Today one demigod died while helping bring new kids to the campament.
This are the bad days that make both of you stay away from everyone. Laying in bed and hugging each other, holding each other, loving each other.
You don't know when it began but you both trace each other scars with butterfly touches, longing kisses. Some are big, some small, some ugly looking and old, some new and still red.
They're reminders that both of you are still alive, that both of you made it into another day.
You love and hate the scars. You know he does too.