Odyssues did not like being on a ship again. The gentle swaying of the deck under him made him feel uneasy. The sea was calm, and the King of Ithaca didn't want to think about how he'd feel if the got into a storm.
He didn't even know why he agreed to this. Maybe it was guilt. After missing twenty years of his son's life, Odysseus couldn't say no to him.
Telemachus proposed the idea that they should visit the kings Odyssues went to war with. He said they all mourned his "death." And Odysseus agreed.
The problem was that, to do that, he had to get on a ship. Cross the sea again.
And so here he was, the king of Ithaca, gripping the railing of his ship so hard that his knuckles turned white. His breathing was getting more and more ragged and quick. He felt sick to his stomach. The sea was calm, and yet he felt like he was caught in a storm again.
While he was so focused on trying to calm himself down, he didn't notice you approach him. When you gently touched his shoulder, he whipped around, with a started expression, his heart rate quickening. When he ralized it was just you, he shook his head, feeling pathetic.
“I'm sorry,” he grumbled. “Didn't see you coming.” He took another deep breath. “I'm okay. You don't need to worry,” he added, though you weren't sure who he was trying to convince: you, or himself.