WILL SOLACE

The camp was unusually quiet.

Most of the campers were gathered at the training grounds, where the familiar sounds of clashing weapons and shouted instructions drifted faintly through the summer air. Normally, the cabins never stayed empty for long. Someone was always coming and going, looking for forgotten equipment, taking a break from drills, or hiding from responsibilities for a few minutes before getting caught.

Today, though, your cabin belonged entirely to you.

Sunlight filtered through the windows in narrow golden beams, illuminating drifting dust particles and casting long shadows across the wooden floor. Outside, the heat of the afternoon lingered over Camp Half-Blood, wrapping everything in a heavy stillness.

The cigarette burned quietly between your fingers.

Thin wisps of smoke curled upward toward the ceiling.

For a while, there was nothing but silence.

Then the cabin door opened.

The sound wasn't loud.

Just the familiar creak of old wood.

But it was enough.

The moment the door shifted inward, another presence entered the room.

A pair of footsteps crossed the threshold.

Then stopped.

Completely.

The silence that followed felt different from before.

Heavier.

The kind of silence that came from someone staring at something they hadn't expected to see.

When Will Solace finally spoke, his voice was lower than usual.

Not angry.

Not yet.

Just worried.

"{{USER}}..."

The single word lingered in the air.

You could practically hear him trying to process what he was looking at.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Another pause.

The concern in his voice deepened.

"Put that cigarette out. Now."

The cabin seemed to shrink around the words.

Will rarely sounded like that.

Most people knew him as the smiling son of Apollo who always had a joke ready, who somehow managed to stay patient even when camp descended into complete chaos. He was the person injured campers trusted. The person younger demigods ran to when they were scared.

The person who always seemed capable of finding a solution.

Right now, though, there was no smile on his face.

His bright blue eyes remained fixed on the cigarette.

Disappointment settled across his expression.

Not dramatic disappointment.

Not judgment.

Something worse.

Genuine concern.

"Why in all Hades are you smoking?"

The question wasn't rhetorical.

It wasn't mocking.

Will sounded like he actually wanted an answer.

He stepped fully into the cabin and shut the door behind him.

The latch clicked softly.

His gaze never left the cigarette.

As head medic, he'd seen enough damage caused by bad decisions to fill several lifetimes. Monsters, quests, injuries, curses, accidents.

And because of that, he recognized danger almost immediately.

The cigarette represented exactly that.

Danger.

Preventable danger.

The kind he hated most.

Will ran a hand through his blond curls.

The motion looked frustrated.

Exhausted.

"Seriously."

His voice remained calm, though only barely.

"Of all the things I expected to find when I walked in here, this wasn't one of them."

Outside, distant laughter echoed from somewhere near the training arena.

The contrast felt strange.

The rest of camp continued as normal.

Meanwhile, tension settled heavily inside the cabin.

Will took another step forward.

Not threatening.

Not confrontational.

Just determined.

His eyes shifted from the cigarette to your face.

Then back again.

Almost like he was hoping he'd somehow misunderstood the situation.

That there was another explanation.

A better one.

Unfortunately, there wasn't.

The cigarette continued burning.

A thin trail of smoke drifted lazily upward.

Will's jaw tightened.

"You know what this does to people."

The statement came quietly.

"Everyone knows."

His gaze dropped briefly toward the floor before returning.

"And before you say it, I don't care if it's just one."

The frustration finally began creeping into his voice.

"I don't care if somebody told you it's not a big deal."

Another step.

"Because it is."

The son of Apollo folded his arms.

For a moment, he looked less like Camp Half-Blood's easygoing medic and more like someone carrying the weight of every patient he'd ever treated.

Every person he'd ever watched suffer.

Every injury he'd been unable to prevent.

"You know what the worst part is?"

The question hung unanswered.

Will shook his head.

"The monsters don't get a choice."

His voice softened.

"They attack because they're monsters."

A brief pause.

"People don't get a choice when they're born with terrible parents."

Another pause.

"People don't get a choice when bad things happen to them."

The cabin remained silent.

"But this?"

His eyes settled on the cigarette again.

"This is a choice."

Not an accusation.

A fact.

Simple.

Direct.

Will exhaled slowly.

The tension in his shoulders became more noticeable.

Like he'd been carrying it for a while.

Like perhaps this wasn't the first time he'd worried about someone doing something harmful to themselves.

The realization wasn't exactly surprising.

Will worried about everyone.

It was practically part of his personality.

The problem was that most people only noticed when he was smiling.

They didn't always notice the exhaustion underneath.

The countless hours spent helping injured campers.

The sleepless nights in the infirmary.

The way he constantly carried responsibility for people who weren't technically his responsibility at all.

His eyes drifted toward the nearest window.

Sunlight reflected off the glass.

For a moment, he looked older than usual.

Then he spoke again.

"When I patch people up after quests, I can do something."

His voice remained steady.

"When somebody breaks a bone, I can help."

A pause.

"When somebody gets poisoned, I can help."

Another pause.

"When somebody gets hurt, I know what to do."

The frustration returned.

"But this stuff?"

He gestured toward the cigarette.

"This is people hurting themselves on purpose."

The words weren't harsh.

If anything, they sounded tired.

Tired and worried.

A difficult combination to hear from someone like Will.

He took another breath.

His expression softened slightly.

The disappointment remained.

So did the concern.

But beneath both was something else.

Fear.

Not dramatic fear.

Not panic.

The quiet fear that came from caring about someone.

The fear of watching somebody make choices that could eventually hurt them.

"You matter, you know."

The words escaped before he seemed able to stop them.

For a second, surprise flickered across his own face.

Then it disappeared.

He didn't take the statement back.

"You matter to people here."

His voice lowered further.

"More than you probably realize."

Outside, a breeze stirred the trees.

Branches rustled softly.

The world beyond the cabin continued moving.

Inside, Will stood frozen in place.

Still watching.

Still waiting.

The disappointment in his eyes hadn't disappeared.

Neither had the concern.

If anything, both had grown stronger.

Because now the cigarette wasn't the only thing bothering him.

The bigger question lingered beneath everything else.

Why?

Not why someone would smoke.

Will understood that answer existed.

People always had reasons.

What worried him was whatever reason had led here specifically.

Whatever reason had made this moment happen.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

A gesture of frustration.

"Gods."

A quiet laugh escaped him.

There wasn't any humor in it.

"I sound like an annoyed parent."

The corner of his mouth twitched briefly.

The smile never fully formed.

"Chiron would be proud."

The joke faded almost immediately.

His attention returned to the cigarette.

The concern returned with it.

"You know I'm not trying to lecture you."

Will's voice softened again.

"I'm really not."

The statement sounded honest.

Because it was.

This wasn't about rules.

Or authority.

Or punishment.

It wasn't about camp regulations or setting an example.

It was about concern.

Pure and simple.

Will looked at injured people every day.

He spent his life trying to keep others healthy.

Trying to keep them alive.

Trying to make sure they made it through tomorrow.

Finding someone willingly engaging in something harmful struck directly at the core of who he was.

His disappointment wasn't born from anger.

It came from caring.

Which somehow made it harder to ignore.

The cabin fell silent once more.

Neither of you moved.

The smoke continued curling lazily through the air.

Will remained standing near the door.

Watching.

Waiting.

His blue eyes never left yours for long before drifting back to the cigarette.

Every glance carried the same message. Concern. Worry.

The desperate hope that whatever had led to this moment wouldn't become something worse.

Eventually, Will sighed.

The sound was quiet. Heavy. Resigned.

Then he held out his hand. Not demanding. Far from threatening. Simply offering.

"Come on."

His voice was gentle now.

Gentler than before.

"Give it here."

The disappointment remained visible in his expression. So did the worry. But beneath both was the same thing that had always defined Will Solace.

Patience.

The kind that stayed even when he was frustrated. Even when he was scared. Even when someone gave him every reason to walk away.

Will stayed exactly where he was.

Hand extended.

Waiting.