Solangelo One Shots

The Feeling of Home

Nico's POV

Once again, he's pushed out of the house by the yelling. It's incessant, and even when he puts in his earbuds and shuts his bedroom door tight and hums as loud as he possibly can, he can't escape it. Today, his dad was yelling at his mom for getting the expensive chicken at the grocery store, and with Hazel camping out at a friend's for the night, he couldn't take it alone. He slips out of the house unnoticed before putting in his earbuds, jamming his hands in his pockets and bending his head down low. He's walked these streets a thousand times over, but the good thing is that, after using the streets as an escape for so long, he knows where to go.

The playground in the woods is his secret. His escape when the arguing in his house gets too intense, a place where the air is crisp and he can clear his head. It's overgrown with vines and weeds, the metal rusted over, but the swing overlooks a pond and for a few minutes, he feels like he can breathe. 

That's where he goes that afternoon, music in his head as his feet hit the ground, slowly but surely. He isn't exactly in a hurry, and the longer he's away from the fighting and yelling of his home, the better. 

Soon he's on the backroad that leads him to the playground, and he's pushing back the weeds with his chest bubbling up with air. The playground is usually empty, and he thinks that the creaking of the swing is just the soft spring breeze pushing it around. But when he gets a full view of the playground he can see a blond boy sitting on the swings, kicking his legs in the air as he soars above the ground. 

For a second, Nico is shell-shocked. He's never seen anyone here, not in five years of making the trek over. He stands in the clearing, watching the boy swing on his swing, clear his head on Nico's playground. Nico almost leaves, lets the boy work through his own issues, but that would mean Nico would have to go home, and he isn't quite ready to do that so he takes another step into the playground, stepping tentatively on twigs and leaves that still haven't been swept up by the wind. Something crunches underneath his foot and the boy on the swing slows down, turning around and flashing Nico a tiny smile. His face is still but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes. 

"Sorry," Nico says quickly. "I'll get out of your hair. I can just come back later or something."

"Hey, don't let me drive you away," the boy says. "There's another swing. I won't talk, I get it." 

"Thanks," Nico says. He steps up slowly, taking a seat. It's the same view, overlooking the pond as the rusty metal creaks with movement. It's the same view and, yet, it's different because for the first time ever, there's someone sitting there next to him. 

"I'm Will, by the way," the boy says. 

"What happened to not talking?" Nico snaps. Almost immediately he feels bad. He isn't normally so brash but today, all he wanted was to clear his head, and now there's someone talking to him, someone he doesn't even know.

"Right, sorry," Will says. He chews on his lip, hanging his head. "I get it. Sometimes we just need to be alone, huh?" He glances at Nico as if he's looking for a response. Nico doesn't really want to give one, but he also doesn't want to be rude. "Sorry."

"No, it's fine," Nico says. "My name's Nico. Sorry I snapped. Today's just kinda been tough." 

"You wanna talk about it?" Will asks. "It's not like either of us have anything better to do." He smiles again and it's so clear that he's trying to be friendly, but Nico isn't sure if he has the energy to spill all his feelings to a complete stranger. At the same time, though, Will is right; neither of them has anything better to do. 

"Parents," Nico says with a wry smile. "It's like they fight, and they just kinda forget I'm there." He glances down at his hands, his feet swinging gently. "So, what about you? Just taking a nice walk and happen to stumble on my secret thinking spot?"