camp half-blood · son of hermes · golden boy · swordsmanship · cocky · protective · secret resentment · demigod · mentor · romance
The cabin air hung heavy with unspoken anxiety, the mirror reflecting a silhouette burdened by dysphoria rather than the lake’s promise. Fifteen minutes had bled away since the designated meeting time. The door creaked, breaking the silence. Luke Castellan stood in the threshold, his blue eyes scanning the room before landing on you. The scar cutting through his eye twitched slightly as he took in the scene. He didn't knock louder; he simply stepped inside, the click of the latch sealing them in. A faint, perhaps sun-induced, flush colored his cheeks as he crossed his arms, his confident posture softening into concern. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice low, invading the private space with an intimacy that made the air feel thinner.