Solangelo One Shots

Over the Countertop

Nico's POV

"The usual?" Nico asks.

"Yeah," Will says, sliding onto his usual stool at the booth. His normally styled blond hair is frizzled on top of his head and a sweatshirt hangs off of his thin frame, covered in cat hair and a spot of some strange substance on his sleeve, most likely from one of his labs. He rubs his face, heaves a heavy sigh, and Nico watches him as he makes Will's drink. Dark circles ring his eyes. "Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem," Nico says. He leans over the counter, handing Will the drink and studying him more intently. The bar is quiet that night, as it is most nights; it's more of an underground type of bar and usually, it's just a couple of regulars scattered around the tables or at the counter. It gives Nico a chance to be more observant, to notice the tiny details that he might not have noticed otherwise.

Will drinks as if his life depends on it; Nico can see the liquid going down his throat, and when he's a fourth of the way through the cup he sets it down with a heavy thump on the counter. He looks paler than usual and Nico frowns. "You doing okay tonight?" he asks, offering a rare smile.

Will smiles back but the gesture doesn't meet his eyes; instead, it just looks forced and paired next to his tired eyes, it just looks wrong. "Yeah," he says, rubbing at his face. "I'm just tired. It's been one of those days, you know?"

"Yeah," Nico says. "I know." Will has gone back to his drink and he stares directly into it, making eye contact with the cup, the counter, anything but Nico. Nico gets the hint to drop it.

Will's POV

He can't stop thinking about that test. Getting the paper back in front of the entire class, seeing the bring red number written on top of it with see me after class scribbled on top of it. He hadn't expected to do well, but, really, a 43? He isn't even a semester into med school, and it's already killing him.

That had been nothing to the shame of lingering behind after all his other classmates filtered out, having his professor explain to him in the softest of tones every single thing he had done wrong. It was so clearly patronizing, and he so clearly knew that however well Will may have done in undergrad, he wasn't cut out for med school.

He had broken down crying immediately after leaving his professor's office. It had been embarrassing; huge, gulping sobs in the middle of the hallway, right outside the door. He knew that his professor could hear him, but he didn't care. It was like every wall inside of him was crashing down on top of one another until he couldn't hold himself up and he was slumped against the wall, sobbing into a failed test with red pen marks on every question.

The bar is a nice end to his day. Two drinks; that's it. Two drinks and he's back home, studying for whatever test or quiz he has the next day. But for those two drinks, it's like he's in another world. Nico, the bartender, is always nice to him; Will thinks that Nico might be harboring a tiny crush, although that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. But as Will's life spirals into a stressful, school-centered hell, he can tell that Nico is starting to notice changes. The dark circles underneath his eyes, the way his head lolls on his shoulders, the constant yawning; Will can tell that Nico is noticing it all. And it's starting to get on his nerves.

"You okay?" Nico asks as he hands Will his second drink. "You look exhausted."

"Yeah," Will says with a tight smile. He runs his hands through his hair. It's messy, hasn't been brushed in a day or two, and he knows that he looks like he just rolled out of bed. "I'm just tired. That's all."

"Yeah, well, you've been just tired for the last week," Nico says with a tiny smile that does a poor job at hiding his concern. Has it really only been a week? It feels like months since failing that test that had sent Will spiraling, questioning his presence in med school. It hurts to think about his failures, and it hurts even more that he's wearing them on his sleeve. "Are you sure you're okay?"