Percy Jackson Fanfics

it's always darkest before the dawn

Title: it’s always darkest before the dawn
Author: brickandbone
Site: Archive of Our Own
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29329428

TW for suicidal thoughts, depression, panic attacks, and (failed) suicide attempt.

Song is “Brother” by Gerard Way

_______________

Does anyone have the time to bring me down?

And can I sleep

All night long

To the drums of the city rain?

Illuminated by the streetlights below, the raindrops on the windowpane cast dancing shadows on his bedroom wall. Percy lay awake, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on his bedroom ceiling. The only sound he could hear was his breathing over the rain and the faint buzz of traffic outside. It was very late, and yet he lay awake, unable (or unwilling?) to let himself into Morpheus’s realm. Dreams were scarce and when the nightmares came, they came with a vengeance. He sighed. Percy wanted to check the time, maybe just to see how long he could last without sleep, but he couldn’t be bothered to get up to look at the clock. To be honest, he couldn’t be bothered to do a lot of things these days. Like removing the glow-in-the-dark stars his pre-pubescent self stuck on the ceiling.

It reminded him of too much—of what he’d lost, and what he’d never had in the first place.

Just make it up

‘Cause I’m awake

All night long

To the drums of the city rain

It was only a few days after the war. The scars were still fresh, and Percy was flitting back and forth between camp and his mom’s apartment. Gods, how he wanted to rest, even for a little while, but no. There were so many things to do - shrouds to burn, people to console, cabins to build. Wounds to heal. The flames burnt low at the campfires, perfectly reflecting Percy’s and the campers’ emotions. A cloud constantly hovered over their heads, filled with the unspoken - are you okay? Everybody seemed to be dodging the question, reluctant to face what had happened. Especially Percy. Lately people had been walking on eggshells around him and he didn’t know if he was grateful for it or hated it. It gave him an excuse to play pretend, to stay strong, after all.

For a moment, however brief, Percy could delude himself into thinking that everything was alright.

Percy shifted in his sheets, and prepared for yet another sleepless night. He turned away from the stars and from the weight of their gaze.

And brother if you have the chance to pick me up?

And can I sleep

On your couch

To the pound of the ache and pain?

He stared hollowly at the wall. The pain was a dull ache, a throbbing at his temples. Barely noticeable, Percy thought. How long was it since he had slept? His eyes felt dry, his throat was sore, and he had a mild headache, but otherwise, Percy was fine. He should’ve hurt more, felt more. Instead he felt numb. It wasn’t fair. How dare he be able to live without the guilt consuming him? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that they died, and he lived. They didn’t deserve death. No one did.