Who: Percy + Wilson What: Talking about Things. When: Monday 9/9 Where: Their place Rating: PG-13. Trigger Warnings: Reference to mental illnesses. Status: Complete.
Most days lately had been good. Better than good, if he had to admit it. Percy hadn't had a really bad day for what felt like months now. Sure, he had his moments: hours of sulking for absolutely no reason, or pressing himself into the corner of the couch in the study and keeping his nose in a book just because he didn't care to speak, or just days where all he could think to do was clean the kitchen or the bathroom because bleach on his hands was the best distraction one could ever really have.
But he hadn't been bad, not really.
Today kind of felt bad. He hadn't even wanted to go to work, and that seemed unnatural at this point, strange. Percy felt oddly guilty over it, even as he did all his paperwork with a lethargic sort of effort before going home. He didn't even bother staying late. He always stayed late.
Of course he couldn't really pinpoint what was wrong: how could he? There wasn't anything wrong. He'd been a little weirded out by his talk with Audrey the other day, but that didn't seem quite big enough for all this stupid gloom.
The gloom which only put him off more. It was frustrating. Beyond it.
He decided almost absently upon walking into the house that today should probably be one of those days where he just stared at a book for the rest of the night.
Wilson had noticed that Percy was having a depressive episode. He didn’t want to put too fine a point on it, didn’t want to nag or be obtrusive. He just wanted to be the force that was there in the background, there if Percy wanted him.
But when he saw Percy walk into the house that night, Wilson’s heart sank. “Hey,” he murmured, quieter than normal. “You look like hell.”
Percy offered an expression that was half a grimace, half apologetic before removing his suit coat and almost lazily dropping his briefcase into the closet. Even now, he wasn't so distracted where he didn't offer Wilson a small kiss and a hug in greeting. "I'm tired," he said, into the curve of Wilson's neck, and that wasn't exactly a lie.
“I know,” Wilson smiled sadly. He stroked Percy’s hair, biting his lower lip. “You have been for a while, huh.”
"Maybe," Percy murmured, taking comfort in the way his cheek felt against the fabric of Wilson's shirt, and closing his eyes. "I don't know." Sometimes it was hard to keep track of these things, whether one day was just out of sorts, or if it was a slow downward slope of feeling awful for no reason and then feeling awful about feeling awful for no reason.
“Percy? I know you’re going to get upset at me for asking this, but ... does depression run in your family?” Wilson immediately closed his eyes, knowing that Percy would pull away, that he’d look hurt.
He did react nearly exactly as Wilson assumed -- pulling away enough to offer a wary expression that he was clearly trying to make more carefully blank than anything else. He wasn't upset so much as… well, he wasn't sure, he supposed. Maybe it was upset. "Not that I'm aware of."
Percy wanted to change the subject, suddenly very concerned about where this was going, but couldn't seem to think of anything else to say.
“If you want. And only if you want. I can prescribe you a low dose anti-depressant. It’s not anything that you’d notice, but it’s ... you don’t have to live like this.” Wilson swallowed hard. “I don’t.” He wondered if Percy had noticed the little white pill that Wilson took every night. He’d always fibbed before, but he was about to be out into the open.
Suddenly anxious, the redhead glanced away, and made a half hearted effort to make it seem like he was just adjusting his glasses. "There's nothing --" he paused, zeroed in slowly on the part of the conversation that was not about him, because he absolutely needed to right now. "What?"
“I’ve been on antidepressants since... hell, med school?” Wilson winced, running his fingers through his dark hair, sending it fluffing out in all directions. “It runs in my family. That and schizophrenia.” He ran a thumb over Percy’s cheekbone, knowing it was probably easier for Percy to talk about Wilson than for Percy to talk about Percy.
"Your brother," Percy offered, noting his understanding of the subject -- they'd spoken of it before. Percy remembered because it had been a topic that had both saddened and scared him. Instinctively, he leaned a little into the touch, closing his eyes like maybe if he didn't focus he wouldn't be able to see the lines that Wilson was clearly trying to draw with this conversation. "I didn't know. That you -- did that."
“Yeah. It doesn’t make things magically better, but it makes where I can actually cope with them instead of just ... crawling into bed and pulling the covers over my head and sleeping for twenty hours at a time.” Wilson ran his fingers through Percy’s hair. “Nothing’s wrong with me, I just have a hormonal deficiency. That’s all depression really is. Some of it can be talked through - like if someone I loved died suddenly. But I’ve had this every day since I was a kid. It’s why I’m good at making people laugh. I never wanted anyone to notice.”
And Percy hadn't noticed. He felt strangely awful about that; like maybe he should have and he was possibly the worst boyfriend on the planet for being so blatantly oblivious. Maybe he was. "Oh," he said, mildly, and then chewed on the inside of his cheek just to have a reason not to say anything else for a moment.
"I'm sorry."
“Nothing to be sorry for. Honestly, I’m fine most of the time.” Wilson chuckled to himself, kissing Percy on the forehead. “And when I’m not, it’s for the reasons that make sense - when I lose a patient or whatnot.” He closed his eyes, letting his chin rest on the top of Percy’s head. “When you’re upset.”
If anything, Percy just looked more upset over that -- and couldn't even find it in himself to be glad that Wilson couldn't see, just based on their positioning. His fingers slipped onto James' waist, his spot, and he closed his eyes too.
"I'm -- James. I'm just tired." But they both knew that wasn't the case, and this conversation had run the exact circle Wilson had meant it to. Percy felt strangely resentful of it, and knew it was awful of him.
“I know. That bone tired - that I know. Come on. I made dinner.” Wilson had, and he didn’t want to chide Percy to get help if the other man wasn’t ready to. He figured he’d just present him with the option, and if he wasn’t okay with it, he’d live with Percy while upset. He loved Percy; depression wasn’t going to do anything for them but maybe make them nap together more.
Percy nodded, loosened his tie a little and followed silently into the kitchen. He wasn't sure what to say, and so he didn't say anything at all. He sat at the table, thought about thanking Wilson for making dinner, but ended up just chewing on his bottom lip instead.
It was a childish thought to just want to go into the office and hide in solitary silence, and so he refused to do it, instead sitting up a little straighter in his seat and removing his glasses. It felt like there was an elephant in the room now, and he wasn't sure how to speak about it.
Wilson just smiled, leaning forward when he was done and kissing Percy lightly. “I’m going to go read in bed. If you want to join me, feel free, but no pressure.” Wilson really did feel a bit exhausted, if only because he’d had to tell two patients they didn’t have very good chances for living through Christmas.
"Okay." Percy was certain that he was being shitty about all this, but wasn't sure how to deal with it. Instead of contemplating on it further, he took the time to clean the kitchen and the dishes a little when Wilson had headed off to the bedroom.
There wasn't much to clean though, considering how neat the two of them usually were, and so he sighed to himself, went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth. He really took a moment to consider the medicine cabinet, that little bottle of pills that he'd otherwise ignored his whole time living with Wilson (how was he so unobservant? Really?), and then closed the cabinet again.
It was still early, he realized, but it didn't stop him crawling into bed next to Wilson a minute later. "I'm sorry."
Wilson smiled, putting a mark in his book and setting it aside. He turned to wrap his arms around Percy, and shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Percy. You really don’t. I love you more than anyone else in this entire, stupid world, regardless of what you’re going through. I’m always going to be here. Period.” He was a stubborn old man, and he’d decided that he was going to stay with Percy until one of them died.
Sighing out a huff of breath, Percy gave a weird little laugh and pressed himself closer to his fiancé until he was able to rest his cheek on Wilson's chest and close his eyes. "I know," he said, and it came out thready, strangled. "I do, and I'm glad. I am. I should be happier, shouldn't I?" It was a stupid question, he knew he should have been, his life was going spectacularly well and here he was acting like it wasn't at all. Ridiculous.
Shaking his head, Wilson ran his fingers through Percy’s hair. “Don’t think about ‘should’ in terms of emotions. You feel what you feel, and nothing can change that. If you’re sad or not happy, you’re sad and not happy. And we have to find a way to help that. We. You and me, together.” Wilson sniffled a little, letting his cheek rest on the top of Percy’s head. “Don’t feel guilty for having feelings. Don’t ever.”
That nearly literally went against everything he knew about existing, but Percy felt a little silly saying so, so just didn't. But he felt like he should feel something different, and was often guilty that he didn't. Perhaps it was some sort of self fulfilling prophecy of moroseness. That had a nice, poetic ring to it. Not that he really liked poetry.
"Please don't stop," he said of the hair petting, and then was silent for a long moment afterward. He curled his fingers into the sheets and sighed. "I just want-- I don't know."
“I won’t,” Wilson murmured, fingers still in Percy’s hair. He hummed quietly to himself, his voice a quiet tenor, seldom used but still serviceable. He really did hope Percy would take his advice, but wasn’t going to press the issue. “What did you do at work?”
He wanted to, nearly. But it seemed so strange and difficult a concept. What if it didn't work? It was unfair to think that taking something wasn't normal, wasn't something he should have to do -- especially after Wilson himself admitted to needing the same thing. It was -- a hypocritical thought that he didn't want to entertain. Yet it was still sort of there.
"What? Oh. Paperwork for a closing and settlement. It's... boring."
“Mmm. Sometimes I think we all need a bit of boring at work, if only because constant excitement is so draining.” Wilson secretly loved paperwork, something he hoped would never ever get out.
Normally Percy liked paperwork too; it took a special sort to enjoy it, but the order tended to work for him. "Draining, yes. Talking to people sometimes does that." He wasn't even sure he was paying attention anymore, half asleep and taking comfort in the fingers in his hair. "I'm tired," he repeated.
“I know,” Wilson murmured. He sounded scared, but he wanted Percy to fall asleep. That seemed like it would at least be a mercy. “I know, baby, and I’m sorry.”
"Not your fault, don't be." Although Percy supposed vaguely that it was more empathizing than it was apologizing. He tucked himself closer to Wilson, cheek pressed tightly to his chest, closed his eyes and waited for sleep. Who cared if he was still wearing a button up and a tie?
His fiancé did. “Here.” Wilson undid Percy’s tie with careful surgeon’s hands, trying to make him comfortable. He knew that it wasn’t his fault, and he didn’t comment on Percy telling him it wasn’t.
"Thanks." Percy knew there was no point in feeling agitated over Wilson's helpfulness, and so just didn't, instead moving just enough to discard the rest of his clothing with slow hands and help before curling back into the blankets and warmth there. Then he slept.
Wilson watched for a few moments, smiling and kissing Percy gently before turning the light off and curling around his fiancé. It didn’t take long before he slept as well.