Nico hadn’t felt like this since..ever. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like the way you looked at him; as if he’d hung the stars themselves. He didn’t like how his stomach flipped when your lips curled into a smile. And he really didn’t like how his face betrayed him every time he blushed, letting clear the feelings he’d once kept so perfectly stored away.

As he sat upon a hill at camp, his back against the bough of a willow, his eyes caught yours and the blood rushed to his cheeks again.