#xav writes

The clang of celestial bronze echoed through Camp Half-Blood’s training arena like the soundtrack to your rivalry. You hated this sound. Or rather, you hated what it represented: another stupid sparring match with Percy Jackson.

The son of Poseidon stood across from you, his sword Riptide at the ready, sea-green eyes twinkling with that insufferable confidence. It wasn’t the kind of confidence born of arrogance—it was worse. It was the kind that came from knowing he was good at what he did, and that he could get under your skin with a few well-placed words.

"Ready to lose again, Lucky?" Percy called out, twirling his sword like this was all a game.

You gritted your teeth, gripping your celestial bronze dagger tighter. "I don’t lose to fish, Jackson."

"Fish? That’s the best you’ve got?" he teased, taking a step closer. His smirk grew wider—too wide.

You lunged forward without thinking, your blade slicing through the air in a clean arc. Percy dodged with a precision that made your stomach churn, effortlessly sidestepping your attack like it was child’s play.

"Careful," he said, his voice low and teasing as he brought Riptide down toward you. You barely blocked it in time, the force of his strike sending sparks flying between your weapons. "Wouldn’t want to lose your temper."

"Wouldn’t want to lose your teeth," you shot back, shoving him off with all your strength.

He stumbled back a step, laughing. "You always say that, but you’ve yet to follow through. Maybe you’re losing your edge, Lucky."

Your blood boiled at the nickname—Lucky. It was his favorite way to needle you, a constant reminder of your mother, Tyche, the goddess of fortune. Percy had started calling you that when you first arrived at camp, and it hadn’t taken long for the nickname to spread. At first, it had been a taunt, a way to undermine all the hard work you put into training by chalking it up to "luck." Even now, after months of proving yourself, he still used it.

The worst part? You didn’t hate it as much as you used to.

"Luck has nothing to do with this," you growled, rushing at him again. This time, you feinted left before pivoting and slashing toward his right.

For a split second, Percy’s smirk faltered. He tried to block, but you were too fast. Your blade grazed his arm, leaving a shallow cut in its wake.

"Ha!" you exclaimed, a triumphant grin spreading across your face.

Percy glanced at the cut, then back at you. "Not bad," he admitted, his smirk returning. "But you’re gonna regret that."

Before you could react, he was on you, his movements a blur as he launched a series of attacks. You parried the first few, but his speed was overwhelming, and you soon found yourself on the defensive.

"Getting tired?" Percy asked, his voice irritatingly calm as he pressed his advantage.

"Not even close," you lied, sweat dripping down your temple.

He swung Riptide in a wide arc, and you barely dodged in time, rolling to the side to avoid the strike. When you came to your feet, you were panting, your muscles burning with exhaustion.

Percy, meanwhile, looked annoyingly unbothered. He stood a few feet away, his sword at his side, studying you with an expression that was almost… amused.

"Why are you smiling?" you snapped, irritation flaring in your chest.

"Because this is fun," he said simply.

"Fun?" you repeated, incredulous. "You think this is fun?"

He shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, you’re one of the only people who can actually keep up with me."

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment. For a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

Then you shook your head, scowling. "Save the flattery, Jackson. It won’t work on me."

"Who said I was flattering you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "I’m just being honest."

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, Percy was moving again. This time, his strikes came slower, more deliberate, as if he was testing you. You met each one with equal determination, refusing to let him gain the upper hand.

The fight dragged on, the sounds of your clashing weapons drawing the attention of other campers. A small crowd began to gather around the arena, their murmurs adding to the tension in the air.

"Come on!" someone shouted.

"Don’t let them win, Percy!" another voice chimed in.

You ignored them, your focus locked on Percy. He was watching you closely, his expression unreadable.

"You don’t quit, do you?" he muttered, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

"Not when it comes to you," you replied, your tone sharp.

His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place—something that made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t want to think about.

"Good," he said softly. "I’d be disappointed if you did."

The words caught you off guard, and in that split second of hesitation, Percy struck. His sword swept your dagger clean out of your hand, sending it clattering to the ground. Before you could react, he hooked his foot behind your ankle and swept your legs out from under you.

You hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of you.

Percy was on you in an instant, pinning you down with Riptide pressed lightly against your throat. His face hovered just above yours, his expression triumphant.

"Looks like I win," he said, his voice annoyingly smug.

You glared up at him, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. "You’re insufferable," you muttered.

"And you’re stubborn," he countered, his smirk softening into something that almost looked like a smile.

The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, but you barely heard them. All you could focus on was Percy—the way his hair was falling into his eyes, the way his face was so close to yours, the way his smirk made your heart do stupid, traitorous things.

You hated him.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

"Get off me," you said, shoving at his chest.

To your surprise, he actually listened, stepping back and offering you a hand.

You hesitated for a moment before taking it, letting him pull you to your feet.

"Good fight," he said, his tone surprisingly genuine.

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t mocking you. He wasn’t teasing you. He was just… looking at you, his gaze steady and unwavering.

It made you uncomfortable.

"Yeah, well," you said, brushing dirt off your clothes. "Don’t get used to it. Next time, I’m winning."

Percy chuckled, the sound warm and disarming. "We’ll see about that, Lucky."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the tiny smile that crept onto your face.

As the crowd began to disperse, Percy fell into step beside you, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

"You know," he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. "You’re not as bad as you pretend to be."

You glanced at him, frowning. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Just that…" He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. For the first time, he looked almost nervous. "I don’t know. I guess I kind of like sparring with you."

You stopped in your tracks, staring at him. "Are you feeling okay? Did you hit your head or something?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "I’m serious. I mean, yeah, you drive me crazy sometimes, but… it’s not all bad."

You didn’t know what to say to that. For months, you’d thought he hated you. You’d convinced yourself that the constant teasing and bickering meant he couldn’t stand you. But now… now you weren’t so sure.

"Truce?" Percy asked, holding out his hand.

You stared at it for a long moment before sighing. "Fine. Truce."

You shook his hand, and for a moment, you thought you felt sparks.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

You and Nancy had been together for a couple years, but as of recently, you’ve been pulling away from her. You weren’t sure you wanted a life in Hawkins anymore, you wanted Nancy, of course you did. But you couldn’t stay in this town anymore, too many things had happened and you felt like you were suffocating. You felt like a burden to everyone around you so you did what you do best, push people away. You hated yourself for still doing that with Nancy, especially after all this time.

You were Nancy’s home, she’d go anywhere as long as it was with you. She knew you were acting different, she didn’t know what changed, but she knew there was something bothering you. She tried talking to you about it and you always answered her with an “I’m tired,” or “not right now.” She wanted to see you smile again, genuinely smile. She wanted you to say you were fine and actually mean it.

You had told Nancy you’d be working late tonight, although that wasn’t true. You hated lying to her, but you needed to be alone for a bit without her constantly worrying. You didn’t expect for her to show up at your work looking for you though. She was beyond concerned to find out that you weren’t there and you hadn’t told her anything. 

She wanted to panic, but that’s not what Nancy does, she thinks rationally. She got in her car and thought about everything that happened these past couple of weeks. She knew where you were. She drove back to your shared apartment and ran up to the roof. She placed her hand on the door and before opening it, she took a deep breath to calm herself. You needed her and she needed you to be okay, she pushed her worry aside and stepped out into the cold night air.

You didn’t even hear the door, you were too busy wrapped up in your own head. Tears dried upon your cheeks and you were wishing you weren’t in Hawkins right now. You wanted Nancy to hold you, but at the same time, you didn’t want her to see you like this. To see you so broken.

“Y/n?” Nancy called out to you cautiously, not wanting to startle you. Your eyes went wide with realization as you sniffled and turned your head slightly to look at her.

“Love,” Nancy nearly whispered as she walked over with her arms open for you and you melted into her embrace. She was here, the person you needed and wanted finally had her arms around you. You cried even harder into her shoulder as she rubbed circles on your back.

“I’m sorry that I’m such a problem,” you whispered into her shoulder, quiet enough you weren’t sure she even heard you. She did though.

She pulled your head away from her shoulder so she could hold your face between her hands as she looked at you and said “You’re not a problem, Y/n. You’re a person.” She kissed your forehead and hugged you tight. The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes before you decided it was best to head inside as it was getting late and it was cold up on the roof. 

You and Nancy walked hand in hand down the stairs to your apartment as you rested your head against her shoulder. You felt bad for pushing her away, even if she did understand, even if she wasn’t upset or disappointed. You wished you had just talked to her.

The two of you got ready for bed and just laid together. Nancy was mindlessly tracing random patterns on your arm, smiling at you. You stayed like that for a while before you spoke, “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Nance. I’m just so tired of disappointing you.” 

To say Nancy was confused would be an understatement. Why would you ever think you were disappointing her? You were the love of her life, her safe place, her home, her favourite person. You could never disappoint or hurt her, especially not like this. She knew you needed time to figure out all the messy things inside your head, she knew you’d come to her eventually. She was not upset with you in the slightest. She was worried about you, yes, but she wasn’t upset with you.

“I love you so much. There is nothing you could do to ever push me away. I’m with you, no matter what,” she tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear as she continued. “You haven’t hurt me or disappointed me, love. I know sometimes you need time to sort your head out before you come to me. You always come to me in the end, that’s what counts.”

You gave her a half smile and nodded as a tear slipped down your cheek. Nancy was quick to wipe it away, she leaned it and kissed you. Her lips were soft against yours as you melted into her. Your love for one another enveloped in a kiss, gentle and sweet. It was a promise,one to show that she loved you and you loved her.

Nancy pulled back to catch her breath and you could feel the soft tickle of her breath beneath your nose as she chuckled. You curled up against her and rested your head against her chest as you told her about everything that was going on. You told her how you just felt like everything you did was wrong, how you felt like a burden and you even told her how you didn’t want to stay in Hawkins anymore. Nancy hummed as you spoke so you would know she was listening, waiting until you were finished to respond. She played with your hair, a soothing gesture for the both of you.

“I just feel like we’ve got no reason to stay,” you said. She told you that you were what mattered, this town meant nothing to her if you weren’t here. She’d follow you anywhere and she made that clear every single day. The two of you decided to get some rest and talk about it in the morning. It wasn’t like you needed to leave Hawkins tonight, but you did want to leave sooner rather than later and Nancy understood that. 

You fell asleep on Nancy’s chest as she continued to stroke your hair. She stayed up a little later than you, watching the rise and fall of your chest and listening to you breathe. You really did scare her back there, even if she wouldn’t admit it. She needed you to be okay, for the both of you. You helped her as much as she helped you. She was beyond grateful for you and she was so glad she had the privilege of even knowing you. She would be lost without you because ever since the two of you met, being alone was hard. She misses you too much when you aren’t around. She knew you knew all that, but she still would never miss the opportunity to tell you just how much you mean to her and how much you’ve changed her life for the better.

The two of you were soulmates, not because you were supposed to meet, but because when you did, you made each other better for it. You were the other half of each other. You both had never been enough for the people in your lives before you met each other and sometimes you still had those thoughts, but Nancy was always there to remind you that wasn’t true. She always told you how strong and beautiful you were, she loved how big your heart was. She made you feel important and you did the same for her. You were everything to each other.

Nancy listened to your breathing long enough, it lulled her to sleep. Sleep did not greet her with the kindness she hoped for though. She had a nightmare about you, about losing you. If she didn’t understand your worries about staying in Hawkins before, she sure as hell did now. She wanted nothing more than to keep you safe. 

She shot up in bed, eyes wide and breathing heavily as she reached next to her searching for you. It did not help at all that you had just gotten up to get a glass of water a few minutes before. Nancy was about to have a full blown panic attack when she noticed the kitchen light on. She took a deep breath and made her way out of the bedroom, in search of you. 

You heard Nancy approaching and you turned around with a smile, you noticed her panicked expression and how she was kind of zoned out right away and your smile quickly fell. You rushed over to her and cupped her cheeks, she placed her hand on your wrist. Her breathing was still laboured as she looked at you with tears in her eyes. You were quick to wipe them away, just like she so often did for you.

“Breathe with me, focus all of your attention on me,” you said gently. She did as you told her and hugged you tight once her breaths were even, she sobbed into your shoulder and told you about her nightmare. You placed her hand over your heart and told her you were okay, that you were still here and it was just a dream. She seemed to take great comfort in that, she always liked listening to your heartbeat. It was one of her favourite sounds, next to your laughter and your voice in general. 

“We’re moving,” Nancy chuckled as she wiped another tear from her face. You smiled at her and agreed as you kissed her forehead and held her tight.

“I love you so much, Nance,” you grabbed her hand and pulled her back towards the bedroom, it was your turn to calm her to sleep and tell her how much she meant to you. You felt like you didn’t do that enough, like you were always the one who was upset. Nancy reassured you that wasn’t the case, you always helped her when she wasn’t feeling her best, even if you didn’t know it. Sometimes she just needed your presence and you were always there for her and you always would be. 

The campfire crackled in the center of the group, sending sparks into the twilight sky. The circle of campers was unusually rowdy tonight, laughter and shouts bouncing off the trees as the game of Truth or Dare spiraled further into chaos. Percy sat with his arms crossed, half-watching the others as he tried to pretend he wasn't completely over it. He didn’t even know why he’d agreed to this in the first place—probably because Annabeth had dragged him here, muttering something about “team bonding.”

But now? Now, Percy was regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment.

Especially because he was here.

Kieran sat on the opposite side of the circle, leaning back on his elbows with that stupidly calm, aloof expression he always wore. Percy hated that look. It was like Kieran thought he was better than everyone else, like he couldn’t be bothered to care about anything or anyone. Ever since their falling out a few months ago, Kieran had made it his mission to get under Percy’s skin at every opportunity. And, okay, maybe Percy wasn’t exactly innocent in that department either, but still—it was his fault they weren’t friends anymore.

“Percy, you’re up!” Someone’s voice broke through his thoughts, and he blinked, realizing everyone was looking at him.

“What?” he asked, sitting up straighter.

The camper to his left, a smug-looking son of Hermes, grinned at him. “Truth or dare?”

Percy hesitated. “Uh… truth?”

A chorus of groans erupted around the circle. “Boring!” one of the Ares kids shouted.

“Fine, fine!” Percy said, throwing up his hands. “Dare, then. Whatever.”

The group immediately perked up, the campers exchanging mischievous glances. Percy’s stomach sank. He could already tell this wasn’t going to end well.

“I’ve got one,” said one of the Nemesis kids, a boy named Ethan who always seemed to be in the middle of whatever chaos was happening at camp. He leaned forward, his grin practically splitting his face. “I dare you to kiss Kieran.”

The circle went completely silent.

Percy froze, his brain short-circuiting as the words registered. “You—what?”

“You heard me,” Ethan said, his grin widening. “Kiss Kieran.”

Percy’s face went red-hot, and he could feel the weight of everyone’s stares. He turned to glare at Ethan. “Are you serious right now?”

Ethan shrugged, looking way too pleased with himself. “What? It’s just a dare. You can’t back out, or you’ll lose.”

Percy’s fists clenched. He wasn’t about to lose some dumb game, but—seriously? Out of all the dares in the world, it had to be this?

He glanced at Kieran, who was sitting up now, his blue eyes narrowing as he stared across the circle. Percy couldn’t tell if he was annoyed, embarrassed, or just bored, but there was a faint flush on his cheeks that made him look… different. Not that Percy cared. At all.

“This is stupid,” Percy muttered, shaking his head. “Pick something else.”

“You can’t chicken out, Jackson,” Ethan said, his tone mocking. “Unless you want to admit you’re scared.”

Percy’s jaw tightened. “I’m not scared.”

“Then do it.”

For a moment, Percy considered storming off and leaving the game entirely. But then he caught sight of Kieran’s expression—a mix of disbelief and defiance, like he didn’t think Percy would actually go through with it. And that? That made Percy’s blood boil.

“Fine,” he said through gritted teeth, standing up. “I’ll do it.”

The campers erupted into cheers and laughter, and Percy ignored them as he made his way around the circle toward Kieran. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he told himself it was just because he was annoyed. Not because he was nervous. Definitely not.

Kieran raised an eyebrow as Percy stopped in front of him, his arms crossed. “You don’t have to,” Kieran said, his voice low enough that only Percy could hear.

Percy glared at him. “I know I don’t have to. But I’m not gonna let them think I’m scared.”

Kieran gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. “Suit yourself.”

Percy hesitated for half a second—just long enough to silently curse Ethan and everyone else in this stupid game—before leaning down and pressing a quick, awkward kiss to Kieran’s cheek.

It was over in less than a second, but it felt like a lifetime. Percy straightened up immediately, his face burning as he avoided Kieran’s gaze. The circle of campers erupted into cheers and catcalls, and Percy wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ground.

“There,” he said, his voice tight. “Happy now?”

“Wow,” Ethan drawled, his grin widening. “That’s the best you can do? A little peck on the cheek? That’s so lame, Jackson.”

“Yeah, what are you, a chicken?” one of the Ares kids jeered, flapping his arms like wings. “Bawk, bawk!”

Percy’s face went even redder, and he clenched his fists at his sides. He glanced at Kieran, half-expecting him to look smug or amused, but Kieran’s expression was just as calm as ever. If anything, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, maybe? Or was it disappointment?

That was it. Percy could take a lot of things, but he wasn’t going to let anyone call him a coward. If they wanted a show, fine. He’d give them a show.

Without giving himself time to second-guess, Percy turned back to Kieran, grabbed him by the front of his shirt, and kissed him full on the mouth.

The circle went completely, utterly silent. Even the crackling of the fire seemed to fade as Percy pulled back, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure everyone could hear it. Kieran stared up at him, his blue eyes wide and uncharacteristically stunned.

“There,” Percy said, his voice tight. “Is that good enough for you?”

The circle erupted into chaos—laughter, whistles, shouts of disbelief. Percy didn’t care. He stood up straight, letting go of Kieran’s shirt, and turned on his heel, stalking back to his spot without looking back.

As he sat down, arms crossed and face still burning, Annabeth leaned over from her spot next to him, her expression somewhere between amused and exasperated.

“What the Hades was that?” she whispered.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Percy muttered, glaring at the fire.

Across the circle, Kieran was still sitting where Percy had left him, his fingers loosely brushing the front of his shirt like he was trying to process what had just happened. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make a single snarky comment, which was probably the weirdest part of all. He just looked… thoughtful. Like he didn’t know how to feel.

Percy didn’t know how to feel, either. He told himself it was just a dare, just a way to shut everyone up. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything.

But the look on Kieran’s face as he stared silently into the fire made Percy wonder if maybe it did.

—

It wasn’t often that Percy found himself stuck in a conversation he didn’t understand, but tonight was one of those nights. The campfire was crackling as usual, the campers sprawled across logs and blankets, but instead of the usual gossip or ridiculous dares, someone—specifically Malcolm from the Athena cabin—had decided it was the perfect time to dive into a lecture about physics.

“Gravity,” Malcolm was saying, gesturing dramatically as he spoke, “isn’t just about keeping us on the ground. It’s also about attraction. Every object in the universe is attracted to every other object. It’s just that the bigger the mass, the stronger the pull.”

Percy blinked, resting his chin on his hand as he tried to keep up. “So, like… the Earth is pulling on me, but I’m also pulling on the Earth?”

Malcolm nodded, clearly delighted that someone was paying attention. “Exactly! And not just the Earth. You’re pulling on everyone around you, too. We’re all constantly attracting each other.”

“That explains a lot,” Connor Stoll muttered, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“Wait,” Percy said, sitting up straighter as a grin tugged at his lips. “So, you’re saying we’re all attracted to each other? Like, scientifically?”

Malcolm sighed, realizing too late where this was going. “Well, technically, yes, but—”

“Got it,” Percy said, cutting him off. He turned to Kieran, who was sitting a few feet away with his usual detached expression, cleaning his crossbow like he wasn’t even listening. Percy smirked, unable to resist. “Hey, Kieran. I’m attracted to you.”

The entire campfire went silent for half a second before bursting into laughter and whistles. Percy leaned back, thoroughly pleased with himself, as Kieran slowly looked up from his crossbow. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Percy, and for a moment, Percy thought he might’ve gone too far.

Then Kieran raised an eyebrow, his expression as flat as ever, and said, “My foot is attracted to your ass.”

The circle erupted into chaos—laughter, cheers, and a few campers practically falling over each other. Percy couldn’t help but laugh too, even as his face flushed a little. He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, fair enough!”

Kieran rolled his eyes and went back to adjusting his crossbow, but Percy caught the faintest twitch of a smirk on his lips. It was so quick he almost missed it, but it was there.

Annabeth, sitting next to Percy, shook her head and muttered, “You’re impossible.”

“You love me,” Percy said, still grinning.

“Debatable,” she replied, but there was a hint of amusement in her tone.

As the group settled back into their usual chatter, Percy glanced at Kieran again. He couldn’t tell if Kieran was genuinely annoyed or just playing along, but either way, Percy couldn’t help feeling a little triumphant. Sure, Kieran’s reply had been brutal, but at least he’d gotten a reaction.

And if Percy’s heart felt just a little lighter than it had a few minutes ago, well… that was between him and the universe.

--

Evening at Camp Half-Blood was Percy’s favorite time of day. The sun was low, casting long shadows across the cabins, and the air smelled like fresh strawberries and woodsmoke. Dinner was about to start, and he was halfway to the pavilion when he noticed the movement at the top of Half-Blood Hill. He stopped in his tracks, squinting at the figure silhouetted against the sunset.

It wasn’t unusual for new demigods to stumble into camp, but this kid looked… different. For one, he wasn’t running or screaming, which was usually a sign that monsters were on their tail. Instead, he was walking—stiffly, carefully—as if he wasn’t sure whether to trust what he was seeing. His hands gripped a crossbow so tightly that Percy figured his knuckles had to be white.

Percy frowned. He wasn’t used to seeing demigods carry crossbows. Swords? Sure. Bows? Occasionally. But a crossbow? That was new.

“Hey, Annabeth,” Percy called out, glancing over his shoulder. Annabeth was a few steps behind him, talking to a group of campers near the Athena cabin. She looked up at the sound of his voice, her gray eyes already sharp with suspicion.

“What?” she asked, stepping closer. Her gaze followed his, and she tensed when she saw the figure on the hill. “Who’s that?”

Percy shrugged. “No idea. But he’s armed.”

Annabeth didn’t wait for more information. She drew her dagger and strode toward the hill, motioning for a few other campers to follow. Percy sighed. It wasn’t that Annabeth was wrong to be cautious—she was pretty much always right about these things—but sometimes she could be a little… intense.

“Wait up!” Percy jogged to catch up with her, falling into step beside her as they approached the newcomer. The kid didn’t move, though his grip on the crossbow tightened when he saw them coming. Percy could see him more clearly now. He looked about fourteen, with blond hair and piercing blue eyes that stood out against his dirt-smudged face. His clothes were torn and dusty, and there was something guarded in his expression, like he was ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

Annabeth stopped a few feet away, her dagger held loosely at her side but ready to strike if necessary. “Who are you?” she demanded. “What are you doing here?”

The kid hesitated, his eyes darting between Annabeth and Percy. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Percy could tell he was nervous—he’d seen that look before, back when he first arrived at camp and didn’t know what to expect.

“Hey,” Percy said, stepping forward and raising his hands in what he hoped was a non-threatening gesture. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. We’re not gonna hurt you.”

Annabeth shot him a warning look, but Percy ignored her. The kid’s eyes flicked to him, and for a moment, Percy thought he might actually relax. Then the boy spoke, his voice low and hoarse. “I’m not a monster.”

Annabeth tensed. “That’s exactly what a monster would say.”

Percy sighed. “Come on, Annabeth. He’s not a monster. Look at him.”

The kid bristled at Annabeth’s words, his shoulders stiffening. “I’m a demigod,” he said, louder this time.

Annabeth didn’t lower her dagger, but she didn’t move to attack, either. Percy took that as a good sign. “What’s your name?” he asked.

The kid hesitated again, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer. Finally, he said, “Kieran.”

Percy waited for him to say more, but that seemed to be it. No last name, no explanation, just Kieran. Percy wasn’t sure whether that was suspicious or just sad. “Okay, Kieran,” he said, offering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m Percy. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.”

“Percy,” Annabeth said sharply. “We don’t know anything about him. He could be a spy. Or dangerous.”

Percy glanced at the crossbow in Kieran’s hands. “If he wanted to shoot us, he could’ve done it already,” he pointed out. “I think we’re good.”

Annabeth didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue. Percy turned back to Kieran. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll take you to Chiron. He’ll get you sorted out.”

Kieran hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the camp. He looked like he wasn’t sure whether to trust them, but after a moment, he nodded and followed. Percy fell into step beside him, keeping his pace slow so Kieran wouldn’t feel rushed. The other campers hung back, muttering to each other, but Percy ignored them. He remembered what it was like to be the new kid, to feel like you didn’t belong.

As they walked, Percy noticed the way Kieran’s eyes darted around, taking everything in. His gaze lingered on the archery range, where a group of Apollo kids was practicing with their bows. Percy wondered if Kieran was one of them. He had the look—blond hair, blue eyes—but he hadn’t been claimed yet, so it was hard to say.

When they reached the Big House, Chiron was waiting for them on the porch, his wheelchair parked at the top of the steps. He greeted Kieran with the kind of calm, welcoming smile that only Chiron could pull off, and Percy felt some of the tension in the air dissipate.

Kieran explained his situation in short, clipped sentences, as if he didn’t want to give away too much. He didn’t mention a last name or a godly parent, and he avoided eye contact as he spoke. Percy could tell he was holding back, but Chiron didn’t press him. Instead, he nodded and said, “You’ve been through a great deal, Kieran. But you’re safe now. Camp Half-Blood will be your home.”

Safe. Percy knew how much that word could mean to someone who had been on the run. He glanced at Kieran, wondering if he believed it. The kid’s expression was hard to read, but there was a flicker of something—relief, maybe?—in his eyes.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the camp settled into its usual evening routine, Percy found himself standing on the porch of the Big House, watching Kieran as he stared out at the cabins. He looked lost, like he didn’t know where he fit in.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Percy said, leaning against the railing beside him. Kieran glanced at him, his grip on the crossbow loosening just a little. He didn’t say anything, but Percy thought he saw the corners of his mouth twitch upward in the faintest hint of a smile.

For now, that was enough.

--

The sound of rain pattering against the cabin roofs filled the silence as Percy stalked toward the archery range, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He wasn’t even sure why he was out here in the first place. He hated archery. Hated it. And yet, here he was, trudging through the muddy paths of Camp Half-Blood after a particularly embarrassing loss during Capture the Flag earlier that day.

It wasn’t his fault that Kieran—golden boy, son of Apollo, and general pain in Percy’s ass—had decided to show off with his stupid crossbow, picking off enemies from a distance like some sort of smug demigod sniper. Percy could still hear Kieran's voice in his head, dripping with mockery: “Nice try, Jackson. Maybe stick to swords?"

The worst part? Kieran had been right. Percy was better with a sword. But that didn’t mean he had to like hearing it.

When Percy arrived at the archery range, it was no surprise to find Kieran already there. The son of Apollo was perched on a wooden bench under the covered overhang, his crossbow resting across his lap as he adjusted its string. Even in the dim light of the storm, Kieran seemed to glow, his blond hair catching the faintest hints of golden sunlight that had somehow broken through the clouds. His sharp, Chinese features were set in concentration, his blue eyes focused entirely on the weapon in his hands.

Percy stopped in his tracks, suddenly unsure why he’d come here in the first place. He could’ve gone to the arena, or the beach, or literally anywhere else. But here he was. With him.

"You lost?" Kieran’s voice broke through Percy’s thoughts, his tone as sharp as the arrows he carried. He didn’t even look up, his fingers deftly tightening the crossbow’s mechanism. "Or did you come to practice missing some more targets?"

Percy gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on Riptide, which was sheathed in his pocket. "You’re hilarious," he said dryly, stepping under the overhang to escape the rain. "Really, you should be a comedian."

Kieran finally glanced up, one eyebrow raised as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "I’ll take that as a compliment. But seriously, what are you doing here? I didn’t think archery was your thing."

"It’s not," Percy admitted, crossing his arms. "But I figured I’d stop by and see what all the fuss is about. You know, since you’re apparently so good at it."

Kieran’s smirk widened. "Oh, so this is about earlier. Didn’t think you’d still be bitter about losing. Then again…" He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "You’re kind of predictable like that."

"I’m not bitter," Percy lied, scowling. "I just think you could stand to be a little less—what’s the word I’m looking for? Oh, yeah. Obnoxious."

"Obnoxious?" Kieran repeated, feigning offense. "That’s rich, coming from you. Aren’t you the guy who literally jumped into a pit of lava last week because you thought it’d make a cool story?"

Percy flushed. "That was different. I had a plan."

"Sure you did," Kieran said, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he stood and slung the crossbow over his shoulder. He was just a little taller than Percy, and the way he carried himself—calm, confident, like he was in complete control—only made Percy’s irritation grow. "Look, if you’re here to complain about me being better than you at something, you can save yourself the trouble. I already know."

"You’re not better than me," Percy shot back, stepping closer.

Kieran tilted his head, his smirk softening into something more challenging. "Prove it."

Percy blinked. "What?"

"Prove it," Kieran repeated, his blue eyes locking onto Percy’s. "Pick up a bow and show me what you’ve got. Unless you’re too scared to embarrass yourself again."

Percy’s jaw clenched. He hated how easily Kieran could get under his skin. It was like the guy had a sixth sense for finding Percy’s buttons and pushing them all at once.

"Fine," Percy said, grabbing a random bow from the rack and nocking an arrow in a single, clumsy motion. "But don’t cry when I wipe that smug look off your face."

Kieran snorted. "I’ll try to hold it together."

Percy stepped up to the line, the rain still pouring just beyond the overhang. He took aim at the nearest target, narrowing his eyes in concentration. He pulled the string back, his muscles straining against the tension.

And then, with a deep breath, he released.

The arrow flew… and missed the target entirely, landing somewhere in the muddy grass beyond the range.

Kieran burst out laughing, the sound bright and melodic, like a song Percy didn’t want to admit he liked. "Wow," Kieran said, clutching his sides. "That was… that was something. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone miss that badly before."

"Shut up," Percy muttered, his face burning as he grabbed another arrow.

"Here," Kieran said, stepping forward before Percy could take another shot. He placed a hand on Percy’s shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. "Let me help you before you hurt yourself."

"I don’t need your help," Percy snapped, though he didn’t pull away.

"Trust me, you do," Kieran said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge replaced by something more genuine. He stepped behind Percy, his presence warm despite the chill in the air. "Relax your shoulders. You’re too tense."

Percy swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest as Kieran’s hands gently adjusted his posture. He could feel the heat radiating off the son of Apollo, and it was… distracting, to say the least.

"Now," Kieran said, his voice low and close to Percy’s ear. "Keep your elbow up. Like this."

He guided Percy’s arm into position, their hands brushing for just a moment. Percy tried to ignore the way his skin tingled at the contact.

"Good," Kieran said, stepping back. "Now take a deep breath and try again."

Percy nodded, doing as he was told. He pulled the string back, aimed, and released.

This time, the arrow hit the edge of the target. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than his first attempt.

"Not bad," Kieran said, smiling.

Percy turned to glare at him, but the words died in his throat when he saw the look on Kieran’s face. The usual smugness was gone, replaced by something softer. Warmer.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The rain continued to fall, the world around them fading into a quiet hum.

"You’re not as bad as you pretend to be," Kieran said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Percy blinked, caught off guard. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Just that…" Kieran hesitated, his blue eyes searching Percy’s face. "I don’t hate you as much as I thought I did."

Percy’s heart skipped a beat. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come.

"Don’t let it go to your head," Kieran added, his teasing smirk returning as he slung his crossbow over his shoulder and walked away.

Percy watched him go, his chest tight and his thoughts a mess. He hated Kieran.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

--

The amphitheater at Camp Half-Blood hums with wild energy as The Saja Girls finish their final song, the last notes of their performance still vibrating through the cheering crowd of demigods. Golden torches flicker around them, casting warm light on their glittering armor-inspired costumes as they catch their breath. No battle formations now—just six demigod girls basking in the celebration of Percy Jackson's birthday, surrounded by their friends and siblings.

Xaveria, daughter of Tyche, drops onto the edge of the makeshift stage, her lucky charm bracelet glinting as she stretches her legs toward the crowd. Emma, Aphrodite's daughter, collapses beside her without hesitation, their thighs pressing together from hip to knee.

A plush heart arcs through the air, from an enthusiastic child of Hermes, and Xaveria catches it with a breathless laugh. She holds it up between them, the cheap fabric glowing under the lights.

"Ems, look," she says, voice still rough from belting high notes all night. She presses the toy to her chest, right over her pounding heart. "Someone gave me their heart."

Emma’s gaze drags from the plush to Xaveria’s face, slow as honey. Her lips curl in that infuriating half-smile that always makes Xaveria’s stomach flip. "Better hold onto that tight." She leans in, close enough that her breath ghosts across Xaveria’s cheek. "We both know how careless you are with precious things."

Xaveria’s pulse stutters. She shoves at Emma’s shoulder, but her fingers linger in the mesh of her crop top, twisting the fabric between them. "You're impossible," she mutters, but the words come out too soft, too fond.

Emma’s eyes drop to Xaveria’s mouth, just for a second, but it's enough to steal Xaveria’s breath. When she leans back, the movement is deliberately casual, but Xaveria sees the way her throat works when she swallows.

A water bottle appears between them. Their hands brush reaching for it, then freeze. Emma’s fingers slide over Xaveria’s instead, warm and sure.

"Thirsty?" Emma asks, thumb tracing idle circles over Xaveria’s knuckles.

Xaveria’s cheeks burn. She should pull away. She doesn't. "You're so annoying," she says, but she's biting her lip to hide a smile.

Nearby, Leo—Hephaestus' daughter—has commandeered the mic stand, crooning an off-key love song directly into Saturn's flushed face. Apollo's daughter groans and covers her eyes, but she's laughing. One hand fists in Leo's shirt to keep her close.

"I swear on the Styx, I'll push you into the lake," Saturn threatens, but the way her other arm wraps around Leo's waist betrays her.

At the stage's edge, Seeta and Lilly—both Athena's daughters—are entertaining the crowd. Seeta kneels to take a camper's camera, snapping ridiculous selfies with her tongue out. Lilly drapes herself over Seeta's back like a living cape, blowing kisses to the Ares cabin.

"You weigh more than my philosophy textbooks," Seeta complains, but she's grinning as she reaches back to pinch Lilly's thigh.

Lilly gasps dramatically. "After I carried you through that last song? The betrayal!"

A camper's sign flashes near the front: THE SAJA GIRLS OWN MY WHOLE HEART. Seeta points at it with a wink. "Damn right we do."

The torches burn brighter, bathing them in golden light. In this moment, they're not just demigods—they're something more fragile, more real. Six girls who became family despite their godly parents.

The water embraced Xav like a second skin as she pushed off the wall, muscles burning with familiar precision. Each stroke was measured, each breath calculated—this was her element, where every movement made sense. But when she surfaced for air, her gaze betrayed her, flickering instinctively toward the spectator stands.

Emma lounged in her usual spot, bathed in golden afternoon light, scribbling furiously in that tattered notebook. Even from the pool, Xav could see the way Emma chewed her bottom lip when concentrating, the way her fingers smudged ink across the pages.

The final whistle cut through the humid air. Xav hauled herself from the water, rivulets streaming down her training suit as she snatched her towel. Emma's head jerked up at the movement, her face breaking into that grin—the one that made Xav's stomach swoop like she'd missed a step.

"Sorry," Xav muttered automatically, toweling her hair to hide the flush creeping up her neck. "Coach's idea of a cool-down was cruel and unusual."

Emma's laugh echoed off the tiled walls, bright and unrestrained. "You're literally the only person who'd apologize for following orders."

Xav rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the warmth flooding her chest. She focused on wringing water from her ponytail, hyperaware of Emma's gaze tracing the droplets sliding down her collarbone. The sharp tang of chlorine mingled with Emma's vanilla lotion as she leaned in to pass Xav's water bottle, their fingers brushing—

"You stayed," Xav observed, voice lower than intended.

Emma's shoulder bumped against hers, lingering. "Like I'd be anywhere else."

Xav's breath stuttered. She busied herself with her bag, willing her traitorous pulse to steady. It was absurd—how Emma could unravel her with a glance, a touch, a half-smile.

A sunbeam caught Emma's profile as she hummed under her breath, highlighting the ink smudged on her cheek. Xav's fingers twitched with the urge to wipe it away, to trace the constellation of freckles across her nose—

"See something you like?" Emma quipped without looking up, that infuriating smirk playing on her lips.

Xav's face burned. "I was just wondering how you can read your own handwriting."

Emma gasped in mock offense, clutching her notebook to her chest. "My fanfictions are works of art, thank you very much."

Xav's lips curved unbidden, the tension in her shoulders easing. This was their rhythm—the easy back-and-forth, the comfortable silence between notes.

Yet today the air between them crackled with something new. Maybe it was how Emma's eyes kept dropping to Xav's mouth. Maybe it was how their knees still touched even when the bleachers had plenty of space.

Xav swallowed. The confession burned behind her teeth—

"Zhang! Stop dawdling!" Coach's bark shattered the moment.

Emma's laughter wrapped around Xav like sunlight as she stood, offering a hand. "Saved by coach, huh?" Her fingers laced through Xav's, sticky with soda residue and warm as summer pavement. "Come on, Zhang. Walk me home?"

-

Their friendship had started exactly 317 days ago (not that Xav was counting) when Emma had plopped into the seat next to her in homeroom.

"You look like the only person here who doesn't suck," Emma had announced, slamming her battered notebook onto the desk with enough force to make Xav jump. A pen rolled off the edge, landing in Xav's lap. "Wanna be friends?"

Xav had stared at the pen in her lap, then at Emma's ink-stained fingers, then at the hopeful glint in those grey-blue eyes. She'd been too stunned to do anything but nod.

Now, sitting under their usual oak tree behind the school, Xav watched as Emma rummaged through her bag, sending pens and crumpled papers flying.

"Ah-ha!" Emma emerged victorious, brandishing a granola bar that had clearly lost a fight with her geometry textbook. "Breakfast of champions."

Xav checked her watch with deliberate precision. "It's 3:17 PM."

"Details." Emma tore into the wrapper with her teeth, then immediately gagged. "Ugh! Raisins. Trade me?"

"You haven't even seen what I—"

"Apples and peanut butter," Emma interrupted, already making grabby hands. "Sliced diagonally because you're weirdly obsessive about symmetry."

Xav's cheeks warmed as she surrendered her meticulously arranged container. How did Emma notice these things?

"You're the actual best," Emma mumbled around a mouthful, kicking her sneakers off to wiggle her toes in the grass. A glob of peanut butter clung to her bottom lip.

Xav's fingers twitched with the urge to wipe it away. Instead, she focused on the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves, on the way Emma's laughter sent the birds scattering from the branches above them—on anything but the way her pulse stuttered whenever Emma looked at her like that.

Like she was something precious.

-

The thing was, Xav had always been careful. She kept her notes color-coded, her locker organized.

But Emma? Emma was chaos. She left her shoes untied and her homework until the last minute.

And somehow, against all logic, Xav loved her for it.

She loved the way Emma would send her random reels at 2 AM. The way she would steal fries off Xav's tray at lunch without asking. The way she would rest her head on Xav's shoulder during boring assemblies, her hair smelling like sunshine and strawberry shampoo.

It was terrifying.

-

"Hey, Xav?" Emma's voice was unusually quiet.

Xav looked up from her psychology notes. "Hm?"

Emma was chewing on her bottom lip, a nervous habit Xav had come to recognize. "Do you ever think about... after graduation?"

Xav's pencil stilled. She had thought about little else lately. The idea of not seeing Emma every day, of not knowing who made her laugh, who walked with her to class, who got to see that soft, sleepy smile she had in the mornings, made something ache deep in Xav's chest.

"Yeah," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "All the time."

Emma fiddled with the hem of her shorts. "I just... I don't want things to change."

The words hung between them, heavy with everything they were not saying.

Xav took a shaky breath. "What if..." She hesitated, her courage faltering. "What if they changed in a good way?"

Emma's head snapped up, her eyes searching Xav's face. "What do you mean?"

Xav's pulse roared in her ears, loud enough to drown out the chlorine-scented air around them. She wiped her damp palms against her jeans. "What if—" The words stuck in her throat. She tried again. "What if we got dinner this weekend? Not as... not just as friends." The admission hung between them, fragile as the sunlight glinting off the pool water.

Emma went perfectly still. The notebook slipped from her fingers, landing with a soft thump on the bleachers. Xav watched, heart hammering, as Emma's lips parted—just slightly—before curving into that slow, devastating smile that always unraveled her.

"Jesus, Zhang." Emma's voice was rough with something that made Xav's knees weak. She reached out, calloused fingertips brushing Xav's wrist where it rested between them. "Was starting to think I'd have to spell it out for you." Her thumb traced a burning circle against Xav's skin. "Took you long enough."

Xav's breath escaped in a rush, as if she'd been clinging to it since the first time she noticed how sunlight caught in Emma's hair. "So, Rebekah..." Her voice wavered slightly, the words tasting unfamiliar yet right on her tongue. "This is really a date?"

Emma's answering smile could have powered the entire school. Without hesitation, she bridged the remaining distance between them, her fingers slotting between Xav's with the ease of something meant to be. The stickiness from earlier apple slices made their palms cling together, and Xav found herself memorizing the sensation - this perfect imperfection.

As the sinking sun painted the world in gold and violet, Xav watched their joined hands swing between them. The shadows stretched long across the grass, but for once, she didn't mind the approaching darkness. Not when Emma's thumb was tracing absent circles against her skin, not when the future suddenly felt less like something to fear and more like something to dive into headfirst.