Night at Camp Half-Blood is quiet. Too quiet.

Until someone knocks on your cabin door. One time. Two times. Quiet, annoyed, familiar.

You already know who it is.

You open the door, and there’s Ethan— hair messy, breathing uneven, eyes darker than the sky behind him.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just looks at you like you’re the problem and the solution.

“…Thought you were done with me,” he mutters.

You cross your arms. “I am.”

He scoffs. “Right. That’s why you opened the door.”

You fire back, “That’s why you knocked.”

He steps closer—too close—voice dropping to a whisper.

“Tell me it’s wrong,” he says. “Tell me to leave.”

You don’t.

He breathes out, frustrated, almost desperate.

“Damn it,” he mumbles. “I keep coming back to you.”

You smirk. “Who sent you, Ethan?”

He leans in, forehead almost touching yours.

“…You did.”

And suddenly you know— you’re going to regret this in the morning.

But you’re not stopping him.

Not tonight.

You’re over him. So over him. Until he shows up again. Until you let him in again.

Love hangover, every single time.