Dr. Will Halstead returned home from a long shift at Chicago Med, exhausted but glad to be back in the comfort of his apartment. He kicked off his shoes and headed straight for the kitchen, thinking about grabbing a quick snack before he hit the shower, he hadn't eaten since the start of his 12 hour shift yesterday night and he was starving. As he opened the fridge, his eyes fell on the chili his brother Jay dropped off. It was meant to be reheated for dinner when Jay came over to watch the game after shift but he was sure Jay wouldn't mind him helping himself to some now.
Will grinned to himself, remembering how Jay always insisted his chili was the best in the city. He grabbed the container and popped it in the microwave, looking forward to a hearty meal after a challenging day in the ER.
Minutes later, with a steaming bowl of chili in hand, Will settled down on the couch to watch a replay of Sunday's hockey game. The first spoonful tasted just as delicious as he remembered—spicy, flavorful, and comforting. He finished the bowl in record time, savoring every bite.
The bowl of chili long finished and the hockey game done, Will stood up to rinse his bowl. A sudden wave of nausea hit him like a ton of bricks causing him to stagger back to the couch clutching his stomach.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, hoping it was just a passing discomfort.
Will spent the next few hours in misery, his condition worsening by the minute. He figured it was food poisoning—probably from the chili. He cursed silently, realizing that Jay would blame himself if he found out.
When Jay knocked on his door later that evening, Will forced himself to put on a brave face. He greeted his brother with a weak smile, trying to hide the pain that gripped his stomach.
"Hey, Jay. What brings you by?" Will asked, attempting to sound casual.
Jay walked in with a six-pack of beer, confusion on his face. "The game bro, remember?"
Will hesitated, feeling another wave of nausea. "Actually, Jay, I'm not feeling too well. Think I might've caught a bug."
Concern flashed across Jay's face as he set the beer on the kitchen counter. "You sure you're okay, Will? You look pale."
"Yeah, just need some rest," Will insisted, willing his voice to stay steady. "You go ahead and watch the game. I'll catch up with you later."
Jay studied him for a moment, clearly torn. "Alright, but if you need anything, you call me, okay?"
Will nodded gratefully as Jay left, closing the door behind him. He slumped against the kitchen counter, clutching his stomach in agony. The last thing he wanted was for Jay to feel guilty about his cooking.