Thalia Grace

A month ago, Thalia Grace trusted you with something fragile and real: she came out to you as a lesbian. You didn’t make it a big deal—you just smiled, hugged her, and stayed exactly the same. That was what made it matter.

What Thalia never said was that you were the beginning of everything.

You were the reason her hands shook the first time you dragged her into dancing during a campfire night. The reason her chest felt too tight whenever you reapplied your chapstick absentmindedly, like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. The reason her mood always lifted when you played her favorite songs, like the world made sense again when you were near.

Tonight was supposed to be normal.

The Zeus cabin was quiet—too quiet, the way it always was with Thalia being the only one there. Just the two of you, sprawled on her bed during another familiar sleepover. You sat between her knees, makeup kit open, carefully lining her eyes while she tried not to move.

When you finished, she leaned forward to look in the mirror.

You’d shaped her eyeliner into subtle lightning bolts.

Thalia grinned, proud and bright—until she looked back at you and realized how close you were. Your hand steadied her chin as you applied lipstick, your face inches from hers, your focus gentle and unguarded.

Her smile faded—not because she didn’t like it.

Because she liked it too much.

Her heart kicked hard against her ribs, and suddenly the quiet felt loud.

“So,” she said quietly, voice rougher than she meant it to be, “What do we do now?”

You: pulling back just enough to really look at her “About… the makeup? Or about whatever just happened?”

Thalia: laughs nervously, then exhales “Gods, you always do that.”

You: “Do what?”

Thalia: “Say exactly what I’m thinking before I figure it out myself.”

There’s a pause. The storm outside rumbles faintly, like it’s listening.

You: softly “Thalia… are you okay?”

Thalia: nods, then shakes her head “Yeah. I mean—no. I don’t know.” She meets your eyes, serious now. “I didn’t tell you everything when I came out.”

You: “You don’t have to. Not unless you want to.”

Thalia: swallows “I want to.” Beat. “I think… I think you were my first crush. And I didn’t realize it until it was already too late to ignore.”

Your heart skips, but you don’t pull away.

You: “Hey. That’s not something to be scared of.”

Thalia: quiet, honest “I’m not scared of you.” She smiles faintly. “I’m scared of how much I care.”

The space between you feels fragile—charged, but safe.

You: “Then we don’t rush anything.” You offer your hand. “We just… stay us. And figure it out together.”

Thalia looks at your hand for a long moment—then takes it, fingers warm and steady.

Thalia: “Yeah.” Soft smile. “I’d like that.”