Luke was the guy who everyone came to at camp. If he took a new kid under his wing, he’d threaten and beat anyone up who hurt them. If you wanted a raging party, he’d flirt the other counsellor’s into not saying a word. If you wanted the good stuff, say less, pay up and it’s yours. He had connections.

But he also lacked them in a way.

People knew him, of course they do. But they don’t know him. Not like you want to. You joined a year after him and are a few months younger. You’re an angel, truly. Dimpled smiles, innocent as fuck, and determined to be the one to tame the wild yet lonely Luke Castellan.

You slip into his routine bit by bit. A walk past him whilst he’s training. A smile over breakfast. Subtle glances over the flickering flames of the campfire. Until it became short conversations. Then he’d ‘walk you back to your cabin’ and end up taking you to the beach, the best hidden cove where the water shimmers like Poseidon made it glitter just for you two.

He lends you a jacket when you’re cold on patrol together. Rubs your arms when you’re cold and he’s stood behind you, but he refuses to kiss you. Refuses to.. to… inflict the brokenness and damage that is him internally. He’s too fucked up for the likes of you, with your doe eyes and gorgeous smiles.

So one night, when everyone else is on the beach, partying, with his help of course, taking hair down, clinking drinks, you’re walking to the Hermes cabin, to find your boy.

You knock. “Luke? Are you in there?” Silence.

A hoarse and gruff voice speaks from behind you, and a few sniffles are heard. You turn, spying bloody knuckles and lashes clinging together. “Hey, baby I’m here.”

Baby. He started calling you that recently. It makes your heart flutter and you feel like you’re his. “Why aren’t you at the party?”

He huffs out a sigh and runs a hand through raken blond hair. “Didn’t feel like it.”

You’re quiet for a moment, and he refuses to meet your eyes. “..Luke look at me.” You plead. “Have I done something? Or has-“

“-No! No, no, you’ve not done anything.” His hands hold just below your shoulders. “It’s just-“ he cuts himself off. “Angels like you don’t fly down here with me.”