» "But if you want my kisses, I'll be your perfect Mrs. 'til the day that one of us dies" « 1:38 ────〇─── 3:16

It had been weeks since you’d properly seen Jason Grace. The others said he was “handling things,” but they couldn’t say what. He’d always been busy — a leader, a soldier, a man with a thousand responsibilities — but this time it was different. There was a distance in his voice when he did speak to you, like he was caught between words he couldn’t say and promises he wasn’t ready to make.

You told yourself you wouldn’t care. That you had your own life, your own duties. But it still stung — the unanswered messages, the missed dinners, the way his gaze seemed to slip right past you when you did cross paths.

So when you finally spotted him near the edge of the training grounds, the late sun spilling gold across the camp, you almost turned away. Almost.

He noticed you before you could move, shoulders straightening like a reflex. Even from here, you could tell he looked tired — not physically, but heart-tired. His armor gleamed in the light, but his expression was softer, uncertain.

“Hey,” he said quietly, like your name had been sitting on his tongue for weeks. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

You raised a brow. “Could say the same, Grace. I figured we’re both busy people.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, something between amusement and guilt. “That’s fair.” He hesitated, gaze dropping to the ground. “But that’s not really what’s going on.”

“Oh? Then what is going on?” you asked, crossing your arms, your tone light but your pulse anything but.

Jason took a breath, like he was about to admit something he hadn’t even told the gods. “I’ve been working on something,” he said slowly. “Something I didn’t want to screw up.”

Your laugh was soft, a little bitter. “You’ve been working on something? That’s your excuse? I thought we were past vague hero talk.”

He winced at that, stepping closer, close enough for you to see the faint scar along his jaw — one you didn’t remember being there. His eyes, that storm-swept blue, held yours with an intensity that made your stomach twist.

“You think I don’t care?” he murmured, almost incredulous. “You think I’d be losing sleep over blueprints or battle plans instead of you?”

You swallowed hard, but said nothing.

Jason’s hand twitched like he wanted to reach out but didn’t dare. “I’m trying to get this right,” he said, voice low. “You deserve more than half my attention between training sessions and war councils. I wanted to give you something that meant—”

He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. The weight of everything unspoken hung between you — heavy, fragile, full of promise.

“Just…” He looked at you again, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Please don’t give up on me yet. Trust me a little longer?”

The wind picked up, carrying the scent of pine and ozone, and for a heartbeat, you could almost feel the lightning humming beneath his skin — wild, desperate, and utterly in love.