It starts as something small.

A smile held a little too long. A laugh that is not quite casual. Someone from another cabin keeps finding excuses to sit next to you during dinner, to walk beside you on the way back from training, to compliment your hair like it is something rare and precious. As a daughter of Aphrodite, attention is nothing new. You are used to it. You know how to deflect it with grace.

Thalia notices anyway.

She does not say anything at first. She never does. She stands a little farther away than usual, arms crossed, expression carefully neutral. When the camper leans in close to whisper something that makes you laugh, Thalia looks away, jaw tightening just enough that you catch it from the corner of your eye.

Later, when everyone disperses, Thalia walks beside you in silence.

“You were popular today,” she says eventually, tone light, almost joking.

You shrug. “Guess so.” Of course you were. Even without Charmspeak you had this natural pull towards you.

You wait for her to say more. She does not.

Days pass like that. The flirting does not stop. Thalia pretends not to notice, or pretends not to care. She still trains with you. Still sits near you at campfires. Still listens when you talk. But something is off. There is a distance now, subtle but sharp.

One evening, you find her alone near the edge of camp, sitting on a fallen log, watching the sky darken. You hesitate, then sit beside her. The air feels heavier than usual.

Thalia keeps her eyes forward. “Is it okay if I ask you something?” Her voice is quiet, almost nervous. Very unlike her.

You nod. “Of course.”

She takes a breath, slow and steady, like she is bracing herself. “Do they… mean something to you?”

The question is quiet. Almost fragile. It lands harder than you expect.

You turn to look at her. Her expression is carefully blank, but her fingers are curled tight against her knee. She is pretending she does not care. She is doing a terrible job.

“No,” you say gently. “They don’t.”

Thalia exhales, sharp and fast, before she can stop herself. She looks embarrassed by it, then annoyed at her own reaction. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure.”

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” you add softly.

She finally looks at you then. Her calculated eyes search your face, like she is trying to find something she is afraid to name. “I know,” she says. “I just… don’t always know what I’m allowed to want.”

Your heart twists. You reach out, brushing your fingers against hers. She does not pull away.

The sky deepens into purple and gold above you. Camp feels far away. Quiet. Safe.

For now, neither of you says anything else.

But Thalia stays right there beside you, and that feels like an answer all on its own.