Sparkly Trash

angsty percy pt 2/many

If Percy had to explain himself, he would simply say he was tired.
Has been tired for the past couple weeks.

He'd give a smile, unconvincing at best, but you wouldn't notice. Or you would, but not say anything because surely he really must be tired.
Being that powerful must be exhausting, right?
Then you would move on, with a nagging doubt that something just isn't right. But hey, nothing about the kid seems just right.

He is tired, though. That bit's not a lie. But he's the kind of tired you get from life throwing a few too many punches. The kind where your mind's eye is fogged and your train of thought can't seem to stay on the rails. He might've gone to sleep already, but Annabeth seemed to be getting better, so he should too.

It didn't matter if his smiles were fake, the real ones would come soon. Right?
He supposes he would've given up a long time ago had he not had Annabeth.
In the river Cochytous. On his journey to Camp Jupiter. At the Styx. He might've even died his first quest.
He loved Annabeth, and trusted her, but didn't want to always have to depend on her. It wasn't her fault she ended up with a deadbeat boyfriend, she's not responsible for me Percy thought dejectedly.
He was tired of not being able to do anything on his own.

The sun had set without his realizing, sky having gone from forget-me-not-blue to flaming pastels, to inky navy. He had been laying on the beach for hours. Listening to the waves lapping at the shore, tickling his feet, as if Poseidon knew of his son's sorrow and was trying to cheer him up.

He had begun to get chilly enough to consider going into his cabin when he heard the footsteps. He assumed it was the cleaning harpies, come to kill him. He honestly wasn't opposed to the idea. It'd save him a lot of trouble. Plus, it would be a little funny for him to die at the hands of a harpie at his own camp. The thought had a twisted irony that caused a ghost of a smile to dance across his lips.
What he didn't expect, however, was Annabeth's voice calling out his name with a teasing lilt.
"Percy, how long have you been here?"
He shrugged.
"That's not a number."
He held up 3.
"Bullshit."
He sighed and held up a 5.
Annabeth sat down next to him, crossing her legs.
"Percy," she began a quiver in her voice "you can't keep doing this."
"Doing what?" He croaked. He knew what she meant. He wanted her to confirm it, though. Confirm all his dark swirling thoughts were right.
"Isolating yourself. Skipping meals and losing sleep. Pushing people away."
"Annabeth how are you doing? Really."
"That's not a response." She responded sternly, pursing her lips.
"That's not a response either."
She sighed, probably realizing the only way to get him to cooperate is to answer his question.

"I'm trying. I have nightmares. Certain things freak me out more than they should. But you're usually there to help me. But you seem to be around less and less. Why?"
"Ahaha, always clever Annabeth." He sighed, no venom or mocking in his voice. He was too tired for jibes. "You've managed to steer it back to me. I'm tired, Annabeth-"
"I am too Percy, I can't sleep at night."
"Not the way I mean it. I tried. I've tried really hard, for a really long time. I'm tired of trying. I've tried letting others help me. But I'm tired of that, too. I'm tired of living."

Annabeth sat, stunned for the moment. She hadn't expected that. She did remember their experience with the River of Misery, how easily Percy was about to give in. But she thought he was past it. Apparently he was not.
"Keep trying, that's all we can do. Even when you're tired. That's when you let others help you. When you feel like you can't carry on, is when others carry you."
Percy felt hot tears building in his eyes, trying to fall down his cheek, and realized he hadn't really cried yet. Not since Tartarus. Not in a very long time.
He choked back the tears as he said "but Annabeth, I'm tired of both. I'm so tired of pretending to be okay, and I'm tired of being a burden when I can't pretend anymore."
"Percy you are never a burden. Not being okay is just being human."
Percy opened his mouth to say something, but Annabeth cut him off saying "don't give me that 'I'm not actually human' nonsense. You know what I mean."

At that moment, the dams broke loose. All the emotions he'd been bottling for so long came shooting put like champagne. He held Annabeth, and she held him.
She stroked his head like he stroked her hair. She let him lay his head in her lap. But mainly, she let him cry. She let him get it all out.

Several hours later, at sunrise they both woke. The sun shining on the sea was blinding, bright, and sparkling. The waves rose and fell, and the sea brushed two pairs of feet, tangled together.

Annabeth yawned, picking her head up and marveling at the fact that the harpies hadn't eaten them. She looked over at her sleeping boyfriend, and something told this, like her, was the first good sleep he'd gotten in a while. As if he was able to sense her waking, Percy picked up his head and yawned, opening his lids to reveal he sea green eyes. They still looked like shattered glass, but they might always look that way. As hard as it is, depression can't be cured with a little therapeutic crying session with a loved one.
But that's the first step, and the first step is always the biggest.

"C'mon, Seaweed Brain. Time for breakfast."
Percy groaned, but stood up, now mostly awake.
Annabeth got an idea.
"Race ya to the pavilion!" She smirked, taking off.
Percy chuckled,
and ran right after her.

(I have no justification for this other than that I like reading angst and I am full of angst too so *shrug*. I know I've already posted the picture, so you can ignore that if you want, this is just a short one shot to go with it)