Chapter VI

Will Solace

I dropped my bag in the doorway of the Dionysus cabin. The smell of grapes and old cedar hit me immediately — sweet, heavy, and familiar.

Matt Roy was sprawled across one of the empty beds, his brown curls messy, a magazine open over his chest. The rest of the cabin was quiet.

"Hey, Will," he said lazily, glancing up at me with a half-smile.

"Hi." I sighed, leaning down to press a soft kiss against his lips. They were warm, a little dry from sleep.

"I can't believe you're still in bed," I teased, perching on the edge beside him.

He shrugged, eyes glinting. "I was waiting for you."

I laughed quietly as he pushed himself up on his elbows, brushing his lips against my neck. His breath was warm. He trailed slow, deliberate kisses along my skin, leaving faint purple marks that would probably stay for the rest of the day. When he looked up, that mischievous smirk was waiting for me — the one that had pulled me in months ago.

"Matt," I said softly, "I'm not in the mood right now."

He ignored me, his lips brushing my collarbone.

"Matt..." I whispered, a little firmer this time.

He groaned and dropped back onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling.

"Sorry, babe. Next time." I said, sinking down beside him. "I had a rough night at the hospital."

He didn't respond. When I turned my head, his eyes were already closed again, the faint sound of uneven breathing slipping past his lips.

"Of course," I muttered under my breath, though my tone was soft.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring up at the wood beams above us. The sunlight filtered through the vines crawling over the window, throwing moving shadows across his sleeping face. It should've been peaceful.

But my mind wouldn't stop replaying the sound of Nico screaming. His voice cracked, raw with fear. The way his eyes had looked when he told me to leave — sharp, furious, terrified.

I rubbed the back of my neck. I should've respected his boundaries. I knew better than to touch him like that without asking, but seeing him in pain... it had been instinct. I wanted to help. And instead, I made it worse.

I stood, brushing the wrinkles from my shirt, and grabbed my bag again.

The sunlight hit me as soon as I opened the cabin door, flooding the room with gold. Outside, the air smelled like pine and campfire smoke. The warmth felt almost alive against my skin, and I tilted my head back, letting it sink into me.

For a moment, I just stood there, letting the light wash over me. I wanted to melt into it, to let it burn away the guilt still sitting in my chest.

But even as the sun soaked into my skin, I couldn't stop thinking about him — pale and shaking under that blanket, trapped in his own nightmares.

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