#despression

Percy's heart clenched, a dull ache spreading through his chest. He recognized the haunted look in your eyes, having seen it reflected in his own mirror countless times. Each flinch, each hesitant movement you made, sent a jolt of empathy through him.

Hours later, as you sat at the table surrounded by friends, you felt an intense isolation. The sounds of laughter and clinking utensils faded into a distant hum, leaving you feeling detached. Your fork hovered above your plate, trembling slightly before you set it down, the food remaining untouched.

When you abruptly stood, your chair scraping against the floor, a hush fell over the room. The best you could do was mumble a stupid excuse before leaving behind a group of concerned glances.

Later that night, Percy's footsteps echoed down the hallway as he approached your door. He raised his hand to knock but hesitated when he heard the muffled sounds of distress from within. Instead, he rapped out a familiar pattern on the door—three quick taps followed by two slow ones.

The door creaked open, revealing your disheveled form. Your hair stood on end, dark circles etched beneath your eyes. The room behind you was in disarray – blankets twisted on the floor, books scattered, and a sense of anxiety lingering in the air.

"Hey…" Percy’s voice was barely above a whisper, his eyes scanning your face and noticing how you hugged yourself tightly, as if trying to hold yourself together—or maybe you were just cold. Without a word, he slipped off his hoodie and handed it to you, offering a silent gesture of comfort and warmth.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words emerged. Your gaze fell to the floor, and your shoulders hunched inward, as if trying to shrink away from the weight of your emotions.

Percy glanced past you, taking in the chaos of the room, before extending his hand toward you, careful not to touch. “Can I?” he asked softly, his gesture conveying a silent request as he held out the jacket, ready to cover you with it.

Y You nodded, a barely perceptible movement, and followed him as he draped his hoodie over you. The cool air that had once sent shivers down your arms now seemed to dull in its effect. Walking through the hall was a welcome change from the confinement of your room, offering a brief escape from the suffocating atmosphere.

Percy watched as you leaned against the ship's railing, your fingers gripping the weathered wood so tightly that your knuckles turned white. The moonlight bathed your face in a ghostly glow, casting shadows that accentuated the hollows beneath your cheekbones and the dark circles under your eyes.

It was a stark reminder of the weight you carried. The effort you put into keeping it all together only seemed to deepen the strain, revealing that your attempts to hold everything in were, in fact, making it all the harder to bear.

"Talk to me," he urged softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes searched yours with an intensity born from desperation, as if trying to bridge the distance between your pain and his understanding.

You didn’t move, your gaze fixed on the dark waters below. The gentle lapping of waves against the hull filled the silence between you.

Percy inched closer, the proximity allowing him to feel the tension radiating from your body without quite touching. "I'm here," he whispered, his gaze locked on you with unwavering focus. "Whatever you need, just tell me."

A shuddering breath escaped you, your shoulders trembling with the effort of holding yourself together. When you finally spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper. "Every time I close my eyes…” you looked up to his green eyes piercing your own, his expression gave you the confidence to continue, even if your voice came out shaken. “I'm back there."

Percy's heart clenched. He knew all too well about the nightmares, but couldn’t imagine what plagued your mind every time you tried to rest. Thing things he could imagine you’ve seen...

You turned to face him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I don’t know how to do it. How to keep going."

Percy swallowed hard, searching for the right words. "One day at a time," he said finally. He had his share of what you were experiencing. "Even if it’s one hour at a time, it’s still progress. And especially remember you’re not alone."

You felt a tear slide down your cheek. Without thinking, Percy reached out and gently wiped it away with his thumb. He felt you tense up for a second, until you leaned into his touch, craving the warmth and comfort of human contact.

"I'm so tired," you whispered, your voice cracking.

Percy nodded, his expression softening with the kind of understanding that came from knowing deep pain. "I get it," he said, his voice steady but gentle. "I know you’re exhausted.

He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "But you’re here. You made it out, and that’s huge. It might not feel like it now, but things will get better. I promise you, they will. You’re stronger than you think, and this—everything you’re going through right now—this is just part of the healing. I know it’s tough, but you’re not alone. I’m here with you, every step of the way.”

You didn't respond, but you didn't pull away. Together, you stood in silence, watching the stars reflect on the dark water. The night was cold, but Percy's presence beside you offered a small warmth, a tiny spark of hope in the darkness that had become your world in so little time.

As the first light of dawn began to paint the sky, you felt something shift inside you. It wasn't happiness, not yet. But for the first time since your return, you felt a flicker of possibility. Maybe, just maybe, you could find your way back to yourself.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

( part 2 soon )

masterlist -> for more like this

Your silence was odd.

Not bad. Just odd.

To Saitama, nothing you presented was bad. Your loudness, your quietness, he loved it all. Of course he woud, why else would he be with you?

He loved you like he had loved no one before. You snuff out the utter boredom he constantly feels with the few moments you're by his side. You make him happy. As happy as he could be, at least. 

You've done so much for him, but he can't do the same.

The numbness in him still muffles the emotions-- the words and actions he wants to potray. On occasions, it frustrates him. But you never complained about his lack of reciprocation, you just smiled and gripped onto his hand tighter, leaning further into his arm.

So he lets it go. He doesn't like when things bother him too much, and if it doesn't upset you, why should he worry about it? He can still make you happy, even without grand gestures. Maybe.

Yet as his hands move mechanically to chop the vegtables, his mind drifts to his apprentacse's words from earlier that day. 

Genos, ever the observent, commented on your unfamiliar change in demeanor around Saitama, and the dejected look that befell your features more often. Saitama thought maybe genos was overreacting, and had mistook your tiredness for gloominess. He didn't notice anything strange about your expression.

But now he sees it. That distant look in your eyes whilst you pulled out the dishes from your cabinet, it was so different from your serene expression you used to hold when he's around. How could he not notice? When had it changed? Had it always been like that?

He also noticed the faint disappointement in your gaze when you opened your door to let him in, and he apologized for being late once again. Had you always looked this upset when he was late?

And when you planted a peck on his cheek then glanced at him with yearning eyes, which he returned with a soft smile like he always did. Had your gaze always held that desperate longing? Now that he had noticed it, why didn't he push himself to do more?

He coudln't figure out what was wrong with him. He wanted to do more. He wanted to initiate more, but it was so hard. He didn't understand why this constant heaviness always kept his arms rooted to his sides until you had pushed to move them. Or the weight in his throat that prevented him from telling you more than those simple words he offered.

You probably didn't know how much he thought of you. How much he appreciated you and cherished you. Who could blame you, though? When he made such feeble efforts to relay it all.

'I really do suck.'

He tried to put more effort this time. To hold your hand more. To tell you he missed you. 

Now he noticed the brightness in your features as he did. But he was barely doing anything, why were you so happy about those small gestures? Was he really depriving you from the affection you deserved to that extent?

Next time. Next time he'd do more. Next time he will treat you better. Next time he'll be early. Next time he'll make you happy. No matter how hard the shackles on his ankles tried to drag him down.

As he stood at the doorway, he didn't pull away from your embrace this time. He allowed you to hold him for as long as you liked, hoping that maybe this small gesture could covey how hard he truly was trying. 

He noticed the deep, comforting sigh you expelled as you pressed your face into him. 

This hug lasted longer than he expected.

"I..."

'I'm sorry. I'll do better.'