Nico took a deep breath, forearms shaking and eyes on his bed. He sat crisscrossed on his bunk, afraid to get up because he knew he'd go straight to the bathroom. He couldn't handle another infirmary visit, being forced to be inches away from the love of his life that didn't want him, listening to his voice or even being treated by him.

Will meant everything to Nico, but he meant nothing to Will.

It was hard, trying to regulate his emotions. He hadn't been through this much stress in years. His social life and relationships seemed harder than wars, these days. And now that his long-term boyfriend had decided that they weren't meant to last, he didn't know what to do, huddled and isolated in Cabin 13 as he tried to calm himself down.

He always failed at doing that, however. Calming down. Settling. Finding peace. He wondered if it was because he was always alone, but he preferred it that way, and this is one huge reason why.

He looked down at his bare wrists, light line marks across them. They were unevenly distanced, but clean and parallel. He'd made them himself.

In this moment, all he wanted to do was make more, but he knew he couldn't. He would have to see Will again if he did, and he wasn't ready for that.

He wasn't ready... for any of this. The sadness was overwhelming, the grief and the guilt were gut-wrenching, and he couldn't see a way out.