All right, guys! Here's the chapter I said was gonna be full of angst!

WARNING: suicidal thoughts, depression, PTSD, and flashbacks, drowning.

I don't have PTSD of depression, so I'm sorry if I offend anyone writing this. I don't know how episodes work or anything, I did a little research but not much. And I hope I don't go too far with Percy's reaction, but I think it's pretty valid. Please correct me if I'm wrong.

Based on "Young & Sad" by Noah Cyrus

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I don’t wanna be young and sad another day longer

I don’t wanna feel numb or mad until I go under

And I know you only want me to be happy but I still feel lonely tonight

I don’t wanna be young and sad any longer

-Noah Cyrus

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Percy Jackson is only seventeen and dealing with the aftereffects of war. 

Since he was twelve years-old, the gods used him as a pawn, sending him out to do their dirty work that they were fully capable of handling themselves. The gods didn’t give Percy a choice to escape this life, knowing if his mother hadn’t been taken, he wouldn’t have agreed to go on a dangerous journey to retrieve Zeus’ missing lightning bolt and Hades’ helm of darkness. He didn’t know what was awaiting him the moment he stepped foot out of Camp Half-Blood with Grover and Annabeth trailing behind him. One quest led to two, two led to three. And before any of them knew it, they were fighting a full blown war. A war the gods were too afraid to fight themselves. 

It didn’t end there. Only four months later, he was plucked from the safety of his cabin, rid of most of his memories, and thrown across the country to fight yet another war. Another war the gods still couldn’t fight themselves all because of some identity crises. Did they ever consider their children having enough crises of their own to deal with? And that maybe they shouldn’t have sent them to do their bidding when they’re still recovering? No, of course not. Instead they decided to have two of their most scarred pawns thrown into the depths of Tartarus. But yeah, they’re still expected to respect every god they cross paths with. 

They don’t deserve an ounce of respect. They don't deserve to be treated like royalty. They don’t deserve to have food sacrificed to them at every meal. They don’t deserve to have people bow down at their feet. They don’t deserve to have their children tend to their every need without saying so much as a “thank you”. And they sure as hell don’t deserve Percy. Not when he’s done so much for them but got nothing but things taken away from him in return. 

The second he was brought into the world, Percy lacked a paternal figure. And even though he has Paul now, it would’ve been nice to have a father from the beginning. He wouldn’t have had to deal with an abusive stepfather. Maybe he wouldn’t be so angry at the world if he had two parents and a stable home the entirety of his life, instead of needing to get a summer job to help his mom pay for the bills. And if his ability to read, write, and stay still weren’t taken away from him unwillingly, he might have passed school with flying colors. He would have had friends before the age of twelve, too, if he wasn’t considered a “troubled kid”. 

Maybe he’d be living a normal life if he hadn’t been pushed into a world full of tragedy. Maybe he’d be able to get a full night of sleep without waking up from nightmares every hour if the fates hadn’t decided this to be his life. Maybe he would be swimming laps during swim practice without being afraid of drowning if his memories hadn’t been ripped away from him. Maybe he would feel comfortable going to a public beach without wearing a swim shirt if he didn’t have all these hideous scars covering his body. Maybe he could go a full day of school without having a panic attack if he hadn’t been told to lead a war at the age of sixteen. 

Maybe he’d be normal if the gods hadn’t taken away his life. 

Because of the gods, Percy isn’t able to live freely. He looks over his shoulder every five minutes, not quite sure if he’s safe or not. He jumps, startled, at any sudden noise that seemingly comes out of nowhere, and he’s constantly twirling riptide- in pen form- when he’s sitting at a desk in school, in fear a classmate or teacher will turn into a monster. His heart races whenever he hears Annabeth stutter out a breath, even if it’s not because she’s on the verge of a panic attack. He can’t run like he used to and he needs an inhaler now, all due to the toxic air down in Tartarus. He’s there with his sword in hand whenever his baby sister lets out a cry, and his mom and Annabeth have to calm him down every time. 

It’s exhausting. And he doesn’t want to feel this way anymore. 

But he refuses to see a therapist. Not just because they’ll immediately send him to a mental institute if he tells them about the horrors that are haunting him, but because he doesn’t want to talk about it in the first place. He doesn’t want to take his burdens and put them on someone else’s shoulders, and he doesn’t believe he’s worth being helped. Besides, his friends, such as Nico and Annabeth, are struggling with their own PTSD, so adding his issues to the mix wouldn’t be helpful. The least he can do is sit back and pretend he’s fine. 

The only issue? It’s getting really difficult to pretend nothing’s wrong. There’s dark circles under his eyes that not even his mom’s concealer won’t hide, and his clothes are starting to hang loose on his frame the more he throws his food away when no one’s looking. His grades are dropping since he’s too afraid to take his focus off everyone he may think is a monster in his class to listen to the lessons, but he manages to hide it from his parents and Annabeth. Not that they’ll chastise him or anything, but because then they’ll know something’s up. 

It’s not healthy, he knows, but there isn’t another way. At least, he doesn’t see another way without talking to someone about it. So as Nico talks to Will about his PTSD and Annabeth confides in him and Piper, and even his mom on the occasion, Percy builds a barrier around himself. The barrier keeps the negative emotions inside and the people outside. 

And the barrier works. Until it doesn’t. 

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It’s March, seven months into the school year, when his internal barrier fails him. 

Percy had originally thought he would feel better within time, but the longer he hides himself from the people he loves, the worse he starts to feel. Sleeping becomes almost impossible; he’s eating as little as he can; he’d gotten an F on his last report card; and all he sees when he looks in the mirror is a hollow image of a boy who was once filled with light. He doesn’t feel angry anymore, nor sad. But he isn’t happy either. He’s just numb and often finds himself standing near the ocean, wondering what it would be like to submerge beneath the waves and never come up for air. 

But then Annabeth’s always there, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the waves, and he’s always reminded of why he’s still living. He has a sneaking suspicion she knows he’s suffering with his PTSD and depression, but she doesn’t say anything which comforts him somewhat. But it also makes him feel terrible, because he’s sitting back and watching as his friends take steps forward while he’s taking steps back. 

The gods may have taken away his life, but he took away the possibility of living the rest of it.

Percy’s in physical education when his barrier decides to burn away. Looking back on it, he’d felt terrible the moment he woke up from the one hour of sleep he’d gotten in. He’d skipped dinner the night before and passed on breakfast, so he’d spent enough time in the bathroom dry heaving into the toilet. His cheeks are sunken into his face, and he knows for a fact Annabeth knows something has been bothering him by the way she’s been glancing at him all morning. His heart physically hurts for something that he doesn’t know of, and he really just doesn’t want to be here. There’s no real reason for it, he just wants to dive into the water and never come back up. 

It’s one in the afternoon and he’s running beside Annabeth on the indoor track as instructed when he feels his lungs start to burn. He and Annabeth had challenged themselves on how many of their classmates they could pass up while running laps, and now he’s noticing how bad of an idea that is for their still healing lungs. But Annabeth seems fine, so why does he suddenly feel like he can’t take in a deep breath? He shakes it off and keeps running, but he starts to freak out when his vision begins going in and out, no doubt from the lack of food he’s been taking in. The room starts to spin as his head is clouded with dizziness and he drifts to the side a little, almost bumping into one of his classmates. 

Annabeth looks over at him worriedly as he lets out a wheeze and she purposely slows down to stay next to him. He waves her off as if to say I’m fine and continues to run, which is another bad idea, but he just wants to be normal and run laps like everyone else. 

Their gym teacher stands off to the side, marking down everyone’s lap times as they complete another lap, and Percy doesn’t miss the way he watches him carefully as he runs a fourth lap. He hates it. He doesn’t want his pity, or anyone’s. 

Percy focused his gaze back in front of him, blinking as if that will give him his vision back. He breathes heavily and feels the dark hole in his chest start to expand. He knows what’s coming, he knows he’s about to have a panic attack, but he needs to get out of here before anyone sees. He wheezes again as he and Annabeth start their fifth lap, and she asks him something, pointing towards their water bottles sitting on the bleachers, but her voice sounds underwater. 

Underwater.

His vision blacks out completely and he blindly stumbles around the track. The pitch black around him slowly fades into a deep blue, white bubbles surrounding him, and his breath hitches in his chest when he realizes where he is. There’s a cold sting against his skin and he suddenly feels a heavy wave crash above his head, sending him splashing down onto the sandy bottom. 

“Percy?” someone yells frantically. 

He looks around in the large body of water but doesn’t see the source of the voice. The saltwater stings his eyes which is unusual and he looks up towards the surface, and cries out when he sees it getting farther and farther away from him. He’s not floating. He’s sinking. Usually this wouldn’t be a problem being the son of Poseidon, but when he takes in a deep breath, nothing but water fills his lungs. He’s drowning.

“Help!” He shouts, thrashing his arms around wildly, trying to reach the surface. “I’m drowning!” 

“You’re not in the pool, Jackson,” he hears his gym teacher deadpan, but he doesn’t see him. 

Another wave crashes down. He makes a worrying choking noise as he swallows more water, and he tries clawing at his throat. More water enters his lungs. He tries coming in touch with his powers but they don’t seem to be working at the moment, and that only makes him freak out more. He waves his arms around and tries to swim to the top but then there’s chain shackles around his ankles, symbolizing the emotions he’s been bottling up, and they tug him towards the bottom. He cries out, wheezing, and thrashes towards the surface- wait. Wheezes? Why- why is he wheezing underwater? Shouldn’t… shouldn’t he be choking?

“Help. I don’t want to drown,” he wheezes weakly and his vision begins to clear. 

“You’re okay,” a familiar voice whispers, “you’re in the gym.” 

The bright lights of the school gym are the first things he sees when he comes back into contact with the real world, and he wants them turned off. He’s still gasping for air as he turns his head, looking straight into Annabeth’s tearful grey eyes, and he looks away guilty, only to be overwhelmed by the amount of people looking down at him in pity. This is exactly what he’s been trying to avoid for so long- hurting people he cares about and people pitying him. He doesn’t want their pity. All he wants his people to look at him like he’s normal. Is that so much to ask?

Their gym teacher tries asking him what happened, but Percy darts for the doors before he can finish the question. Behind him, Annabeth all but screams at their teacher not to call anyone when he pulls out his phone to probably call an ambulance before running after him, but he’s faster. His chest burns with every step he takes and he barrels through the double doors of the gym, flying out into the hallway, and he searches for a nearby bathroom or somewhere he can deal with this panic attack without anyone watching. 

The first bathroom he comes across is locked. Why the hell is a bathroom locked during school hours? He sobs in frustration and continues down the hallway. He  tries to keep himself from shaking too badly as he runs to the first place he can think of. His wheezes and sobs fill the empty hallway and  teachers pop out of their classrooms, immediately trying to come to Percy’s aid, but Annabeth shouts at them to back off and give him space. 

He clutches at his chest, tugging his sweater away from his skin, and let’s out another wheeze. 

“Percy, stop!” Annabeth shouts, still running after him. “I have your inhaler! Stop!”

Her words only make him move faster. He doesn’t want to stop. He doesn’t want that stupid inhaler. He doesn’t want anyone to wipe his tears. What he wants is someone to just sit there with him and allow him to deal with this on his own without trying to help. 

He turns a corner and stumbles to a stop in front of his stepdad’s classroom. His vision is starting to go in and out again as he bursts through the door, lightheaded and unable to breathe. His stepfather takes one look at him before shooting out of his chair and asking what’s wrong. The students working silently at their desks look over at him, but Percy doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t care about anything anymore. He just wants to be a normal teenage boy who doesn’t have panic attacks or feels sad and angry all the time. 

“Paul!” he shouts in fear. “Paul, help! I- I can’t breathe!” 

He’s hysterical and Annabeth’s still calling after him to stop and breathe, but he doesn’t listen. Her voice sounds underwater, but he still feels underwater. He steps into the classroom and Paul orders all his students out into the hallway as he collapses against the wall. He squeezes his eyes shut as his vision goes black, waiting for the waves to crash. He wraps his arms around his knees, hugging them to his chest when the first one crashes overhead, and he tries to breathe but nothing but water enters his lungs. 

Once the waves stop crashing, Percy wills himself back to the classroom. Through his tears, he can make out Paul shouting at his stubborn gym teacher to get out (“I’m his teacher!” “Yeah, well, I’m his stepdad and I’m telling you to step out into the hallway like everyone else and please give him some space”) as Annabeth watches him from across the room, a hand covering her mouth to keep her own emotions at bay. 

“Help,” he croaks through frantic breaths of air, and Annabeth falls to her knees in front of him, slipping her hands into his and squeezing once, then twice. 

“Hey, breathe. Percy, you need to breathe,” she coaxed gently. “I have your inhaler and some water, but you need to try and breathe with me first, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“I don’t want to drown,” he cries. 

“You’re not drowning,” she reassures him gently and carefully unzippers the front of his sweater so he can feel the cool air against his overheating skin. “Just breathe. Breathe. In and out.”

He tries following her breathing exercises Will apparently taught her, but then another wave comes down above his head and he falls back a little from the nonexistent impact. “I’m drawing!” he gasps.

Annabeth’s frown deepens and she tightens her hold on his shaking hands. “You’re not drowning. I promise. You’re here, with me. In Paul’s classroom. Please, Percy. Just breathe.”

And he tries, he really does. But when Paul announces to Annabeth that one of the teachers that saw him hyperventilating in the hallway had called an ambulance, he starts to freak out. He might be starting to understand he needs people to help him fight his PTSD and depression, but from his friends and family, not the paramedics! He doesn’t want to be sent to a mental hospital!

“No! No! I don’t need help from them! I’m fine!”

Annabeth reaches out and wipes his tears away with her thumbs, but he pushes her away. “You’re not fine, Percy,” she says, her voice cracking. 

Percy cries and grabs at his hair. He’s trapped within the walls of his own mind where waves of negative emotions lap over him, drowning him. He’s losing himself to his own mind, and Percy decides he doesn’t want to die anymore. He only wants to start living again without fear and sadness and anger. He wants this to be over. He wants these feelings to go away. He wants to stop being the raincloud that ruins the sunshine. He wants to take steps forward like his friends. He doesn’t want to go backwards anymore. He wants to break free of these chains weighing him down and start living his life. He doesn’t want to die anymore. 

He won't let the waves knock him down every he he tries swimming back to the surface. Not anymore. And if that means confiding in someone about it, so be it. He's exhausted and he wants it to stop.

But first, he has to get out of this.

Annabeth grabs his hands and tries to loosen them from his hair, but he only tightens his grip. “Percy, please. Can you let go? Your mom is on her way. Please just breathe. I promise you’re not drowning. In and out, follow me. In and out.”

“I-I think I just need a hug,” he murmurs after his breathing is somewhat under control. His lungs still kind of sting but at least he isn’t hyperventilating anymore. And he’s starting to get the feeling back in his hands after he’d lost it due to lack of oxygen. 

“Yeah, of course,” she responds just as quietly. He lowers his legs from his chest so she can wrap her arms around his middle. His fingers dig into her back as he holds onto her like she’s his life line, and in a way she kind of is. She’d been the one to pull him back to reality during his dip in the river styx a couple years ago, and now the person to coax him out of his panic attack. Her stutters out another breath and buries his face in her neck, breathing in her lemon scent. 

Percy swallows thickly. “Thank you.” 

She pulls back, keeping her arms around him. “You don’t have to thank me for this.” 

“Yeah, I do.” 

“You’ve done it for me a million times.” 

“Yeah, but-” he’s cut off by the door to the classroom creaking open. Annabeth slides off him as a couple paramedics stroll in with a handful of equipment, and his mom trails behind them with little Estelle cradled in her arms. He stiffens when one of the paramedics kneels down in front of him slowly, but Annabeth holds his hand which helps him to relax. 

“Can you explain to me what happened, please?” the paramedic asks kindly. 

He recoils a bit, and Annabeth squeezes his hand. “Um… I- I have a fear of drowning,” he starts, leaving out the whole son of Poseidon thing and that he’s fought in two wars, and the paramedic nods for him to continue, “and I started to get really winded during gym class since we were running laps, and I guess that triggered the panic attack.”

The paramedic nods. “Okay, and what did you see?” 

“I was underwater. And everytime I got close to the surface, a wave would knock me down.”

“Were you drowning?” 

Percy’s hand starts to shake in Annabeth’s. “Can we- can we not talk about it?” 

“It’s good to talk about it,” she insists. 

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Percy says a little more harshly. 

The paramedic sighs but drops it. “How long has this been going on?” 

He glances nervously at his family. “Seven months.” 

Annabeth’s hand tightens around his but she doesn’t say anything. 

“Okay, and have you been seeing anyone? A therapist? A psychologist?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Sweetie-”

“Can I just go home?” he asks, exasperated, and there’s tears welling in his eyes. He doesn’t want to talk about it to a complete stranger, and definitely not right after it occurred. He can’t promise he won’t get sucked right back into it if he explains in full detail. 

The paramedic just stands back up. “Okay, but I suggest resting for a couple days. And maybe seeing a therapist,” she says before grabbing her stuff, along with the other paramedic who just stood there silently, and exiting the room. 

Annabeth helps Percy stand up, keeping an arm securely wrapped around his waist as his knees wobble. They walk slowly over to where his parents are huddled near Paul’s desk, and his mom hands Estelle before throwing her arms around Percy in a tight hug. He hugs her back just a little lighter, and smiles at the warmth she brings. 

------

He’s back in the comfort of his living room, a warm blanket thrown over his legs, and Annabeth pressed into his side as they watch a movie Paul put in, and he’s even eating a couple of saltine crackers. Well, his mom made him after hearing about him throwing out his food. It’s been a few hours since they’d arrived home from the school, and once he’d felt ready to talk about it, he sat down and opened up. He told his parents and Annabeth how he’s felt used by the gods since the age of twelve. He told them about how he wishes they never asked him to do their bidding, and how Tartarus had affected his every life. 

A couple tears had been shed, mostly on his mom’s part. She apologized multiple times and admitted she noticed his physical appearance changing, but just assumed it was because of the nightmares. Annabeth confirmed she knew something was wrong a couple months after escaping from Tartarus and was helping him without him even realizing it. But now that he thinks back on her holding his hand whenever his shoulders dropped, or pressing a soft kiss to his lips when he’d stutter out a breath, or even just checking on him throughout the day, she was, indeed, helping him without even bringing anything up, and he loves her for it. 

Near the end, when he was explaining why his panic attack had been about drowing, Paul got up from his seat and wrapped his stepson in a hug. Percy nearly burst into tears right then and there, but managed to hold them back as he hugged his stepdad tight. After he was finished and bone tired from being so open with his emotions, Annabeth had gone to Iris' message Will to set up a counseling appointment for him. 

After the tissues his mom used to wipe her tears were thrown away and she gave Percy her fair share of hugs and kisses, he and Annabeth settled onto the couch to watch a movie with Paul. 

He wraps an arm around her shoulder once he’s finished with the crackers and tugs her closer against his side. She nestles her head beneath his chin, but tilts up just a bit to plant a kiss along the underside of his jaw, and he presses one to the top of her blonde curls in return.

“Thank you, again,” he says softly.

She glances up at him. “Please, don’t thank me for that. I care for and love you. I won’t hesitate to help you, Percy. If anything, thank you for deciding to talk to us.”

“I love you,” he whispers, searching her face for nothing in particular. 

“I love you too,” she says and gives him a quick peck on the lips, even though his stepdad is sitting a couple feet away from them, but if he noticed, he didn’t say anything. She snuggles back up against him and eventually ends up sitting with her head in his lap, and he runs his fingers through her blonde curls, gently working his way through every tangle he comes across. When her eyelids flutter close and her breathing evens out, he leans down to kiss her forehead. 

The PTSD and sadness may never leave him, but he’ll continue to live, because there is so much to live for. 

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Okay, I really hope that wasn't OOC. Personally, I do think he'd be this affected by everything he went through. We already see throughout PJO that he already struggles from mild depression, so add PTSD on top of that. I also think he wouldn't want to tell anyone about it and try to deal with it himself, because he puts others before himself. So yeah, he'd defintely not want people to help them, until he gets into a situation where he needs help.

And I hope I didn't make it seem like Sally and Annabeth were ignoring the signs, such as his loss of wieght, appetite, and the circles under his eyes. It just wasn't mentioned in the story, but they did ask him about it, but he always turned them away, and Annabeth did help him through nightmares.

Really, I've just been reading too much Ao3.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

Goodness, it's one o'clock in the morning and I have finals tomorrow.