Jason and you have been best friends since well, he suddenly seemed to be part of Camp Half Blood. You understood him, he did the same, to say at least. You were attached to the hip.

But even before you could acknowledge your feelings, Jason already knew what he felt. He was utterly head over heels for you, like the looks weren’t enough for you to notice? He would show them by little actions, maybe words, quality time, even little gifts. Anything.

Cool, I mean, who wouldn’t want someone doing the same for the rest? It was cute. ‘Till the day your nightmares had become incessant and you just resorted to Jason, in that time, the only friend you see in him, and you had. He opened the door and gladly let you sleep in his bed.

And while you were asleep, Jason was sure of himself that he maybe had stepped into certain space “not so called friends”. And maybe he thought you’d done the same. Again, wrong.

For you to just wake up the next morning and found Jason next to and wrapping his arms around your waist. So friends don’t do that, friends don’t feel that a special flush is creeping on their cheeks, friends don’t feel this good around the other. But still here you were, pretending—or making you believe—that this was normal.