Drown

Drowning, Flying, Kissing

When I was drowning, I never felt more alive. Gods, I can't really explain it. Not in a way anyone else would understand.

But here. Imagine this: you're a bird and when you're flying is the only time you've ever felt safe, only for your wings to be ripped off suddenly, without care. In free fall, you shiver and scream in fear—but adrenaline rushes through your veins like it hasn't in years. Suddenly, you're addicted to this feeling of helplessness. Suddenly, you're okay with dying, if only because this feeling wouldn't exist otherwise.
Now, get back in my shoes. I'm sitting here, at the bottom of the lake, fine as any other fish. In an instant, I shriek. Shriek because all of a sudden, I'm drowning. A son of Poseidon.

Why are my lungs collapsing? Why does it feel like I'm a chainsmoker? Why does breathing escape me—Mommy, where did you go?

And the funny thing is, Jason notices. The biggest bro of all bro-kind is the first to realize something is wrong. Not Nico. Not Grover. Not Annabeth. Blond Superman is the first to realize that holy shit, Seaweed Brain's drowning!

I think that's when something really snaps in my brain. Makes the gears start turning because I think everyone else has gotten used to me being Percy all over again. Invulnerable Percy, even without Achilles pushing him along. I survived Tartarus—conquered it in some people's minds—so fuck, I shouldn't be troubled by anything anymore then! But I am troubled.

I realize in these fleeting moments that I actually want to die before the Gods decide to volunteer me for some life-altering quest again.

But then, I feel his hands on me, and everything's okay again. He's pulling me to the surface just as I get settled with the idea of drowning. He's there when we break free of the water—him gasping and me as limp as a fish. He pumps my chest as everyone else looks on in confusion and horror. He fills air into my lungs instead of water with slightly chapped lips. And when I spit up the sea, gasping, I notice he's so close to crying and that I am.

"Percy, what the fuck?" Why? That's the question. Why did I do it. Why did I let the little lake crush me when it shouldn't have? I want to forget for a few moments, fade into whatever abyss that my mind can conjure up at that moment, but that chance fades and fizzles as soon as I realize that Jason, bro extraordinaire, saved my life and his voice fills me with something I thought was reserved only for Annabeth. The tears leaking from my eyes are multiplied as my breath quickens and hiccups.

"I just wanted to be done," I manage to gasp out between breaths, and everyone erupts into a symphony of white noise. I know Annabeth is screeching, Grover panicking as his hooves hit the ground repeatedly, Nico looking over us all with only vague hurt on his features. But really, it's only Jason's protests that hit me, you know? They were actual bulletholes marring my four walls of security, and then he's hugging me, holding me.

"P—Percy, you idiot! Bro, you can't do that to us! What the hell are we going to do with you gone?!"

I want to whisper, I don't know. But I say nothing. I just lean my head into the crook of Jason's neck and sob. I didn't want to be a burden, but here I am. A burden.

And like an old film, the scene cuts. Everything is black and white, but Jason and I are grey and it's beautiful.

—

People look at me differently after all of that. Even Annabeth, who lived through Tartarus with me. I think that's when we fade, and Gods, I would have been angry about it a year ago but now I just feel subdued.

It used to be just me that knew I was vulnerable. Now we both did (or at least, it was finally confirmed) and that was when we could no longer find strength and comfort in each other's presence. We were both so, so weak. Human, too. Even if our godly half disagreed.

Jason changed, too. Not really though. Not in a way that made me have to visibly withdraw from his presence. What changed was simple: his residence. He started living in Camp Half-Blood all over again.

He still treated me like a bro. We still rough housed. We bragged to friends when we toppled the other in some weird brawl or petty argument. We grumbled about random shit, the regular thing that guys do. But I also thought about his chapped lips.

I shivered at night, wondering what it would be like to cuddle with him in a I—like—you—in—more—than—a—bro kind of way. I wanted to be the reason that his glasses fogged. I wanted to kiss his rugged cheek, let my fingers run down the scar that made him seem mortal. I wanted to feel him as he loved me—love?—and that's when it occurred to me that I was in something deeper than just heaven. I was in love.

"So, did you hear about that thing?" He drawls, and I look at him in confusion.

"Dude, there are a lot of fucking things you could be talkin' about." He chokes out a laugh, but I'm lame. We both know that.

"Okay, bro. Don't freak out, but I'm 99% certain and 1% positive that our exes got together."

"Annabeth and Reyna?"

He rolls his eyes. "No, Annabeth and Pipes. Actually," and then Jason's eyebrows furrow and I can't help but think he looks adorable when he's contemplating something new. The words don't really register. "Nevermind—shit! You're right! Reyna's totally in on it too!"

"Think everyone's going gay?" I ask, not committed with what I was saying. Didn't really click either, but Jason's eyes suddenly widened like dishes as if I knew something I shouldn't have. No clue what though.

But that makes things silent, and I start to get uncomfortable. I begin to shift, wondering if I said something wrong. Damn, I wouldn't be able to stand it if Jason left me as well—I'd drown.

"Would it really be so bad if everyone did?" Jason asks finally instead, and I look at him with curiosity. "Go gay, I mean. C'mon, bro, level with me here. What if we did go all gay?"

I chuckle, and say, "Then I'd ask you to kiss me." I lay back down on my bed then, feeling the blue sheets start to wrinkle in response.

(I miss the dark look that passes on Jason's face. The lust.)

"Really?" Ha, like he'd go for it.

"Really, bro." And I laugh like it's a joke, like when Paul gave me green food instead of blue food like I wanted, like when that new kid named Peter Johnson came to camp but was called Percy Jackson by Mr. D. It's not really a joke though, and damn, I would die if Jason actually did do that. Kissed me. Life would be complete and I would no longer be drowning.

The bed dips as a new weight lands on top of it. My body freezes, reflexes telling me to fight some monster instantly. I almost move to do it, but then blond superman moves on top of me, and I can only look confused right back at him. Jason's eyes are dark. I gulp, unsure.

"What are you doing? Bro?" I don't get an answer. Jason just keeps looking at me, and then he moves. His lips meet mine—it's beyond electric and his chapped lips feel like home—and everything suddenly clicks in the world like oh. I think I tried to say it, too, "Oh." But instead, it comes out like a broken moan, and I'm kissing back and he responds and everything's perfect and the drowning is replaced by a kaleidoscope of butterflies. It's like flying, like being caught in a net, this little kiss of ours. It evolves. We get lost in the night.

Later, I realize he responded. It's perfect.

"Kissing you."