Will's POV

The pebbles that littered the ground flew out from underneath his feet as he stepped from the truck, his body dwarfed by the long rear filled with boxes of chips stacked on top of one another. His growling stomach disturbed the quiet of the night as the gas flowed into the 1500 liter tank and his gaze fell to the small restaurant that sat adjacent to the gas station. Golden light spilled onto the pavement, illuminating the burnt out cigarette butts and ketchup stained french fry containers. He slipped the nozzle back into its holder and pulled his credit card out of his pocket. He needed to go inside and pay anyway, and the rumbling in his stomach wouldn't relent until he gave it something to eat. 

The warmth wrapped around him as the cold wind pushed him inside and his eyes moved over the tight red material stretched over the seats and the coffee stains spread across the table like lakes across the landscape. He couldn't take his eyes off of the scene as he handed his card absentmindedly to the woman at the counter, something about the way the air seemed to shimmer tantalizing. When his fingers curled around the card his attention turned to the menu, an image of a greasy cheeseburger printed next to the small menu. "I'll have the hamburger and a medium fry, too," Will decided. 

"If you just find a seat, I'll bring that right out to you," the woman said. Will stared around at the restaurant, the flickering light pouring over empty seats. He picked a booth in the very back, twiddling his thumbs as the sound of scratching came from the booth next to him and he turned his head to see someone scribbling in a small black notebook, a half emptied milkshake glass sitting next to him. He bent down to take a sip but his hand didn't stop moving across the page. Will couldn't tear his eyes away and after a few seconds the person looked up, his eyes questioning and his smile bemused. 

"Oh, sorry," Will blushed, scratching the back of his head. "It's just- it's just really quiet in here, you know? And I could hear your pen, and I was just wondering what you're writing." 

"It's fine," he said, smiling softly. "Come on, I'll show you if you want." Will blinked. 

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said. "I've been trying to be more outgoing and I'm probably never going to see you again, so if I embarrass myself it won't matter that much. I'm Nico, by the way."

"Will." He slid in next to Nico, peering over his  black clad arm at a page covered in cramped handwriting. "What is it?" Nico shrugged, taking another sip of his milkshake. 

"I come to places like this a lot, places that interesting looking people go. I make up stories about the people I see." He flipped to a page near the front. "This is one of my favorites. It's about a girl I saw in a coffee shop once, a girl with pale pink hair and this odd sort of happiness in her eyes. I decided that she was a matchmaker, traveling across the world and helping them find love because she can't find it herself. She fell for the boy with the chocolate brown eyes at the counter by the way, in case you were wondering." Will smiled. 

"So you came here to do that?" A laugh escaped Will's lips. "What are you doing here?" 

"People at a tiny gas station diner the middle of the night... people like that are usually the most interesting. Lonely, though. They're always lonely." Will shifted and the smile dropped from Nico's face. "Crap. Sorry."

"No, no, it's fine," Will said, closing his fingers over his thumb. "You're kind of right." Nico's face fell even more. 

"What do you mean?" Nico frowned. 

"I mean, I'm a truck driver for an off-brand chip company. The pay sucks, I haven't seen my family or made a real human connection in months and I don't even have a real house. I just sleep in motels that the company pays for. I can't exactly say you're wrong." 

"Can't you do anything else?" Nico asked in a whisper. "Move into a nice little apartment somewhere, or back to where you grew up." 

"I could," Will said. "It's weird, though. I want a nice life, but I feel like if I just settle down anywhere, I'll have a boring one. I feel like I'm just waiting for the chance at a perfect life, but I don't know when I'm going to get that chance." The only sound was the buzzing of the light fixtures, the one that was ignored so much but seemed so prominent during a deep silence in the middle of the night. "So, what about you?" Will asked. "You said you only find lonely people here at night but you're here."

"I mean, obviously I'm lonely," Nico said. "I go to weird places and make up stories about people I find. That's not a normal hobby." Will laughed. 

"Can't you make friends or something? Maybe it would help." Nico shrugged. 

"I'm not the best at talking to new people," he said. "This is the longest conversation that I've had in about a month and a half. That's why I make up stories, I think. I like to think that they're real people, maybe my friends. I like to dream about a day where I would walk into my apartment and all of my characters would be lounging around on my couch, hands dipped in popcorn bowls and The Office already up on my TV. I think that would be nice. You know, besides the fact that they're fictional characters and it would be a little bit creepy if they came to life." Will laughed again. 

"You know, you're pretty funny," he said as the woman from the counter walked over, balancing a tray with fries overflowing from the carton on her arm. "It's funny in kind of a dark way, but strangely relatable. Anyway, what's your story?" 

"What?" Nico asked, slipping a fry from Will's carton and dipping it in the glob of ketchup that Will had squirted onto his burger plate. 

"You said that you write stories about people you see in places like this. What's your story?" Nico's expression deepened as he chewed on the fry, wiping a speck of ketchup from the side of his mouth. 

"I'm a famous musician," he decided finally. "On tour. I'm supposed to be staying in the city but in the middle of the night I slipped away to get some good food, not the stuff that rich people eat. Greasy food, comfort food. I drove out into the first tiny town that I could find, and I stopped here. I like the quiet more than I like the noise so I'm happy when I find it empty. And when I come inside, I meet you. A cute, funny truck driver who is just as lonely as I am." 

"You know, you're good at this," Will said just before taking a bite of his burger. Mustard oozed out from underneath the starchy bun and a pickle slid out, the ridged edges hiding blood red ketchup. "All of your characters seem so real. Like I could walk into a store and one of them could be standing there, buying a pack of Reeces or something." 

"Well, I get a lot of practice," Nico says, swiping another fry. "And I forgot to mention that the truck driver is very generous and doesn't mind when the musician eats his food."

"Well, in return for his food, I think the truck driver wants to see more of the musicians stories," Will requested, setting down his burger. 

"Really?" Will nodded. 

"I like them. I like them a lot." A light blush painted Nico's cheeks as the corners of his mouth twitched and he flipped to a different page, scarred with eraser marks and words scribbled out with pencil. 

"Here," Nico said, pushing the notebook towards Will. "Read this one. Took me a while, but I was proud of it in the end."

Will's attention never leaves the story as his eyes rove over the words, the sound of the coffee maker as the woman behind the counter makes herself a drink nothing more than background noise. He can hear Nico's breathing next to him as he reads, flipping the pages of the notebook as his mind is filled with the story. "I love it," he said once it was finished. His eyes are fuzzy when he looks up, the dark night looking as if someone had taken a black marker and scribbled it over a paper covered in crayon. The occasional passing of a headlight was gone, leaving the restaurant to feel like an island in the middle of a dark and lonely sea. 

"Really?" 

"Yes, really," Will said. "You're great. I mean it."

"You know, I think I like this," Nico said. "Us, together here in the middle of the night."

"Why, because I keep complimenting you?" Will laughed. 

"Well, I like that, too. But it's mostly because we're just sitting here, talking and eating and you're reading my writing but somehow it's perfect." His fingers drum on the table, his eyes focusing on a french fry crumb. Behind them the radiator clunked, churning out heat. The waitress leaned against the counter, sipping her coffee but even despite the moon that was suspended in the sky like a charm on a long black cord, Will was wide awake. "This is perfect."

"It really is perfect," Will sighed. "It's things like this that make me wish I could just stop driving. This is just a pit stop for me, but I almost wish I could just stop here and never drive again." 

"You don't have to," Nico murmured. "You could stop driving. Go see your family, have a life that you enjoy." He stood up, brushing salt from his black jeans. "Think about it. I'll be here, if you ever decide to come back." 

"You're leaving?" Nico nodded. 

"I have stuff I have to do tomorrow morning," he said morosely. "I wouldn't otherwise. But I want you to have this." He bent down to grab his notebook but just before flipping it shut he tore out a page, covered in his hunched handwriting. "It's your story," he said, holding it out. "No matter where you go or who you meet, you'll always remember me whenever you read this." It was gold sitting in Will's hands. 

"I don't know what to say," he muttered. "Thank you." 

"Don't say anything," Nico said. "Read it. Remember me and remember that you can always come back." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'll be here." His footsteps bounced off of the walls, his notebook tucked underneath his arm and his fingers curled around his pen. Will's eyes followed him out of the restaurant and by the dim light from the restaurant watched as he slipped into a beat up car. The headlights split the darkness and the car growled as it pulled out of its spot, turning onto the highway. Will watched it until it was completely swallowed by the darkness and his gaze fell upon the empty milkshake container, one of two remainders of Nico. The second was clutched in his hands, the contents still a mystery. The clock flashed an unholy time at him but there was still food to be eaten and a story to be read so Will shut out everything around him, grabbed a fry and began to read.

Hi guys, I hope you liked that one!

Nina