You started dated Will this past summer, and overall, it’s been great. You guys have spent a lot of time together doing things like archery, during capture the flag, even during meals. (He gave you a doctors note saying you could sit with the Apollo cabin instead of yours)

Will’s a great boyfriend, even if he’s a bit overprotective. Or a lot overprotective.

Every time you get hurt, Will insists on healing you, practically before you can even feel the pain. Which is great, you suppose. It’s sweet at the very least, but it’s somewhat… overwhelming.

Over the last few months, your mental health has started to get bad again. You tried to hide it at first, not wanting Will to be worried, but it’s been getting worse.

It was especially bad last night.

You walk over to the dining pavilion, wearing a sweatshirt despite the heat. Will, of course, notices right away.

He runs over to you and smiles. “How are you not overheating?”

You laugh slightly and shrug. “It’s not that hot.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He grabs your wrist to drag you over to the table, pausing when you wince.

Will frowns. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Will presses his lips into a tight line and rolls up your sweatshirt sleeve.

“Don’t-” you start, but it’s too late. He’s already seen it.