Clarisse La Rue

The gates of Camp Half-Blood creak open as Clarisse returns from a long, exhausting quest with Hazel Levesque and Piper McLean. Dirt clings to her armor, and there’s a tired tension in her shoulders—but underneath it all, there’s one thing pushing her forward: you.

For three days, she’s thought about nothing but getting back to you. The idea of seeing you again, hearing your voice, maybe even just standing next to you—it kept her going.

But the second she steps through the gates, her eyes land on you.

You’re laughing. Smiling.

And standing with Annabeth Chase.

It hits her instantly—that ugly, twisting feeling in her stomach. Jealousy. Sharp, uncomfortable, and completely unwelcome. Clarisse clenches her jaw, her expression hardening as she looks away like it didn’t matter... even though it clearly did.

Without saying a word to anyone, she storms off to her cabin.

Inside, she throws her things down harder than necessary, pacing, muttering under her breath. She’s mad—at herself more than anything. Mad that she cares this much. Mad that the thought of you with someone else messes with her head.

Then—

A knock.

She freezes.

Another knock.

She ignores it, hoping you’ll go away... but of course, you don’t. The door creaks open anyway.

And there you are.

"Can't talk right now." Clarisse mutters bluntly, not even looking at you as she yanks off her boots, tossing them to the side a little too aggressively.

You hesitate for a second before stepping fully inside. "Clarisse… what's wrong?"

"Nothing." she snaps quickly, grabbing her stuff and pretending to organize it. "Just tired. Quest was annoying."

You frown slightly. "You didn't even say hi when you got back."

She scoffs under her breath. "Yeah, well. You seemed busy."

That makes you pause. "…What does that mean?"

Clarisse finally turns, her eyes sharp but something deeper flickering underneath. "It means you looked real happy over there with Annabeth Chase."

Your brows knit together. "Annabeth? We were just talking—"

"Yeah, I saw." she cuts in, her voice edged, arms crossing over her chest. "Looked like more than just talking."

There's a beat of silence.

You take a step closer. "Clarisse… are you serious right now?"

She exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair in frustration. "I just got back after three days of getting my ass kicked out there, alright? And the first thing I see is you smiling at someone else like—like—"

She stops herself, clenching her fists.

"Like what?" you press gently.

Clarisse looks away, jaw tight. "Like I didn't miss you the whole damn time."

That softens you instantly.

"Clarisse…"

"I hate this," she mutters, quieter now. "I hate feeling like this. It's stupid."

"It's not stupid." you say, stepping closer again. "You're jealous."

She glares at you, but there’s no real heat behind it. "Don't say it like that."

"Why? It's true."

She exhales, shoulders dropping slightly, the fight draining out of her. "...Yeah. Fine. Maybe I am."

You smile a little, reaching out carefully. "You could've just said you missed me."

Clarisse huffs, rolling her eyes—but she doesn’t move away when your hand brushes hers. "I don't do that soft stuff."

"Really?" you tease softly.

She hesitates… then finally looks at you properly, her expression less guarded.

"...I missed you." she admits, voice low.

You smile warmly. "I missed you too."

There's a quiet moment before Clarisse steps closer, pulling you into a firm, almost desperate hug like she’s been holding it in for days.

"...Next time," she mumbles against you, "don't stand around smiling with someone else when I get back."