[Bad days don't come like they used to. There are days he finds himself looking in the mirror, fingers pushing his nose into the shape of Bianca's and tugging at his hair to try and catch a glimpse of her in his own reflection, but those days don't take his feet out from under him anymore. There are days too when he sits next to Will at the Apollo table and the heavy weight of eyes that aren't there keep his hands folded carefully on his lap, Will's hand lying empty inches away, but Will offers him a kind smile and by lunchtime the press of that gaze is gone.
He recovers faster now, more often than not beats back the voices in his head when they rise in volume. He's getting better. His heart growing lighter. More resilient.
But the defenses he's building aren't strong enough on the nights Tartarus takes him under, returning him to that place and plunging him into darkness. The nightmares turn the breath in his lungs to burning poison and blind him with a pressing darkness, suffocating and all consuming. They always start in the pit and they always end in the jar. That fucking, terrifying, horrible jar. Sometimes when he wakes in the dark after those dreams, he can't tell that he's out, that it's over.
The fear lingers. The loneliness and hopelessness drag him back into their depths.
Today is one of those days. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say that Saturday was one of those nights. (It's Tuesday now.) One of the many problems with the nightmares was he needed strength to fight them off, but they drained him of everything and left nothing behind. And so one night of nightmares turned into two. He knows better now. Knows that after one night, the best thing to do is to refuse sleep the next. It's been three days since he slept for more than a couple of hours at a time and he feels fragile. Like he'll break with the slightest breeze.
It's lunch time and he's sitting on his bed, eyes boring into the opposite wall, unseeing. He skipped breakfast and all of his classes this morning, mumbling something about a cold at the camper who'd been sent to inspect his absence. He's pretty sure it was a newer camper because they'd run off fairly quickly when he snapped at them to leave. Makes it easier on him at least.
He's dressed, but his shoes aren't on. He should eat lunch. He's not hungry, but he should eat. He'd slept in his clothes last night, too tired to change out of them and it's convenient because he's dressed. Except for his shoes that are lying halfway across the room.
Lunch will be so loud, with so many people. Kayla will ask him where he's been and Will will smile and reach for his hand and his shoes are so far away. He isn't that hungry anyway.
Maybe dinner. Maybe he'll eat in his room.
Nico sits on his bed and stares at the wall and he hurts.]
[ in the infirmary, will hears the excuse of a cold and frowns. by this point in their relationship, he and nico have an understanding. insult to the mind plays differently than insult to tissue. its symptoms are different. its prognosis is different. as much as will wishes his skills were different, he cannot heal the effects of mental trauma like he can the physical. there is no bone to be set; no open wound to be sutured. the best he can do — the only thing he can do — is give nico time.
that is what he did the past two days as he took notice of nico sleeping less, withdrawing more. but pushing, as past experience had taught, was rarely helpful.
refusing to come out of his cabin and blaming it on a cold is a red flag will cannot ignore.
he gets someone to take over for him, then crosses the camp to the kitchen. laden with a picnic basket full of food, will knocks on the door to cabin thirteen, ] It's me, [ and lets himself in.
the sight that greets him is neither new or unexpected. letting the door shut behind him, will steps further into the cabin. he sets the basket on the floor. there are rules against campers staying in a cabin that isn't theirs, especially against staying in a closed cabin with a camper of a different godly parent. will ignores them. the rules don't apply in the event of a medical situation and this qualifies.
a heavy miasma of distress clings to nico like his shadow. will's fingers slide around nico's wrist, instinctively finding the other boy's pulse. the touch confirms what he already suspected by sight: insomnia; loss of appetite; and a deep-rooted anguish that is the cause of his somatic symptoms. the hand that cups nico's cheek is as much born from affection as concern. ]
[The voice at the door is equally relieving and anxiety inducing, guilt stabbing at him and shame crawling under his skin. He doesn't want Will to see him like this. (But he wants Will and is reminded of this the moment the other boy enters.) He isn't sure what he wants Will to do, just knows he wants him.
Soft fingers touch his wrist and cheek and his insides tense, a lump lodging itself in his throat. Will is gentle with him. He is always gentle with him. He didn't know a person could be so gentle. Nico exhales shakily and raises his chin the barest bit higher, eyes rising to Will's face though he avoids his gaze.
If he looks Will in the eyes, he'll see. (And then he'll leave. Not today maybe, but someday. He'll understand how much work Nico is and for no payoff at all and Nico couldn't blame him for walking away then.)]
[ nico's alert. that's good. aware of himself and of will. also good.
will keeps checking off items on the health checklist he has mentally drawn up for nico. it's his gauge for the bad days. he has to refer to it less often now — very good — but every so often a day like this comes around. and will falls back on his list.
tipping his head to try to catch nico's eye, will manages to smile. ]
I missed you at breakfast. Have you eaten anything today?
[Will doesn't mean it as an accusation but it feels like one anyway. Nico lowers his chin again, eyes downcast. He doesn't answer but it's an answer in and of itself. He didn't have dinner last night either. He'd sat there with food on his plate and after spending long enough pushing it from one side to the other, had finally given up on the charade and dumped the rest. (He'd have given it as an offering but the gods didn't like leftovers anymore than anyone else.)
He stares at his feet, remembering he isn't wearing shoes and spying them a few feet across the room. He wonders if Will can tell he couldn't put them on. His shoulders wilt and he closes his eyes, exhaustion warring with embarrassment. He's so tired. He's so stupid and he's so tired. Why does Will even bother?]
[ another check. mood: depressed. it's going to be that kind of bad day.
falling back on the brook-no-argument tone kayla calls his "doctor voice," will says sternly, ] You're not going another day without eating.
You don't have to go outside, [ because will knows that's a losing fight — he fetches the basket from where he left it and brings it over to the bed, ] but you do have to eat something.
[For a moment, anxiety spikes inside of him and Will just as quickly soothes it with the clarification. He couldn't have gone out and he couldn't have dealt with fighting with Will over it. Eating is another story.
He watches Will move the basket of food over and his stomach clenches. He's hungry. Even if he can't feel it, he knows he is. Putting the food in his mouth though, chewing and swallowing one bite after another is almost enough to make him want to disappear into the shadows.
Will is right though. He has to eat. He should eat. (He doesn't want to.)
He wishes Will's hand was still on his cheek.]
Why...[He starts and his voice is a croak from lack of use. He swallows and tries again.] Why are you here? [In his right mind, he wouldn't have to ask. Now, he's dizzy and exhausted with lack of sleep, lack of food. Fear and loneliness have been his constant companions. The voice in his head plants every seed of doubt and Nico can no longer tell if the voice is his own or something darker.]
[ in any other scenario, his tone would be joking. why would he possibly want to hang out with his boyfriend? in the context of today, will's voice, while still running toward the lighter side, is also painfully sincere: ] Because you're here.
[ bending, will presses a warm kiss to nico's cheek. his hand is at the back of nico's neck, carding through the shaggy hair there. he draws back, though not away. will sinks into a crouch in front of nico; his hands come to rest over one of nico's knees. he looks up at his boyfriend with a softly encouraging smile. ]
You can tell me. Whatever it is. [ all of which nico knows, but they bear repeating. especially: ] I'm not going anywhere, Nico.
[His eyes flicker open at the press of lips to his cheek and he finally meets Will's gaze, unable to bring himself to keep hiding. The grief in his eyes is deep, his pain impossible to conceal. Will's words crack him open like a shell and his expression crumbles. He leans forward and reaches for Will, hands pulling him close so that he can bury his face in Will's neck.
Nico is silent as he clings to him, reveling in the feeling of being held, being cared for. It's one of the first things to go when the voice of Tartarus begins to whisper into his ear. Worthless, shameful, unwanted, alone. The charges fall on him one after another, weighing him down and pressing him into the ground until it feels like his lungs will collapse under the weight, stalling his breath. Breath that returns now with the affection Will is pouring into him with his touch, his words, and the way he looks at him. Will looks at him like Nico could never disappoint him. Like his damage and his baggage will never be too much for him.
Will looks at him and the voice gets quieter, losing some of its hold.
He exhales long and deep, forehead pressed to Will's shoulder. Will is warm. His hands and voice, both begin to thaw Nico's frozen insides.]
[ in his chest, will's heart feels caught in a vice. he kisses nico's shoulder, the side of his head, and hugs him tight like will could press every terrible thought and belief from the other boy's body. only when nico's hold begins to relax does will, too, drop his arms.
taking a seat on the bed, will pulls the basket into his lap and starts taking stuff out. he passes nico a still warm roll. depending on how long nico has been without eating ( and will is gambling on a full day, maybe a little more ) he will need something to settle his stomach before getting into anything heavy. getting nico to that point is a long shot, but so long as he eats something will will be if not content at least reassured.
the next thing he hands nico is a bottle full of orange juice. ] For your cold. [ this is a joke. because will solace is another fucking nerd. ]
[Though he doesn't laugh, there's an echo of laughter in his eyes at Will's joke and he shakes his head slightly, taking the orange juice anyway. The roll in his hand is warm and his stomach tightens in anticipation or dread, he isn't sure which. A part of him doesn't want to eat even now and he tries to ignore it, to push past the resistance and bring the roll to his lips.
It is the smallest bite possible, but it is a bite. Nico chews and swallows and his stomach doesn't revolt. It's a victory. The bread is plain and soft, perfect for his reluctant appetite. Inoffensive to his palate. It never starts tasting good but the second bite is easier, and the third. After a few minutes have passed, he's finished two thirds of it without complaint.
By then he's moved closer to Will, thighs pressed together and shoulder to shoulder. He needs Will's warm presence to keep him centered. The remaining piece of his roll is held loosely in the hand on his lap, and he takes a break, lets his head fall against Will. The silence is comfortable instead of oppressive and Nico uses it to bolster his courage.]
...I had nightmares. About being back...[He trails off, not wanting to say the name. Names have power and it's still inside of him. Besides, Will knows what he means.]
When I wake up, it's like I'm still there. Like this is the dream. That place is the only thing that's real.
[ like nico, though the name immediately springs to mind, will does not voice it. tartarus. what little he knows is based on the old stories and the snippets — more fragments of emotion than actual details — that nico has been able to provide. like before, will does not push for more information. nico is too haunted; and will cannot help by drowning in the same trauma.
that does not make this any easier for him being on the outside looking in. his hand twitches in his lap, the backs of his fingers instinctively seeking the warmth of nico's arm.
evenly, will asks, ] Do you still feel like that?
[ he tips his head, his cheek grazing the top of nico's head. ]
No. Yes. I don't know. [He feels like he's in a fog but he can tell that Will is real, and if Will is real then this isn't a dream, he isn't still there. Nico quiets and finishes the last piece of his bread, dusting the crumbs off of his lap before reaching for Will. He winds both of his arms around Will's, aching to be closer.]
I know you're real. [Even as he says it, the slightest sliver of doubt creeps into his mind, less driven by the quieting voice in his head and more by the fear of possibility. What if Will isn't? What if he's wrong? what then? He holds Will tighter, his brow creasing. Fear drapes itself over him like a heavy blanket.]
[The infirmary is blissfully empty and Nico sits on one of the cots with his back against a pile of pillows, a heap of goldenseal stalks beside him. Another pile sits to his right, the roots separated out from the rest and he works meticulously with the stalk in his hand, separating leaf from stalk and root. Judging from the size of his piles, he's been at it for a while though he still has quite a ways to go. At the nearest desk and chair, Will sits, sorting through papers and labeling containers full of various herbs as Nico watches him in silence.
It's a comfortable silence that's fallen over them, the warmth of the day soaking through the windows and heating the room and bolstering the peaceful environment.]
Hey, Will? [His voice is soft when he speaks, a contemplative tone indicative of something he's been chewing over in the peaceful silence for quite some time.]
[ will is a combat medic who has cut through shirts to get at a flail chest, sliced pants straight off legs to treat a laceration in the area of the femoral triangle, and, oh yes, delivered a satyr baby to an aura.
that last one might be the reason he now looks terrified and is turning red. ]
Why are you asking me? Wouldn't it be better to ask Mal?
[ also why does nico want to know but that question doesn't occur to him in his gay panic. ]
[Nico blanches on cue, his own gaze taking on a haunted stare as he gives a very firm and very immediate] No.
I can't-I was trying to-I mean there was this one time-and it was green? And I was latching it for her and how do they even do that? How can they reach? [As if demonstrating his nonsensical mutterings will help, Nico drops the herbs and reaches behind his back, one arm around his side and the other over his shoulder as he tries to latch an imaginary latch. He gives up and his arms fall to the side, his expression as lost as ever.]
She couldn't get it, and I mean who could! Seriously how do they do it? [He pauses and then realizes he's left out a crucial detail.] Her wrist was hurt! My eyes were closed! It was a whole thing and I don't want to talk about it!
[He goes silent then but just when it seems he's done, he starts again, more of a shout this time.] And fashion is stupid!
[No, he's dying. All of the blood in his body has rushed to his face and sooner or later all of his organs are going to give out. Death by bra. Death by embarrassment. He's ending up in the Asphodel fields for sure.]
I'm fine. [He's not fine and he's given up any semblance of being fine, burying his face in his hands. He's so gay. He's so gay.]
[ he loves his sisters ( that he has met ) and he too would step up and help them if they were injured. but he is also immensely fucking glad that apollo has so many kids that the odds that there would not be any other girls in the cabin to step up instead are slim to none.
if it were a stranger it'd be one thing but. sisters. ]
Nico groans and lets his hands slide off of his face, fixing Will with a pained expression. He is a good brother.]
Mal deserves a brother who will latch her bra for her. [If the gods show him any kind of mercy it will never happen again, but if it does, he'll be there. With one hand slapped over his eyes, but there all the same.
After another pause.] So. Are they just like...to...um...keep...everything in place? [This would be easier if they were talking about generic boobs and not sister boobs. He amends his previous statement. Girls aren't weird, sisters are weird.]
[ unfortunately, context now comes to bite will in the ass because he might not want to think about boobs, but he really does not want to think about nico's sister's boobs. ]
Well…mostly?
[ solace, you're going to be a doctor, you can do this. maybe if he treats it like a theoretical exercise. the proven benefits of bra-wearing, let's go. ]
They help with back pain when someone is…bigger. And they're important during exercise or else the…movement [ he nearly said "bouncing" and he hates himself ] can damage the Cooper's ligaments in the breast.
[ looking down, he notices he made a cupping gesture by his chest. will drops his hands. forever.
he finishes a little lamely, ] I think most just wear them to make clothes fit better.
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He recovers faster now, more often than not beats back the voices in his head when they rise in volume. He's getting better. His heart growing lighter. More resilient.
But the defenses he's building aren't strong enough on the nights Tartarus takes him under, returning him to that place and plunging him into darkness. The nightmares turn the breath in his lungs to burning poison and blind him with a pressing darkness, suffocating and all consuming. They always start in the pit and they always end in the jar. That fucking, terrifying, horrible jar. Sometimes when he wakes in the dark after those dreams, he can't tell that he's out, that it's over.
The fear lingers. The loneliness and hopelessness drag him back into their depths.
Today is one of those days. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say that Saturday was one of those nights. (It's Tuesday now.) One of the many problems with the nightmares was he needed strength to fight them off, but they drained him of everything and left nothing behind. And so one night of nightmares turned into two. He knows better now. Knows that after one night, the best thing to do is to refuse sleep the next. It's been three days since he slept for more than a couple of hours at a time and he feels fragile. Like he'll break with the slightest breeze.
It's lunch time and he's sitting on his bed, eyes boring into the opposite wall, unseeing. He skipped breakfast and all of his classes this morning, mumbling something about a cold at the camper who'd been sent to inspect his absence. He's pretty sure it was a newer camper because they'd run off fairly quickly when he snapped at them to leave. Makes it easier on him at least.
He's dressed, but his shoes aren't on. He should eat lunch. He's not hungry, but he should eat. He'd slept in his clothes last night, too tired to change out of them and it's convenient because he's dressed. Except for his shoes that are lying halfway across the room.
Lunch will be so loud, with so many people. Kayla will ask him where he's been and Will will smile and reach for his hand and his shoes are so far away. He isn't that hungry anyway.
Maybe dinner. Maybe he'll eat in his room.
Nico sits on his bed and stares at the wall and he hurts.]
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that is what he did the past two days as he took notice of nico sleeping less, withdrawing more. but pushing, as past experience had taught, was rarely helpful.
refusing to come out of his cabin and blaming it on a cold is a red flag will cannot ignore.
he gets someone to take over for him, then crosses the camp to the kitchen. laden with a picnic basket full of food, will knocks on the door to cabin thirteen, ] It's me, [ and lets himself in.
the sight that greets him is neither new or unexpected. letting the door shut behind him, will steps further into the cabin. he sets the basket on the floor. there are rules against campers staying in a cabin that isn't theirs, especially against staying in a closed cabin with a camper of a different godly parent. will ignores them. the rules don't apply in the event of a medical situation and this qualifies.
a heavy miasma of distress clings to nico like his shadow. will's fingers slide around nico's wrist, instinctively finding the other boy's pulse. the touch confirms what he already suspected by sight: insomnia; loss of appetite; and a deep-rooted anguish that is the cause of his somatic symptoms. the hand that cups nico's cheek is as much born from affection as concern. ]
Hey. Look at me?
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Soft fingers touch his wrist and cheek and his insides tense, a lump lodging itself in his throat. Will is gentle with him. He is always gentle with him. He didn't know a person could be so gentle. Nico exhales shakily and raises his chin the barest bit higher, eyes rising to Will's face though he avoids his gaze.
If he looks Will in the eyes, he'll see. (And then he'll leave. Not today maybe, but someday. He'll understand how much work Nico is and for no payoff at all and Nico couldn't blame him for walking away then.)]
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will keeps checking off items on the health checklist he has mentally drawn up for nico. it's his gauge for the bad days. he has to refer to it less often now — very good — but every so often a day like this comes around. and will falls back on his list.
tipping his head to try to catch nico's eye, will manages to smile. ]
I missed you at breakfast. Have you eaten anything today?
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He stares at his feet, remembering he isn't wearing shoes and spying them a few feet across the room. He wonders if Will can tell he couldn't put them on. His shoulders wilt and he closes his eyes, exhaustion warring with embarrassment. He's so tired. He's so stupid and he's so tired. Why does Will even bother?]
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falling back on the brook-no-argument tone kayla calls his "doctor voice," will says sternly, ] You're not going another day without eating.
You don't have to go outside, [ because will knows that's a losing fight — he fetches the basket from where he left it and brings it over to the bed, ] but you do have to eat something.
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He watches Will move the basket of food over and his stomach clenches. He's hungry. Even if he can't feel it, he knows he is. Putting the food in his mouth though, chewing and swallowing one bite after another is almost enough to make him want to disappear into the shadows.
Will is right though. He has to eat. He should eat. (He doesn't want to.)
He wishes Will's hand was still on his cheek.]
Why...[He starts and his voice is a croak from lack of use. He swallows and tries again.] Why are you here? [In his right mind, he wouldn't have to ask. Now, he's dizzy and exhausted with lack of sleep, lack of food. Fear and loneliness have been his constant companions. The voice in his head plants every seed of doubt and Nico can no longer tell if the voice is his own or something darker.]
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[ in any other scenario, his tone would be joking. why would he possibly want to hang out with his boyfriend? in the context of today, will's voice, while still running toward the lighter side, is also painfully sincere: ] Because you're here.
[ bending, will presses a warm kiss to nico's cheek. his hand is at the back of nico's neck, carding through the shaggy hair there. he draws back, though not away. will sinks into a crouch in front of nico; his hands come to rest over one of nico's knees. he looks up at his boyfriend with a softly encouraging smile. ]
You can tell me. Whatever it is. [ all of which nico knows, but they bear repeating. especially: ] I'm not going anywhere, Nico.
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Nico is silent as he clings to him, reveling in the feeling of being held, being cared for. It's one of the first things to go when the voice of Tartarus begins to whisper into his ear. Worthless, shameful, unwanted, alone. The charges fall on him one after another, weighing him down and pressing him into the ground until it feels like his lungs will collapse under the weight, stalling his breath. Breath that returns now with the affection Will is pouring into him with his touch, his words, and the way he looks at him. Will looks at him like Nico could never disappoint him. Like his damage and his baggage will never be too much for him.
Will looks at him and the voice gets quieter, losing some of its hold.
He exhales long and deep, forehead pressed to Will's shoulder. Will is warm. His hands and voice, both begin to thaw Nico's frozen insides.]
Okay. [It comes out in a shaky breath.]
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taking a seat on the bed, will pulls the basket into his lap and starts taking stuff out. he passes nico a still warm roll. depending on how long nico has been without eating ( and will is gambling on a full day, maybe a little more ) he will need something to settle his stomach before getting into anything heavy. getting nico to that point is a long shot, but so long as he eats something will will be if not content at least reassured.
the next thing he hands nico is a bottle full of orange juice. ] For your cold. [ this is a joke. because will solace is another fucking nerd. ]
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It is the smallest bite possible, but it is a bite. Nico chews and swallows and his stomach doesn't revolt. It's a victory. The bread is plain and soft, perfect for his reluctant appetite. Inoffensive to his palate. It never starts tasting good but the second bite is easier, and the third. After a few minutes have passed, he's finished two thirds of it without complaint.
By then he's moved closer to Will, thighs pressed together and shoulder to shoulder. He needs Will's warm presence to keep him centered. The remaining piece of his roll is held loosely in the hand on his lap, and he takes a break, lets his head fall against Will. The silence is comfortable instead of oppressive and Nico uses it to bolster his courage.]
...I had nightmares. About being back...[He trails off, not wanting to say the name. Names have power and it's still inside of him. Besides, Will knows what he means.]
When I wake up, it's like I'm still there. Like this is the dream. That place is the only thing that's real.
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that does not make this any easier for him being on the outside looking in. his hand twitches in his lap, the backs of his fingers instinctively seeking the warmth of nico's arm.
evenly, will asks, ] Do you still feel like that?
[ he tips his head, his cheek grazing the top of nico's head. ]
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I know you're real. [Even as he says it, the slightest sliver of doubt creeps into his mind, less driven by the quieting voice in his head and more by the fear of possibility. What if Will isn't? What if he's wrong? what then? He holds Will tighter, his brow creasing. Fear drapes itself over him like a heavy blanket.]
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It's a comfortable silence that's fallen over them, the warmth of the day soaking through the windows and heating the room and bolstering the peaceful environment.]
Hey, Will? [His voice is soft when he speaks, a contemplative tone indicative of something he's been chewing over in the peaceful silence for quite some time.]
What are bras for?
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Uh…
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I mean, I know. Just. Specifically. What do they do?
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that last one might be the reason he now looks terrified and is turning red. ]
Why are you asking me? Wouldn't it be better to ask Mal?
[ also why does nico want to know but that question doesn't occur to him in his gay panic. ]
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I can't-I was trying to-I mean there was this one time-and it was green? And I was latching it for her and how do they even do that? How can they reach? [As if demonstrating his nonsensical mutterings will help, Nico drops the herbs and reaches behind his back, one arm around his side and the other over his shoulder as he tries to latch an imaginary latch. He gives up and his arms fall to the side, his expression as lost as ever.]
And she was...no, no I can't ask her...
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…Why were you latching it for her?
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She couldn't get it, and I mean who could! Seriously how do they do it? [He pauses and then realizes he's left out a crucial detail.] Her wrist was hurt! My eyes were closed! It was a whole thing and I don't want to talk about it!
[He goes silent then but just when it seems he's done, he starts again, more of a shout this time.] And fashion is stupid!
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but now there is another question will needs answered first. ]
Nico, are you okay?
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I'm fine. [He's not fine and he's given up any semblance of being fine, burying his face in his hands. He's so gay. He's so gay.]
Girls are weird.
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You're a good brother.
[ he loves his sisters ( that he has met ) and he too would step up and help them if they were injured. but he is also immensely fucking glad that apollo has so many kids that the odds that there would not be any other girls in the cabin to step up instead are slim to none.
if it were a stranger it'd be one thing but. sisters. ]
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Nico groans and lets his hands slide off of his face, fixing Will with a pained expression. He is a good brother.]
Mal deserves a brother who will latch her bra for her. [If the gods show him any kind of mercy it will never happen again, but if it does, he'll be there. With one hand slapped over his eyes, but there all the same.
After another pause.] So. Are they just like...to...um...keep...everything in place? [This would be easier if they were talking about generic boobs and not sister boobs. He amends his previous statement. Girls aren't weird, sisters are weird.]
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Well…mostly?
[ solace, you're going to be a doctor, you can do this. maybe if he treats it like a theoretical exercise. the proven benefits of bra-wearing, let's go. ]
They help with back pain when someone is…bigger. And they're important during exercise or else the…movement [ he nearly said "bouncing" and he hates himself ] can damage the Cooper's ligaments in the breast.
[ looking down, he notices he made a cupping gesture by his chest. will drops his hands. forever.
he finishes a little lamely, ] I think most just wear them to make clothes fit better.
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