the wheel breaks the butterfly. (ml)

If there was a time when Sawyer Bennett could tolerate to those who were into mainstream music, it would be during music festivals. In fact, it was the only event wherein he wasn't as antisocial as he was in school. It may have been the idea of a group of people who shared the same music preference gathering together which appealed to the eighteen year old, or the ambiance. Music has never failed to relax him. Whenever he'd put his earphones in and press play on his iPod, he'd feel his consciousness slip away and he'd enter his own personal paradise. Music had the ability to do so. It would make him forget about all his suffering.

The line up for Snowglobe 2012, one of the biggest indoor winter festivals, seemed decent. There was a mix between indie and mainstream, which was enough for Sawyer to attend. Some of his favorites, such as Vampire Weekend, Two Door Cinema Club, and Bon Iver, would be perfuming. Plus, his non-indie guilty pleasure, Coldplay, would be there.

Standing in line, a steaming cup of a Starbucks Peppermint coffee in his hand, he waited eagerly to enter the big, white tent where the festival would take place. He glanced around, eyes drifting from person to person. He came alone since most of his "hipster" friends were back home in Delaware and the boys in the fight club weren't into the indie scene. It was fortunate enough that he met a few people in music festivals. It was practically the only time he'd socialize. His eyes landed on a girl a few feet away from him, around his age or a year younger. She wasn't short, yet she didn't tower over everyone else. It was her eyes that caught his attention. They were like a kaleidoscope; there wasn't just one permanent color. He had a difficult time deciphering the color. Nevertheless, he found it astonishing. He hadn't even realized he'd been staring.

His head snapped away. Although he found her very pretty, he wasn't particularly good with approaching people. Sawyer would always find himself chickening out. It was ironic; the boy who'd illegally fight for money was afraid of approaching a girl. It was his Achilles' heel. He snickered to himself, realizing the godly reference. He managed to separate that life of his from his almost normal one. In fact, he had the ability to separate all his lives and personalities. For instances, Demigod Sawyer was antisocial and would rather keep to himself. Hipster Sawyer was intelligent in terms of music. Fighter Sawyer was courageous and strong, willing to beat anyone to a pulp. But the real Sawyer? He was clumsy and shy.

Shaking his head, he gulped down the remains of his coffee, feeling the hot liquid scorch his throat. It left his breath minty with a bit of bitter coffee. Perfect for kissing, he thought jokingly.

Sawyer was contemplating on various potential title articles for the underground indie magazine he worked for when he heard a softly spoken voice. He turned his head slightly and was surprised to see the girl who'd caught his eye earlier. His heartbeat started to accelerate immediately as he was brought back to old memories wherein he'd been too afraid to ask someone out and would always end up alone during an elementary school dance. Out of all his lives, he'd label that one as Nugget Sawyer, nicknamed after what his mom would call him. But he forced himself to not turn into Nugget Sawyer and tried to retain his cool composure.

"Hi," he greeted the girl, a soft smile playing on his lips. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans as a way to not twiddle with his thumbs. "I'm Sawyer."

It wasn't that he was completely antisocial, he just needed help when it came to approaching people. It wasn't exactly one of his many talents and he'd definitely need to work on his social skills. Writing, on the other hand, was a skill he'd nearly mastered despite his dyslexia. Everywhere he went served as an inspiration for his articles, just like today. He had his camera and pen, and notebook stashed inside his blue canvas backpack, ready for him to write when he was on the way back to Camp Half-Blood or to snap pictures during the festival.

It took all of Sawyer's might to keep his heart from thudding out of his chest. He couldn't believe his luck. A pretty girl was talking to him and he was going to see Coldplay? What a day! If he had friends back in Camp Half-Blood, he would've told them all about it when he got home. Instead, he would have to settle for his co-workers. The feeling wasn't as nice as sharing stories with fellow campers, but there's nothing he could do about it. He wasn't very good at making friends.

"Thanks, Victoria," he beamed, trying out the sound of her name on his lips. He was about to compliment her name as well when she quietly excused herself and turned her back towards him. He frowned. Had he done something wrong? He was about to scold himself aloud when she turned back around, a bottle of green tea in her hand. It may have been that he was extremely unobservant or that drink appeared out of nowhere. "H-How did you?" his eyes shifted between the bottle and Victoria. The chances of running into another demigod outside of camp were slim, but it wasn't impossible. "Are you..." he started to say, but the words died in his mouth. Maybe it would be best if he left the explaining to do to Victoria. The possibilities were endless. She could've been a demigod, or just a mortal practicing some form of witchcraft. Hell, Sawyer had no clue.

Sawyer jumped when Victoria started to cough on her tea. He reaches out to pat her awkwardly on the back. He figured that he just ruined any chances of them becoming friends or the possibilities of her accepting if ever he asked her out on a date. Sometimes, he wished that he wasn't such a dork around pretty girls. He released the breath he was holding when Victoria explained that she just had a habit for magic. However, there was something odd about the way her lips twitched, as if she were about to burst out in laughter. Still, Sawyer forced the thoughts aside and grinned at her. "Pretty and talented. Well, I'm impressed."

He almost couldn't believe his luck. First of all, he didn't make a complete full of himself by stuttering in any of his sentences. Second, Victoria called him attractive! That had to mean something, right? His cheeks slightly tingled pink as he ran his fingers through his golden bronze hair. "What else do you have in store, Tinkerbell?" he hoped she understood the little magical reference. In a way, she reminded him of the character. Both had ties to magic and she was cute, as well. Sawyer towered over her at 6 feet and an inch and he looked down at her with a twinkle in his eye. He found Victoria very captivating and to him, she was the most interesting thing in the room.

Sawyer snorted when Victoria admitted to being called nerdy. "Nerdy? You clearly haven't seen me when I was in high school," he laughs softly, his mind wandering to his not-so glory days. Although he wasn't exactly nerdy, he wasn't Mr. Popular either. The bruises he gained from being in a fight club sparked some rumors that labeled him as the resident bad-boy of the school. It resulted to the rest of his classmates leaving him alone, so technically he had no friends back then, aside from the ones he met outside of school via the club and the magazine he worked for. When his schedule was free and he had no friends to go out with, he averted his focus to his studies or extra reading. It was then concluded that Sawyer was a self-proclaimed geek. Thank god high school ended a few months ago. "Speaking of which, how old are you?"

"And magic is cool," he added. If she were a demigod, he could definitely see her fitting in with the Hecate kids. Well, if he had friends from there, he would've introduced some of them to Victoria, but he the reputation he held in Camp Half-Blood wasn't that different from his in high school.

His breath hitches when she leaned closer and did the traditional coin trick. This day was definitely going down as one of his luckiest days of the year. Smirking down at her, he takes the quarter from her hand and flips it upward, catching it as it falls back down. "Okay, Tinkerbell. Since you've clearly impressed me with your magic tricks. Let's see if you can do that with your music taste," he teased, handing her the coin back. He was curious to see what kind of music preference she liked. It would be great if the pair liked the same kind of music. It would make conversing a whole lot easier. "What kind of music do you like?"

A smile smile graced Sawyer's lips. Victoria clearly hadn't seen him at all in school. He wondered if her perception of him would be altered if he admitted to being a complete loser in school. Part of him assured himself that she didn't seem like the type to do that. She had a sweet smile and he liked to look into her eyes, although he couldn't quite decipher what color they were. He was starting to grow fond of her. "You don't want to know," he muttered. Sawyer didn't want to tangle Victoria into his mess. Together with the double life he led, it was no doubt how dangerous Sawyer truly was. He probably should've been attempting to push her away by now, but her eyes seemed to have a twinkle that drew him in and her smile made the butterflies in his stomach flutter. Don't let her into your mess, he chastised himself.

He was relieved when he found out that they were around the same age. "I just turned eighteen last month. Finished high school last fall." He had briefly returned to his hometown of Delaware to finish his schooling, so that he'd get it over with. Rumors rose almost immediately after his return, varying from him going to rehab or joining a mafia. It was amusing.

"Huh?" he frowned. Everything was starting to get confusing to him. If she wasn't a mortal practicing magic, what was she? Clearing his throat, he decided to ask her about it later, when there weren't too many lurking ears nearby.

Grinning, he replied, "Prepare to be amazed, Tink. I like indie and rock, as well. Some of my favorites performing tonight would have to be Two Door Cinema Club, Bon Iver, Vampire Weekend, and, of course, Coldplay."

Heaving a sigh, his mind kept shifting back to her earlier confession. Perhaps he could be subtle about it and find a way to see if she was a half-blood. "Are you from the area?" As a demigod, the most common answer would be Long Island, but he would have to see for himself and make a quick guess.

The crowd's mutters were starting to grow, giving the atmosphere a nice buzz, lifting Sawyer's spirits and putting him in the mood for a good concert. It seemed like the festival was about to open up any minute now and he couldn't wait. Hopefully he and Victoria wouldn't have to separate ways. He liked her company. Victoria was extremely intriguing and he wanted to get to know her more. She took his mind off his problems, yet truly enjoyed her company.

Sawyer feigned a look of sheer hurt. "Ouch, Vic. Do I really look that old?" he joked, his faux frown transitioning to a playful smile. Under normal circumstances, he would've been shy and awkward around her, but he found himself at ease. It was different, albeit a nice change.

He blinked, wondering what she was hiding. Sawyer wasn't a son of Apollo, the god of truth, but he wasn't stupid as well. He has been around fake people long enough to know when someone was lying. For the sake of their new friendship, he kept quiet about her excuse.

"Huge fan." a huge grin made his way to his face. Sawyer was slightly impressed by her music preference, knowing that most girls nowadays preferred crappy stuff, like Justin Bieber or Nicki Minaj. On the other hand, he would rather stay away from the mainstream stuff, with Coldplay as the exception. They were his guilty pleasure, but he wouldn't admit that to his friends at the underground magazine he wrote for. It was nice to have someone to talk to about the band. His previous girlfriend wasn't a fan of them either. "Umm… would it sound unrealistic if I said that I like all of their songs? Yeah, probably. I could listen to Yellow and Clocks all day on repeat, if you catch my drift. I don't know. They're songs that lift my spirits, y'know?" he rambled on, talking aimlessly about the band. When he realized he was babbling, he shut his mouth, grinning sheepishly as a red tint spread across his cheeks. "What's yours?" he wondered, internally reprimanding himself for not giving her a chance to speak.

Taken aback by her response, he leaned in to whisper, "Are you from--" when he was about to finish his sentence, the doors suddenly burst open and everyone rushed to get in to get a good spot form the stage. Grabbing Victoria's hand, he sprinted inside the tent. He wasn't quite done with her yet.