Octavian is not a nice person.

That's what everyone at Camp Jupitor knew and saw. The arrogant, ridiculously annoying Augur and legacy of Apollo. He wasn't better than them, but he thought so.

Octavian knew no one liked him, but he didn't care. Of course not. He didn't care for any of them. And he cared even less when they all practically fawned over the new disgusting Greeks.

You were different though.

He'd never admit it, but Octavian loved you. You always sat alone at lunch. Wearing pink pastels, quiet and shy. Not annoying as hell. Just there. But it seemed to him like everyone else was quite prone to announcing their existences with loud fanfare.

It was not quick in the slightest. He started slowly talking to you more. Trying to remember what normal human decency was. It morphed into one of those relationships where you'd talk about something you liked and smile at him and his heart would just melt, and he'd respond with some stupid comment you both knew he'd barely meant.

Currently, Octavian sat on the floor of his barracks room, holding two papers in hand. He was translating some Latin papers you'd found for you, because you weren't fluent yet, as you sat behind him on his bed, his head between your legs. You were quietly putting little Sanrio hair clips into his hair as he focused, and he merely responding with a few small grunts. He stuck his tongue out a bit when he was concentrating. It was cute.