[ With what's wrong with him. How often is something visibly wrong with Peter? Will's gaze sharpens and then blurs; he's staring at the side of Peter's face, attentive and hurt by the way Peter seems to hurt.
Outside the boundaries of Will's awareness, something shifts; he'd never been religious as he truly is, back home and back in Deerington. That means that this fabrication of himself, even if it might have been more historically accurate to shift his views...hadn't. Will is only as devout as he'd been back home.
Inside the boundary of Will's awareness, he hears the plaintive allegory in those words. In that question. In the metaphor of Heaven. Will swallows like the weight of it's suddenly resting on his sternum; he can feel the dread in Peter's voice like it's snuck into bed with them. ] I...believe that I could think of a better reward for me than living forever in a house I didn't build.
[ Blasphemous. If Peter were older, or had more social power than Will, Will wouldn't risk saying it. But this isn't like shocking a relative at a dinner party so they'll stop talking to you. This is Peter, afraid of something Will can't quite connect to, that Will isn't sure he even believes in, and Will feeling finally certain that the worst possible outcome isn't true.
Will shifts closer. Not enough for their knees to touch, even though Will crosses his legs and widens his stance that way, but it's enough that on a mattress, the movement is both sound and sagging motion. It's not easy to miss, and Will feels self-conscious followed by the rush of having been allowed to the last few times he's just reached out.
He carefully stretches his hand over to rest on Peter's shoulder. ] Is it actually heaven that you're worried about?
cw: religious themes / ideation of Hell and Heaven
Outside the boundaries of Will's awareness, something shifts; he'd never been religious as he truly is, back home and back in Deerington. That means that this fabrication of himself, even if it might have been more historically accurate to shift his views...hadn't. Will is only as devout as he'd been back home.
Inside the boundary of Will's awareness, he hears the plaintive allegory in those words. In that question. In the metaphor of Heaven. Will swallows like the weight of it's suddenly resting on his sternum; he can feel the dread in Peter's voice like it's snuck into bed with them. ] I...believe that I could think of a better reward for me than living forever in a house I didn't build.
[ Blasphemous. If Peter were older, or had more social power than Will, Will wouldn't risk saying it. But this isn't like shocking a relative at a dinner party so they'll stop talking to you. This is Peter, afraid of something Will can't quite connect to, that Will isn't sure he even believes in, and Will feeling finally certain that the worst possible outcome isn't true.
Will shifts closer. Not enough for their knees to touch, even though Will crosses his legs and widens his stance that way, but it's enough that on a mattress, the movement is both sound and sagging motion. It's not easy to miss, and Will feels self-conscious followed by the rush of having been allowed to the last few times he's just reached out.
He carefully stretches his hand over to rest on Peter's shoulder. ] Is it actually heaven that you're worried about?