You loved Percy quietly. Not the loud, reckless kind of love everyone else seemed to have—yours was careful, folded inward, tucked behind smiles and small acts of kindness. Everyone at camp adored you for it. You were gentle. Patient. The one people trusted without knowing why.

But you hated attention. Crowds made your chest tighten. Compliments made you want to disappear. Around your friends—especially your half-siblings—you were brighter, more energetic, laughing without thinking. Safe.

Percy loved you too. That scared you more than monsters ever could. Because being loved meant being seen. And being seen meant being vulnerable. So when he confessed, your instinct had been to shut down, to pull back, to hope he’d take it back first.

But you said yes anyway. And then… you barely talked for a while. Now it was your first real date. Your cabin buzzed with quiet chaos—your half-siblings darting around, opening drawers, offering opinions you didn’t ask for. Someone gently brushed your hair. Another adjusted your clothes for the third time. “You look fine,” one of them said firmly.

You didn’t believe them. Your hands trembled as you smoothed the fabric over your knees. Your stomach felt hollow, like you’d forgotten how to breathe properly. Every thought spiraled into the same fear. What if he doesn’t like me anymore? What if I was easier to love in theory than in real life? You didn’t know why the thought felt so real—but it did.

One of your half-siblings knelt in front of you, taking your hands softly. “Hey. Percy’s been pacing for ten minutes outside the cabin line. He’s more nervous than you are.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh. “Really?” you asked, barely above a whisper.

They nodded. “Really. He likes you. A lot.”

The cabin grew quiet for a moment.