[ Peter blinks, yet again — because yet again, he's surprised, unsure how to react to this. It doesn't fit the normal pattern that he's used to, with adults. Not that he's trying to project his own parents onto John, but.... he doesn't know what else to look for, here. He's used to deflecting, and then the other person letting it happen. Backing away. Not pushing any further.
The most recent memory of this (and the last one Peter will ever have) is a painful one: his dad, gently suggesting that maybe Peter needs therapy. Maybe after what happened to his sister, he needs help. Peter, deflecting: the kneejerk reaction. His dad, immediately giving in. Making excuses to leave the room. And it hurts, to see him giving in. It hurts that his dad wouldn't fight more for him. Wouldn't... challenge him a little. Sometimes Peter had needed that. Needed someone to look at him and see that he's not okay, and not be afraid to say so.
.....And here John is, doing that exactly. The teen's mouth opens, clearly taken aback, then he sighs out through his nostrils a little. ]
I guess I've been better. [ Said a little bit sullen, like he doesn't want to be saying it. ......He appreciates it, under that. Watching John look downwards, Peter studies the older man quietly. So he did go home. ]
Fuck.... How long? [ he wonders, tone softening a bit. Almost encouraging, and a bit concerned, because.... fuck, he went home and then came back here. Peter slips out of the doorway, lets the door close behind him. Hands slipping into the front pockets of his warm hoodie, he joins John on the porch, looking at him, giving him all of his focus. ]
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The most recent memory of this (and the last one Peter will ever have) is a painful one: his dad, gently suggesting that maybe Peter needs therapy. Maybe after what happened to his sister, he needs help. Peter, deflecting: the kneejerk reaction. His dad, immediately giving in. Making excuses to leave the room. And it hurts, to see him giving in. It hurts that his dad wouldn't fight more for him. Wouldn't... challenge him a little. Sometimes Peter had needed that. Needed someone to look at him and see that he's not okay, and not be afraid to say so.
.....And here John is, doing that exactly. The teen's mouth opens, clearly taken aback, then he sighs out through his nostrils a little. ]
I guess I've been better. [ Said a little bit sullen, like he doesn't want to be saying it. ......He appreciates it, under that. Watching John look downwards, Peter studies the older man quietly. So he did go home. ]
Fuck.... How long? [ he wonders, tone softening a bit. Almost encouraging, and a bit concerned, because.... fuck, he went home and then came back here. Peter slips out of the doorway, lets the door close behind him. Hands slipping into the front pockets of his warm hoodie, he joins John on the porch, looking at him, giving him all of his focus. ]