Peter is utterly awed by how Jason always knows exactly what to say. Not just that, but that he means it. Between them, all alone, there's no need for white lies or lip-service. Jason's right, he has months to prepare, but once school starts, the semesters fly by, and the next thing he knows, he'll be in that audition room with Matt and Ivy sweeping up all of the great parts with Nadia and Jason stand at the bar (facing away from the mirror) and talk about all of the things they'd say if only someone would hear their voices.

A sudden smile spreads over Peter's face at the recitation of the verse, but it's gone in a flash, replaced by awe, once again. His cheeks burn deeply, the breath rushes out of him, but he's not embarrassed, this time. This time, he's knocked out. Nothing so blatantly romantic or with such promise (and tragedy) has ever been said to Peter ever. The fact that it comes from Jason means Peter's chest remains caved in for a full few moments. He wants to say everything, anything, to beg Jason to come out with him so that the entire world can know that they've found something that people hope for and write about. He feels like part of a living work of art, and for the first time maybe ever, he's sure of its veracity and purity.

An eager, searching arm slithers under Jason's neck and Peter meets the other arm to lock behind Jason's neck. The silence is better anyway, Peter thinks, because the stasis of silence will preserve this fragile moment. So he presses Jason onto his back and climbs back on top of him to get as close as possible. As gravity pushes them together, Peter finally remembers to breathe and has to break away to catch up. He presses his forehead against Jason's and breathes there for several moments before opening his eyes. He can't help but let out a heady laugh when he sees his own hazy wonder reflected in Jason's eyes. How quickly the tides change between them, he thinks, and also how warm and welcoming they all are.