It's come earlier each year, the longing and resentment. Alone together and it's all perfectly clear; actually alone, other things are clearer. That they're living a fantasy. That he particularly is kidding himself if he thinks that Jason is going to give everything up just for the doe eyes and smattering of freckles of his first love. Will he even be in the story he tells? Who will be hearing it? A part of Peter would rather be dead than live to see Jason get married, have a house, children. And what if, by then, Peter's part has been completely rewritten, or worse: forgotten.
When Peter comes to from this nightmare, he's standing in front of the bathroom mirror, his fingers working at his hair. He remembers leaving the room, but he doesn't remember actually coming into the bathroom. His bag is perched on the sink in front of him, unopened. Thankfully, he's alone. He unzips the bag, tugs out a towel, and decides screw it, he's going to take a shower. Jason can wait on him for a change.
By the time Peter is walking to the cafeteria, the anger has all but faded to a dull annoyance, a twinge of pain at the base of his head that throbs with secrets and lies. Time had been short, so Peter's in jeans and a sweater, but his hair looks exactly the way he wants it to. He's got his hands jammed in his pockets against the bite of the New York wind. He shoulders the door to the cafeteria open and is greeted by a few smiling faces as he goes to get his food. It's a mood enhancer, seeing people excited to see him. He gives Tanya another big hug and Lucas scoops him up with a way-too-loud laugh. He smells like pot.
Finally, with his tray, Peter makes his way over, extracting himself from his (much smaller than Jason's) crowd of admirers. He grins at Nadia and sets his tray down to give her a big hug.
"Nadia!" He squeezes her close. "I missed you." He tosses a quick smile at Jason, just so he knows everything's okay. It's time to reprise their roles anyway.
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When Peter comes to from this nightmare, he's standing in front of the bathroom mirror, his fingers working at his hair. He remembers leaving the room, but he doesn't remember actually coming into the bathroom. His bag is perched on the sink in front of him, unopened. Thankfully, he's alone. He unzips the bag, tugs out a towel, and decides screw it, he's going to take a shower. Jason can wait on him for a change.
By the time Peter is walking to the cafeteria, the anger has all but faded to a dull annoyance, a twinge of pain at the base of his head that throbs with secrets and lies. Time had been short, so Peter's in jeans and a sweater, but his hair looks exactly the way he wants it to. He's got his hands jammed in his pockets against the bite of the New York wind. He shoulders the door to the cafeteria open and is greeted by a few smiling faces as he goes to get his food. It's a mood enhancer, seeing people excited to see him. He gives Tanya another big hug and Lucas scoops him up with a way-too-loud laugh. He smells like pot.
Finally, with his tray, Peter makes his way over, extracting himself from his (much smaller than Jason's) crowd of admirers. He grins at Nadia and sets his tray down to give her a big hug.
"Nadia!" He squeezes her close. "I missed you." He tosses a quick smile at Jason, just so he knows everything's okay. It's time to reprise their roles anyway.