"I can't believe they're together…"

"I know, it's like…"

A group of girls huddled together whispered, giggling and glancing their way as Malcolm and Mitchell made their way to breakfast. Mitchell didn't seem to notice; he just smiled and chattered as per usual, not seeming bothered at all.

But Malcolm couldn't help but think that they were right. There was the fact that they were both guys, of course, but it was more than that. Mitchell was funny and kind and friendly, and Malcolm was…not. Mitchell was sunny and bright and sociable, and Malcolm just wasn't. Mitchell was Aphrodite and Malcolm was Athena and things like that don't work out.

"…Malcolm? Hey, Malcolm, we're here." Mitchell broke through his thoughts, and Malcolm realized that they were standing right in front of the mess hall.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I didn't realize." he said, stepping toward the Athena cabin's table.

"Hey, do you want to go sparring later during free time? I want a rematch from last time." Mitchell asked.

"Um, sure." Malcolm said, his expression lighting up marginally.

"Cool." Mitchell replied, his smile faltering at the lack of enthusiasm from his boyfriend. Malcolm nodded and walked away, missing the concerned frown from Mitchell.

They walked hand in hand to the arena, watching as the sky darkened into late afternoon. When they got there, Mitchell was stopped by a group of people. He greeted the campers and struck up a conversation, smiling happily.

"I'm gonna go over there." Malcolm muttered to Mitchell. Mitchell nodded quickly and shot an apologetic look at him, but he didn't protest. Malcolm tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his chest and made his way over to the training dummies, starting to practice.

Malcolm advanced quickly towards the training dummy, ducking under an imaginary swing from his opponent and feinting for a stab to the left, before swiping under the right arm. He retreated back marginally before preparing for his next attack.

Malcolm was good at things like these. He was good at choreographing attacks and taking advantage of his opponents' weaknesses. He was good at things that could be solved and planned and dissected. He was good at things that had clear-cut explanations and why's and how's.

Malcolm glanced over again at where Mitchell was now chatting and smiling happily with a daughter of Demeter.

Malcolm wasn't good at those kinds of things. He wasn't good at small talk or smiling on cue. He wasn't good at pretending to be interested in things he wasn't interested in. He wasn't good at real-life feelings and he didn't know what to do with his emotions. You're not good at all of the things you need to be good at in order to have a proper relationship, a small voice whispered in the back of his head.

After Mitchell had accepted his confession and had become his boyfriend, his insecurities had faded away, pushed to the back of his mind. But now, three weeks later, they had started to resurface. He had started to doubt himself, started to question whether Mitchell really wanted to be with him, started to wonder uneasily when Mitchell wouldn't be able to take it anymore and put an end to all of this.

He had started to wonder when Mitchell would start to hate him.

With that thought, Malcolm finally noticed Mitchell waving goodbye to the group of campers and jogging toward him, his hand on the hilt of his blade. Mitchell started to say something, but Malcolm beat him to it.

"Hey, can we go back to the cabins?" he asked, sheathing his sword.

"Yeah, sure. Why?" Mitchell replied, frowning worriedly.

"I'm just not feeling it today." Malcolm mumbled, not meeting his eyes. Mitchell grasped his hand in his own, squeezing lightly. Malcolm didn't reciprocate.

Mitchell stared worriedly at his boyfriend, walking slowly back to the cabins. Malcolm hadn't been acting like himself lately. First of all, he hadn't taken advantage of an opportunity to spar with him. Mitchell knew that he loved practicing, and got even more of a kick out of beating him, which happened most of the time.

But more than that, Malcolm had just been…off lately. He was quiet and distant, almost as if he was avoiding interaction with him.

When they finally reached the cabins, Malcolm turned to walk back to his own, but Mitchell grabbed his hand again and pulled him toward the Aphrodite cabin.

"Hey—what're you doing?" Malcolm asked, stumbling up the steps and through the door. It was empty, which was a rare occurrence, considering there was usually at least one group of campers in there gossiping. Mitchell turned to him, a frown firmly in place.

"What's wrong?" Mitchell asked him at last, breaking the mounting silence. Malcolm cringed. Here it was. Mitchell was finally going to tell him that he didn't want to be his boyfriend anymore, he was finally going to tell him it was over. Malcolm opened his mouth tentatively to reply, but Mitchell interrupted him before he could begin.

"Do you not like me anymore?" The question caught Malcolm off guard. He blinked stupidly once, twice, three times, before he began to speak.

"I—what? What do you mean?" he pressed. Mitchell frowned even harder, if that was possible.

"Well, you didn't want to spar with me today, and you hardly ever talk to me anymore. It's almost like you've been avoiding me." Mitchell's eyes got big and sad, gazing at Malcolm. Malcolm bit his lip, fiddling with the frame of his glasses. "If you don't want to be my boyfriend anymore, you don't have to be." Mitchell said. Malcolm was silent, just staring at the floor. Finally, he spoke.

"Doesn't it bother you?" he asked, glancing up at Mitchell. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?" he responded, seeming more confused than upset now.

"When I don't laugh at the right time, or when I can't keep a conversation going. Doesn't it bother you?" Malcolm asked again, staring at the floor. Mitchell seemed to think for a moment before he answered.

"Well, I mean, not really." He shrugged. "Does it bother you when I don't know anything about the science-y things you talk about?" Malcolm slowly shook his head.

"No." he replied. Mitchell smiled.

"Good. It's like that. I don't mind when you do any of those things, because they're all a part of you. And I think I've made it pretty clear how much I like you." He then grabbed Malcolm's hand and lifted it up, as if to prove what he just said. Malcolm smiled as well, setting his other hand on Mitchell's shoulder.

"I guess I didn't really think about it that way." Malcolm said. Mitchell gave a small laugh.

"It's okay. I'm just glad that this solves everything." He pulled Malcolm towards the door. "Now, about that rematch…" Mitchell trailed off. Malcolm laughed.

"You're on."

"I can't believe they're together. They're so perfect for each other."

"I know, it's like they were meant to be together."