[ The bed is warm, a fact Peter's strangely not even aware of at first β his senses taking their time returning to him, but now that he's sat somewhere quiet and still... at once his body remembers the chill of the ocean air, still attached to his clothing, skin, hair β unkempt, curls loosened. Skin ashen, dark circles like bruises beneath his eyes. Peter hardly looks the picture of first class disposition. He shudders, but doesn't actually pull the covers up round him yet. He just stays sitting upright, legs curled in, but not relaxed. Not yet. For nowβ his daze still has him.
He stares over at Will as though he's never quite seen him before. For a moment. And then, it... passes, slowly, gradually, like Peter's realising something. Whatever that may be goes unspoken, and perhaps the boy isn't even fully aware of it. But he's learning, in this strange situation that seems to have fallen into their laps, more about his cousin than he's ever known for all seventeen years of his life.
The offer... resonates in his mind. What it means. What it's saying. A place to come to, if he wants β or, more importantly for him, if he needs. And Peter's eyes grow wider, surprised by that offer, after what frightful things he's divulged to Will. Even if... his cousin had said he was not afraid of him. Peter wasn't expecting this, an invitation into his space. 'Whenever you'd like.'
It loosens something coiled tight in the younger's chest, and he dips his head suddenly, breaths soft and shaky. The wet film over his eyes returns, and he blinks against it, fists the covers still split on either side of where he's sitting up in Will's bed. ]
He'sβ patient. With me. With what's... wrong with me. [ The reality of this hurts. It hurts because he'dβ skirted around his deep darknesses when explaining them to Will, had explicitly avoided betraying them for what they are: something unholy. He's...
Evil.
Isn't he? He's briefly wondered it, but timidly. Flinching back from the prospect like it hurts to think about, because it.. does, it hurts, and it frightens him, wounds him with how much it frightens him. His soul is surely damned, and if so, that means he must be damned for Hell as well. Doesn't it? It meansβ he'll not see his family again, even in the Afterlife, if there is such a thing. ]
He's not worried to be near me. [ Another shudder ripples through him, something deep and dark and wet, unpleasant. Peter's arms slip around his torso, hugging himself as though cold, shoulders hunching upwards. ]
...Do you believe there's a Heaven? [ Almost whispered, Peter stares down at the fabric of the luxurious bedspread, lids heavy, half-opened. He should feel terrible asking Will something like that. After what's happened. Guilt does gnaw at him, again, creeping its way from the deepest trenches of his gut, but out of everyone left in his world, it's only the opinion of his cousin that Peter wants to hear from on this sort of matter. ]
cw: religious themes / ideation of Hell and Heaven
He stares over at Will as though he's never quite seen him before. For a moment. And then, it... passes, slowly, gradually, like Peter's realising something. Whatever that may be goes unspoken, and perhaps the boy isn't even fully aware of it. But he's learning, in this strange situation that seems to have fallen into their laps, more about his cousin than he's ever known for all seventeen years of his life.
The offer... resonates in his mind. What it means. What it's saying. A place to come to, if he wants β or, more importantly for him, if he needs. And Peter's eyes grow wider, surprised by that offer, after what frightful things he's divulged to Will. Even if... his cousin had said he was not afraid of him. Peter wasn't expecting this, an invitation into his space. 'Whenever you'd like.'
It loosens something coiled tight in the younger's chest, and he dips his head suddenly, breaths soft and shaky. The wet film over his eyes returns, and he blinks against it, fists the covers still split on either side of where he's sitting up in Will's bed. ]
He'sβ patient. With me. With what's... wrong with me. [ The reality of this hurts. It hurts because he'dβ skirted around his deep darknesses when explaining them to Will, had explicitly avoided betraying them for what they are: something unholy. He's...
Evil.
Isn't he? He's briefly wondered it, but timidly. Flinching back from the prospect like it hurts to think about, because it.. does, it hurts, and it frightens him, wounds him with how much it frightens him. His soul is surely damned, and if so, that means he must be damned for Hell as well. Doesn't it? It meansβ he'll not see his family again, even in the Afterlife, if there is such a thing. ]
He's not worried to be near me. [ Another shudder ripples through him, something deep and dark and wet, unpleasant. Peter's arms slip around his torso, hugging himself as though cold, shoulders hunching upwards. ]
...Do you believe there's a Heaven? [ Almost whispered, Peter stares down at the fabric of the luxurious bedspread, lids heavy, half-opened. He should feel terrible asking Will something like that. After what's happened. Guilt does gnaw at him, again, creeping its way from the deepest trenches of his gut, but out of everyone left in his world, it's only the opinion of his cousin that Peter wants to hear from on this sort of matter. ]