The afternoon sun poured over Camp Half-Blood, bathing the cabins in warm gold while campers shouted across the training fields. The rhythmic clang of swords echoed from the arena, laughter drifted from the canoe lake, and somewhere near the dining pavilion someone was being chased by an angry harpy over stolen dessert.
It felt like an ordinary day.
Percy Jackson wasn’t so sure.
Standing outside Cabin Three with his hands shoved into his pockets, he frowned at the laundry basket sitting by the steps.
“I’m telling you,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m missing one.”
Annabeth Chase glanced up from the architectural sketches she’d been doodling in a notebook. “Missing what?”
“A camp shirt.”
She blinked. “You’re worried about a T-shirt?”
“It was one of my favorites.”
“They’re all exactly the same.”
“They’re…different.”
Annabeth raised an eyebrow, trying not to smile. “Percy, they’re orange shirts.”
“I know they’re orange shirts.” Percy threw his hands up dramatically. “But this one fit better.”
She laughed quietly, shaking her head. “Maybe you left it in the canoe shed.”
“I checked.”
“The laundry?”
“Checked.”
“Poseidon claimed it back?”
“Very funny.”
Despite herself, Annabeth smiled wider. Lately, moments like these had become common—comfortable conversations that stretched longer than they needed to, teasing that came naturally, glances lingering just a little too long before either of them looked away. Neither had said anything, but everyone at camp had started noticing.
Neither of them noticed the thirteen-year-old standing a short distance away.
Nico di Angelo froze.
His heartbeat pounded in his ears.
Hidden safely beneath his worn black leather jacket, carefully folded against his chest, was the missing orange Camp Half-Blood shirt.
Percy’s shirt.
He’d snuck into Cabin Three late one night when everyone had been asleep. He’d only meant to look around…just for a minute.
Then he’d seen it.
It still smelled faintly like sea salt, campfire smoke, and the ocean—so unmistakably Percy that Nico hadn’t been able to stop himself.
He’d taken it.
Every night since, he’d fallen asleep holding it. Sometimes he wore it over his pajamas. Other times he draped it over his face while he napped, pretending Percy was nearby. Whenever he felt lonely, he buried his face in the soft fabric until the familiar scent calmed him.
It was embarrassing.
Ridiculous.
And completely impossible to give back now.
He’d hidden it inside his jacket before leaving his cabin that morning, terrified someone might accidentally find it.
“Nico?”
He nearly jumped out of his skin.
Percy was looking right at him now, completely unaware that the shirt he’d been searching for all week was resting only inches from Nico’s racing heart.
“You haven’t seen my missing camp shirt anywhere, have you?” Percy asked innocently.
Nico’s face went warm.
“No,” he answered far too quickly.
Annabeth narrowed her eyes.
Percy tilted his head.