a couple of girls? Who told you to drink it anyway? This isn't a matter of drugged sexual assault – just an example of men who fail to adapt in this society. There is no case – only a stupid boy who deserves what he got.

His hands are shaking, and he clenches them into fists and punches his arm once, hard. He needs these thoughts to stop now. This is exactly the reason why he does not want to go down this lane – does not want his scars being reopened in front of paid strangers to cross-examine, poke and prod until he's bleeding all over the ground. Then claim that there were never wounds in the first place – only a misguided little boy's poor attempts at playing adult.

"We started meeting right after I brought you home." Hazel finally has the shame to look away. "I know you didn't want this… But Reyna, Will, and I are doing our best. We don't want this to haunt you – we want to give you closure."

"When do you," Nico begins quietly, "get to decide what 'gives me closure'? When do you get to decide what's best for me? When do you even begin to have an inkling of understanding about what happened and how I'm coping? Because I am coping! I don't need this. I don't want to – I don't want to –" He leaves the sentence hanging, but they both know what happens to people who go to the authorities about sexual assault cases. Maybe it'd be slightly different for him: he's a man in a patriarchal society, but that doesn't change his feelings about testifying about how a group of women overpowered him to an assembly of conservative men who will no doubt scoff at his words and then blame his homosexuality.

"Nico…," Hazel begins, her tone reassuring like she's approaching a cornered animal. "I know you don't want to. But don't you understand? It's not only about you anymore. Who knows if this – if those people go out and do it again? Because if they got away with it the first time, they will do it again. Nico, please –"

He wants to scream, but he thinks if he says another word then he'll shed tears and prove to Hazel just how unstable he is. Instead, he pushes his chair back and marches away from her, keeping his head up high and ignoring her pleas for him to stop and just listen. His footsteps are steady and determined.

When he reaches the bathroom, his loose grasp on the façade slips, and he throws up in the toilet. Hazel knocks on the locked door constantly, asking him to please come out, but he refuses to listen to her words. She leaves eventually, and Nico spends the entire night on the bathroom floor, a mess of tears, vomit, and self-loathing.

Thursday does not hold the same joy-disappointment it once did.

He is late for school, arriving just before lunch starts and receives a glare of disapproval from his teacher. He shouldn't give a shit about it after everything he's been through, but it manages his empty stomach churn.

Reyna finds him immediately after the class with a heightened level of exuberance. Obviously Hazel hasn't told her about what happened last night, but Nico doesn't want to spoil her mood. And he's in public right now – he can't break down now in front of all these vultures. He needs to remain monotone, blend in with the chatter and the noise, even if he is feeling upset that Reyna, Will, and Hazel think that they know best for him.

The GSA meets on Thursdays at lunch, and there has never been anyone else at the meetings except for their bored teacher supervisor. (He still finds it befuddling how people are still confused about his sexual orientation even though he's the only other member of this club. Perhaps they think he's the straight to Reyna's gay.)

This time, Piper is also sitting in the classroom they use for their weekly meetings. She smiles when she sees Reyna, tilting her head slightly.

Nico understands immediately – though he's a little surprised by the turn of things, he's always gotten the 'confused orientation' vibe from Piper ever since he met her. He's not surprised when Reyna walks over to her, an almost uncharacteristic bounce in her steps when she leans over and kisses Piper chastely on the lips.

He's about to give them a heartfelt congratulations, but he's interrupted by a voice behind him.

"I both expected that and didn't at the same time," Will says, walking from the door and into the room with a wide grin on his lips. Nico feels his heartbeat quicken, and he accidentally meets Will's eyes for a brief second before he looks away. His mind is flooded with thoughts of the fiasco with Hazel, the truth about what the trio were doing behind his back, and the way he knows how he feels now for the other boy.

"Hello, Will," Nico says, the words stiff-sounding and reminiscent of yesterday. He's facing Will, but he focuses his eyes behind Will, staring at hallway filled with other students beyond the door.

"Hi, Nico," he replies lightly, though Nico detects a tone of hesitation in his words. "Did you, ah, get my message last night?"

"My phone died."

"Oh." He runs his hand through his hair and then lets out a short, awkward laugh. "Well, I was just wondering. Did you get, ah, the poem yesterday? The one I put in your locker."

Now Nico's eyes snap over to his face, and he notices that the tips of Will's ears are red. He had almost forgotten about that poem. "The Atwood one? Yes, I got it. I wasn't sure if it was you."

"Well, it was," Will says, chuckling to fill up the sudden awkwardness between them. Nico's hands ache to rub a thumb across Will's cheek. "I…couldn't be here yesterday so I decided to drop off something at your locker. I hope that you didn't think it was creepy."

Nico thinks back to the phone, unsure of what to say about it. He's not quite sure of the message that Will had meant by copying down a poem that ended off on such a macabre image. He wants to ask him about what it means, but he doesn't want to look more inept than he already does.

"It wasn't creepy," Nico says slowly. "Unexpected, maybe. I never took you for the poetic type."

And there he goes again: flitting back and forth between half-flirting and snubbing the other boy. If Nico's confused by his own behaviour, he's sure that Will must be completely bewildered. Then again, maybe he doesn't notice it at all. Nico quickly changes the topic before he can make a greater fool out of himself. "Are you here for the GSA meeting or…what?"

"I invited him," Piper calls, and Nico remembers that he's not alone with Will. The thought is startling, and he realizes that he so easily forgets his place when he's with Will. There's something both refreshing and dangerous about it.

"Very last minute of you," Nico observes without malice.

Will offers him a smile that is partially a grimace. "I was busy. I mean I've always planned to join… But you know…"

Nico narrows his eyes when he hears this. "What do you mean by 'always'? Is this something extra to put on your college application?"

The other boy looks taken aback by his words, and Nico regrets them immediately. He opens his mouth, about to apologize for dragging up the whole college excuses once again, but Will vehemently denies it first. "No!" His tone softens a little when Nico takes a subconscious step back. "I mean by the fact that I've actually wanted to join."

"Well, you'll finally put the straight into GSA," Nico remarked offhandedly. He paused and then realized the enormity of what he just said even though it wouldn't have come to a surprise. But still. He looks anxiously at the door, hoping that nobody passing by the classroom has heard his words. There's a reason why he barely hears of people coming out in this school.

He looks back at Will's expression, but the other boy has a half-smile on his face and doesn't look at all alarmed by the revelation. "Well, not exactly," Will says, hesitating and running his hand through his hair. "I thought you knew?"

"The…rumours?" Nico asks, feeling the beat of his heart thump harder and harder against his chest. "I thought they didn't have credibility." He'd be lying if he said he wanted Will to agree with him. He suddenly feed hyperaware of his surroundings: the sunlight through the window lighting up Will's face, Reyna and Piper's stares burning into his back, their supervisor reading a book at the teacher's desk and thoroughly ignoring them, the slight tremble in his legs.

"Uh…They're not…? I mean, those rumours are tall tales." Will is playing with Nico's emotions right now, he swears – it's a rollercoaster that falls and then rises again and again. "But there's still truth in there; I actually am gay."

Notes: not sure how I felt about this chapter but I really wanted to finish it. I'll revisit later for fixing up.

The poem in earlier in this chapter is "You fit into me" from Margaret Atwood. I've removed it from this site's version of the fic because people go zonkers over things like this. (I'll probably get taken down for it lol) It's not a very long poem though, so reading it is to your advantage.

Reviews of course, are always lovely. :)