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Children of The Big Three were out of bounds.
That's what kids around camp always said. Your best bet was keeping your distance because if you ever made it to their good or bad side, you'd gain enemies either way. It was better to stay on neutral ground with the gods, with creatures and monsters. Demigods’ lives were mostly about laying low and hoping that you'd make it past twenty. Making friends with Big Three children was directly painting a target on your back, it was leading death directly to your soul.
Jeno wanted to disagree.
Power and danger were not the same, even if most of the time they went hand in hand. Power came with advantages. It also came in the form of Na Jaemin. The fact of the matter was that Jeno could never bring himself to escape the beauty of a soul born from death and rivers of blazing fires, woes, and oblivion. There was something in the way Jaemin was one with the shadows; in how he was kind to wandering spirits and fierce against injustice that made Jeno feel like he’d been sucker-punched to the gut.
The son of Hades was out of bounds, but not for the reasons those at camp had warned Jeno about.
Jeno had been thirteen when they first met. The image of that day was seared in his mind. He remembered eyes meeting pools of inviting darkness, shudders rocking his spine at the sudden temperature drop, and shadows dancing around a pale silhouette crossing over Half-Blood Hill. A new camper and the bane of Jeno’s existence had stepped into his life so easily back then.
At fourteen he’d already gone on two quests with Jaemin and they became best friends. A dagger to his fragile heart, a bittersweet victory. It was dark nights followed by darker secrets, it was traveling through shadows to escape judging eyes, it was cat cafes (allergies wouldn’t stop him, ever) and private smiles. It was the two against the world and in some sick twisted irony, Jeno felt safest encased in the iciness of Jaemin's embrace.
“I like it here,” Jeno told Jaemin on one of their thousand spontaneous trips.
“The Underworld?” Jaemin asked incredulously, “Do you really?”
Jeno nodded. “It’s the closest thing to home for you.”
Jaemin frowned, pensive and quiet as he tended to be. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he studied Jeno.
Jeno gazed back at him warily. “What is it?”
“Nothing.” Jaemin smiled, that secret and tiny tilt to his lips reserved for when he was comfortable. “Simply… nothing.”
The smile clearly didn’t indicate ‘nothing’ but Jeno knew that pushing the issue wasn’t going to get him answers. Instead, he decided to take a nap in Jaemin’s comfy bed.
Sometimes, he wishes he had pushed, if only so he would’ve started moving on sooner.
He’d been fifteen when his half-brothers and half-sisters back at the Aphrodite cabin noticed his hopeless crush, or rather, tried to make him act upon it. But Jeno wasn’t like them, didn’t feel love like them, not the reciprocated kind. No, his love was silent and endless, bound in ropes over his ribs; a sharp point carving desperate confessions over his vocal cords; bloody fingers strumming broken melodies born from his heartstrings. It'd been that year the one where Jeno learned that love had many phases, most of them used by pain as a disguise.
At sixteen, his mother appeared in his dreams, all ethereal and ever-changing, a sad tilt to her lips.
“What are you so afraid of?” She said, and Jeno couldn’t even face her. Couldn’t even answer as shame and insecurity poured in rivulets over his doomed spirit.
“My son, look at me.” He did. Because one never denied a goddess, much less his very own mother. If this was his love life without unleashing Aphrodite’s wrath, he couldn’t even begin to imagine what would happen if he displeased her. So, their eyes met and Jeno felt the sudden urge to confess everything, to cry and take out his heart; beating and fractured and screaming for Jaemin.
Instead, he asked, “Is love this heartless?”
Aphrodite’s eyes gained a knowing glint, as though she’d been waiting for that very same question. “Not always.” She shook her head and stepped closer to him, gaze never wavering. “But it rewards those who have the courage to face it.”
Jeno blinked. And then counted up to ten in his head until he felt the rage about to boil over turn into a more manageable simmer. Will it ever be enough? He’d been courageous, had accepted his feelings and that they would lead him nowhere, had gracefully taken what he could, and never asked more from Jaemin.
“I already did,” Jeno said, some of the hurt bleeding through each syllable.
“Oh darling,” Aphrodite murmured, tone full of pity, “you have led your life trusting reason and denying your desires.”
Jeno didn’t want to be coddled. Jeno wanted to be left alone, wanted his mother to admit that love was poison, that maybe he was destined to represent heartbreak and longing, to spell unrequited with his very existence. Perhaps, he represented the parts of love his mother hated, the ones people never talked about, the ones hidden in dark corners and burning letters.
“My desires have no place in true love and you know that better than anyone,” he spat, so angry at himself, at her, at the unfairness of it all. “I don’t want my powers acting up and making him fall in love because it’s what I want. That’s not love.”
Aphrodite reared back, as though she’d been slapped. Her next words were cold and unyielding. “You know nothing,” she tutted, “it’s time for you to stop running and start searching for that courage you say you have.”
Jeno swallowed, the anger being replaced by a mild panic at his mother’s demeanor. “Is that a threat?”
“It doesn’t have to be.” She shimmered, and Jeno knew he’d wake soon. “That’s your choice to make.”
And now, at seventeen that dream came to bite back in the form of Eros.
You know, Jeno never really thought he’d be threatened by the god of desire on such an early and bright Monday morning but here he was. Jaemin on one side, stygian iron sword firm in his grasp, and Erotes giggling and knocking things over, on the other.
His day had started beautifully. He had woken up before the sun had risen, had showered, and even sat beside Jaemin on the Cabin thirteen table to share breakfast with the other boy. All of that and he had only tripped once. It was turning out to be a great day, truly.
Of course, something had to give.
Over the past year, something had shifted. Jeno wasn’t an idiot. He was aware of the overwhelming amount of friend dates and even friendlier gifts. The constant lingering touches and the prolonged eye contact all throughout their hangouts. His wants and needs were being met so effortlessly that it felt like a fever dream. It was great, it was progress —slow as it may be— and maybe that was why Eros was picking on him.
All in all, it wasn’t as though Jeno enjoyed suffering. He had tried to tell Jaemin how he felt more than a couple of times. As much as it pained him to admit it, his mother wasn’t that far off. He was scared out of his mind, so certain that confessing could only end in him ruining their friendship. His guts would end up spilling on the forest floor with the magnitude of his yearning, a result of having too much hope, of seeing what he wanted and not what was.
And, oh, how ironic it was to be a child of the goddess of love and yet be so afraid of it.
Jeno could feel a more ancient presence humming through the earth, fluttering in the air over his cheekbones. Eros didn’t show himself often, but he was right there, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
“LEE JENO.”
He froze, goosebumps breaking over his skin. The voice echoed all over camp, deep and commanding and so angry. Jeno couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it came from, but he could definitely see how Jaemin tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his battle stance already in place.
“Lee Jeno,” the voice repeated, “I expected better.”
Clearly, he did, or he wouldn’t be here ruining Jeno’s day. But there was nothing for it, if it came to a battle of wills Jeno could be impossibly stubborn.
“You’re not the first that did,” Jeno laughed bitterly, his heart palpitating, “sorry to disappoint.”
The energy shifted, and the wind became colder right in front of Jeno as though Eros’ focus was solely on him. Maybe he couldn’t see Eros, but he could feel the particles parting and colliding, causing ripples of power that gave away the god’s location. He pocketed the information for later, knowing it would be useful in a fight.
“You cannot hide from this,” Eros said, his voice harsh. “You cannot run forever. Love will catch up, it always does.”
“Love?” Jaemin blinked slowly, brow crinkling as a confused frown appeared on his face. He turned towards Jeno, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he considered his next words.
Jeno paused, heart sinking and hope dwindling. He had to act fast, to divert attention to something other than his feelings before Jaemin connected the dots.
Jeno wasn’t ready yet. He’d rather kill Eros than murder his friendship with Jaemin.
And that was exactly what Eros wanted. He wanted to hear Jeno say it —to look Jaemin in the eyes and tell him that he’d kill for him, that he’d die for him. Eros craved to see Jeno break himself open, rip his skin off to hang in the sun, and bear his rotten desire for Jaemin.
Well, fat chance.
“I’ll only ask this once.” Jeno sneered, unsheathing his dagger and preparing to attack. “What do you want?”
“Tell him,” Eros taunted, “or fight me.”
The yell that escaped his lips was guttural and detached, like the sound wasn’t coming from him. He stepped forward –blade pointed at the dizzying, invisible patterns of air where Eros was– and stabbed once, twice until he felt something getting slashed.
“You think hurting me will heal you?” Eros hissed. “Love has already broken you and only Love can repair the damage.”
“I hate you,” Jeno screamed, his eyes already burning with frustrated tears, blade swinging crazily over the now empty space. “I’ll kill you.”
Just as he adjusted the grip on his dagger, a tendril of a shadow slithered across his waist, keeping him in place. Jaemin called out to him, voice soft and worried. It made the sob Jeno had been holding even harder to contain.
“Don’t,” Jaemin pleaded. “I won't let you do this.”
Eros laughed, mocking and hostile. “Na Jaemin. This is not your fight.”
Jaemin turned to stab at the space before him, the grass at his feet already wilting and cracking with the force of his emotions. More tendrils resurfaced from seemingly nowhere, wrapping even tighter around Jeno, effortlessly shackling him. He didn’t even try to set himself free. He didn’t want to fight Jaemin, didn’t want to hurt or disappoint him.
“Fuck off,” Jaemin hissed. “It isn’t your business.”
“Oh?”
An invisible blast sent Jaemin rolling back, his lower back taking the brunt of the fall. The shadows loosened and as quick as they had appeared, they faded.
“The matters of the heart are my domain and, therefore, my business. Isn’t that right, Lee Jeno?”
As the tendrils disappeared Jeno stumbled back. His heart ached and he grabbed his chest, breathing harshly. He looked at Jaemin, at his dazed expression and Jeno let himself burn with the guilt of it.
“Leave him out of it.” Jeno’s voice was on the verge of a plea, his gaze traveling over his surroundings and somehow always coming back to zero into the Son of Hades. “It’s not his fault.”
“Can’t you see you’re choking with it?” Eros asked. The question felt like a gust of wind straight to the face. “It calls out, it begs to be heard.”
Jeno had to physically stop himself from talking back, from saying something he knew he would regret. He was tired of others dictating how he should love, mocking his fears because he was Aphrodite’s son and he should know better. They never understood. Confessions were personal, the weight of the words a drowning force Jeno wasn’t sure he could bear. And what about Jaemin? What would he do when the words sank in his stomach like rocks? Would he smile? Would he hate him? Would he carry a responsibility that wasn’t his to keep Jeno happy? Because that was the thing. Jaemin would. He would do anything to keep Jeno happy and he refused to take advantage of that fact just because of his selfish desires.
“This isn’t fair,” Jeno cried. “These are my feelings. Mine to bottle; mine to ignore; mine to scream out loud; mine to do as I please with them. You have no right to take that away from me.”
The breeze came to a standstill. If Jeno didn’t know differently, he would’ve sworn that Eros’ next words were tinged with pity.
“I never said Love was fair.”
Jeno’s first tear fell just as an arrow skimmed over his cheekbone. It bled, and before he could wipe the crimson liquid from the cut, another arrow sliced cleanly through his thigh. They dissipated immediately after the target was hit. Distantly, Jeno registered he was hurt, and then the realization hit him like a pile of bricks. He couldn’t feel the pain. The way his heart was constricting, his lungs closing up, his stomach churning; those sensations were stronger than any physical damage he had sustained.
“Tell him.”
Jeno shook his head as more tear tracks glistened on their way down his face. On his periphery, he caught sight of Jaemin. His best friend sat up gradually, wincing as the movement pulled at the muscles on his lower back.
“Please,” Jeno begged. “Not like this, not—”
Then, he was stumbling back, gasping for air as a punch landed right over his chest.
“No!” Jaemin screamed, scrambling to get back on his feet, hands frantically reaching for his sword. “Stop!”
Eros continued to beat Jeno, hurricanes bruising wherever they could reach. Jeno grunted, trying to aim his dagger anywhere his addled mind suspected the god could be. It was futile and his attempts ended up cornering him against a tree.
The soil beneath his feet trembled, and a few meters ahead a jagged fissure appeared. Eros backed away as flames sparkled from the abyss. On the sides of the crater, Jeno identified the black rock of the Underworld and it was clear as day who had tapped into his powers and saved him. Jaemin looked pale, but his eyes blazed with rage, and something Jeno hadn’t seen before.
Unfortunately, a literal pit to hell was not enough to scare Eros away, who continued provoking Jeno.
“Love sees and fights against blindness. Love is willing to sacrifice.”
For a moment, Jeno thought he was hallucinating. The voices began as indecipherable whispers and as the seconds ticked by, they grew louder in volume. The first sound he distinguished was Jaemin’s laughter, rich and full and intimate. His own laughter followed, quieter and private and reserved for the man of his dreams.
Jaemin’s contemplative expression was enough indication that he wasn’t going insane, that he was hearing them too. And then from the burning pyre the son of Hades had created —as the smoke swirled up and above— figures slotted together in a careless dance. The clear projection that accompanied the voices slid into place for the entire camp to see like a movie. Eros had stolen his precious moments with Jaemin right from his most protected memories.
With dawning horror Jeno watched it all play out. It was Jaemin taking him to the Underworld, Jaemin finding gems and riches to give to Jeno as jewelry, Jaemin cooking him seaweed soup for his birthday, Jaemin kissing his nose to shut him up, Jaemin talking to ghosts and keeping them company, Jaemin—
Jaemin looking at the entire collection of visions of himself from Jeno’s perspective completely dumbfounded. It was so obvious, Jeno’s feelings were splashed in every detail that made up Jaemin down to the fingertips. The fiery images only reinforced how much attention Jeno paid to the little things. It was embarrassing, it was mortifying and so unfair.
“Why?” Jeno mumbled, broken and angry. “Why do you have to be so cruel?”
Eros chuckled softly. “Say it.”
“I—” Jeno was full-on crying now. He shook his head, the words stuck in his throat, scratching their way up every time he tried to say it.
“Jeno,” Jaemin called out. He seemed calm, if a little bewildered. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
Jeno was shaking, his walls slowly crumbling. “I- I can’t.”
The next memory, however, was his demise.
It was one of Jaemin holding his camera and giving directions (more like compliments) to Jeno on how to pose. He had this grin on his face, eyes sparkling brighter than the blinding flash and when he went to show the pictures to Jeno, he made sure to intertwine their pinkies together. That was the moment Jeno fell in love and he was sure Eros knew that, too.
“Okay.” Jeno breathed in shakily, throwing his dagger to the ground with a dull thump. “I-I’m in love with Jaemin.”
Eros’ body flickered in and out of sight before becoming visible in all its glory. His appearance was difficult to place, much like Aphrodite, his features blurred and changed. Jeno could see how his eyes flashed from red to the exact brown shade of Jaemin’s, how his eyelashes curled upwards and his hair fell in soft wisps over his forehead. Even though his feelings were out in the open, seeing the evidence right in front of him, hit him like a slap.
“Are you happy now?” Jeno asked, shoulders slumping as his brain processed what just happened.
Eros smiled, no trace of derision in the turn of his lips and so damn similar to Jaemin’s his heart nearly stuttered to a stop.
“Love is cruel to those who evade it and rewarding to the ones that face it. You’ll see.”
With that, Eros shimmered and disappeared, the Erotes leaving with him.
Jeno stayed glued to the spot, a little voice in his brain telling him that Jaemin had not moved since his confession. When the temptation got too much to bear, he gazed at his best friend’s figure and found him already staring back. Jaemin had schooled his expression into that unreadable, aloof mask he hated so much and as he tried to step forward, Jeno stepped back.
Shaking his head, he turned and ran.
══════════════════
Jaemin was the first to find him.
Of course, he was.
Jeno sat a few feet away from the shore, admiring the way the waves crashed and overthinking about the difficult day he had. And, okay, maybe the beach was his comfort place. And maybe Jaemin knew that too, so it probably wasn’t all that hard to find him.
Still, when the temperature of the sand dropped way more than it should, the way it did when Jaemin was near, Jeno felt the pit in his lungs expand. He let the silence hang, and a few seconds after Jaemin settled beside him, he spoke up.
“I—” But it was difficult to find the words when he was so hollow. Eventually, he organized his train of thought because Jaemin deserved that much.
“I’m sorry,” he said. Not expecting an answer, yet hating the receiving quiet, Jeno carried on. “I didn’t want you to find out like that, I had this whole—” Jeno laughed wetly, rolling his eyes, “It doesn’t matter. It was awful and humiliating and I’m sorry.”
Jaemin acquiesced his head. He looked like he wasn’t sure what to answer, and the thought made Jeno dizzy with nerves. He didn’t know what his expectations were. For Jaemin to return his feelings? For Jaemin to accept the apology and act like today wasn’t real?
No.
No that wasn’t it.
He expected the worst, he expected Jaemin to walk away and leave him and never come back. The lack of response and the pained look on Jaemin’s face made Jeno feel sick —made him think the worst of it all.
“I was fourteen when we became best friends,” Jaemin recalled. “You were the first person I opened up to and didn’t fear me.”
Jeno nodded, a little baffled at the change in topic. He had prepared himself for rejection and now that Jaemin was talking about their past he didn’t know what to do.
“You gave me roses and even though they wilted in my hands, you always came back with more.” Jaemin turned towards him, took his fingers in one hand, and gently squeezed. “And everything I touch dies. I didn't want to kill your soul, I didn’t want to wilt your gardens with my ghostly traces. But I was selfish and couldn’t keep away from you.”
“What if I told you I’m glad you didn’t keep away?” Jeno joked, even if the loaded question was everything but a joke.
Jaemin smiled, tiny and a little bitter. “I’d say you’re a fool Jeno.”
“Jaemin,” Jeno whispered, sure that if he said it any louder his voice would tremble. He took a fistful of sand in his hand and in the blink of an eye it transformed into a rose. He presented it to Jaemin in a flourish and declared, “I love you.”
A laugh, another wilted flower, and Jaemin surged forward, his hands cold as they cupped Jeno’s jaw. His eyes fluttered shut at the movement, and when warm lips came into contact with his own Jeno kissed back, hesitantly.
Jaemin was sweet and considerate, persistent but careful. He held Jeno’s chin delicately in place, begging with his touch for Jeno to stay still. But Jeno had waited for so long for this that his hands were already tugging at Jaemin’s arms, fingers clenching over the fabric of his shirt and pulling him as close as humanly possible. It was desperate and real and Jeno poured his soul into the kiss, trying to express his relief and bubbling happiness.
They pulled away only because they had to breathe, and Jaemin brought their foreheads together as they calmed down their frenzied heartbeats.
“Say it back,” Jeno mumbled over Jaemin’s cheeky smile, pecking at his lips insistently to express his need.
Jaemin kissed him harder, insistently heaving Jeno to his feet and pulling them closer to the shadows.
“I love you,” Jaemin breathed. “Gods, I love you so much.”
Jeno soared, his heart beating in rhythm with the butterflies in his stomach. He felt himself light up, lips pulled up in the corners so wide his cheeks began to hurt. When Jaemin grinned back, and when he trailed his thumb over the corner of his moon-shaped eyes, he spoke.
“I’ll give you roses forever.”
Jaemin stepped back into the shadows of a tree, Jeno held securely in his arms, as he prepared to shadow-travel them to the Underworld.
“Yeah, I know.”