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Camp Half-Blood had a way of glowing in late afternoon. The sun dipped just enough to soften the colors of the cabins, to turn the lake gold, to cast long shadows across the strawberry fields. It was the kind of light that made even ordinary things look enchanted; which was probably why no one seemed surprised when you stepped into view and brightened.
You had that effect. People adored you!!
You danced with the Apollo cabin during their practices, feet light and precise, movements fluid as water. You spar with Clarisse and don’t just hold your own— you adapt, learn and even anticipate others. Athena kids ask for your help with strategy. Hephaestus kids ask for your opinion on weapon balance, even though you don’t belong to their cabin.
The gods notice too!! Athena nods approvingly when you answer a question at dinner. Aphrodite smiles at you like a proud artist admiring her masterpiece. Apollo flirts shamelessly. Even Ares gives you a sharp grin after watching you fight.
Everyone loves you. Including Leo.
You were absolutely oblivious about the love they all hold for you— the ironic part, your only visible defect. You merely existed, and the camp seemed to fold around you like petals. Campers who normally argued over the last clean plate fell silent when you laughed. Some said it was your parentage; others said it was simply you.
And Leo Valdez… Well, Leo admired you so much it hurt.
He never said that aloud, of course. Leo was loud about everything except the things that really mattered to him. Around you, he burned like a flame cupped in a shaking hand.
At first, he tells himself it’s fine.
You’re nice. You laugh at his jokes— like, really laugh, and it's not the polite kind. You sit with him at meals, steal fries off his plate, ask about his projects like you genuinely care. You don’t treat him like a sidekick or a clown.
You treat him like Leo.
And that should be enough.
So when you ask him about dating, he doesn’t hear sincerity. He hears timing or a setup, probably the pause before a punchline.
“Valdez, can I have the honor to be your partner?”
He assumes it’s a prank the same way he assumes the ground will fall out from under him eventually: not because there’s evidence, but because experience has taught him to expect it.
You are too admired, effortless and wanted for the question to be real. The kind of person Gods praise openly does not look at Leo Valdez and think yes, that one, I want that one. Not without irony or without an audience waiting to laugh.
He smiles automatically, the way he always does when something feels sharp to touch directly. He laughs it off in his head before it can lodge anywhere dangerous. It’s safer that way. Safer to believe you’re being kind, or clever, or momentarily bored, really, anything but genuine.
Because believing you mean it would require him to imagine a future where he's not the weakest link. Where standing beside you does not feel like standing in someone else’s shadow. Where admiration does not inevitably curdle into comparison.
He convinces himself that this is mercy. That you’re offering him a moment of fantasy, a soft illusion he should accept with grace and then quietly dismantle before it humiliates him. He tells himself that wanting you is already a risk; expecting you would be reckless.
But when you end up asking five more times that same week, so serious about it, he can't help but end up saying yes; maybe you are real about dating him.
He wishes not to notice after just a few weeks, the way campers glance at you and then at him, surprised.
The way someone once mutters, “What’s she doing with him?” when they think he can’t hear. The way gods praise you openly, loudly, while Leo’s contributions feel... expected.
He starts standing a little farther away when you talk to people. Starts joking more, louder, like he’s trying to fill space that doesn’t belong to him. Starts telling himself you’ll get bored. That you’ll wake up one day and realize you deserve someone taller, hotter and shinier.
Someone who isn’t always one bad day away from feeling replaceable.
Leo adores you, he does, and today is no exception even though he has all these thoughts.
He watched you from the forge doorway, arms crossed, grease smudged along his jaw where he’d wiped away sweat absentmindedly. You were across the courtyard teaching a group of younger campers some fancy knife-footwork combo that had Ares kids whispering “What the hell, how does she do that?”
When you finished the demonstration, you flipped one of the knives casually, caught it behind your back, and bowed. The campers burst into applause.
Leo could practically hear the thought bouncing in his own head: ‘Yeah, so that’s… that’s perfect. Compared to that, I’m basically a raccoon in a hoodie.’
When you looked up, your eyes found his. You smiled so bright, unguarded, impossibly kind and waved. Leo waved back and instantly regretted it because it felt small, weird, everything compared to the way his stomach was flipping.
You excused yourself from the circle of campers and jogged toward him, knife sheathed, hair bouncing with each step.
“Leooo,” you breathed, stopping in front of him and going tipy-toes to give him a little peck. “I thought you were working today. Everything okay in the forge?”
Leo shrugged. “Yeah. Just making sure these dweebs aren’t letting you show them up too badly.”
You laughed softly. “I don’t show anyone up.”
“You literally just kicked the weapon out of an Ares kid’s hand using only your heel.”
“Okay, but that was Steve. He gets distracted easily.”
“By what? Air?” Your smile doubled, warm enough that Leo felt his insides wobble. You stepped closer, peering curiously at his face.
“Hold still,” you murmured.
Before he could react, you reached out and thumbed at his jaw, rubbing away the smear of dark grease. Your fingers brushed his skin and Leo was frozing like someone had unplugged him from reality! It didn't get better when you gave him a little peck on the lips.
“There,” you said. “Much better.”
Leo swallowed. “Uh, right. Thanks.”
You were oblivious to the way he stumbled over the word, already glancing at the forge door. “Busy day?”
“Kinda,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Festus’s joints are acting up again. Thought I’d fix him before he starts walking like an eighty-year-old.”
You laughed, Gods, your laugh was so pretty too but you didn’t stay long, excusing yourself to head to dinner prep.
“See you at campfire time, mh?”
Leo watched you go, heart twisting in that familiar, awful way. You were so out of his league it was ridiculous, he was so into you.
And that wasn’t self-pity. It was simple math!! You could do practically everything! People adored you...Even the gods loved you. Leo couldn’t walk across camp without tripping over at least one rock per day and accidentally setting something on fire.
He wondered if you were only with him because you were nice like that. Too nice to reject the idea of getting with the weird, loud kid who pined after you with all the subtlety of a flaming banner that said NOTICE ME PLEASE.
Campfire nights were your favorite. Leo knew this because you always sat near the edge of the flames, eyes glowing, voice carrying over the crowd when you sang. Tonight was no different — except Leo wasn’t sitting beside you like he usually did.
He was, in fact, nowhere near the fire and you noticed immediately.
So after some minutes looking for him, you found him at the far end of the beach, sitting on a rock with his knees pulled up, staring at the sand like it had personally offended him. The moon washed him in silver; even then, he looked dimmer than usual. You approached quietly.
“Leo?”
He jumped a little. “Oh. Uh. Hey.”
You frowned. “Why aren’t you at the campfire?”
“Wasn’t really feeling it,” he muttered, looking anywhere but you.
You stepped closer, sand cold beneath your feet. “You always feel it.”
“Not true.”
“Leo.” The way you said his name, so gentle and concerned made the words in his chest twist painfully.
He sighed. “Look, I just needed air. It’s fine.”
You sat beside him, knees touching. “Okay,” you said softly. “So… want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”
Leo stiffened. You didn’t push; you just watched him with that patient, warm expression that made him want to confess every insecurity he’d ever had.
Finally, he exhaled.
“You ever feel like everyone around here is…” He gestured vaguely. “I dunno, amazing, and you’re the one who snuck in because someone left the door open?”
You blinked. “Leo. You repared a dragon and did incredible stuff in the war.”
You blinked. “Leo. You repared a dragon and did incredible stuff in the war.”
“Yeah, but—”
“And repaired the kitchen plumbing after the nymphs broke it.”
“That wasn’t impressive,” he said. “That was terrifying. Those nymphs had knives.”
You smiled, faintly. “Still.”
Leo’s gaze dropped back to the sand. “You don’t get it.”
“Then help me understand.”
He pulled at a loose thread in his jeans. Flames curled at his fingertips when he got anxious; you could notice he was fighting them back.
“It’s you,” he said quietly, the words almost swallowed by the night wind. “Not like— not your fault or anything. You’re just you. And everyone loves you. And why wouldn’t they? You’re basically a walking starlight. You can sing, you can fight, you can dance, you can do everything.”
Your chest tightened.
Leo continued, softer:
“And then there’s me. I’m messy. I ramble. I crack jokes at the worst moments. People tolerate me because I’m useful sometimes, or because I can make them laugh, but… you?” He shook his head. “You’re good at everything. Everyone wants you. And I keep waiting for the moment you realize you could do so much better than me.”
Silence. The kind that wasn’t empty, it was the kind that hurt.
You swallowed, heart twisting at the tremble he tried so hard to hide. “Leo Valdez,” you said quietly, “look at me.” you saw him hesitate, then met your gaze.
Your voice softened but didn’t waver. “You think people love me because I’m good at things. But that’s not why people matter. That’s not why you matter.” He watched you, now it was his turn to listen.
“You see yourself as chaotic,” you continued, “but you don’t see the way campers light up when you walk into a room. You don’t see how they trust you with things they’d never trust anyone else with. You don’t see how safe you make people feel because you make it seem possible.”
Leo blinked, expression cracking. “Safe? I literally explode stuff sometimes.”
“And yet,” you said, nudging his shoulder gently, “I’ve never felt more safe with anyone.”
He froze and you leaned closer, voice warm as the moonlit air around you, Gods, you were so perfect to him.
He froze and you leaned closer, voice warm as the moonlit air around you.
“I don’t care how many things they say I’m good at. None of it matters the way you do. None of it feels the way being around you does.”
Leo’s breath hitched. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.” You reached out, taking his hand. His fingers were calloused, warm, trembling slightly.
“I mean every word,” you whispered. “You don’t have to be anything else, just be yourself. That’s already enough for me.”
“No one’s ever said that to me,” he said quietly.
You squeezed his hand. “Then it’s long overdue.”
“Why me?” he asked, so softly you almost didn’t hear it. “You could have anyone.”
“I don’t want anyone,” you said. “I want you.”
“You’re serious,” he breathed.
“I’m very serious.”
He laughed, the breathless little sound, stunned and disbelieving as he leaned his forehead against yours. His curls brushed your cheeks; his heartbeat fluttered against your hand.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
You lifted a hand to his cheek, guiding his face gently until he met your eyes.
“Leo,” you murmured, “don’t ever say that again.”
He swallowed.
“You deserve the world,” you said, thumb brushing his skin, “and if you’ll let me, I’d like to be part of it.”
For a moment he didn’t move, then he exhaled and leaned into your touch with a softness that made your own breath catch.
“Yeah,” he said, voice low and raw and real. “Yeah, I… I think I want that too.”
Leo hesitated for only a heartbeat before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours— so gentle, hesitant and reverent. Like he was afraid he might wake up and discover this was another dream he’d built in his head.
You kissed him back, slow and sure and when you parted, Leo let out a shaky laugh.
You nudged his nose with yours. “I’m gonna be the person who tells you every day that you’re enough.”
For the first time that day, Leo didn’t compare himself to anyone. He didn’t shrink, or dim, or worry he wasn’t enough. He just sat there with you, warm hand in warm hand, thinking maybe he was worthy of this..Of you.
And when you rested your head on his shoulder, he whispered: “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For seeing me,” he said softly.
You smiled against his arm. “Always.”