A/N: Inspired by a tumblr post I saw of a child of Aphrodite being ace and/or aro.

This is very not-fluffy fic and I'm sorry. It's mostly just angst and is sort of a vent fic for me, honestly.

Tell me who I'm supposed to be now
Make me better
I can't stay halfway dead forever

- Icon For Hire, "Supposed to Be"

Christmas at Camp Half-Blood was always gorgeous, with just enough snow for snowball fights and yet not too much to be inconvenient. The Big House was decorated in holly and candles that the Hecate cabin had enchanted not to start a fire, and magically colour-changing lights hovered around the camp.

And then there was the mistletoe. Tacked up everywhere, or at least it seemed like everywhere, it was waiting innocuously for two unfortunate people to stop underneath of it.

Imogen stared at her meal. Today it was some sort of twist on chicken alfredo, that, as far as she could tell, didn't include any actual chicken.

"How do you like it?" her half-brother David asked, looking at her from across the table.

"I don't know," Imogen replied. It wasn't a dismissal – she hadn't taken a single bite yet. "What do you think?"

David shrugged, twirling his fork around his plate. "It's okay," he said.

The stilted conversation dried up when Chiron took the platform. "Remember, everyone, the Demeter cabin has arranged cookie decorating tomorrow!" he announced. "Keep in mind that cabins may be decorated for the holidays however you wish, as long as it meets appropriate standards, and don't forget to watch out for the mistletoe!"

There was a light smattering of applause as he stepped away and Imogen scowled. Something about that stupid little plant rubbed her the wrong way and having to kiss some random stranger because you accidentally stepped under it was the worst part.

The rest of the Aphrodite cabin stood up and began spreading out to different parts of the cabin, chatting about what they were going to do. David extended his hand. "Come on," he invited, "want to go to the archery range?"

Imogen sighed and shook her head. "No thanks," she said as politely as she could manage. "I just want to be alone right now."

"Okay," he agreed. "I'll be over there if you need me."

Imogen agreed and headed to her cabin, walking quickly enough that no one would question her. She could feel a need to cry coming on and she wanted to avoid a scene if she could. Public breakdowns – as much as Aphrodite was famed for being a drama queen – were one of her worst nightmares.

She made it to the cabin just as the first tears were beginning to fall and quickly walked to her bed. Flipping open the trunk at the end of her bed, she rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for. Wrapping the quilt that had been a Christmas gift from her real mother when she turned eight around herself, Imogen huddled on her bed and let herself cry.

Why did she hate mistletoe so much? It wasn't the plant itself – she had no feelings one way or the other about it when she really thought about it. It was the kissing, it had to be, because when people kissed it usually meant they wanted to do other things. Disgusting things.

Imogen buried her face in her pillow and screamed until she felt her throat beginning to go raw. Why couldn't she just be happy about people kissing and mistletoe and Valentines Day (which she hated, come to think of it) and romantic movies and all those other things normal people enjoyed? Was she seriously that much of a godsdamned freak that she couldn't enjoy everyday things like love and sex? Her godly parent was Aphrodite, the goddess of love herself.

"Some daughter I turned out to be," she finally mumbled, pulling her sweater hood over her head and curling into a tight bundle of misery in the centre of her bed.

A/N: Title taken from "Hollow" by Icon for Hire. The names David and Imogen mean "beloved" and "maiden" respectively.