100 reasons to love our lives

Forced battles

Will

I was excited for the PE course.

Not only did I have a severe lack of movement since I left camp half-blood, but I also found the idea of normal people doing sports interesting. From what I heard, they didn't throw their students into life-threatening situations or let them fight each other to the blood, which sounded kind of boring, but very relaxing for healers like me.

Therefore, as we went to the changing rooms, I was already fidgeting around, going on my boyfriend's nerves with my nervosity.

"It's been ages since I worked out properly", I groaned as I hung my stuff on the wall. Nico rolled his eyes and meant: "Do I have to tell you again that three days are not ages?"
"These were three days of just sitting around and eating cookie dough", I complained while changing my shirt.

His sharp eyes shortly inspected me. "You don't have to worry about that", he then said, and I felt how I blushed, looking down at my body. "Are you sure about that?"
"Yep", he meant.
"I'm not sure", I objected and then heard someone snorting. Suddenly insecure, I looked around to the other boys.

In camp, everyone old enough to have muscles had some, because everyone was forced to work out daily. The morning sports routine, the daily game of capturing the flag and all the various training courses and challenges were a sure provider of fitness. Everyone over eighteen, some sixteen-year-olds and even a few fourteen-year-old campers had at least some muscles. I, with my eight-pack and strong triangle built, didn't stand out at all.
Even Nico, who was always seen as frail and weak, had an athletic, cat-like body.

But now, as I looked around, I realized we were one of the few with even some sort of visible fitness. There was one big guy with raven black, shortly razored hair and falcon eyes who had a six-pack as well, but otherwise - oh gods, my whining must have sounded insufferable.

"Whoops", I whispered and Nico chuckled a little. "You really don't have to worry about eating cookie dough", he reassured me, his view shortly lingering on my body before he bound his hair to a little ponytail.

My heart missed one beat at that sight.

The big guy frowned at us as I leaned over my boyfriend and whispered into his ear: "You look wonderful."

"Are you gay?", the giant now asked way too loud, suddenly standing right behind us.

"No, I'm Nico", Nico answered dryly, only his reddened ears showing that he spoke without thinking. Sometimes, it helped distracting attacking monsters, but this time, it just seemed to confuse our most likely homophobic opponent.

"I'm Dean", the young adult answered. At second sight, he seemed actually quite nice, with striking green eyes sitting deep above bronze-colored skin. "Sorry. I was just curious. Can I go to my locker?"

I slid to the side, making him place. "Also sorry for my assumption. But you two really act gay."
Nico shifted his weight from one leg to the other, obviously unsure what to say. Therefore, I was the one to ask: "How can you act gay?"
Dean suddenly seemed uncomfortable. "Well, the typical stuff."
"I don't know what you mean", I lied, putting on my shoes in the process. My poor boyfriend seemed like he wanted to melt away in shadows, but I sincerely wished he wouldn't.
Dean's eyes hurried from me to Nico and back to me. "Come on", he said quietly. "The taking? Girly behavior? Constantly checking out guys?"
"That's not gay behavior", I said and took my things again.
"It's not? What's gay behavior then?"
He seemed genuinely curious. I silently wondered if he was just a great actor or really that simple-minded.