SOLANGELO

There are very few reasons anyone willingly steps into the Hades cabin.

It isn’t uncomfortable, exactly—at least, not in any way you can easily explain—but it carries a weight that presses against your senses the moment you cross the threshold. The air is cooler here, quieter, as if sound itself has been dulled. Shadows linger longer than they should, pooling in corners and stretching just a little too far across the floor. It’s not threatening, not really. Just… heavy. Still. Like the room is always watching, even when nothing is moving.

And yet, here you are.

You sit on the edge of the bed opposite Nico’s, leaning back slightly on your hands, gaze drifting across the dim interior. The faint glow from a small lamp does little to chase away the shadows, but it’s enough. Nico doesn’t seem to need more.

Nico is stretched out on his bed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting loosely across his chest. He looks… comfortable. Or at least, as close to comfortable as Nico ever gets. His dark hair falls slightly into his face, and for once, his expression isn’t tense or guarded. It’s softer, quieter, like the cabin itself allows him to let something go.

You don’t remember exactly how you ended up here.

Maybe it was because the Hades cabin is quieter than most, a place where no one expects constant conversation. Maybe it was because Nico tolerates your presence in a way that feels… unspoken but genuine. Or maybe you just wandered in and never left, and Nico didn’t tell you to.

Either way, you’re here now.

The conversation between you had been minimal. Not awkward—just sparse. A few exchanged words, a comment here or there, long stretches of silence that somehow didn’t feel empty. Nico isn’t the type to fill space unnecessarily, and neither are you. It works.

“You ever think about just… leaving camp for a while?” Nico asks suddenly, voice quiet but cutting cleanly through the silence.

Your gaze shifts toward him. He’s staring at the ceiling, not looking at you, like the question wasn’t entirely meant to be answered. Or maybe it was, just not directly.

You consider it.

“Sometimes,” you reply after a moment, voice even. Honest, but not overly detailed. You don’t elaborate. You don’t need to.

Nico hums faintly, like that’s enough. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “Me too.”

Silence settles again.

It’s not uncomfortable.

It’s just… there.

And then—

The door bursts open.

Light spills in from the outside, sharp and sudden, cutting through the dimness of the cabin like a blade. The shift is immediate, jarring, almost intrusive in a place that thrives on stillness.

“Neeks! I missed you!”

Will.

Of course it’s Will.

The energy he brings with him is immediate, overwhelming in the best way—or the worst, depending on how you look at it. Warmth floods the room, chasing away the lingering chill, pushing back the shadows without even trying. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause, doesn’t even seem to register anything beyond his target.

Nico.

Will crosses the cabin in seconds, the movement effortless, familiar, like he’s done this a hundred times before. Probably has. Nico barely has time to react before Will is right there, practically collapsing onto the bed beside him, arms wrapping around him in one fluid motion.

“I missed you,” Will repeats, softer this time, but no less intense.

And then—

Kisses.

Not subtle. Not restrained. Quick, affectionate, insistent kisses pressed against Nico’s cheek, his temple, the corner of his mouth. Will doesn’t hold back, doesn’t second-guess, doesn’t seem remotely concerned with anything outside of the fact that Nico is right there and within reach.

Nico makes a small, muffled sound of protest, something between a groan and a half-hearted complaint. “Will—” he starts, but it’s cut off immediately as Will presses another kiss against his jaw.

“You survived,” Will says, like that alone justifies everything. “I had to deal with three sprained ankles, two broken wrists, and someone who thought it was a good idea to wrestle a harpy. I deserve this.”

Nico exhales sharply, but there’s no real resistance in it. If anything, his body relaxes under the onslaught, tension melting away in a way that’s almost unnoticeable unless you’re paying attention.

“You’re insufferable,” Nico mutters, but it lacks bite.

Will grins against his skin. “And you love me anyway.”

“…unfortunately.”

But Nico’s arms come up anyway, sliding around Will’s neck, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

And just like that—

You’re forgotten.

Completely.

You don’t move. Don’t speak. Don’t interrupt. You just sit there, exactly where you were, watching as the entire atmosphere of the room shifts around you. The quiet, steady stillness you had been sitting in dissolves into something warmer, louder—not in sound, but in presence.

Will shifts slightly, adjusting his position so he’s more comfortably half on top of Nico, still talking, still smiling, still very much focused on him and only him. “You should’ve seen it,” Will continues, animated, his hands moving slightly as he talks. “One of them tried to convince me that a broken wrist ‘wasn’t that bad.’ Like, no, that’s literally my job to decide.”

Nico huffs out a quiet laugh, the sound rare and softer than anything he’d let out around most people. “Sounds like your typical day.”

“Hey,” Will protests lightly, nudging him. “I work very hard.”

“You talk very hard,” Nico counters.

Will gasps, mock-offended, before immediately leaning in again, pressing another quick kiss to Nico’s cheek like punctuation. “Rude.”

And you—

You are still there.

Sitting. Existing. Entirely uninvolved.

It’s not even intentional, not really. They don’t mean to exclude you. It’s just… natural. Effortless. The way they fall into each other, into conversation, into touch—it leaves little room for anything else. The world narrows down to just the two of them without either of them realizing it.

You could leave.

The thought crosses your mind briefly. Slip out the door, let them have their space, disappear as quietly as you often do. They probably wouldn’t even notice until later. Or maybe not at all.

But you don’t move.

Instead, you stay.

Watching.

Listening.

Existing at the edge of something that isn’t yours, but that you’ve been allowed to witness anyway.

Will eventually shifts again, settling more comfortably beside Nico, one arm still loosely wrapped around him. His energy hasn’t dimmed, not really, but it’s softened slightly, settling into something steadier.

Nico, for his part, looks more at ease than he did before. The tension in his shoulders is gone, replaced by something quieter, something almost… content.

Neither of them has looked at you.

Not once.

And yet, strangely, it doesn’t feel entirely like exclusion. Just… distance. The same kind you’re used to. The same kind you choose, most of the time.

You exist in the room.

They exist with each other.

And for now, that’s how it stays.