He thought back to when he first realized his feelings for Mitchell. It had been a warm evening two months ago, near the beginning of the summer. They had been sparring for a while, and Malcolm had finally managed to execute his winning strategy and pin the tip of his dagger to Mitchell's throat. They were both breathing heavily when they shook hands. Mitchell ran his hand through his strawberry blond hair and smiled at him, the evening light catching in his hazel eyes. Malcolm had felt himself choke on his breath and his thoughts, usually so organized, felt jumbled and untidy.
Since then, Malcolm started to notice that he lost his breath whenever he looked at Mitchell. Whenever Mitchell smiled, the insides of his chest went all warm and his stomach flipped. He recognized the signs. He liked Mitchell. He liked Mitchell. It wasn't really much of surprise; if he was going develop a crush on someone, it made sense that it was Mitchell.
For one thing, Mitchell was more than good-looking. It just came naturally with being a child of Aphrodite. With his ruffled strawberry blond hair and hazel eyes and tanned skin, there was no denying that Mitchell was attractive.
But that wasn't it. Mitchell was the kind of person that smiled at everyone and made jokes that everyone laughed at, and he was just so genuinely kind that no one could properly dislike him. He and Malcolm weren't particularly close, but Mitchell always made sure to greet him with a smile.
Mitchell was good-looking and charming. When he looked at it that way, it was nearly inevitable that Malcolm had fallen for him.
"When are you going to ask him out?" Annabeth asked, taking a bite of her scrambled eggs.
"I-what?" Malcolm choked on his water. "What are you talking about?" He tried to compose himself, but he couldn't stop the blush making its way up his neck.
Annabeth raised her eyebrows, her previously neutral expression forming into a little amused smirk.
"Mitchell. When are you going to ask him out?" she repeated.
Malcolm spluttered, his face flaming red. "What gave you that idea? I don't like him."
"Uh-huh, and that's why you've been staring longingly at him for weeks." A knowing look shone in Annabeth's eyes.
Malcolm looked like he was about to protest, before he took a deep breath and glanced down at the table. "I might like him a little bit." he admitted, before looking back up to meet Annabeth's gaze. "But I'm not going to ask him out." Annabeth frowned.
"Why?" she asked, sounding disappointed.
"Why?" Malcolm repeated, looking at his half-sister in disbelief. "Because he's an Aphrodite kid, that's why! He's never going to go out with me, and I'm just going to make a fool of myself asking." Malcolm gritted his teeth. "Even if he accepted, it wouldn't work out." Annabeth rolled her eyes, and pressed her lips together.
"And you're a child of Athena. There's no reason that he wouldn't accept. Nothing's gonna happen unless you ask him." With that, Annabeth took one last sip from her glass and walked away, meeting Percy by his table. Malcolm glanced over at the Aphrodite table, where Lacy was laughing at something another girl was saying, and Mitchell was cramming toast in his mouth. As if any good's going to come of this, Malcolm thought to himself.
Malcolm sat under the shade of the tree, watching as the rest of the campers scurried around, completing their scheduled activities. He had already finished painting his pot and had been excused early from Arts and Crafts. His eyes unintentionally wandered to the Aphrodite cabin's activity. Malcolm spotted Mitchell, who was standing on the dock, laughing with one of his siblings. Malcolm thought about walking up to him. He thought about walking up and getting his attention and confessing his feelings.
"I like you." he whispered, his eyes still fixed on Mitchell. In his mind's eye, he pictured Mitchell smiling at him, taking his hand, leaning in… No, he told himself, shaking his head abruptly. That isn't going to happen,Malcolm berated himself. No use in thinking about it.
He stood up and stole one last glance at Mitchell's face before he turned and walked away, heading for his cabin.
"So?" Annabeth asked the next morning, staring expectantly into Malcolm's eyes.
"So what?" he grumbled back, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose in an attempt to delay the inevitable conversation. Annabeth rolled her eyes. She seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Or maybe he was just on the receiving end more frequently.
"Don't try to stall, you know what I'm talking about." Annabeth answered, jerking her chin towards the Aphrodite table. For the millionth time, Malcolm tried not to flush. For the millionth time, it didn't work.
"I told you already, I'm not going to ask him." Malcolm mumbled. His half-sister huffed and set her fork down.
"Why not? You can't keep your feelings to yourself forever."
Malcolm gritted his teeth. "Well, that's exactly what I'm going to do, and you can't convince me otherwise."
"Oh, come on," she said, frowning. "You don't know what will happen until you ask him."
"Even if he said yes, it'd never last." he muttered. "I don't want Mitchell to hate me." Malcolm whispered. He looked up to see Annabeth's expression twisted into something like guilt and sadness, but when she sighed, it sounded more like exasperation.
"Do you really think Mitchell's ever going to hate you?" she asked bluntly.
"W-well I'm sure he'd resent me if I screwed up our relationship." Malcolm stammered, taken aback by his half-sister's question. Annabeth sighed again.
"I don't think Mitchell's capable of hating you, what with how head-over-heels he seems for you." Annabeth commented, smiling slyly when his face burned scarlet.
"Wh-what? What do you mean?"
"He's been staring at you for months!" Annabeth exclaimed, "I can't believe you didn't notice. For someone who came up with our last winning Capture the Flag strategy, you sure are dense."
Malcolm grumbled indignantly, "It took you six years to figure out Percy liked you."
It was Annabeth's turn to blush.
Malcolm exhaled slowly out of his nose before opening his eyes. He had to do this before he lost his nerve.
"Hey, Mitchell." he said, walking up to him.
"Oh, hey Malcolm." Mitchell greeted, smiling at him.
"Can I...can I talk to you about something?" he asked, uncertainty already starting to wear at the edges of his confidence.
"Sure, what do you want to talk about?" Mitchell replied, looking at him expectantly. Malcolm ran over the speech he had rehearsed the night before. Mitchell raised an eyebrow curiously. He opened his mouth to speak, but he faltered, the words getting stuck in his throat. "Is there something wrong?" Mitchell asked, a worried frown overtaking his face.
Malcolm fiddled anxiously with the frame of his glasses. He took a deep breath and choked out the words before his courage could fail him. "I-I really like you." His fingers gripped the hem of his shirt tightly. Mitchell was silent, his smile freezing on his face.
"Well, I like you too." he replied slowly, trying to make his voice sound light. "We're friends." Malcolm ignored the disappointed drop of his stomach and forced himself to speak.
"No, I mean, not like that. I like you…as more than friends." Malcolm squeezed his eyes shut and waited for Mitchell to reject him, to walk away, to break his heart. But it never came. When he opened his eyes tentatively, Mitchell was just staring at him.
"You do?" Mitchell asked. Malcolm nodded slowly. Mitchel's previously blank face morphed into a brilliant smile, and he strode toward Malcolm. "I can't believe it!" he exclaimed. "Lacy was right!" Mitchell then took the opportunity to clasp Malcolm's hand in his own, grinning even brighter. Malcolm stared at him, still trying to process the dramatic change.
"So…so you like me too?" he asked. Mitchell laughed happily, bumping Malcolm's shoulder with his and pulling him toward the cabins.
"Obviously." A large grin took place on Malcolm's face, and he let himself be led away by the hand.