One of the most important things in Mikaela’s routine was indulging in foods that fueled her physical needs and competitive spirit. Upon first hearing this, you might think this means her dietary selections would always be ones with the most health benefits. In that case, you would be sorely, seriously incorrect. The tray Mika carried to the table she was to share with Elias was full of an assortment of greasy junk foods that would kill a lactose-intolerant or cholesterol-compromised individual on the spot: four slices of pepperoni pizza, chilli cheese fries, a chilli hot dog and a slice of chocolate cake. Smirking, the young woman plopped herself on the chair next to Elias and inhaled her food in what felt like the blink of an eye.
Elias watched the final few bites minus the cake vanish from Mikaela’s tray with stunned fascination, his own fork hovering in midair, forgotten. On his plate, a cautious helping of fries and a single slice of Hawaiian pizza sat cooling, untouched. He had aimed for modesty, hoping to make her feel at ease, but the strategy proved utterly pointless. For a long moment, his gaze flickered from the stark emptiness of her tray compared to what she’d brought to her face, then back again, as if the plastic compartment might suddenly offer some logical explanation.
“…You didn’t even slow down,” he finally said. There was no judgment in his tone either. Just genuine awe. “I think I blacked out halfway through whatever that was.”
Elias’ reaction brought out a chuckle from Mika. It always amused the daughter of Ares to see what kind of reactions she could elicit from new meal companions. Her friends back home were used to her bear-like appetite, so they never batted an eye at her digestive antics. “Plenty more where that came from! I haven’t even had dessert yet!” she said with a giggle, placing a fist in front of her mouth to suppress a burp before moving on to the reason they had gathered at that table today.
“Alright, SO–!” Mika began, leaning back against her chair as she happily sipped on her second bottle of Cherry Coke– her fatal addiction. One of these days, her body would make her pay for the ridiculous amounts of sugary, effervescent caffeine she consumed. But until then, the brunette would continue to kill herself slowly. Everyone eventually dies of something, right? “Let's get down to business, Eli– if I can call you that. What happened between you and the girl with the braids?”
Elias exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand across the back of his neck as his gaze drifted somewhere safer. Neutral. The table. The floor.
“Eli is fine, and the girl with the braids…” he echoed, the repetition buying him a moment to assemble his thoughts, “...her name is Tapeesa. And she’s just a friend of mine… I think.” He paused, his fingers finding and absently twisting the short strands of hair at his nape. “Actually,” Elias amended, his voice quieter, more introspective. “I’m… not really sure I qualify for that label anymore.”
Mikaela’s brows furrowed in confusion and curiosity. “What makes you say that?” she asked the man, placing her bottle atop the table and crossing her hands in front of her chest.
A heavy silence followed the admission. Or perhaps his mind had begun the unintended drifting required to retell–to relive– his version of events.
“It’s not that anything happened,” he clarified, looking away again. “No one died or anything. Or got hurt.” At least not physically. His jaw tightened briefly before he forced the words out into the open. “I misread something. Or maybe I didn’t. I…I don’t really know.” A quiet, almost defeated sigh escaped him, followed by a half-shrug that lacked any real conviction. “She has this way of being pretty direct. So when she says something, I take it at face value.” His hand stilled, falling away from his neck. “And it turns out that was a mistake.”
Elias’s eyes remained fixed on a particular scuff mark on the floor, as if it might arbitrate the misunderstanding on his behalf. “I thought I was giving her space. Being the chill, understanding guy who didn’t crowd her.” A self-deprecating note entered his tone. “Turns out, what she saw was…indifference, and me attacking her new…friend? That I couldn’t be bothered to show up, basically.” He paused, the memory clearly still potent. “And once that interpretation was in the room, well…that was it for me.” Because then he’d lost just about everyone. Tapeesa. Forest. And now, more than likely Mikaela.
Mika sat with the words for a second, trying to make sense of what was just said to her. The fact that Elias had to clarify that ‘no one had died or gotten hurt’ was a worrisome statement in and of itself. Considering what they were and where they were, she assumed those were real possibilities and not just a figure of speech– which was… Concerning, to say the least, and a topic she put a pin on to talk about at a later time.
The rest of the explanation was, at least to Mika, sort of confusing. From what she understood, it looked like this Tapeesa girl had told Elias to give her some space, but he’d misunderstood the amount of space and came off as indifferent or dismissive. And apparently a third person was involved? She’d need a few more specifics before she could offer any sort of commentary or opinions on the matter.
“So she asked you to give her space, you gave her too much of it and that somehow upset her and this other, mysterious new friend of hers?” Mikaela asked slowly, gently poking at the slice of cake with her fork. “Unless I’m not understanding things right either?”
Elias nudged his tray an inch to the side, as if the mere presence of his uneaten food was suddenly oppressive. He ran his thumb along the chipped edge of the cafeteria table, grounding himself in its solid, unfeeling reality before he spoke.
“Not exactly,” he said, the words careful. “She didn’t ask for space. Not in those words.” His gaze, restless, flickered to the pristine slice of cake on Mikaela’s tray—a stark contrast to the emotional clutter he was sorting through—then darted away. “Earlier that night, she told me I should come dance. Those were her exact words. And she said it to me and another girl I was with.”
His jaw tightened, a betraying tic as the memory replayed in excruciating high definition in his head.
“So I took it at face value,” he continued, the ghost of his own naivete colouring his tone. “Like an open invitation. Optional. A casual ‘hey, the door’s open if you want’ kind of thing.” He shifted in his seat, fingers curling briefly against the laminate as if seeking purchase. “But when I didn’t show up immediately, she made up this whole other story about me maybe needing her for something. For healing. Or that I’d gotten hurt.” His mouth twisted into a bitter line. “Me. Son of Zeus.” He shook his head once, a short, sharp motion of dismissal. “Like that was the only reason I’d ever come looking for her.”
There was a pause, heavier now.
“She played it off like a joke. Said she’d been dancing alone for an hour. But it didn’t sound like a joke to me.” His voice roughened, just slightly. “It sounded more like an accusation.”
Then, Elias swallowed, the motion visible in the tense line of his throat.
“And when I snapped…” The word caught, then pushed through. “...I basically threw it back at her. Told her she was the one who’d bailed first. That from where I was standing…” His eyes dropped to the table. “She looked like she was doing just fine without me.”
A beat of silence hung between them before Elias finished with a quiet statement:
“I wasn’t trying to hurt her.”
Mikaela was quiet as she pondered Elias’s story. From where she was standing, the events that had transpired the night before had been a consequence of a lack of clarity on both parts. If Tapeesa wanted Elias to dance with her, then she should’ve just said so rather than leave the timing up to interpretation. If Elias was unsure of what Tapeesa meant, he should’ve just asked her instead of making assumptions that only caused hurt feelings between the two of them. Still, it was clear that the adverse event was upsetting Eli, which meant he felt guilt for his actions and genuinely cared about Tapeesa. ‘He’s a good guy…’ the green-eyed girl heard herself think, suppressing a small smile. In a world full of assholes and narcissists, it was nice to meet guys like these.
Mika knew what she wanted to say, but she decided to take a bite from her cake to figure out the best words to use. God forbid she fell into the same trap they were discussing and said something that could be misinterpreted. She didn’t want to be the next Tapeesa and have Elias snap at her, too. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Eli. But from where I’m standing, it was all just a matter of everyone needing more clarity,” she began, taking another bite of her cake. “I know a lot of times saying what you really mean can be a pain, but being upfront is always better than not being so and being totally misunderstood. Saves everyone from a lot of trouble like this.” Mika said earnestly, taking a swig of her drink. “I can tell you really care about her, though, and this isn’t really something worth losing a potential friendship over. Have you thought of apologizing to her?”
Elias fell silent after Mikaela’s question, allowing the space between her words and his response to stretch, filling with the low din of the room. Then, his hand moved absently, decisively pushing his tray out of reach, a final surrender to the fact that his lunch was now little more than a prop in this conversation.
“I thought about apologizing,” he said finally. “After it happened, my first instinct, well, more like my second, honestly, was to go after her and try to explain myself. Fix things.” He exhaled through his nose, a short, tired breath. “But when I got back to her cabin…my stuff was outside. That pretty much told me she didn’t want a conversation.”
He frowned, not in anger but in a kind of pained recognition.
“And if I’d pushed an apology through that, it wouldn’t have been for her anyway. It would’ve been for me. To make myself feel less like an ass.”
That particular word landed heavily, but he didn’t take it back because, just as before, Elias knew the kind of man he was.
“And I’m not an ass to women,” he stated, his voice gaining a steady, grounded certainty. It wasn’t a boast; it was a foundational creed, dragged up from the depths of his current frustration and held out for examination. “I don’t talk down to them. I don’t corner them into conversations they’re avoiding.” His gaze met Mikaela’s then, clear and direct. “I don’t decide I deserve access to their forgiveness just because I’m the one feeling bad.”
Mika had been ready to praise Elias for being so self-aware regarding the topic of apologies when a particular sentence he had offhandedly mentioned finally registered with her. “Back up, back up, back up–” the brunette said suddenly, a little louder than she'd intended, her hands raised as if asking for a pause. She looked around sheepishly to make sure nobody was listening in before she dropped her voice to barely a whisper.“Were you guys hunching, she caught feelings and that's why she was mad that you didn’t go dance with her right away? Because that would actually make a lot of sense.”
“Huh?” Elias blurted, hand flying up as if he were physically trying to halt the sentence midair. “No, no, no—espérate, rewind, absolutely not.”
He dragged a hand down his face with a visceral groan, the sound equal parts frustration and disbelief. “We were not ‘hunching.’ I don’t even know what that word really means in this context, and I officially fucking hate it.” His voice, which had risen in pitch, now dropped to a cautious whisper as he glanced around the crowded room. It was as if giving the rumour too much sonic space would somehow give it credence.
“Let me be clear,” he said, leaning in slightly across the table. “There were zero feelings caught. Nada. Not even a stray, confused butterfly.” He straightened up, his posture defensive. “I met her on the way to camp. We talked. She offered to let me stash a duffel bag in her cabin because my own situation wasn’t sorted out yet.”
He pointed a decisive finger between himself and the space where Mikaela’s implication still hung in the air.
“And that’s it. We are not close, and we were never close like that.”
Instinctively, Mikaela raised her own hands in front of her as if trying to defend herself from Elias’ sudden outburst. “Okay, okay! Sorry! My bad…” she apologized hastily, shifting her shameful stare towards the table while mentally kicking herself for her impertinence. She hadn’t expected Elias’ reaction to be so blunt, but how else could he have reacted to her blatant intrusion? “I’m sorry if I overstepped your boundaries with what I said. I shouldn’t have assumed or brought up anything about those kinds of topics when we barely know each other. That was my bad.”
The defensive adrenaline drained from him as suddenly as it had arrived, leaving behind the familiar, acrid residue of overreaction. Elias let out a long, slow breath, scrubbing a hand through his hair as if to physically clear the static from his mind, and allowed his gaze to briefly fix on the table as if it might offer absolution.
“Hey, no,” he said, his voice softening immediately into a register of genuine chagrin. “No, that’s… eso es culpa mía. My bad.” He winced, his lips pressing into a thin line of self-reproach before he forced himself to continue. “I didn’t mean to snap like that. Seriously.”
A palpable irony settled over him, one he couldn’t ignore. He took great pride in being careful with women, yet here he was committing the very wrong he despised: making someone feel small for asking a fair question. Mikaela had been offering a lifeline of understanding, and he’d practically swatted it away.
“Lo siento,” Elias repeated, shaking his head as if to dislodge the last of his defensiveness. “I’m not mad at you. I swear. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He paused, searching for a more honest explanation than his reflexive bluster. “I just… have a thing about assumptions. They get under my skin. That’s all.”
As someone who wasn’t a stranger to impulsive outbursts, Mikaela nodded in understanding. “I got you. It’s no big deal. I won’t take it personally,” she tried to reassure him, offering the man a small smile. Elias was right, of course, and she could relate to what he had said. Assumptions were fucking annoying, and the majority of the time they didn’t serve any good purpose. “Let’s make a deal, then: I won’t make assumptions about you again if you promise you’ll be my gym partner,” she proposed, hoping to circle the conversation back to a safer, lighter, more fun topic. “I need someone that I know is as good as me to hold me accountable and push me to the next level.”
Elias blinked, caught off guard by the whiplash pivot from apology to gym-partner contract negotiation. Most people, after an awkward moment like that, would either cling to it or use it as leverage. Mikaela hadn't done either. She'd simply… moved on. Extended an olive branch, then pulled him right up onto the branch with her. It was disarming. And weirdly refreshing.
A slow grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Deal.” He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if he was already assuming the role. “But just so you know, gym partner comes with conditions.” He raised a finger, expression shifting into something only half-playful now. “Rule number one: you have to be careful about what you put in your body.” He gestured at the dining hall around them, specifically the groaning buffet tables that seemed designed to exploit the supernatural metabolisms of demigods with their mountains of food and a dessert station that defied the laws of physics and probably common sense.
“Demigod or not, you're still stuck with a human body. You can't out-train garbage fuel, and you sure as hell can't out-recover it.” He shrugged, trying to soften the lecture. “I'm not saying you need to be obsessive. Just… aware. What you eat, when you eat, and when you rest. Especially here with all this training we’re gonna be getting.” He shook his head with a lopsided, self-deprecating smile, fully aware he was teetering on the edge of taking on some big brother role instead of a friend’s. But the truth was, Elias had always wanted someone to look out for and that latent instinct was apparently choosing this exact moment to manifest.
An eye roll and a scowl, followed by a pout of displeasure, immediately made their way to Mikaela’s face, and she finished off her chocolate cake in protest. Eli would have no way of knowing this, but her eating habits had always been a discordant topic between her, her mother and even her friends. For the longest time, everyone around her had been urging her to be more considerate of what she ate, making sure to emphasize all the ways she could be slowly killing herself. Mika, ever the stubborn mule, had made it a near art form to brush away their concerns and prove that her trash diet wasn’t affecting her in any way that mattered (even if sometimes she could feel it was). But if someone she’d just met was giving her the same advice, then Mikaela guessed she could at least try to make an effort for the sake of a budding friendship. Her only hope was that the immense sacrifice she’d be making would be worth it.
“My power burns through calories like a California wildfire,” Elias admitted, rolling his eyes at her stubborn display nonetheless. “If I don't stay ahead of it, I crash. Hard. Doesn't matter how much raw strength you've got if your body decides to shut down mid-fight.” And as if summoned by the mere mention, his stomach let out a low, traitorous rumble. He glanced down at his tray, laughably insufficient now, then back toward the buffet tables.
He scraped back his chair and stood, scooping up his tray with the resigned expression of a man about to admit defeat.
“...Speaking of which.”
The pizza and fries were never gonna cut it.
End of Part 2 of 2
RiverDaNile
Deadline
PrinceAlexus
Barham
Altered Tundra
MaeB
Hope Lover
M3rcu1al
Stryder BC
