Riordanverse Oneshots, Rants and More

Oneshot #4- Labelled

labelled.

that's what he had been.

all his life, whether it was back home in texas, or here at camp, will had always been labelled. labelled like a jar of jam. it was like a mask, hiding the bubbling emotions behind. like a dam holding back a sea of feelings. but he was alright. he always was for the others, so he could push away the spotlight from himself. 

he was supposed the be the happy one. the one with a dazzling smile plastered on his face, enough to make the sun cower behind the soft white clouds. he had been told numerous times that he had the brightest smile, warming up every room he went to. spreading a blanket of happiness over the witnesses. and that was what he wanted. the others to be happy.

when did his emotions ever matter? he was the 'healer', after all. he was supposed to heal others, whether it may be physically or emotionally. he was not the patient. and he did not want to be, if it meant watching someone else feel content.

it had started from the time when he was just five. they called him 'mr. sunshine', his friends as well as the teachers at his school. it was one of the few memories that never stopped nagging him. he would skip to school holding his mother's hand, his grin aglow like the sunlight shining through the limpid green blade of a new-born leaf. no one needed to know about the monsters that haunted him and his mother at night, growling outside their house, depriving them of sleep and energy. no one needed to know that he had never seen his father. no one needed to know about the sacrifices his mother had to do to protect the two from the cruel world. and he never uttered a word, like he had promised, for the safety of himself and his mother. 

he was around nine when a terrible rumour spread about his probable sexual orientation. insults and slurs flew left and right. every whisper down the hall of his school was about him. even the teachers seemed to get wind about it. he felt all the walls close around him every time he heard someone mutter his name. he was living through his worst nightmare. he could no longer focus in classes, and his adhd did not help the case. "breathe in, breathe out." he only tried focusing on his mother's soothing words. "hold your emotions down. you cannot cry. be stronger," the voices in his head would reprimand. they still did, nagging him every time he lost a patient. a person whom he couldn't save. 

he felt like crap during those days. he just wanted to stay at home, safe in his mother's caring arms. but he couldn't. not after knowing that his mother spent most of her day trying to earn enough money for a living and ceasing to focus on her own dreams. not after watching others like him get taken to conversion camp. he never saw them again after that. he did not want to end up like them. 

so he hid. 

he hid everything that made him him.

he stored all his emotions except happiness away. locked inside a big wooden box. and he hid the key in a place no one would ever find it. 

when his satyr found him and escorted him to camp half-blood at the age of ten, he was introduced to many kids like him. kids who had their fair share of being haunted by monsters, kids who had a hard life living with a single parent and so much more. he thought that maybe he had found the right place. he could finally let it all out.

but he couldn't.

he saw the others every day, wielding weapons during every practice and duelling each other like it was a normal game. all he could do was shoot with a gun, considering his only experience was watching his mother use it back home. but something did not feel right for him. he did not want to fight. he didn't think he had it in him. he was not very great at fighting anyway, and he did not want it. neither was he good in any other important fields that his father's powers fell under. he just wanted to heal, like he always had. it felt familiar, something he had a lot of experience with. 

so he spent his days at the infirmary alongside lee fletcher, his half brother. he learnt how to stitch up a deep wound, how to perform a surgery, how to revive someone and so much more. he thought he had accomplished something great. but no one noticed it apart from lee. by the age of twelve, he had reattached a limb all by himself and knew what to do in case of childbirth. no one cared. no one cared about the time when he had healed most of the camp, including annabeth when she was close to being poisoned. and that was okay.

he was the 'healer', after all. he was not meant to display any strong emotions. he was not allowed to share his true happiness and sorrows. he had to keep up a cheery attitude. a façade no one could see through. he had to absorb the pain the others felt. live every day knowing a close friend of his was suffering. sometimes, he wished he could tell them all to stop. to show them that he could not take it anymore. that it was too much for him to handle. tell them how much he hated his own hands, which were stained with the blood of so many lost ones. no amount of scrubbing seemed to wash off the guilt. but he could not let anyone down. not his friends, not his dad whom he had never met even once, not chiron and most importantly, not his mother, naomi solace.

if the ones around him expected him to be this 'happy and bubbly' version of himself all the time, then so be it.

even if it meant hiding his pain from his own boyfriend. nico seemed to notice his pain, but he never pushed. he asked him if he was okay occasionally, but will waved it away with a huge smile. he didn't want to burden him with his trivial matters. nico always glared at those who tried to label him, or ask him where his smile disappeared after a particularly tough day, but will knew it wouldn't help. he was ready to start yet another day with a forced smile.

he was the 'healer', after all.

(The lowercase is on purpose.)