[ The shift in environment is... strange. Oddly, the quiet, still, calm of it is something more unnerving — without the howl of wind, the nip of ocean air, the panic of a freshly-escaped nightmare... here, in a dry, safe, space, Peter feels exposed.
Though it isn't something he's dwelling on just yet, for the moment still only just coming down from all of it. He's looking almost dazedly around the room — almost identical to his and Louis's — yet... emptier. Something to it is emptier. Could it really simply be the absence of a suitemate? The fact that Will and Will alone stays here, and they're returning to the space that was sitting here without him for however many hours? His cousin's room is— cold-feeling.
It's an odd... heaviness, an odd energy to the air. Peter nods just as hazily at the words, moving with him to the next room, and slips to Will's bed, not as tentative as he'd usually be, moving clumsily down on the luxurious space, unsteady. His fingers finally release from his cousin's clothing as he does so, detaching himself — he sits, upright but precarious, eyes wide and betraying his daze.
'I wouldn't have taken a stranger in as a roommate while I was married.'
Peter's head turns to look up at the man, the words slow to sink in. Heavy to. It feels like cement, gradually filling up and up. It's a simple statement on the surface; to the pair of them, it's something much more. It's.. past tense. Married.
A small, aching reality presented in a form that almost feels tangible.
'And I can't...bring myself to take one now.' ]
You don't like strangers? [ It's soft, not questioning, not demanding. Even almost curious in its softness. A strange thing to ask at this moment, maybe. But Peter doesn't know. He hardly knows anything about Will. ]
I don't... I don't like them. I didn't want to room with anyone. But because I'm seventeen... [ It trails off. Because he was only seventeen, they'd assigned him to someone. Surely the natural thing would have been to stay with Will, but... had either of them even considered that? ]
My roommate's kind though. He's... kind.
[ Peter's voice is so quiet, it's almost like an afterthought, his eyes still dazed. Like a child quietly sharing their thoughts at perhaps an inappropriate time, he lets them spill, ineloquent. His hands rest in his lap. Compared to the fretting, tense thing — with soft growls rippling his throat — he's become quite docile. ]
no subject
Though it isn't something he's dwelling on just yet, for the moment still only just coming down from all of it. He's looking almost dazedly around the room — almost identical to his and Louis's — yet... emptier. Something to it is emptier. Could it really simply be the absence of a suitemate? The fact that Will and Will alone stays here, and they're returning to the space that was sitting here without him for however many hours? His cousin's room is— cold-feeling.
It's an odd... heaviness, an odd energy to the air. Peter nods just as hazily at the words, moving with him to the next room, and slips to Will's bed, not as tentative as he'd usually be, moving clumsily down on the luxurious space, unsteady. His fingers finally release from his cousin's clothing as he does so, detaching himself — he sits, upright but precarious, eyes wide and betraying his daze.
'I wouldn't have taken a stranger in as a roommate while I was married.'
Peter's head turns to look up at the man, the words slow to sink in. Heavy to. It feels like cement, gradually filling up and up. It's a simple statement on the surface; to the pair of them, it's something much more. It's.. past tense. Married.
A small, aching reality presented in a form that almost feels tangible.
'And I can't...bring myself to take one now.' ]
You don't like strangers? [ It's soft, not questioning, not demanding. Even almost curious in its softness. A strange thing to ask at this moment, maybe. But Peter doesn't know. He hardly knows anything about Will. ]
I don't... I don't like them. I didn't want to room with anyone. But because I'm seventeen... [ It trails off. Because he was only seventeen, they'd assigned him to someone. Surely the natural thing would have been to stay with Will, but... had either of them even considered that? ]
My roommate's kind though. He's... kind.
[ Peter's voice is so quiet, it's almost like an afterthought, his eyes still dazed. Like a child quietly sharing their thoughts at perhaps an inappropriate time, he lets them spill, ineloquent. His hands rest in his lap. Compared to the fretting, tense thing — with soft growls rippling his throat — he's become quite docile. ]