Mom Said It’s MY Turn To Lay Gently In The Cold Dark Earth

mom said it’s MY turn to lay gently in the cold dark earth

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 5

Christmas Eve part 2

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: swearing, family members are mean (are we seeing a pattern?), can you tell that I love lebkuchen from the number of times it got mentioned, they kiss again but for like 2 seconds, then they kiss again later for longer than 2 seconds 👀, reader's grandpa isn't supportive of her job (but it's ok because lockwood saves the day), a pigeon was harmed in the making of this chapter (but it lives!), drinking (alcohol), lockwood talks about his family and the Christmases he spent without them, reader comforts him, there is so much communication but somehow so much miscommunication at the same time??? and I'm annoyed at myself for doing this (but it's necessary), this part does not have a happy ending at all (I'm sorry)

series master list

Deck The Halls (and Not Your Partner) - Part 5

"Well," Lockwood started, looking around at everyone gathered. "I suppose it started in March."

He paused for a moment, trying to figure out where to go from there. "We were on a job, just the two of us, in Kensington. A couple wanted their house clearing out before they properly moved in, and called us. Everything was going perfectly fine, and then we realised that our clients hadn't told us everything about the property, and we were dealing with three Limbless in an enclosed space." Y/n remembered that job well. It was one of the few cases that she'd actually gone on with just Lockwood, and they had been arguing for most of it about the best way to get rid of a Limbless.

Their argument had attracted the other two that were out in the garden.

"Y/n was brilliant, of course, using her Talent to locate the Sources of the three of them while I covered her, but I got held up in the corridor by some Type Ones that had appeared and she was left on her own. I only just got there in time to throw a salt bomb at the Limbless behind her and give her the extra second that she needed to wrap up the Source, but I don't think I've ever been more scared in my life. I really thought I was too late and that I'd lost her." His voice sounded thick with emotion, and when Y/n met his eyes they were watery. She tried not to frown, since it was strange for her to see him so affected like this. Lockwood cleared his throat, and looked back at the crowd. "Then of course I realised that I couldn't live without her and I asked her on a date. She said no, despite my attempts at baking her favourite cake and all the flowers." He cracked a smile, and people around the room laughed.

"Well you did look rather pathetic, Ant. I sort of wanted to watch you suffer a bit more." That much was true at least, since any time she got to watch him squirm was entertaining to her.

"Well you certainly got your share of that, darling," he huffed, and Y/n bit back a snort at the frustrated look on his face. "I had to ask her about six times after that first one before she finally said yes. We've been dating since the middle of April."

"It was eight, but who's counting?" Something about his story didn't sit right with her, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Maybe it was how close it was to what had actually happened on the job, or maybe it was the dread of all the questions she'd get about her job once people started mingling, wanting to know if she had a backup plan in case this line of work failed, or if she realised how dangerous it was.

Maybe it was the way that Lockwood had looked at her when he was talking about losing her.

~~~

"What are your intentions with Y/n?"

"Don't be stupid," John said, whacking his brother Sam on the arm.

"No, but really, what are your intent- oof!" Sam had been tackled to the floor by John, and Lockwood did his best not to flinch.

He'd been dragged into the library a few minutes ago by Y/n's brothers, and although he was the smallest, Tom was currently the most frightening as he stared Lockwood down from across the room, despite the two eldest brothers currently scrapping on the floor.

"Did... did you want me to answer that, or...?"

"I mean, it would be nice to know," Will piped up, eating straight from a packet of lebkuchen in the armchair opposite. Lockwood didn't think he'd ever seen the man without some sort of food nearby. He sat forward in his chair slightly, trying to come up with a good enough answer that would mean he could go back to the party. John and Sam stopped punching each other to hear his answer.

"I'm mostly just happy that she even gave me a chance, if I'm being honest." That much was true, but Y/n's brothers didn't need to know that he was talking about her acceptance of a position at his company and not the mythical relationship that the two of them had been in for eight months. "I know that I'm incredibly lucky to have her, and I can promise you that I won't do anything to screw that up."

Sam and John seemed happy enough with his answer, and Lockwood started breathing a little more easily. Tom was still staring at him, and Lockwood could have sworn that the boy hadn't blinked the entire time. Will snorted, shaking the bag around to get the last crumbs of lebkuchen out. "Yeah, sure. What's the real answer? No more of that crap, because it's obvious you rehearsed that to make us happy." When Lockwood didn't say anything for a moment Will prodded him again. "Go on."

He clenched his jaw, wondering how he could say anything nice about Y/n when she hadn't said anything nice about him for nearly three years, and looked out the window. A memory flashed up, and despite it having only been that morning, he was surprised at how quickly he'd forgotten the interaction.

Since when had she memorised how he took his tea?

He didn't think that Y/n had ever made him tea before, always making it a deliberate point to make a pot for everyone but him, and yet that morning while they sat in bed she had done it perfectly as though it were second nature. Then his mind drifted back to the night before, and he felt his face warm up at the memory of the mistletoe. He cleared his throat.

"I guess..." Lockwood sighed through his nose and clenched his jaw again. It was starting to ache. "I guess that's true, what I said before-"

"You guess?" Will interjected. Lockwood hadn't thought that he would be under this much scrutiny, but he was starting to sweat uncomfortably. He'd rather be dealing with Barnes right now than be sat here.

"It is true," he amended, making wary eye contact with the man. The packet of lebkuchen was neglected in Will's hand, hanging limply as he sat forward to question his younger sister's boyfriend. "She's incredible - the most incredible girl I've ever met - and I truly am aware of how lucky I am that she chose me. I'm not exactly... easy... to be around sometimes because of my agency, but she deals with me perfectly. She deals with me more than she should, to be honest." He frowned, thinking again about how he needed to figure out how to apologise to her. Nothing he had said was a lie; in fact, he didn't think he'd said anything more true about Y/n the entire time that he had known her. She was incredible, since her Touch was so powerful and unlike anything that he had ever seen before. And he did count himself lucky that she, despite his horrible words, still decided to work for him. And she did deal with him, more than anybody should, and she did it by being just as much of an arse to him as he was to her.

Maybe they were good together after all.

A thud on the window made everyone turn to look at what had made the noise, and Tom finally broke eye contact with Lockwood.

"Pigeon," Sam said, having been closest to the window. "I think it might be- oh no, it's just got up and flown off. Don't tell Mum though, she'll have a fit if she sees the mark it left."

"Alright, I think we're done here. You're free to go, Lover Boy," Will said, waving his hand vaguely at Lockwood and scrunching up the empty lebkuchen packet. Lockwood got up to leave, but upon opening the door a body fell face first into his chest with a small 'oof!'

"... Darling?" Lockwood asked, confusion lacing his voice. The figure looked up and offered a smile.

"Oh, hi! I was just... wondering where you were, Anthony." He tried to not let it show how much it affected him to hear his first name in her mouth, but the slight intake of breath that he took probably gave him away. It didn't help that Y/n was in that dress, since she looked so stunning that he couldn't focus on anything but her.

"You're so obsessed with each other," Lockwood heard Will mutter from behind him, and he realised with a start that they had just been staring at each other and blocking the doorway, penning the others in the library. When they went to move, however, Sam stopped them.

"Mistletoe! You can't break tradition!"

"Ugh, again? Did Mum plant an entire fucking garden of it?" Y/n said, peering up at the sprig that hung over their heads. "They're not gonna let us leave without doing it."

"Alright. Let's get it over with then," he whispered into her mouth, and he couldn't help but feel the exact opposite when she pressed her lips to his.

~~~

"So," Y/n's grandfather Richard started, and internally she groaned. He had used the tone of voice that meant he was about to start asking about work, and she was dreading this conversation. "Being an agent. Are you still sure it's what you want to do with your life, Y/n?"

"Yes, Gramps. I'm sure. I have been doing it for years now."

"But there are so many other things you could be doing! Jobs that you could actually be good at!"

That stung a little, and Y/n sat back slightly in her chair. She loved her Gramps, and most of the time he was one of her favourite family members, but he'd been alive before the Problem had started and didn't understand that things had changed since he was a kid. He believed in her in most other ways, just not when it came to her life as an agent, which was one of the only things she was truly passionate about (other passions included drinking tea and hating Lockwood).

"I don't mean to intrude," a voice piped up, and once again Y/n found herself wondering how the hell Lockwood managed to always turn up at the right time. "But Y/n is one of the best agents in the country, sir. Her Talent is so incredibly unique and that's what makes her so brilliant at her job." He perched on the arm of the chair that she was sat on, and she frowned when she felt the urge to rest her head against his thigh.

"Well how can you possibly know that!"

"Gramps, this is my boyfriend, Anthony? You met him briefly last night?"

"Oh, is it? Right, well I suppose you would know then! Tell me, is she too much of a pain sometimes?!"

Lockwood hesitated slightly, glancing down at where Y/n sat in the chair and frowning a little at her Gramps' question. "If anything I'm the pain. I don't know why she keeps me around to be honest." He sounded so sincere about it that for a moment she forgot that he had ever said anything horrible about her. The rest of their conversation faded into background noise as she remembered what she'd overheard earlier.

It was probably breaking all sorts of moral laws to eavesdrop on her brothers' interrogation of Lockwood, but then again she'd made her boss her fake boyfriend to fool her entire family, so she figured that she was well past being entirely moral about things. And besides, she hadn't been intending on listening in at first, she'd just been walking back from using the loo and happened to hear them. She couldn't get Lockwood's words out of her head, and she'd been replaying them over and over since.

"She's incredible - the most incredible girl I've ever met - and I truly am aware of how lucky I am that she chose me."

What the hell did that mean? Was it a lie that he'd made up to make them happy? But then she'd also heard Will prodding for the truth and his exclamation that whatever Lockwood had said before (which she hadn't heard) was obviously fake, so did he just come up with a better lie?

Tonight, she thought. Tonight I'll talk to him.

~~~

When the last guests had stumbled out of the front door, singing loudly and bumping into each other because they had had too much to drink, everybody left in the house let out a sigh of relief.

Y/n mumbled a tired 'good night' to everyone as she pulled herself upstairs, and Lockwood followed after her. He'd been helping her father tidy up a little before turning out the lights, to save some of the food that needed refrigerating and chucking other things in the bin. She had been worried when her dad first started talking to Lockwood, but then she'd heard her father laughing and had decided that they would be perfectly fine together.

Now she collapsed face first onto the bed, not yet worrying about the chill in the room.

"I can see why you were dreading that," Lockwood said, his voice sounding too loud. She'd had to down a few drinks that afternoon to deal with the sheer number of questions and comments from family members and friends, and now her head was aching slightly.

"Can you get me some water?" she asked, but since her face was still buried in the duvet it came out muffled. Lockwood's footsteps shuffled around for a while, and then went silent, and Y/n huffed in annoyance. Of course he'd just get himself ready for bed and not worry about her, that was so typical of him. She pushed herself upright, wincing when the room wobbled a little and the pain increased in her head, then frowned when Lockwood reappeared, something in his hand.

"Here. I couldn't find any painkillers though, so I'll just go and fill that up when you're done so you can try and sober up before bed."

Oh. Maybe he wasn't being so typical after all.

"Thanks," she muttered, taking the glass from him and eyeing it warily.

"It's not poisoned, darling. If I was going to kill you I wouldn't do it in a way that might mean you could come back to haunt me."

"Charming."

He sat down on the bed next to her with a sigh, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. "You know," he said, not looking at her. "This hasn't been... the worst Christmas I've ever had."

"No? You're spending it with me." He gave her a wry smile, finally bringing his gaze up to meet hers.

"Yeah, that's not really that bad."

Oh.

"Really?"

He hummed in answer, nodding slightly, then got up and walked over to the fireplace. They sat in silence while Y/n finished off her water and Lockwood got the fire going, and once she headed over to sit next to where he was crouching she realised how cold she had been before. He sat back, leaning on the chair behind him. Y/n was hunched over her knees, empty glass dangling in her grip. She could have done the same as Lockwood with the armchair behind her, and god knew her head needed something to rest against because despite the water dulling the ache it was still pressing against her temples, but she didn't think she could see Lockwood's face at that moment.

"The first Christmas after Jess passed was the worst."

Her head snapped to look at him where he sat to her left, but he was staring into the fire, eyes transfixed on the flames but looking at something far away. She didn't say anything, instead just letting him go ahead in his own time.

"The ones after my parents died were hard, sure, but at least I had Jess around and we knew what the other was going through. Then she was gone too, and I was nine years old in a big house that was suddenly empty of the family I had spent my life being loved by."

She knew that his family were dead since the absence of any of them was shockingly present in 35 Portland Row, but he had never told her anything. She'd had to learn it all from Lucy, George, and Holly.

"That first one was horrible. I don't think I stopped crying for longer than an hour the entire time, and I couldn't sleep because I kept replaying it over in my head. I could have helped," he whispered, and Y/n could see that his eyes were glistening in the light of the fire. "I could have saved her, if only I hadn't-" he cut himself off, his voice growing too strangled to continue. Quickly she placed her hand on his arm, turning her body to face him.

"Hey, hey," she said quietly, drawing him into her arms. Her glass had been abandoned on the floor, her hands now holding Lockwood's body in her lap instead. His head was resting on her chest while his arm wrapped around her stomach, the other supporting his weight, and Y/n told herself that she was only allowing this to happen because she hadn't yet sobered up.

She wasn't sure how long they were there for, her leaning back at an awkward angle to allow room for Lockwood to lie on top of her and curl into her side while he sniffled, but after a while she found that she didn't mind stroking her fingers through his hair (which was surprisingly soft) or having his weight on her (it was like having a weighted blanket).

"Thank you," he muttered after a while, sitting up and wiping at his face. He paused in his movements when he realised that their faces were much closer together than was normal for two people that didn't like each other. The memory of that morning when she had smoothed out his collar and he had been about to say something came back, and when his gaze flicked between her eyes and her lips she drew in a breath.

"Anthony?"

And then he was surging forward, kissing her with the same passion that he had hated her with while she reached up to grab his shirt, not caring that she was wrinkling the fabric that she herself had smoothed out that very morning. How could she think of anything but him when the two of them had finally crashed together like a tsunami hitting cities?

How could she think of anything but him when he pulled her on top of him?

And how could she think of anything but him when he sighed her name into her mouth and it sounded sweeter than the tea he drank?

And then she was thinking about him entirely, and remembering everything that had happened since they met, and suddenly kissing him was a terrible idea.

"She's not good enough for the company."

She pushed away from him with a start when those words blared in her mind like warning alarms, the memory of what she had overheard in the library around four months after starting to work for Lockwood and Co. She hadn't heard anything before, but the disdain in Lockwood's voice told her it was about her. She had run upstairs to make sure she didn't hear any more of what he thought about her.

"Y/n?" he asked now, voice hoarse from crying and kissing, and his expression was desperate as he watched her press her hand to her lips and take shaky breaths. "Y/n? What is it? Wh-"

"Don't," she snapped, standing up and trying to forget the feeling of his hands on her body. "Don't... just don't, Lockwood." He was getting up too, scrambling after her and reaching out to stop her from slipping away.

"I don't understand-"

"Don't understand what?! We can't- we hate each other, Lockwood!" The venom in her voice made him stumble back a few steps. "You never wanted me at your company and you made sure that I knew that!"

"I-"

"I heard you telling the others that I wasn't ever going to be good enough for you, and then a few hours later after a job you're telling me that my Talent is incredible?! What am I supposed to think?! And then you spend the next however many years being a complete dick to me and complaining about me, so I do the same because clearly being nice didn't work, and now you're here at my fucking family Christmas event pretending to be my boyfriend and kissing me when you don't need to-"

"Of course I need to! I know I was horrible to you-"

"An understatement," she scoffed, crossing her arms.

"-but I'm trying to figure out how to apologise to you because I know that I've fucked up and I need to fix it!"

"So you kissed me?!"

"No! Yes! That wasn't an apology!" He rubbed his hand over his face, clearly frustrated with how it was going. "It was a mistake- no, Y/n, I didn't mean it like that!"

"A mistake?" she whispered, her eyes stinging with fresh tears. "Kissing me was a mistake?"

"No," he said, tone filled with desperation. "No, Y/n, I just meant that I shouldn't have done it before apologising to you because then it would seem like... I don't know! Like I was doing it just to try and trick you into accepting my apology or something!"

"Were you? Doing it to trick me? Because right now I can't tell what the truth is, Lockwood!"

"It wasn't a trick. It was never a trick, and I'm an idiot-"

"Yes, you are."

"Would you just listen to me?!" he shouted, anger seeping in to his body, and Y/n took a step back at the look in his eyes.

"What, like how you listen to me?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Yesterday, on the platform, when I was talking about my family being a lot and how it was hard for me and I'm actually related to most of them, and I couldn't imagine how hard it would be for someone to be introduced to all of that in one go. You just assumed that I meant it would be hard for you because your family is dead, and then when I tried to explain you cut me off and gave me the cold shoulder because you didn't fucking listen, Lockwood. What I meant was it would be a lot for anyone, no matter their own experience. Hell, even George has said that he would rather be blocked from the Archives for life than ever meet my family, and he's got almost as many relatives as me!"

Lockwood didn't say anything for a minute, instead just standing still and staring at her while the fire in his eyes died down, and Y/n shook her head. "This?" She gestured between the two of them. "This will never work. We will never work. Because you never wanted me and no matter how much I want you to like me in the same way that you like the others, you never will. And I will never be good enough for you." That was one more person to add to the list of people that she needed to meet unnecessarily high expectations for in order to be even noticed. She wiped at the tears that had slipped down her face while she was talking, the salt making her cheeks itch.

"You're right," Lockwood finally said. "I won't ever like you in the same way as the others." He stopped there, looking down at the floor. When he went to speak again, however, he lifted his head to an empty room, and the bathroom door shutting him out.

Y/n ignored his attempts to talk to her through the door, shoving the duvet and blankets that she had quickly grabbed into the bathtub and plugging her headphones into her walkman so that she didn't have to hear the rest of his cruel words and excuses.

She had craved something different with him, and it had fucking destroyed her.

And now she had to wake up on Christmas Day and pretend that she was hopelessly in love with the fake boyfriend who had just broken her heart.

part 6 (coming soon)

Tag list: @ahead-fullofdreams, @aislinrayne, @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @aysha4life, @bobbys-not-that-small, @briar-rose23, @curseofhecate, @dangelnleif, @edible-rat-vomit, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @ettadear, @fearlessmoony, @fudosl, @idkbubs, @informedimagining, @karensirkobabes, @locklyebrainrot, @locklyle1kanij, @locknco, @mentallyillsodapop, @mischivana, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @newbooksmell777, @no-morning-glories, @novelizt, @phlooper, @ran23sblog, @simrah1012, @somethingrandomwatzit, @star-of-velaris, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list! <3

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guessyourenottheone

6 months ago

Echoes of Broken Promises | OP81

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: Oscar faces a silence he can't escape, one filled with memories and unspoken words, leaving him to grapple with a past he can't forget.

Warning(s): Mild Language, angst, guilt, regret, kind of open ending.

"I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met."

Oscar Piastri sat at the press table, his usual calm demeanor in place as reporters fired off questions. The day’s pre-race interview was routine—at least, it was supposed to be.

The sun poured in through the large windows of the paddock, casting long shadows across the table and softening the tension in the air. The ambient noise of the bustling paddock outside barely reached them here, a stark contrast to the intensity of the moment.

Oscar’s answers were measured, polite, he was used to the interviews now, he tried to make his face as polite and as less expressive, as he could.

“So Oscar,” the interviewer began, her tone light, “we’ve recently heard around the paddock that you used to build karts with whatever you could find when you were little?”

Oscar laughed softly, a small chuckle escaping him as he nodded. “Oh yeah, I loved making karts. It was my favourite thing to do when I was young. I’d find some parts, and then me and y/n —” He stopped abruptly, his mind frozen on the name that was about to come out. He blinked, caught off guard, suddenly aware of the slip-up. The name.

Her name.

The one he hadn’t said in so long. The one he wasn’t ready to say.

For a beat, neither he nor the interviewer spoke. The room went oddly silent, the camera capturing the huge shift in Oscar’s expression.

The background chatter of journalists, the rustling of papers, the sound of clicking pens—all of it seemed to fade away.

It felt like the air thickened around him, each second stretching out longer than the last. A low hum of awareness seemed to reverberate in his ears, as if the room had suddenly become too small for all the feelings he’d kept buried.

As soon as the name left his lips, Oscar felt a wave of emotion surge through him. His breath caught in his throat. His heart hammered in his chest, a rapid, chaotic pulse that didn’t seem to belong to the calm and collected version of himself that everyone knew. He fought to regain control, but it wasn’t enough. The crack in his composure had been exposed.

The interviewer, caught off guard by the name, blinked at him in surprise. Her voice softened, a note of confusion creeping in.

“Y/N?” she asked cautiously, her eyes narrowing as if trying to process the sudden shift in Oscar’s demeanor.

The air around them grew heavier, and it was as if the entire room leaned in, sensing that something deeper was unfolding.

Oscar’s face froze. He realized what had just happened, his mind scrambling to regain control. The name was out there, hanging in the air between them, and suddenly, it felt like the room was closing in on him.

Y/N.

His childhood friend, the one person who had always been there. The one person he hadn’t spoken to fo so long. The one person he hadn’t let himself think about in so long. She was more than just a name now—she was a weight, an entire chapter of his life that he had long since buried. Or had tried to, at least.

For a moment, Oscar couldn’t speak. The weight of the memory, the loss, it was all too much. His usual polished exterior cracked, just slightly, and his eyes seemed to lose focus.

He blinked, but it didn’t help.

It was as if the world around him had blurred, and all he could see were flashes—images from his past, fragments of a time before everything became… complicated.

The interviewer leaned in a little, her voice unsure now. “Is… is Y/N someone important to you? A friend, perhaps?” she asked, a touch of empathy in her voice, but the question felt too intrusive, like she was pushing into a place Oscar wasn’t ready to go. The room had shifted, and suddenly, this wasn’t just about a race. This wasn’t just about Oscar as a driver. It was about something much more personal.

Oscar blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear the fog from his mind. He swallowed, his throat dry. “Yeah… she was a friend,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. The sentence sounded so final, like he was cutting something off, like he was slamming a door in front of everything that came before. But the ache in his chest grew stronger the more he tried to distance himself from the memory. The words felt like a surrender, like admitting he had no power over the way his past was creeping back up on him.

The interviewer, sensing his discomfort, didn’t back off. “What happened between you two? Did you two just… grow apart?”

Oscar felt the prickle of tension rising in his shoulders. He was a man of few words, preferring to keep things professional, to keep everything on the surface. But this was different. This was personal, and he didn’t want to go there.

Not here. Not now.

His jaw tightened, and the muscles in his neck stiffened.

“Uh…” He faltered, the words failing him. He glanced to the side, his mind briefly racing for an escape. It was all too much. The questions, the memories. He wasn’t prepared for this.

Lando Norris, who had been standing nearby, his arms folded and leaning casually against the wall, had been quietly observing the interview. He had been listening, half-smiling at Oscar’s nostalgic recounting of his childhood, but when Oscar had slipped and mentioned Y/N, something changed in his expression. Lando’s sharp eyes caught the shift in Oscar’s demeanor before anyone else did—the way his teammate’s face lost its usual warmth, the way his smile faltered. It was subtle, but Lando knew.

He could see it in the way Oscar’s gaze turned inward, distant, as if he were no longer sitting there in front of the press. Lando knew this was more than just a slip of the tongue.

He knew the name Y/N meant more than Oscar was willing to admit.

Without missing a beat, Lando stepped forward, his tone casual but with a subtle urgency. “Hey, Oscar,” Lando called out, a hint of playfulness in his voice. “I think I saw the engineers needing you for a quick debrief. You’re gonna want to check on that tire data.”

Oscar blinked, shaken out of his reverie.

His eyes focused again, and he cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure. But it was clear to Lando that he wasn’t okay. Not even close. Oscar's jaw was tight, his face pale, and his hand trembled slightly as it rested on the table.

Oscar’s gaze flickered back to the interviewer, his eyes still distant, as if he were seeing her through a fog. “Right, I think you’re right, Lando. I’ll—”

Lando gently but firmly placed a hand on Oscar’s shoulder, giving him a small, encouraging squeeze. He smiled brightly at the interviewer, trying to steer the conversation away from the uncomfortable path it had taken. “Sorry, folks, but we’ve gotta get going. Oscar’s needed elsewhere,” Lando said smoothly, flashing a grin that was both disarming and purposeful.

The interviewer hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to push further or to let it go. But the mood in the room had shifted.

The once-easy atmosphere had become thick with an unspoken understanding. Oscar had stepped back, pulling away from the question with Lando's help, but the damage was done. The name Y/N had made its mark, and now it lingered like a shadow over the interview.

As Lando guided Oscar away from the press table, the weight of the moment still hung in the air. Oscar didn’t look back, his eyes focused straight ahead, but Lando could feel the tension radiating from him.

Oscar was lost in his thoughts, in that fleeting moment where the past and present collided. Lando knew his teammate well enough to understand that this was more than just a brief memory—it was a raw, unfinished chapter that Oscar wasn’t ready to face in front of the world.

The doors to the press room closed softly behind them, and the noise of the paddock rushed back in. But inside, Oscar was still somewhere far away, lost in the ghosts of his past. And Lando knew it would take time for him to come back to the present.

But for now, all Lando could do was walk beside him, offering his presence, a silent promise that Oscar wouldn’t have to face this alone.

_____________________________________

The moment the interview aired, it sent shockwaves through the F1 community. Fans were left bewildered, glued to their screens, as Oscar’s unexpected mention of Y/N stirred up more questions than answers. His sudden change in demeanor, the way his face fell, and the clear discomfort that followed, sent ripples of concern through the fanbase.

The uproar didn’t die down. In fact, it only intensified. As fans began to analyze every second of the interview, the mention of Y/N became the subject of endless speculation.

The hashtag #OperationFindOscarsYN took off like wildfire, with fans dedicating themselves to figuring out who Y/N was, what happened between them, and, most importantly, making sure Oscar was okay. It was as though the entire F1 fanbase had collectively decided to take matters into their own hands.

Twitter exploded with comments:

@SpeedJunkie94: “Okay, I’m officially joining #OperationFindOscarsYN. There’s something more to this than just a slip of the tongue. We need answers, people.”

@F1MysterySolver: “It’s time. We’re piecing this together. Who is Y/N? Oscar’s clearly struggling with something and we’re going to find out what happened.”

@PiastriFan93: “The way Oscar’s face changed… something’s up. We NEED to get to the bottom of this. OperationFindOscarsYN is ON.”

@Lando4Life: “Lando stepping in like that was so sweet, but I’m worried about Oscar. This can’t be ignored. We’re going to get to the bottom of it. #OperationFindOscarsYN #TeamPiastriSupport”

As the hashtag spread, fans began digging. Some scoured old karting photos, pulling out any hint of a person named Y/N, while others began tracing any mention of her in interviews, articles, and past social media posts. Forums and subreddits became flooded with theories, each fan convinced that they were the ones who would crack the case.

Reddit Thread Title: Has anyone else noticed Oscar’s reaction when he said Y/N’s name? We NEED to find out who this is.

Comments:

@KartingPro88: “I found an old interview from when Oscar was 13. He mentioned racing with someone named Y/N. Could this be her? He was super close to her back then, but I haven’t seen her mentioned since...”

@F1Whispers: “Guys, I’ve been digging through some old Instagram accounts and I found a picture of Oscar with someone who fits the timeline of when he used to race karts. It’s a long shot, but it could be her. I’m going to send it out now.”

The internet was buzzing. People who had once been indifferent to Oscar’s private life were now combing through his past, desperate to connect the dots.

Instagram was no different:

@OscarPiastriOfficialFanPage posted a video clip of the interview with a caption that read: “What happened here? Oscar seemed so emotional after saying Y/N’s name. If you know anything about Y/N, comment below. We’re all in this together. #OperationFindOscarsYN”

Fans began tagging Oscar’s previous teammates, his family, anyone who might know more. Some of them were serious. Others, a bit more comical.

@MaxVerstappenWorld: “Okay, so we’re all worried about Oscar, but can we please not bombard him with questions right now? #OperationFindOscarsYN can be paused for now. But seriously, Oscar’s well-being comes first.”

@YukiTsunodaFan: “I’m just here for the drama, but I seriously hope Oscar’s okay. Whatever happened with Y/N, he doesn’t seem fine.”

The fans’ determination only grew stronger as they pieced together more details. Every person who followed Oscar closely began to feel like they were part of a giant puzzle, trying to solve the mystery of the man who had always kept a stoic mask on.

The question everyone wanted answered now wasn’t just about Y/N. It was about why Oscar was so visibly shaken by the memory.

Was it a bad breakup? A falling out with a close friend? Or maybe something more painful that he had never shared with anyone?

Oscar hadn’t commented, but the flood of fan support, mixed with a rising tide of concern, was undeniable.

They wanted to know who Y/N was for all the right reasons—because, deep down, they wanted to help Oscar heal. They didn’t just want to uncover the mystery—they wanted to make sure he was okay.

_______________________________________

Oscar stood by the swings, his hands nervously clasped behind his back. He was always the quiet kid, content to watch the others play, unsure how to join in. The sun shone brightly on the playground, but Oscar felt a little out of place, his feet shuffling against the sand.

It was during this moment of quiet observation that she appeared, like a burst of sunlight in a grey world.

A girl, with wild, untamed hair and bright, curious eyes, skipped up to him with a big grin. “Hey! I’m Y/N!” she said enthusiastically, offering her hand without hesitation.

Oscar blinked in surprise. He had never seen someone so confident, someone so willing to step into his world. But before he could say anything, she was already talking again, “Do you want to play with me? We can build a fort or something!”

Oscar stood there, unsure, and then something inside him clicked. She wasn’t just talking to him—she wanted to spend time with him. She wanted him to be part of her world.

A tentative smile crept onto his face, and he slowly nodded, taking her hand. “Okay, I guess so.”

"But the sand is very slippery because Billy poured all of his water on it, so make sure to hold my hand tight, okay?" Y/N asked.

Oscar's grip to her hand tightened. "I'll hold your hand, promise"

From that moment, they were inseparable.

"I promise that I'll always be there to hold your hand"

______________________________________

It was a typical Saturday afternoon, and the two of them were at Oscar’s house, lying on the living room floor, watching TV. Oscar’s mum, Nicole, was preparing dinner in the kitchen, but the two kids were caught up in the wedding scene playing out on the screen. A bride in a white dress stood beside a groom, both holding hands with smiles that seemed to light up the entire room.

“Why are they getting married?” young Oscar asked, furrowing his brow as he stared at the screen.

Nicole, busy stirring the pot on the stove, glanced over and smiled. “Because they love each other, Oscar. They want to spend their whole lives together with the person who means the most to them.”

Oscar’s heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, he turned to Y/N, his eyes wide with a sudden thought. His small hand reached out to hers, his fingers brushing against her skin. “I’m going to marry you one day, Y/N,” he declared, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he even realized their weight.

Nicole gasped, and Y/N’s eyes widened. “You’re gonna marry me?” she asked, blinking in surprise. But then, without missing a beat, she leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek, making Oscar’s heart flutter. “Okay! I’ll marry you too, Oscar!”

Oscar’s face turned bright red, but his heart swelled with joy. That simple kiss, that innocent gesture, made him feel like the luckiest boy alive. In that moment, Oscar truly believed that nothing could ever change between them. They were meant to be together.

"I promise to grow old with you"

____________________________________

The day had finally come, and Oscar stood with his bags packed, ready to leave. His parents were with him, standing by his side, but Oscar’s eyes were focused on one person: Y/N. She was standing there, her back straight but her face betraying the sadness she was trying to hide.

Oscar walked up to her slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’m really going, Y/N,” he whispered, feeling the lump in his throat tighten. His eyes searched hers for any sign of the bond they once had.

Y/N’s eyes welled with tears, and she blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. “I know, Oscar... I know.” Her voice trembled, the words barely coming out. “But... don’t forget about me, okay?”

Oscar could feel his heart breaking, but he took a deep breath and promised her, “I won’t. I’ll write to you. I’ll never forget you, I swear.”

Y/N nodded, but her lips trembled. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, locking his eyes with hers, the sincerity in his voice clear.

“I’ promise to always be there for you"

They hugged then, long and tight, and for a moment, it felt like nothing could break them apart. But as the airport loudspeaker blared, calling for the final boarding of his flight, the moment shattered.

Oscar pulled away, his hand brushing against her cheek as he looked down at her one last time. “I’ll come back. And we’ll keep in touch"

She nodded, but the sadness in her eyes told him she didn’t quite believe it. With one last lingering look, Oscar turned, walking toward the gate, his heart heavy in his chest.

As he boarded the plane and looked out the window, he saw her standing there, her face a blur of tears and hope. The image of her, her figure fading in the distance, was burned into his memory, and he promised himself that he would carry that moment with him forever.

"I will always remember you"

______________________________________

Years had passed. Oscar had gone on to become a Formula 1 driver, living the life he had always dreamed of. The world had become his oyster, with fans and teammates praising him. But something was missing. Something he couldn’t quite place.

It was during a brief visit back to Australia when Oscar had been walking to a local cafe and just as he rounded the corner, he bumped into someone.

“Ouch! Sorry!” Oscar quickly apologized, but his voice trailed off as his eyes locked onto hers.

“Y/N?” Oscar asked, unable to believe it.

She blinked, her face lighting up with shock, and in that moment, it was as though no time had passed. She looked older, more mature, but still the same Y/N he had known all those years ago.

“Oscar?” Her voice cracked slightly, disbelief clear in her expression.

They stood there for a moment, both unsure of what to say, before Oscar spoke up. “It’s really you... after all these years.” He smiled, a little nervous, but his heart skipped a beat when he saw the familiar twinkle in her eyes.

The silence stretched between them, awkward at first, but it didn’t take long for Oscar to ask, “Do you want to grab a coffee? Catch up?”

They sat across from each other, the air between them thick with unspoken words. They talked about their lives, their achievements, their struggles. But no matter how much they tried, it was impossible to ignore the distance between them, the things left unsaid.

After a while, Oscar grew frustrated. “Why does it feel like... we’re not the same anymore?” His voice was soft, but there was an underlying hurt there that he couldn’t mask.

Y/N looked down at her coffee, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her cup. She took a deep breath before finally meeting his gaze. Her voice was almost a whisper when she replied, “Because silence created by broken promises can never be filled with words, Oscar”

Oscar’s heart stopped. The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He had made promises to her, and now, here she was, telling him that silence—his silence—had destroyed them.

She stood up, grabbing her bag, and looked at him one last time. “Goodbye, Oscar.” And with that, she walked away, leaving him sitting there, frozen in place, feeling like he was suffocating.

Oscar had tried to contact her after that day. He reached out, sending messages, emails, trying to find her again, but it was like she had vanished into thin air. He went constantly to the same cafe, hoping that she would show up there, and maybe he could stop her, and convince her to talk to him.

Convince her to give him another chance. A chance he knew that he didn't deserve.

The guilt gnawed at him. He had broken his promises. He had let her go without even realizing it. And now, all he had were the broken pieces of a friendship, a relationship, and a past that seemed so distant, so unreachable.

And in that cafe once again, sitting alone with his coffee, Oscar realized the truth: it wasn’t just the promises he had broken—it was her. She had been the one thing in his life that had always been constant, and now, she was gone.

"I promise to keep on loving you, no matter what"

________________________________________

The night had fallen over the paddock, but the buzz from the race still lingered in the air. Oscar and Lando had just secured their spots on the podium—Lando in first, Oscar in second.

The team was celebrating, everyone basking in the euphoria of a hard-fought victory. But amidst the cheers and laughter, Oscar felt a heaviness settle deep in his chest. It was supposed to be a time of celebration, but something, someone, was missing.

Lando had pulled him away from the party, leading him to a quieter corner of the paddock. The loud music faded into the background as they settled down with drinks in hand. Oscar had already had more than enough to drink, the alcohol flowing freely through his veins. But it didn’t numb the ache inside him. If anything, it made it worse.

“You know,” Lando said, his tone unusually soft, “you should be enjoying this. You’re on the podium with me, mate. This is a big moment.”

Oscar half-smiled, his head tilted back as he stared at the stars above. “I know,” he mumbled, his voice low, barely audible over the noise of the celebration behind them. “But it doesn’t feel... right.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, leaning in slightly. “What do you mean? We’ve been through this. It’s a huge achievement. You earned it.”

Oscar let out a bitter chuckle, his fingers tightening around his drink. “Yeah... but you’re not the one carrying this weight.” He looked at Lando then, his eyes dark, haunted. “There’s something else on my mind. Someone.”

Lando didn’t need to ask who. He could see it in Oscar’s eyes, the way the energy drained out of him the moment he mentioned it.

“Y/N,” Lando guessed, his voice quieter now. He didn’t push, but Oscar’s silence was answer enough.

Oscar’s gaze dropped to the floor, the words tumbling out of him before he could stop them. “It was her, Lando. She... she was the one. The girl I loved.” He paused, as if the weight of it was too much to bear. “The girl I still love. Why am I trying to kid myself? I still think about her every.damn.day.”

Lando’s heart sank, and for the first time, he saw Oscar not as the confident, driven teammate he admired, but as a man who had been carrying the scars of the past for far too long. He leaned forward, placing a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “You deserve to be happy, Oscar,” he said quietly, his voice full of empathy. “You’ve worked so hard for this. You’ve earned it.”

Oscar’s eyes met his, and for a brief moment, Lando saw the deep sadness in them. “No. No, I don’t deserve her, Lando.” His voice cracked slightly, and he took a long drink, his hands trembling slightly. “I hurt her... I broke promises. She trusted me, and I let her go. I was so caught up in everything... racing, fame, success... and she... she faded away. And now? Now, I’m just a guy who doesn’t even know how to fix what I broke.”

Lando sat in silence, his heart aching for his younger teammate. He had always known Oscar was a bit of an enigma, but this... this raw vulnerability hit him harder than he expected. Oscar wasn’t just lost in the world of racing. He was lost in his own regrets, in a past that had shaped him but also broken him.

“I don’t know what to do, Lando,” Oscar said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I keep trying to convince myself that I’m okay, that this—this life—is enough. But every time I close my eyes, all I see is her face. All I feel is the guilt. She was the best part of me, and now... I can’t even reach her anymore. She’s gone. And it’s my fault.”

Lando’s throat tightened, and he wanted to say something to make it better, to fix it, but he knew he couldn’t. There were no easy answers, no quick fixes for something like this. He only had his friendship to offer, and the deep sorrow that weighed down on him as he watched Oscar crumble under the weight of his own heartache.

“You’re not a bad person, Oscar,” Lando finally said, his voice thick with emotion. “We all make mistakes. But... sometimes you’ve gotta let go of the past. You can’t change what happened. But you can learn from it. And if she really meant that much to you, maybe it’s not too late. Maybe there’s a chance...”

Oscar shook his head, the alcohol in his system starting to cloud his thoughts even more. “It’s too late for that,” he said softly, his words heavy. “She’s gone. I’ll never be able to fix it.”

Lando could feel the weight of Oscar’s pain, and in that moment, he realized how much his younger teammate had truly suffered. It wasn’t just the loss of a relationship—it was the loss of a part of himself.

The two sat in silence for a while, the noise of the celebration fading into the background. Oscar’s eyes were distant, his mind caught in a place he couldn’t escape from. And as much as Lando wanted to help, there was nothing he could do to take away the guilt and regret that had haunted Oscar for so long.

When the silence finally stretched too long, Lando stood, clapping a hand on Oscar’s shoulder. “You’ll get through this,” he said softly, trying to offer some comfort, but knowing it wouldn’t be enough.

Oscar nodded slowly, a sad smile playing on his lips. “I don’t know, Lando. I really don’t.”

And with that, Lando left him there, standing alone in the quiet of the night. The sound of the celebrations continued behind them, but Oscar didn’t feel part of it.

He felt like an outsider in his own life, caught between the past he couldn’t change and the future that seemed uncertain without her in it.

And as he sat there, drowning in his thoughts, he realized that no matter how many victories he had, no matter how many podiums he climbed, there would always be a part of him that would be lost without her.

____________________________________

Later that night, after the race and the celebrations had faded into the background, Oscar lay in his hotel room, exhausted. His body ached, and his head felt fuzzy from the drinks Lando had insisted on—just a few, to celebrate, he said. But it wasn’t the race or the alcohol that kept Oscar awake. It was the same thing that had been on his mind for so long now: Y/N.

Lando had been relentless in trying to cheer him up. But as the night wore on, Oscar couldn’t escape the weight of his past—the guilt, the broken promises. He felt emotionally wrung out. Every laugh with Lando, every casual word, only reminded him of how far he’d fallen from the person he once was. How far he was from the girl he once loved.

He pulled out his phone, hoping for some distraction. The screen lit up with a new message from Lando.

Lando has sent you a link

Lando: Hey mate, you might want to check this out. Fans are seriously going after Y/N for you. They think they might actually find her this time. It’s crazy. They're rooting for you. Don't give up yet.

Oscar’s chest tightened, but he pushed the thoughts aside, willing himself to focus on something—anything—else. His eyes lingered on the screen, and then another notification popped up.

It was from Instagram. He stared at it blankly for a moment, his heart skipping a beat. He would recognize that face in the profile picture anywhere.

"Y/N L/N ✅ wants to follow you"

________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

I tried to end it in a sad ending but I don't think I have that courage in me, especially for Oscar.

If you like this, please leave a like, comment and reblog.

Jules♡

170 notes View Post

guessyourenottheone

3 months ago

the only person who had a worse race than ferrari was oscar piastri – and when the leaderboard listed him as 'out', he reversed out of the grass and got back on track. he was not going to DNF at his home race without the stewards physically wrenching a front axle from his hands.

oscar piastri is a goddamn phoenix, and he will rise again and again and again. i love charles, and he is il predestinato - but oscar being a champion is not even predestined. it's literally inevitable.

3K notes View Post

guessyourenottheone

1 year ago

everything has changed

part eight — the killerverse masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of ares reader

summary: you, luke, and the aftermath of the way you’d kissed him last night

content: lots of fluff and a sprinkle of angst

notes: title from everything has changed by taylor swift. special dedication to @locknco thank u for fighting through this fic with me

There’s so much pressure on your head that you have to make sure your brain isn’t currently being sucked up by a vacuum.

It’s not the worst headache you’ve had, but it’s been so long since you’ve drank. The pain behind your eyes is enough to have you resisting the urge to even stand up.

But the need to get rid of the pain wins out in the end. Eyes barely open, you lean over to the bedside table where Luke usually leaves painkillers for you—

Holy shit.

Luke.

The banging in your skull quiets the second you sit up, your hands curling into the sheets.

The bed is empty. The sun has barely risen.

You can tell it hasn’t been too long since Luke’s left because you can still see the clear outline of where he’d been sleeping next to you. You stop yourself from chasing after his residual warmth and curling up on his side of the mattress.

The rest of the beds around you are full, everyone sleeping soundly through the early morning.

You feel the breeze from the open window tickle the top of your head.

It’s been humid all week and everyone keeps forgetting to fix the air conditioning, which has turned all of Cabin Eleven into a muggy swamp. Every other window is cracked open, letting the cool air from outside circulate into the cabin. It’s dark out too, but the sun has risen enough that you can just about see through the rest of the room without needing any of the lights on.

It’s very still inside of the Hermes cabin. The only signs of life are the little movements of the campers while they’re still asleep. One of Luke’s brothers nearest to the door mumbles something before turning over with a huff. The girl across the room from you stretches, then kicks off the blanket strewn across her legs. She settles back against her pillows and doesn’t shift after that.

Something tells you that Luke won’t be back to bed for a while, so you do your best to rub the sleep from your eyes before getting up.

You bring Luke’s blanket with you when you slip out the door. It gets so painfully hot during the day, but the mornings at camp can be unbearably cold. The air nips at your bare legs when you find them carrying you into the woods.

The rays of the rising sun peek through the oaks as you walk the path you have a million and one times. It might be crazy for you to assume where Luke is, but you have a good feeling.

A rabbit darts across the path ahead of you. The land parts for it while it pushes through the green sea of lemongrass.

You find Luke where you’d expected: his legs dangling over the old dock and staring out across the water.

You don’t bother approaching quietly because you can tell he knows you’re there.

“You’re up early,” you say, voice hoarse with sleep.

Luke is quiet, but you know he’s listening. He moves away from the edge of the wood before he turns to look at you.

He drums his knuckles against the planks, so you step over his knee to settle between his legs. His arms come around your front and you’re surprised to find he doesn’t feel as warm as he looks.

“Are you cold?”

He leans down to press his face against your neck, and he shakes his head against you, a silent no.

You can’t help but shiver at the feeling of his lips ghosting over the skin there, and he takes to rubbing his hands along the outside of your thighs.

“You should’ve put pants on,” he says quietly, taking your shuddering as something caused by the morning chill and not the feeling of his skin on yours. “And I mean real pants. Not shorts. You feel cold.”

You’re very lucky. You’re always immune to the morning chills at camp when you’re close to him like this. You rest your face against Luke’s matching sleep shirt and feel the warmth from his arm seep through the fibers.

“I’m not cold. But what’re you doing up? It’s so early.”

The water ripples below you, though you can’t quite see your reflections. Luke stifles a yawn.

“Woke up and started thinking. Couldn’t go back to sleep.”

You hum, and Luke slides one of his hands up the front of your shirt.

“Did you have a nightmare?” you ask.

“The opposite. I was thinking about you.”

You’re happy he can’t see the smile on your face. “You were?”

“I think about you all the time, you know that. I was waiting for you to come out here and find me.”

His nails drag slowly over your stomach. Goosebumps rise in his wake.

“I always do.”

“I know you do.”

The two of you get quiet again, watching the sun rise above the horizon. Both of you sit there and try to gather the courage to bring it all up.

This has been a long time coming. You think it’s been part of your lives since the moment you were born—an inevitability. You were always going to end up here eventually, with your hand in his and his arms wrapped around you. It just took you an embarrassingly long time to get here.

You feel like you should be more scared to talk about something as serious as this—something that could change you two forever—but you don’t think it's possible to doubt your relationship with Luke. You already know what you want to say to him.

“Luke?”

“Yeah?”

“I really want this with you.” You let his blanket fall from around your shoulders so you can turn in his hold. “I don’t think I’ve wanted anything more than you.”

“You have me.” His voice is serious. “You always have.”

Luke’s had you since the very second you understood what it meant to love. He’s your best friend. Half of your mind. All of who you are.

You can’t help but take his face in your hand and brush your thumb under his eyes. Your eyes slide shut while you kiss down the length of his scar, soft and chaste across the expanse of his face.

You can’t tell if it’s you or Luke who tilts his head to the side to kiss you again.

You’d been grateful for your first kiss last night. But you think this is the first one that really counts.

He holds you like you’re going to float off into the sun. One of his hands snakes around your waist to hold you to him while the other reaches to caress your face.

Luke’s never held you without unadulterated love. You feel it at night in his bed, and in the morning when he's brushing a hand over your shoulders as he passes by. And you feel it now, when he breaks the kiss to drop his face into your chest. He lets out a heavy sigh against you, like a ten ton weight is sliding off his shoulders. You’re content to stroke his hair and cradle the back of his head until he squeezes you a little too tight.

You twist one of his curls around your finger. “Are you okay?”

He leans back slightly—making sure not to stray too far—fragments of a smile on his face. His eyes shine like glass, and you’re quick to swipe your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks.

Luke’s voice is a whisper when he says, “I don’t thank you enough.”

You frown. “For what?”

“For this.” He gestures at you like it’ll get his point across. “For—for everything.”

“Luke…”

“For putting up with me. For leaving with me as kids, for—”

“Luke, stop.”

“But I should,” he insists, always so persistent. His eyes have dried up, but his voice isn’t nearly as steady as it was a second ago. “You’re the most selfless person I know. You do everything for me, and I just—”

You shake your head and he stops talking, the last of his words dying on his tongue.

Luke’s always had a hard time accepting things.

You remember being nine and somewhere in Massachusetts. Luke had been so sick that he was constantly feverish and couldn’t walk more than half a mile without needing to sit down. But still, he’d refused the bites of your food you’d demanded he eat, even though he’d been unsteady on his feet for the past week.

And you see bits and pieces of it now, too.

You compliment him all the time—maybe a little too much—and you see the way his smiles are always tentative, like he doesn’t quite believe you. You see it when you talk about the future with him, like he doesn’t believe he’ll ever get to experience something that good. He’s always waiting for the other shoe to drop, never fully letting himself be happy.

But there’s no catch. Your feelings for him are about as straightforward as they come.

You place both of your hands on each side of his face, trying to drag his eyes back to yours. You don’t know what other way to make him understand than to just say it.

“I love you, Luke.”

You watch the shadows of his face shift as he tips his head down.

“I’m with you because I love you. Not because I feel bad, or—or because I want something in return. I just love you. That’s it.”

His fingers dig into your back. Three times. There’s pressure at your side where his other hand works nervously at your skin.

Luke’s voice breaks. “I don’t deserve you.”

He kisses it in the gap between your collarbones and under your skin and into your bloodstream, and you understand exactly what he’s trying to say.

“I can’t believe it took so long.” It sounds like he’s thinking out loud rather than speaking directly to you. “Nineteen whole years.”

“Think we were just being stupid for the last few,” you say around a yawn. He exhales in what you know is a laugh and it makes you shiver.

You’re tracing something into his arm in silence, listening to the sounds of the early morning when something comes to you. “Do you remember the trip we took to Olympus?”

His face screws up at the old memory. “‘Course I do. Why?”

You can’t help but smile when you hear the sound of the turtle doves chirping in the trees amongst the other noises of the forest. “Do you think Aphrodite knew about us?”

You’d been so embarrassed by what she’d said, you’d brushed it off before you could give it too much thought. You feel like an absolute idiot now. The goddess of love, basically handing him to you on a silver platter, and it had taken you almost half a year to come to your senses.

Luke laughs, and you can’t help the way your chest warms. “I think everyone knew, to be fair.”

“Like Chris! What an asshole.” You shake your head. “I think we need to throw him a party or something.”

“What’d he do?”

You’re very quickly reminded that his best friend confessed his little scheme only to you.

You snitch. “He only brought up Callea in the first place to see what we’d say.” You enjoy watching the way Luke’s face flickers through about ten different emotions before settling on unamused. “He thought we’d started dating without telling him.”

Luke sighs, but doesn’t sound surprised. “Of course he did.”

“Wonder what he’ll say once he finds out.” You rub a greedy hand down Luke’s back. You know your cabin isn’t going to let you hear the end of it, Clarisse especially.

You still when Luke says your name quietly, his hands pausing around your waist.

“Yeah?”

“We should probably… probably keep this a secret, don’t you think?”

Your heart sinks.

“Oh,” you say, the word coming out frighteningly stilted. “Okay.”

Luke can’t pull away from you faster.

“I don’t—fuck. I don’t want to keep this a secret, I swear.” His face pinches when he looks at you, so you smile, trying not to look too upset about it. It does nothing but make the furrow of his brows worsen. “But if Chiron or—or Mr. D finds out about it, we’ll never be able to be like this again.”

His words are making sense, but you don’t want them to. You finally have him, and only the two of you will ever know about it.

But then you think about what you’d lose—the sleeping together, the touching, the alone time. They’d watch you like hawks.

“We’re already lucky they gave up trying to stop you from sleeping at mine,” he points out, smiling at you sadly.

You’ll never forget about those early days at camp, the both of you freshly fourteen and wary of everyone that wasn’t each other or Annabeth. You’d gotten such weird looks from the other kids when you’d dragged your sleeping bags right next to each other, and then even weirder looks when they’d started waking up to find you in the same bed. It had only got worse when you’d gotten claimed and had to move cabins. You’d been more than excited to meet your siblings, but then you’d found out you no longer were allowed to spend the night at Cabin Eleven.

It was safe to say you didn’t take that lightly.

You’d brought your protests all the way up to Chiron’s desk yourself, even when he’d refused your begging with a firm no each time.

You didn’t care. You just got very good at evading the curfew harpies and sneaking in through windows.

They’d tried punishing you with dishes, and then laundry, and then the stables, but you took each punishment without complaint—especially since Luke took them on with you. All of you knew they would have to drag you kicking and screaming from his cabin if they’d wanted you to leave.

You didn’t give in, and it had only taken them four weeks to cave.

The two of you theorized they gave up because they had expected you to grow out of the habit with time, and they’d been right—to some degree.

You had stopped sneaking in every night, but your nights spent at Luke’s cabin were still just about as common as the nights you spent at yours.

“If we’re together,” Luke adds, “and I mean, together together, there’s no way they’ll let us be the way we are right now.”

No more hand holding under tables. Or friendly kisses on shoulders. Or hugs just because you feel like it.

You only realize you’re frowning when Luke kisses you again.

“They’ll ban us from being near each other,” he mumbles against your lips. “And then make us watch another awful sex ed video.”

Ah. That’d been Mr. D’s one final punishment for you both.

You’d been forced to sit down in the Big House while they played that video for the two of you, both of your faces on fire. The video had been on an old VHS tape and you’d watched it on an ancient box television, so you and Luke had been forced to sit shoulder to shoulder during the most uncomfortable fifteen minutes of your life.

“I forgot about that,” you say, thinking about how you’d been unable to look him in the eye after. “We should’ve had him charged for cruel and unusual punishment.”

Luke grins, and you find that your chest pulls in on itself. You love Luke. You want everyone to know.

“I’m still sad,” you say quietly. “Sometimes I wish we were normal, but now I really do.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“If we were normal I wouldn’t have to keep you a secret.” You run a hand through the curls hanging over his forehead, letting them get tangled in your fingers. “We could just have each other and… I don’t know. Be normal.”

He rubs a long circle into your hip, leaning forward so his nose knocks against yours. You go cross-eyed trying to look at him.

“Yeah. Normal.”

Normal teenagers don’t have to live their lives behind an invisible barrier because of the threat of mythological monsters. Normal teenagers go to school, and live in real houses, and don’t have to pretend they aren’t dating their best friend.

Jealousy burns hot under your skin.

Luke knows. He holds you out on the dock until the ring of the conch shell sounds in the distance.

—

The two of you don’t end up formally talking about it — not in the way you’d expected. But thinking about having to flat out ask if you’re dating feels weird when the both of you just know.

You doubt the decision at first, nerves and uncertainty looming over your head. You’ve never dated anyone before, but you know it’s probably normal to at least say something to make it official.

But then you feel the way Luke slots his hands with yours on the walk back to his cabin, different but sure, and you know it’s real.

It’s as real as your lungs expanding in your chest and as real as the kiss you give him before you go to breakfast, his hands closing around one of his spare camp shirts hanging over your shoulders.

The two of you walk so close together your shoulders brush with each step, and you stay like that all the way until the pavilion, your heart racing.

Everyone’s already seated. Your tables are right next to each other by some stroke of luck, everyone already getting started on breakfast.

Luke only lets you go when you have to sit down, giving you one last lingering squeeze on your shoulder before greeting his own campers.

“Where were you?”

Clarisse spits out the words the second you sit down across from her, squinting at you.

“I slept over.” You scoop some food onto your plate, surprised to see it’s not completely gone yet. Meals are usually a bloodbath. “Where did you think?”

She ignores your question. “Obviously you slept over. I mean why didn’t you and Castellan show up with the rest of his losers?”

You don’t quite look at her, trying to relax your nerves while you think of what the version of you from last week would’ve said. You’re an okay liar, but Clarisse is known for pressing and squeezing and wringing people out until she gets an answer she wants.

You end up giving a nonchalant shrug, filling your goblet and taking a long sip. “We took a while to get ready. Why?”

You can’t see the face she makes because one of your sisters reaches across her to reach for the plate of fruit. When she sits back down, you are met with her narrowed eyes and hard stare.

“Chris said you guys were gone from the cabin this morning. Where were you actually?”

“Chris,” you say thoughtfully, your eyebrows raising. “Didn’t know you two were close.”

She’s not amused. She points her fork at you accusingly. “Can you answer my questions?”

“We were at the lake,” you say, your voice pitching at the end in annoyance. “What’s with the interrogation?”

“This early?” she pries. You groan before you can stop yourself. “Doing what?”

Her raised voice draws the attention of Nathan, who butts into your conversation.

“Fucking around with her boyfriend, Clarisse,” he says, a smug smile on his face. He turns his back to you and wraps his arms around himself, miming kissing noises and moans of Luke’s name.

You whip your fork at him, which he is unfortunately quick enough to bat away.

“You’re fucking disgusting, Nate,” you snap, your face undeniably warm. You resist the urge to turn around in your seat to see if Luke heard.

He just shrugs, grinning at you with a mouth full of food.

“And Clarisse,” you hiss, turning to her. “We just woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep. Are you happy?”

She seems to accept your answer but doesn’t stop giving you that stare of hers. “Was just wondering.”

“Wonder a little less, maybe.”

She rolls her eyes and finally goes back to eating, leaving you to your own meal while your siblings talk about their bets for whatever activity they have planned for later.

You zone out in a second. You find that it’s very easy letting yourself get swept up in dreams about being normal.

—

Thoughts about you and Luke and the future and everything in between rage through your mind, and you pay miserably for it.

Your cabin rushes to the climbing wall after burning their offerings, as excited as always for the cutthroat competition. You only realize how far away your mind is when you’re barely fast enough to dodge the flaming boulders coming your way.

You give yourself a break after almost getting your hair singed off by the lava, your chest heaving with exertion. Clarisse gives you a very unimpressed look, her eyebrow raised and her lips pressed into a thin line. You’d been lagging so far behind that she’d had time to sit and wait for you at the top.

“I’m getting a drink,” you say to one of your younger brothers next to you.

You aren’t sure he actually hears you, though, his eyes looking a little dazed from the rock that’d whacked him in the head earlier.

There’s a cooler just by the edge of the arena, filled to the brim with melting ice and wet plastic water bottles. You’re lucky that no one takes much notice when you head towards the mess hall instead.

It feels like your head is slamming against your skull from how hard you’re thinking, so you let the slight breeze cool you down while you walk.

You love Luke, and he loves you too. That much is clear, but you can’t help the way that doubt gnaws on your insides.

How long do you have to keep it a secret? Until the end of this year, or even longer? Does he plan on staying here this summer? Do you?

It’s the start of July, which means that there’s only about a month and a half left of camp. Once the middle of August hits, the non-year-rounders will leave for the rest of the year, going home to see their families and their friends and go to school.

You’ve taken plenty of classes yourself, courtesy of Chiron, who wouldn’t let any of you fall behind academically. But those were lessons taken at the amphitheater, and at the mess hall, or in your cabins. You haven’t been in a real school since…

Gods, when was it? The second grade?

It’s been about five long years since you’ve moved to Camp Half-Blood, which means it’s been five years of watching everyone move in and out. Each of them go on to live real lives—something you’d do anything for.

Sam, a girl from Apollo, just got accepted to some prestigious school for music about an hour away. Annabeth’s older brother, Martin, is heading down to Jersey at the end of this month to spend time with his family before leaving for college.

And you want to do it too, more than anything. But you don’t think you’d be able to do it without Luke.

You remember a conversation you had by the lake years ago, sometime before he had left for his quest. You’d planned to leave together—go to college and live somewhere away from New York.

California had been the dream, of course, but it didn’t matter where you were. It mattered if you were together.

But the two of you are old enough to enroll now, and Luke hasn’t said a word about leaving this summer. You’re honestly scared that he never will.

The next fall semester deadline has crept up on you faster than you’d thought. You’d have to make a decision soon, and the thought of it was impossible.

Your movements are near robotic while you drink from the water fountain by the side of the mess hall. It’s empty at this time of day, and you let your thoughts cloud your senses.

It’s why you jump when Luke appears at your side.

“Sorry,” he says through his laugh. He has an easy grin on his face and pats your back while you cough to clear your throat. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Luke wipes the water from your face while you give him a closed-mouth smile. There’s a wet spot on your shirt from where water had dripped down your chin, but it’s so hot out that it’ll dry in no time.

“You okay?” he asks when you don’t answer. “I was calling your name.”

You nod, watching as the smile on his face fades into just the softness of his eyes. You look down the hill where the rest of his cabin is, playing a game in the field between here and the beach.

Luke doesn’t look tired at all, though he’s breathing a little hard, like he’s just come back from a run. You watch a frisbee fly in the distance and understand why.

“I was melting by the climbing wall. I wanted a break,” you explain, fanning your face. You can’t believe it’s this hot out when it’d been freezing a few hours ago.

Luke nods in understanding. “Want to join us?” he offers, gesturing to where his siblings are. Someone gets tackled into the grass, and a collective groan travels through the crowd of kids. “It’s not nearly as hot here. It’s pretty windy since we’re close to the water.”

You shake your head, letting yourself sit and stare at his face. You study his features—the shapes of his eyes and the crease between them—and comply as easily as a soldier when he nods in the direction of one of the tables. He urges you to sit but doesn’t follow, leaning against the marble and letting you wring out his hands.

“What’s got you so sad?” he asks, letting you squeeze his palms intermittently.

“The summer session is almost over.”

He nods. “It is. A little more than a month, yeah?”

“Yeah.” August 16th is marked on your calendar with a massive red circle. “Did you—did you know that more people are leaving camp for college this year than any other year we’ve been here?”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Good for them,” he says, a smile pulling at his face. “But you don’t have to be sad about that. They’ll visit. And we can always write as often as we want.”

You shake your head, your brows furrowing. “No. That’s not what I mean.”

“Oh. What is it, then?”

You swallow before speaking. His head is turned while he assesses you, and you remind yourself that it’s just Luke. You can admit anything to him.

“I’m scared.”

He pushes hair away from your face, soft as always. “They’ll be safe,” he assures. “It’s what they’ve been training for for so long.”

You shake your head again before you let the words spill out. “Luke, I’m scared that we’re going to be stuck here forever.”

It ends up sounding more like one huge word than a coherent sentence, but you know he still understands.

He drops down next to you on the bench so he can look at you better. “We won’t. We’re going to leave together, aren’t we?”

“I want to leave camp at the end of the summer session,” you admit. You can’t help but feel like you’re committing an act of betrayal against the place that’s kept you safe for so long. “I love it here, I do, I just… I can’t stay here for another year. I want to… I want to—”

“You want to leave? This summer?” he can’t help but ask, his eyes widened the slightest bit. He’s rubbing your hands in the way that always soothes you. “You—you want to go now?”

It hurts to admit, almost. Last summer, you’d put it off for another year, but you know it’s time to go.

You want to leave Camp Half-Blood.

“Yes,” you say. “I do.”

You aren’t sure how Luke will answer. All you’ve known for the last five years of your lives is this. It’s fireside singalongs and Capture the Flag. It’s always being together, and your spot by the lake, and never having to worry about getting hurt at the hands of another monster.

You don’t expect for Luke’s entire chest to stutter as his sigh of relief gets caught between his laugh. “Me too.”

“You… wait, you also want to leave this summer?”

Luke nods quickly, drawing your hands closer to him. “I do. I think… I think I’ve been ready to go for a while.”

You can picture everything now: you, Luke, and California, just like you’d always planned. Sunshine and school on the west coast.

“It’s just me and you, killer,” he swears.

“Me and you,” you repeat. It sounds a lot like a promise.

He starts mirroring the smile that’s growing on your face, and it does nothing but make yours widen even further.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, unable to help himself. You lean closer to him just because. “I didn’t think I’d be able to leave without you with me.”

“Me too,” you say honestly. “I would wait here until we were fifty if it took you another thirty years to decide to leave.”

He laughs, one of his arms going around your waist. “You really have no idea.”

The two of you don’t move apart. Your hand finds its way into his hair like it always does when you’re sitting this close together, feeling his curls that are hot from the sun.

You feel hot from the sun too, and it only worsens when he slots his lips against yours again for a kiss that’s over so quickly you almost miss it.

“Does this mean this is our last month at camp?” you can’t help but ask. The thought of it is making your heart ache. You can’t imagine leaving this place behind.

The realization settles slowly on Luke’s face too. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

You shut your eyes and relish in the feeling of the breeze from the water as it rolls in. This is the last month you’ll spend in the place that raised you. You aren’t sure how you’ll say goodbye to it all.

“Luke!” a voice shrieks from nearby.

You’ll have to say goodbye to your family. And Luke’s family too, the one that’s currently walking up the hill towards you now.

You can’t help but inch apart as if you’d been doing anything but holding him. The group of kids flood into the mess hall, grumbling and arguing amongst themselves. It’s impossible to miss the fact that everyone has at least one part of their person stained with grass.

Chris managed to survive mostly unscathed, save for the line of dirt smeared down his arm. He’s staring openly at the space between both of you, an eyebrow raised. After a second, he snorts. “I think this is the farthest apart I’ve ever seen you two sit.”

“Shut up, Chris,” you say, though there’s no real bite to it.

Luke ignores him, but you can tell he’s a little flustered when he stutters for a second while talking to the kids.

There’s been an issue between one of his sisters and a son of Hecate. One of them had played dirty by pulling on the other’s shirt, and then they’d both fallen into a heap on the ground.

It doesn’t explain why everyone else looks like they’d gotten dragged through the mud—especially Chris, cause he’d been reffing—but Luke doesn’t mention it. He uses his camp counselor magic to make them apologize to each other and the crowd of kids rushes away again, ready for another round.

There’s a certain kind of look on his face while he watches them go. You lean into his side again and the two of you watch as the frisbee gets thrown into the air at Chris’ whistle.

“I’m going to miss this,” you say.

How do you leave behind a place you call home?

Luke presses a kiss into your forehead. “It’ll be okay.”

He sounds so sure of himself, you can’t help but agree.

—

The month of July passes almost as quickly as it came.

You and Luke keep quiet about your relationship and your plans to leave, and you find that you don’t mind keeping those secrets anymore.

You receive a mountain of notes from him each day, all of them signed with his first initial and slipped into your pockets or hidden between your things. The contents of the notes range from little compliments to heartfelt messages you read so often the paper grows worn out.

You commit each and every one of them to memory.

One of your favorite notes had been delivered to you by one of the younger campers. You’d been sweating like a pig after a match with Clarisse when one of his little brothers came right up to you with a piece of paper clenched in his fists.

“Hey, Richie,” you’d said, crouching down to talk to him better. “What’s up?”

He’d shoved the paper into your hands, wiping sweat off his brow. “This is from Luke.”

He’d looked totally wiped, so you gave him a water bottle and fanned his face for him. He drank it in that very audible way all little kids do.

“Did Luke have you bring this all the way to me?” you’d asked, bringing the boy under the shade of a tree. The Hermes cabin was at the arts and crafts cabin right now, a pretty far distance away.

Richie nodded furiously. “He said it was an important message and I couldn’t look at it.”

Your brows had furrowed, and you were quick to unfold the paper. It’d been a thicker material than usual, the side jagged like it’d been ripped out of a book.

It was a coloring page. Two warriors, side by side, colored in with waxy crayon. There was a pink heart drawn between them, and in Luke’s handwriting at the bottom, it read:

Us.

You must’ve been grinning like a fool, because Clarisse whacked you upside the head.

“The hell are you grinning about?”

She’d moved to grab the paper out of your hands, but you’d shoved it into your back pocket before she could manage it.

“Nothing.”

“You look flustered. What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” you’d insisted, your smile only growing. The soreness of your muscles was instantly cured. You didn’t feel exhausted at all.

Clarisse definitely hadn’t believed you, but that was fine.

You think this month with Luke has been the happiest you’ve ever been. You’ve always been clingy with each other, but it makes new emotion well up in your chest when you hold his hand now. You curl into his side by the fire and he pulls you against him, and not just as friends. It makes you feel hot and cold and unwell.

And you get to kiss him like this now.

That’s good too.

It’s the annual Pie Eating Contest today, where the cabin that eats the most pies is set free from chores for two entire months. No one would dare miss such an important event—which is exactly why the two of you have escaped to your cabin.

You think Luke likes it when he can kiss you lying down, but you think he likes it even more when you sit on his lap like this. His eyes are just the tiniest bit wider, and he sometimes smiles without really realizing it when he pulls back from smothering you in kisses.

“You look cute,” he compliments, eyes shining.

Luke’s back is propped against the headboard and you’re very pliable draped over his front. His hands are placed on your hips, and every once in a while one of them will inch up towards your ribs and you’ll get ticklish.

“Thanks, hero.”

You also think Luke really likes it when you call him that—a silly nickname from years ago you’ll never let go of.

Your lips are swollen from how insistent Luke’s been with his kisses, and you’re resting your chin over his shoulder, limp and tired. You’re exhausted from the run around camp he forced you on earlier and are now happy to let him do whatever he’d like. He’s taken full advantage of it, your lips worked over by his mouth a million times over.

“Did you make me do all that running earlier so you could have your evil way with me?”

You think your shirt collar is going to be stretched out with the way that he’s been pulling on it for the past hour, taking care to only kiss you hard where no one else will see. The two of you have been kissing as lazily as humanly possible, but it hasn’t stopped Luke from waging war on the skin of your throat.

“Who do you think I am?” he asks, pulling you closer in a way that makes you choke. He gives you a very pleased smile in return when you try to shove your face into his shoulder.

“Someone who wants me dead,” you complain when he tries to pry your face away from him.

Your eyes slide shut when you tilt your head down to kiss him again, your mouths moving so slowly you aren’t sure if it even counts as kissing anymore. One of Luke’s hands splays itself across your lower back, his touch warm.

You’re sitting flush against his front, and you realize distantly that you can make out the lines of his chest where he’s pressed to you.

“I can’t wait until we get to have our own place,” you say absentmindedly.

Luke snickers. He pinches your sides. “Can’t wait until you get to have your way with me? That’s dirty, killer.”

You do wonder what it’d be like to be able to kiss him without the threat of twenty other people walking in, but that’s not totally why. You’re about to defend yourself, but then he encourages you onto your back and your vocabulary seeps directly from your brain and out your ears.

He takes extra care not to hit you in the face with the beads on his necklace, and he very politely pulls down your shirt so your stomach is no longer exposed.

“You’re burning up,” he says, like he hasn’t just sucked the air out of your lungs. “Is this okay?”

You nod your head, letting your hands come around his shoulders to urge him downwards again. He drops onto his forearms to get as close to you as possible, and you drag his upper lip between yours, enjoying the way it makes him shudder. You’d accidentally bitten him there earlier when you’d gotten a little too jittery, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Luke’s humming when he takes his hand down to your thigh and rubs half circles into the skin. Your hands link together and you bring his to your chest, where he feels the rise and fall just next to your racing heart.

The sound of the conch signaling the end of the contest is just barely audible over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

You probably would’ve bolted upright in bed if Luke wasn’t pinning you, his teeth dragging over a sore hickey.

“Luke,” you protest lightly, nudging at his chest.

His eyebrows furrow, eyes still shut. “Huh?”

Pulling away takes every ounce of willpower you have. “The contest is over. I have to go talk to Chiron.”

“Okay,” he agrees, capturing your lips in another kiss. “In a second.”

It pains you when you swerve away from him, but you do this dance every other day and know that ‘a second’ usually means fifteen more minutes. He looks offended.

“I have places to be, people to talk to,” you say, trying to be stern. “Get up, Luke. I’ll be back.”

Even though you’re alone, you know you’re playing a risky game now that lunch is over. He’s frowning, and you exercise the highest level of restraint when you don’t lean in again to kiss him again.

“You’d seriously rather talk to Chiron than stay here with me?”

“Luke.”

“Gods, what is it? It’s his beard, isn’t it? I should’ve known—”

The comment gets one last laugh from you, and he squeezes you in his arms once more before letting you get up. He settles in the space you’ve just vacated, watching interestedly as you pull your shoes on.

“I’ll try not to let it drag on too long,” you swear. He catches you by the arm when you nearly tip over, your sneaker halfway on. “And you know I wouldn’t go unless it was important. I’ll be done before dinner.”

His eyes are soft. For a second, they look misty, but then he blinks and it’s gone. You wonder what has him thinking so hard.

“Don’t take too long.”

You kiss him again for good measure, nearly falling forward onto the bed when he tries to drag you back towards him.

You huff his name very angrily, but the smile on your face does nothing but encourage him.

“My bad.”

—

The next time you see Luke, it’s after you burst free from the doors of the Big House.

It was hot inside the building, with nothing but the small fan in the corner of Chiron’s office to cool you down. You hadn’t expected the conversation to go on for so long, but it’d been all worth it in the end. He lets you go with a smile and a firm pat on the back.

It’s not late enough for it to be dark out, but the sun has started setting, making it much cooler outside. Luke’s waiting on the wrap around porch for you, a surprise as pleasant as ever. It’s clear he must’ve woken up from a nap because his hair is messy and flat on one side, like he’s just been asleep. He’s leaning against one of the pillars on the patio cracking his knuckles, impatient.

You take him by surprise when you slot yourself against his side. “Nice nap?”

Luke flinches hard before realizing who you are.

“Hey,” he says, his voice sounding more breathless than you’d expected. He slides a hand around your waist. “How’d it go?”

You hadn’t told him why you’d needed to speak to Chiron so badly, and the envelope he’d given you is burning a hole through your pocket.

“I have something to show you,” you blurt out quickly, trying to stop the grin about to take over your face.

“Yeah?” he says. He links your hands together as you walk down the steps. “What is it?”

You lean over to fix his hair with your other hand, flattening out the back. “It’s pretty important.”

The nerves get to you very quickly, your hand already growing slick with sweat. You try freeing yourself from Luke, but he holds fast.

“I have something important to tell you too,” he admits slowly.

The levels of giddiness you’re feeling is right off the charts. You get the urge to come outright and spoil your surprise, but you pinch yourself to stop the words from spilling out.

“Yeah? Wanna head to the lake, then?”

The lake is public to everyone, but you like to pretend it’s a spot for you and Luke only. It’d been where you were the morning you’d first started dating, and where you’d gone the day Luke had come back from his quest. It’s very special, which is why you know that you have to surprise him there.

After all, your days at camp are limited. After you leave, you have no idea when you’ll be back.

Luke lets you lead the way without another word. Campers rush around the two of you, a few of them waving to one or both of you before heading away. You hear the occasional whisper about the events of the pie contest—the Ares cabin had won, of course.

Your meaningless conversation fills the air until you reach the lake. Luke tells you about how upset Travis had been about their loss in the competition this year, and you tell him about the argument you’d gotten into with Mr. D outside of Chiron’s office.

You reach the lake a lot sooner than you had expected. When you let go of Luke’s arm, you realize you’d been basically dragging him the last hundred yards to the water.

The sun is nowhere close to setting—courtesy of it being late July—but you can hear the crickets between the trees and you can tell it’s coming up on late afternoon.

Luke stares at you expectantly, so you break the silence.

“Do you want to go first?”

He cracks his knuckles again, starting from his middle finger and working outwards. “Oh, uh… no. You go first.”

You don’t need too much convincing.

“Okay,” you say quickly, your hand moving to your back pocket. You miss it about three times before you pass him the envelope with shaking hands.

“I’ve been talking to my sister.”

Luke loves Mel. She writes to you all the time from California to update you on her life and always has the craziest stories from her college there. You and Luke used to pore over her letters, dreaming about the west coast and the sunsets on the beaches there.

“She’s doing great. She moved off-campus for her last year,” you explain.

Luke nods along, drumming the envelope against the palm of his opposite hand.

“And she…” You trail off, the words getting jumbled in your mind. “Just open it, Luke.”

The envelope scrapes against itself when he pulls open the flap, and the two thin leafs of paper spill out onto his hand.

His mouth parts.

“She knows how badly we’ve been wanting to see California, and… now we can.”

The two glossy plane tickets shine under the light of the sun.

“And she’s out of the dorms now, so she’s offered us a room to stay in at her apartment.” You look up at him, apprehensive. He looks stunned, flipping the paper over in his hand like it’s a trick of the light. “We can go see her and get a feel for California. Look at colleges like we’d planned.”

His hands still, and you realize the fluttering of the paper a second ago had been due to his hands shaking. The tickets disappear inside the envelope again, and he wipes at his face.

“Shit,” he says. “I…”

You aren’t sure what’s wrong, but he’s upset. He’s frowning hard, his brows creasing with stress, and the feeling of your chest dropping makes you want to vomit.

“What’s wrong?”

Luke shakes his head firmly. He steps backward. He won’t look at you.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, killer, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you say. He hasn’t even explained what he’s sorry for, but you already know you’ll forgive him. You reach for his hands, and it feels like your ribs force inward around your heart when he moves even further away. “What’s the matter? Talk to me.”

“I can’t,” he grits out. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I can’t.”

“Go to California?” you ask, confusion distorting the features of your face. You don’t try reaching for him again despite how badly you want to. “Luke, you—you know that’s okay. We don’t even have to go.”

The words start rushing out as you try working out what’s wrong. You want Luke to leave with you, so, so badly. But you know deep down that you’re willing to stay another ten years if he’s changed his mind.

“We could go to another state. Or—or, stay here. We don’t even have to leave at all. I mean, I don’t even want to go that badly.”

You’re lying to him. Leaving with him at the end of the summer has been the only thing you’ve looked forward to for the past month.

Worry lines crease between his eyes as he stares at you, shaking his head robotically.

You can’t tell why you feel so nervous.

It’s just Luke.

The sun dips quickly past the tree line, casting half of his face in darkness. Your hands wrinkle and curl into the hem of your shirt.

It’s like a switch turns off in Luke’s eyes. You watch his face harden as he prepares himself for what he’s about to say, and your chest plummets before his mouth can even form around the words.

“I’m not talking about California,” Luke says, the word biting.

A hawk flies above your heads. The trees go silent behind you.

“I meant us. I can’t do this anymore.”

Your heart hitches inside of your chest.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve been this scared.

notes: sorry for that ending but all will be explained in due time! lmk what u thought :)

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