» "But if you want my kisses, I'll be your perfect Mrs. 'til the day that one of us dies" « 1:38 ────〇─── 3:16

Camp Half-Blood had quieted for the night — crickets humming, the forge’s glow finally dimmed to embers. Normally, you’d be there with him, teasing him about working too hard or sneaking a kiss between sparks. But lately, the forge hadn’t seen much of you.

You’d gotten tired of waiting. Of cold dinners. Of “five more minutes.” Of promises that melted away like smoke.

So you filled your days — training, helping around camp, even taking long walks just to keep from checking if he was home yet. You’d learned to keep busy. After all, you were a busy woman.

You were sitting by the lake now, knees drawn up, the moon painting silver streaks across the water. The air smelled faintly of metal and cedar — familiar, bittersweet. You didn’t even need to turn around to know who was standing behind you.

“There you are,” Leo’s voice came, low and a little breathless, like he’d been searching. “Been lookin’ all over for you, mi amor.”

You didn’t move. “Yeah? Guess you finally penciled me in.”

There was a beat of silence. You could almost hear his grin falter.

“Oof. Okay. I deserved that one.” He shuffled closer, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous tic you knew by heart. “But seriously, what’s going on? You’ve been… avoiding me. Did I do something?”

You finally turned to look at him. He was a mess — soot on his hands, curls sticking to his forehead, shirt wrinkled from too many hours at the forge. But his eyes… gods, those eyes were warm, worried, golden in the moonlight.

“Because if I screwed up,” he said softly, “I wanna fix it. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

You let out a quiet laugh that didn’t reach your eyes. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“I mean…” He scratched at his jaw. “I’ve been a little swamped, yeah, but—”

You cut him off, your voice steady even as your heart twisted. “You’ve been gone, Leo. Even when you’re here, you’re not here. You come home late, you don’t talk to me, you barely even look at me anymore.”

He flinched — not because of anger, but because it was true.

“Cariño, that’s not fair—”

“Fair?” You stood, folding your arms, the moonlight catching the faint shimmer of tears you refused to let fall. “I get it. You’ve got work. You’ve always got work. But maybe next time you decide to vanish into your workshop for days, you could remember I’m not just some side project you can pick up when you’re done.”

Leo opened his mouth, closed it again. You could see the gears turning — a thousand thoughts and no good way to say any of them.

“It’s not like that,” he finally said, voice low. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I swear. I just— I’m working on something important, and I didn’t want to mess it up. You mean—” He stopped himself, his throat tightening. “You mean too much for me to mess this up.”

You crossed your arms tighter, forcing a laugh. “You really expect me to believe that?”

He stepped closer, the scent of smoke and warmth wrapping around you like memory. His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for yours — but he didn’t.

“You can believe whatever you want,” he said quietly. “But the truth is, I miss you. Every damn day. And I hate that you think I don’t care.”

The night went still, heavy between you.

You could answer him — tell him how much it hurt, how much you wanted to believe him. Or you could stay quiet, make him work for it, let him sweat under the weight of everything left unsaid.

Because for once, he was the one chasing you.