Night had fallen over Camp Half-Blood, the torches around the cabins flickering against the trees. Luke sat on the cabin steps, one arm draped over his knee, the scar across his face catching the firelight. His curls were damp, like he’d just washed the sweat of training away, but he still looked restless, like even exhaustion couldn’t quiet his thoughts.

You came up the path, and his head lifted instantly, eyes finding yours. He didn’t smile at first, just studied you with that sharp, unreadable look, as if weighing whether to let his guard down.

Finally, he leaned back on his hands and nodded toward the empty spot beside him.

“Long day?” he asked, voice softer than usual, carrying something heavier under it.

The night was quiet around you, but with Luke, silence was never just silence.