Solangelo One Shots

Stop and Smell the Roses

Will's POV

The armchair I was sitting in was comfortable, and the crackling of the small fire at the closest end of the study room made pouring over endless medical notes just a little bit better. I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable. I had only been studying for about an hour, but the tiny print and long sentences full of vocabulary and facts were making my eyes hurt. I rubbed them, trying to make them work properly again. When I looked up, I saw someone sitting in the armchair across from me, someone who hadn't been there only a moment ago. 

The first thing that struck me as odd about this boy was that he appeared to be reading a fiction book, if the dragons and knights on the cover had anything to say about it. In college, most students didn't have enough free time to read for fun. He seemed carefree, much more carefree than anyone I had seen on campus of late, the stress of midterms weighing down on them like a thousand pound boulder. Jet black hair hung loosely in his face and as his dark brown eyes traveled quickly across the word filled page he smiled, a genuinely happy smile that didn't usually appear on a face during college midterms. Unlike everyone else in the silent study area, he wasn't sporting a huge, bulging backpack full of textbooks and work, only wearing a large aviator jacket that apparently had pockets large enough to fit the book. As I continued studying him, I couldn't help feeling an overwhelming sense of joy. Even though he was dressed mostly in dark colors, he seemed to be the light at the end of a tunnel. 

He caught me staring and glanced up from his book, a thin half smile playing onto his lips. His face was a pale olive color but seemed to be alive with emotion and heart. 

"Oh, um, hi," I stammered, mortified that he had caught me staring. "Sorry if I was staring, I was just wondering- well, I was thinking-" 

"About why I don't have any textbooks like everyone else in here?" the boy said, finishing my sentence. A girl, her nose buried in a thousand paged book, turned around and shot us a glare. 

"Keep it down!" she hissed. The boy immediately lowered his voice. 

"I just like reading," he explained.

"Not to be rude or anything, but shouldn't you be studying?" I asked. "It is midterms, after all." The boy shrugged, and slid a sleek black bookmark with a braided red tassel into the pages of the book, closing it afterward. 

"Sometimes you just have to stop and smell the roses." Without another word he stood up and walked out of the room, giving me a smile reminiscent of his first one, and a small wave. I watched him disappear from sight, and turned back to my studying, sure that our meeting was a freak accident and that we would probably never see each other again. 

Even though I tried to study, I couldn't wrap my brain around the words in front of me. Instead, my mind was occupied with thoughts of the boy. He might have been flirting with me, but the last time anyone had ever had a crush on me was my last boyfriend, Jake, in tenth grade, so I could be wrong. My main concern was how suddenly he had left after I had asked him if he should be studying. I didn't want to come off rude, but the question just sprang to my lips. He was so carefree, I couldn't even stop myself from letting the question slip out. 

The words were starting to swim around the page, stress of midterms now mixed in with the stress of having scared the boy away. Eventually I fell asleep right there in the study room, notes on my lap and the crackling fire keeping me warm. 

Nico's POV

The boy from yesterday was in the same exact place he had been the previous day, looking exhausted, like he had been awake all night. There were deep bags underneath his eyes, and he was wearing a rumpled sweatshirt. The huge stack of books was next to him again, and his eyes were slowly traveling over the page, blinking occasionally to keep his eyes open. 

I slipped into the armchair, cracking open the newest book I was reading. I started the first page, feeling my muscles un- tense after a long day of studying and stress. 

"Is that a new book?" he asked. "You read fast." 

"You don't," I chuckled. "You've been reading that sentence for forever."

"Studying is hard," he responded. 

"Why don't you just stop?" I suggested. "Take some time for yourself." 

"I can't. I have to study," he muttered. He turned back to his book, but I walked the short distance to his armchair and, slipping a scrap of paper to hold his place, closed the book. 

"Listen. I study, too, but that doesn't mean I don't take a little bit of time for myself." 

"Fine," he sighed. "What would you recommend?" 

"I like reading," I said. "I'll give you some book suggestions, if you want. We're in a library, we can go right now." 

As if contemplating the end of the world, he looked at his notes, trying to decide whether he should come with me or study for another ten hours. He bit his lip, and I knew he was thinking hard. Finally, with a great, heaving sigh, he slid the books into his backpack and, slinging the bag onto his back, stood up heavily. "All right. Let's go." 

We were standing in front of the tall wooden bookshelves lined with books of all kinds. My eyes immediately flew to the middle of the bookshelf, the part that housed the fantasy books filled with magic and adventure. I searched the bookshelf, eyes trialing over old favorites and new books I had yet to read until my eyes stopped on the weathered spine of a book that, at least to me, seemed timeless. 

"Here," I said, handing him Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. "I assume you've read this before?" 

"Yeah," he said, taking the book out of my hand. "In, like, fifth grade." 

"Well, read it again," I instructed. "It's a good book, and it'll lower your stress. By the way studying, I'd assume your test is tomorrow?" 

"Yeah," he responded, his hands trailing nervously over the large dent the books in the bag were making. I knew that, even though he had chosen to come with me, he would still rather be studying. 

"So there's nothing more you can do. I'm sure you're well enough prepared by now." 

"I guess you're right," he said thoughtfully as he let his hands fall limply from the backpack. He opened up the book and, starting the first page, started walking back to the study room. 

By the time we were back in the study room both of our comfortable armchairs had been taken by people scanning page after page of notes, so we curled up together on the tiny grey love seat, the only seat left empty in the overcrowded yet quiet room. Everyone was on crunch time, over stressing themselves before their big tests. Everyone except for us. I was curled up against Will, with my body pressed against his legs. He didn't seem to mind the contact. 

"You've helped me so much, but I don't even know your name," he said suddenly, looking up from his book. His face had relaxed, making his blue eyes sparkle, and the bags underneath his eyes had almost completely disappeared. 

"I'm Nico," I said. 

"Nico," he said. "I like that name. I'm Will."

"Well, Will, I'm having fun," I said. "Maybe we could do it again sometime?" 

"I would definitely like that," he grinned. I put my head down on Will's chest and he wrapped his arm around me, holding his book out in front of him. I turned back to my book, melting into the story as Will and I read into the night. 

I hope you liked that!

Nina