Nothing/Everything

Popeyes by far had the shortest line, so once Will had his tray of greasy fried chicken and fries (plus a puck-like biscuit that he was definitely going to ignore), he searched for an empty table. Eyes half open, he scanned the crowded room, spinning in a small circle to take in the entire space.

Will was about to give up and take his food outside, when a group of women holding take-out containers stepped away from a wall, revealing a chair. The wood was stained at the top and bathed in the light streaming in from a window. Before anyone else could take the gods-sent chair, Will went for it.

Skillfully avoiding bumping into anybody, Will made it to the table, slamming down his tray and falling backwards into the chair. Sighing loudly, the blond put his face in his hands, rubbing at the corners of his eyes tiredly. Will was in his own exhaustion-and-stress induced world, mind swirling with terms and facts Will wasn’t sure he was going to remember in an hour.

“Uh ... hello?” someone said, his voice rich with the barest hint of an accent. Will jerked up and stared at the person sitting across from him. The man was undeniably beautiful, albeit a little tired looking. He had fluffy black hair and dark brown eyes, all contrasting with his pale skin.

Will smiled bashfully. “I’m sorry, this was the only place to sit. You want me to go?” Will gestured vaguely into the crowd of hungry college students.

The man shook his head, spinning a ring around his finger.

“I’m Will,” he held out a hand. The man didn’t reach out, instead sticking his hands into the pockets of his aviator’s jacket. Will dropped his hand. “Thank you, by the way.”

Finally, the other man spoke. “It’s not a big deal. I’m Nico.”

Nico, Will thought, beautiful. Still smiling, Will began to eat. He did not pay careful attention to how he ate in order to appear more put-together to Nico, not at all. Will also did not stare at Nico’s face and hands, because that would be creepy and rude.

When Nico sat back, however, Will could not hold back a startled gasp at what he saw. “Where did you get that shirt?” Will exclaimed, leaning forward to admire the artwork. “The Hunters of Artemis haven’t released any merch yet, as far as I know. Did you make that? It’s beautiful, where can I--“

“Hold on, I can only answer one question at a time, Will.” Nico rolled his eyes and pushed his tray out of the way. “Now, go ahead.”

Will took a deep breath. “The Hunters of Artemis don’t have any merch at all. How do you have that?”

“I designed it.” Nico dropped his voice to a whisper, “But, they are planning on releasing the shirt to the public pretty soon.”

“How do you know? Do you know the members or something?” Will asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at Nico.

Nico crossed his arms. “Actually, I do. They happen to be some of my closest friends.”

“Proof or you’re lying.”

“What are you,” Nico asked, “a third grader? I said I know and I have the shirt, so why would I lie?”

Will laughed. “I’m going to guess some sort of art major, maybe graphic design, and anyone with any art skill can make something like that.” Nico pursed his lips, dark eyes never leaving Will’s face. “So, Nico, I’m going to need a bit of proof.”

Nico shook a finger at Will. “You sound like a lawyer.”

“Not a lawyer, but hopefully a doctor.”

“I don’t like either.” Nico pulled out his phone. “But if you want proof, you’ll get proof.” Nico handed will the phone, a picture of Nico and three girls on the screen. “There I am, with Bianca, Zoë, and Thalia. Happy?”

Will’s jaw dropped. “H-how? They’re, like, so secretive and never take pictures with fans, so why would they ... ?” Nico smiled, it was closed mouthed and barely there, but Will loved it.

“Bianca’s my sister. My name is Nico di Angelo.”

“Oh.” Will stared down at the phone. “I knew that. You look just like her, only, well, shorter.”

Nico scowled. “I am not short.”

Will held up the phone. “She’s at least five inches taller than you.”

“I’m sitting!”

“So is she.” Will shrugged. “You might just have really bad posture. Looking at you, I think that’s what it is.”

Nico scoffed. “My posture is better than yours, dork.” He held out his hand, palm up. “Give me my phone.”

Will took Nico’s hand in his and brought it closer to his face. “How’d you get this?” Will traced his finger along the small, red-tinted cut.

“I was cooking and got a cut?” Nico said, wincing. He tried to pull his hand away, but Will tightened his grip. “Leave it alone.”

“I can’t. If you aren’t careful you could get it infected.” Will tilted Nico’s palm and inspected it further, pushing on the skin around the cut. “Seems be on the cusp of infection, already.”

“Damn, really?” Nico yanked his hand away, rubbing his wrist. “What do I do, Doctor Will?”

“Doctor Solace.” Will hummed and took out a sheet of paper and a pen. “Here’s what you should do. I’m going to write down a list of instructions to, hopefully, clean up that cut.” Will slid the paper towards Nico. “My number is also there. If anything gets worse you can text me.”

Nico picked it up, cheeks slightly pink. “You give your phone number to anyone with a scraped knee?”

Will shook his head, “Nah. Just the ones I’m particularly worried about.” Nico stood up and pocketed the paper, gathering his tray and trash. “Hey, Nico.”

“What?”

“It was nice to meet you. I really hope you call me.” Will took his own tray, gave Nico the Solace’s trademarked Dazzling Smile and said, “See you around.” With that, Will threw away the remainders of his lunch, and walked out of The Trash Can in a much better mood than when he entered.

Later that night, Will received a text from an unknown number. There was a picture of a poorly bandaged hand with the caption ‘Good enough, Doc? Think I’m gonna make it’

Will shook his head and replied, ‘I don’t know, think I’m going to have to come take a look ...’

‘Alright, big-shot, if you can do it better, my door’s open.’