Peter rather thinks that it's Jason that looks to be illumined by divinity. The looming twilight is being staved off by sharp, direct rays through the slit of the tacky dormitory blinds, and it casts this disc of light that touches only Jason's jaw, lips and the line made by his collarbones; it's like a spotlight on the parts Peter wants to put his mouth on at any moment of any day. He's all about his lips, though. As enticing as those other parts are, he wants the part that can kiss him back, justify his presence, answer the questions that keep him up so many nights.
And then that smile, wide and full. And it's for him, that's the astounding part. He's searching his memory for a time he might've seen that smile of Jason's out on the field of one of the various sports he's tried to drown his feelings in, or that one time that they took a drama class together and Peter caught Jason enjoying himself, or after one of his numerous meritorious achievements at school. Nope. Nothing that could even come close to the brilliance of that particular smile. His smile.
Jason's voice admitting his forethought snaps Peter out of his trance and he lifts his eyes to his lover's face once again. There, he sees a stark truth that he doesn't often get to see from Jason, even in their stolen moments. He looks like he's been aching, Peter thinks, to see him, to touch him, maybe even to tell him what he's just said. The fact that it's so important to him that Peter know it, not to mention the fact that he feels it at all, humbles Peter like religion. Only when Peter hangs on Jason's words like scripture, he doesn't fall flat with the guilt in his interpretation.
"I love you," Peter says simply, but the truth of it warms the edges of the statement and he covers Jason's mouth with another gentle kiss before he can be devastated by the lack of reciprocation.
He recovers with a sort of giggle at Jason's insistent nuzzles of jaw to lips. It's not like he was going to be able to refuse even playfully, so he makes quick work of pressing slow kisses along his jaw while he talks: it's the best kind of hurry-up-and-wait.
"I hope she gets cast in a better role this year." Peter sympathizes with Nadia on that. For years, they've been having quiet meetings about how they're overlooked and how the best actors always get pushed to the periphery because the show needs support. It makes no sense to either of them, but it's landed them some quality bitching time between Sister Chantelle's sassy rants and biting quips. When Jason moves on, instead of addressing the stress he knows Jason is avoiding, he pads his thumb softly over Jason's, sympathetic and supportive. "You know they're too hard on you." Another kiss, this one at the juncture of Jason's neck and collarbone, then they're kissing proper, once again.
"Mm, it was okay," Peter hums against his lips. He steals another kiss and then settles his head back on Jason's shoulder. "Lots of empty promises from my dad. Mom worked most of the time. I got this part-time job at a grocery store, saved a little money up." He shrugs. "And then my mom reminded me that we hadn't heard from Notre Dame yet and that it would mean sooo much to my father if I went there." He huffs a sigh. "So I spent my time watching movies and thinking of you, listening to music and thinking of you, and bagging groceries and thinking of you." A slow smile spreads over his face, warm as the butterflies twitching their wings around in his chest and stomach.
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And then that smile, wide and full. And it's for him, that's the astounding part. He's searching his memory for a time he might've seen that smile of Jason's out on the field of one of the various sports he's tried to drown his feelings in, or that one time that they took a drama class together and Peter caught Jason enjoying himself, or after one of his numerous meritorious achievements at school. Nope. Nothing that could even come close to the brilliance of that particular smile. His smile.
Jason's voice admitting his forethought snaps Peter out of his trance and he lifts his eyes to his lover's face once again. There, he sees a stark truth that he doesn't often get to see from Jason, even in their stolen moments. He looks like he's been aching, Peter thinks, to see him, to touch him, maybe even to tell him what he's just said. The fact that it's so important to him that Peter know it, not to mention the fact that he feels it at all, humbles Peter like religion. Only when Peter hangs on Jason's words like scripture, he doesn't fall flat with the guilt in his interpretation.
"I love you," Peter says simply, but the truth of it warms the edges of the statement and he covers Jason's mouth with another gentle kiss before he can be devastated by the lack of reciprocation.
He recovers with a sort of giggle at Jason's insistent nuzzles of jaw to lips. It's not like he was going to be able to refuse even playfully, so he makes quick work of pressing slow kisses along his jaw while he talks: it's the best kind of hurry-up-and-wait.
"I hope she gets cast in a better role this year." Peter sympathizes with Nadia on that. For years, they've been having quiet meetings about how they're overlooked and how the best actors always get pushed to the periphery because the show needs support. It makes no sense to either of them, but it's landed them some quality bitching time between Sister Chantelle's sassy rants and biting quips. When Jason moves on, instead of addressing the stress he knows Jason is avoiding, he pads his thumb softly over Jason's, sympathetic and supportive. "You know they're too hard on you." Another kiss, this one at the juncture of Jason's neck and collarbone, then they're kissing proper, once again.
"Mm, it was okay," Peter hums against his lips. He steals another kiss and then settles his head back on Jason's shoulder. "Lots of empty promises from my dad. Mom worked most of the time. I got this part-time job at a grocery store, saved a little money up." He shrugs. "And then my mom reminded me that we hadn't heard from Notre Dame yet and that it would mean sooo much to my father if I went there." He huffs a sigh. "So I spent my time watching movies and thinking of you, listening to music and thinking of you, and bagging groceries and thinking of you." A slow smile spreads over his face, warm as the butterflies twitching their wings around in his chest and stomach.