Connor Stoll

It was quiet at Camp Half-Blood in winter. Half the cabins were empty. Most of the children had gone to the mortal world to celebrate the holidays in real homes, with real families.

You were not among them.

Connor Stoll too.

He seemed to always stay. Something about "camp is home" and not wanting to be stuck in the real world pretending to be normal. Or maybe he just didn't want to leave the scene of his mischief.

But this winter was different—at least for him.

Travis wasn't there.

So Connor had to go with the flow.

⸻

You noticed the change almost immediately.

He started showing up where you were—first by chance, then out of habit. He helped you (badly) with the housework. He asked too many questions about your hobbies. He dragged you into activities he had nothing to do with, like bead painting or laundry.

You teased him about it once. "Hermes has lost his sense of direction, or do you just not know what personal space is?"

He grinned. "I like to think of it as strategic loitering."

And he kept coming back.

⸻

He made you laugh. A lot. But there was something else behind the jokes. A heaviness he never fully acknowledged. His jokes became softer. Less chaotic, more... thoughtful. Like that time he arranged for confetti to rain down on the dining pavilion when you walked in.

“It wasn’t me,” he said.

It was clearly him.

But you still smiled.

⸻

Falling in love crept up on me unnoticed.

It showed in the smallest things—your focus while repairing your armor, the way you hummed to yourself when you were alone, the way you always shared your snacks without asking.

He didn't know how to say it, not really. So he just showed it. Carried your clothes. Waited for you when you stayed out late. Tried (and failed) to help you learn guitar. Sat with you even when you were both silent.

You weren't sure.