Jason doesn't realize his hands are shaking until Peter begins moving away from the table. He begins tapping the fingers of one hand on the table while moving to sit on his other hand as he tries to keep subtly stealing glances at Peter behind him. He misses the way Nadia watches him sadly before averting her own gaze. He doesn't miss the way Peter abruptly turns left into the men's room. The largest part of him wants to make an excuse and follow him in. The overwhelming fear chokes all life out of that desire as his heart twists into knots and his stomach nearly collapses from strain.
He's such a goddamn coward.
He recalls one moment this past summer; one he hasn't yet told Peter about. He's not sure he ever will. He'd been on the verge of saying...something. Not quite everything. But something, to Nadia. They'd been watching those shitty, daytime soap operas their mother loves, mocking the bad dialogue and even worse acting. One of the actors had looked remarkably like Peter, and Nadia had commented on it.
Jason remembers the bubbling in his chest; the way the words had been on the cusp of spilling out.
And then their father had walked in, swaggered in, really, with one of his drinking buddies from the club and they'd laughed and made a joke, using words Jason's felt digging into his skin ever since he realized his feelings for Peter.
Jason had buried everything he'd been about to say, and Nadia left to text a friend. Jason wound up stuck between the pair of them the rest of that afternoon, feeling their words crawl under his skin, like a disease.
He'd never needed to be so near Peter before. He'd never felt so keenly that he was gradually suffocating.
His appetite is entirely gone, and he shoves what remains on his tray towards the rest of the table.
"Here, you guys can eat the rest," he waves towards the cookies and fruit salad remaining on his plate. "I'm feeling pretty full."
"Jesus, Jason, it's like your encouraging my worst habits," Nadia replies, in a near-perfect imitation of their mother.
"I do my best," Jason replies in an almost sing-song voice he hardly feels.
Which is, of course, when Peter returns to the table and Jason feels his heartbeat stumble. Especially when Peter doesn't look at him.
"Hey, thanks man," Jason replies, nudging him gently with his shoulder. A friendly gesture. But he hopes Peter can feel the affection he puts into it. He manages a small sip from his drink, when Sister Rachel suddenly approaches their table.
"Jason? Your father's on the phone. Something about extracurricular activities?" She says, gesturing for Jason to follow her.
"Shit," Jason says, without thinking. "Er. God. I mean, sorry." He shoots Sister Rachel his trademark grin, which, thankfully, does its job and immediately makes her stern expression soften.
"Just make sure to recite an extra Hail Mary," she tells him. "Ready to go?"
no subject
He's such a goddamn coward.
He recalls one moment this past summer; one he hasn't yet told Peter about. He's not sure he ever will. He'd been on the verge of saying...something. Not quite everything. But something, to Nadia. They'd been watching those shitty, daytime soap operas their mother loves, mocking the bad dialogue and even worse acting. One of the actors had looked remarkably like Peter, and Nadia had commented on it.
Jason remembers the bubbling in his chest; the way the words had been on the cusp of spilling out.
And then their father had walked in, swaggered in, really, with one of his drinking buddies from the club and they'd laughed and made a joke, using words Jason's felt digging into his skin ever since he realized his feelings for Peter.
Jason had buried everything he'd been about to say, and Nadia left to text a friend. Jason wound up stuck between the pair of them the rest of that afternoon, feeling their words crawl under his skin, like a disease.
He'd never needed to be so near Peter before. He'd never felt so keenly that he was gradually suffocating.
His appetite is entirely gone, and he shoves what remains on his tray towards the rest of the table.
"Here, you guys can eat the rest," he waves towards the cookies and fruit salad remaining on his plate. "I'm feeling pretty full."
"Jesus, Jason, it's like your encouraging my worst habits," Nadia replies, in a near-perfect imitation of their mother.
"I do my best," Jason replies in an almost sing-song voice he hardly feels.
Which is, of course, when Peter returns to the table and Jason feels his heartbeat stumble. Especially when Peter doesn't look at him.
"Hey, thanks man," Jason replies, nudging him gently with his shoulder. A friendly gesture. But he hopes Peter can feel the affection he puts into it. He manages a small sip from his drink, when Sister Rachel suddenly approaches their table.
"Jason? Your father's on the phone. Something about extracurricular activities?" She says, gesturing for Jason to follow her.
"Shit," Jason says, without thinking. "Er. God. I mean, sorry." He shoots Sister Rachel his trademark grin, which, thankfully, does its job and immediately makes her stern expression soften.
"Just make sure to recite an extra Hail Mary," she tells him. "Ready to go?"