Will Solace

It was the middle of winter, and there was a fever going around. I was one of the first people who'd had it, and I was over it by now. But tonight it got my boyfriend. Now, I had never seen Nico properly sick before, but I knew that he would be in bad condition. I knew this the moment he woke up and ran to the bathroom, but only made it two steps before collapsing to his knees and throwing his guts up. I had taken him to the infirmary immediately, and taken his temperature. It was one hundred sixteen. And he was barely able to walk, he was so dizzy. He kept telling me he was seeing little green blobs floating around like the fat ghost from Ghostbusters. He wouldn't stop shaking either, and every time I pressed the cloth to his forehead, he kept protesting that he wasn't sick, and it was just a one time thing. Probably from the popcorn we had eaten last night.

"Nico, you're sick, and you aren't leaving this bed until I say you're one hundred percent better." I told him.

"I'm– I'm not sick Will. Just–" he threw up in the bucket beside his bed.

"Oh, Nico." I groaned softly, running his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "Always so stubborn. Can't you just accept that you're sick and let me take care of you?"

He was about to say something, but he threw up again. He sighed in defeat and flopped his head back. "Try to get some sleep, okay?" I pleaded.

Grudgingly, he nodded. "Okay. I just...hate being sick." He explained. I nodded. "I think everyone does, Death Boy." He scowled at me.

"No nicknames right now Will, please?" My heart felt like it was breaking in two. He must be really sick on so many different levels. He never told me no nicknames, in fact, mostly he went along with it. So I nodded and continued playing with his matted hair.