A/N - Might be a little OOC but I thought Percy could be angsty just for a bit :)
Disclaimer - I don't own Rick Riordan's creations, just borrowed them for a bit.
Sleep had become an illusive dream to Percy Jackson, he'd barely had a few hours over the past few days. It was a weird change from when the Achilles curse was dragging him to exhaustion throughout the day. Maybe this was normal, he must've gotten so used to napping every few hours that this seemed unusual.
The raging visions of Tartarus told him otherwise.
They attacked him randomly, a crowded path, alone in the apartment, in class at school, anywhere really. Unable to breath, his vision would turn to those of hells fire, gruelling monsters and painful torture. A glass of water would taste like the blistering pain of fire and the cold breeze would feel humid and stuffy. Barely anything could bring him back except himself, sometimes the soothing voice of his mother or the soft touch of Annabeth would help him recover but even that could be mistaken for Kellie's deadly talons or screams of agony.
Percy had become scarily good at hiding them until he could find solitude, even though being alone could make them even worse, it was still better than people seeming him like that. Most thought he was fine, the Stolls would still prank him and he would prank back, Clarisse would still antagonise him and he would spit something stupid back, Annabeth and him still argued and went on dates and argued some more like nothing had ever happened.
Everyone acted like nothing had ever happened.
But it had happened. Annabeth and him had fallen down into the pits of Tartarus, Nico had trekked through that same hell as them and all three had come back worse for wear. Annabeth hated being alone, Nico was even more closed of than usual and Percy, Percy was a lot of things. Maybe it was because everyone just expected him to be ok which made him hide that he wasn't. No one knew that he basically couldn't live without the sleeping pills he'd been prescribed by mortal doctors. No one knew that sometimes when he fought a stray hellhound that he wondered if dieing there and then was what he deserved. No one knew that all he felt was boiling hot rage at the gods for being unable to solve any stupid conflicts themselves or his crumbling feeling of self hatred for being unable to protect anyone properly.
No one knew how terrified he was of himself.
Because he knew he was heading down the stereotypical good guy goes bad route. Anger at the people who are supposed to be on your side, low self esteem, almost killing someone horrifically with their own poison. It was amazing no one had locked him up just to be safe. He wouldn't mind someone locking him up, it meant he wouldn't have to keep up this fake front for everyone else. A fake smile here, a hollow laugh there maybe that's all his life is meant to be from now on and he'll turn into some empty shell that isn't even himself in the end. He doesn't know who he is anymore, little more than a reflection of people's expectations.
People saw what they wanted to see in him and who was he to change that.
People saw an indestructible hero who refuses to die and defeats anything that threatens his friends and family. People saw undying loyalty and love for life and the people in it. But people didn't see Percy, they didn't see what the trials and failures and successes did to him, to his mental state. His mum tried to understand, to help him with doctors appointments built on lies about kidnapping and accidents and he was grateful for that, but sometimes it felt demeaning to have people who didn't understand telling him they understood.
Annabeth understood.
Annabeth was basically his saving grace, they went on dates to the movies or to restaurants; played the parts of an average teenage couple and loved each other like an old married couple. Sometimes they would stay in, order pizza or Chinese or anything edible and watch some movie that could be shit or alright, maybe some trash TV and then when his parents are out Annabeth would stay over or if they were in, he would chum her to her dorm. Really it didn't matter what they would do, Percy didn't mind as long as she was there with him, it was a distraction from the mess that was in his own mind. She seemed to be the only one who could keep him away from that.
So Percy fought on, he got up every morning and if he felt particularly on edge he would throw on some shorts and a t shirt and run until he felt absolutely exhausted, unable to process any bad thoughts. Then he would shower, eat breakfast and either go to school (Last year! Thank gods…) or work at his Saturday job down at the café a street away from Goode, dealing with Aaron; his middle aged I-hate-everything-that-breaths boss who likes to make Percy aware of every painstaking flaw in his personality and life. Afterwards he would see Annabeth or have dinner with his mum and Paul, tired from work and sore from his runs. Usually he would go out for a walk in the evenings, taking in the beauty of everyone around him barely knowing who he was and not wanting anything from him, strangers who were a lot more help than the realised. Finally he would flop down in bed, worn thin and begging to be released from his conscious mind but scared of the nightmares that haunted him. So he would swallow a few pills if he couldn't shut of and pray that things will get better tomorrow.
Pray that time will heal him and in the end, he will be the person everyone else sees him to be.
Be the person he wishes he could be.
Or maybe just be a person again.