[Peter didn't know why he stayed. No, fuck that. He knew exactly why he stayed. He just also knew that it was still a fucking dumbshit idea. It wasn't just that her death hurt. There was nothing them now, which was a pretty terrifying realization.
Less than a week until the Hunter Moon, and he could remember what they'd been doing the year before. But that was all gone now, like a bitter dream. All there was was each other.
The leaves were bright in shades of red and gold, and every store week replete with pumpkins and cobwebs and the myths of what lurked in the dark. Peter knew the answer to the unasked question, and Hemlock Grove was more aware of it than most places, even if they clung tight to their denials about a rational world. Whatever.
Peter wasn't waiting for Roman. Or, well, he wasn't just waiting for Roman. He had a rake, and was showing some of that rarely applied determination as he built himself a leaf pile fit for a king. Fuck the world, fuck the hurt, the pain, the confusion... fuck everything. There was warm cider and something with apples in the kitchen, Roman was on his way, and so Peter even managed to laugh as he spread his arms and flopped into it, sending leaves flying. It was autumn. He'd never quite appreciated the season before.]
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timeasmymeasure
Dead Leaves
Date: 2014-10-15 07:01 am (UTC)Less than a week until the Hunter Moon, and he could remember what they'd been doing the year before. But that was all gone now, like a bitter dream. All there was was each other.
The leaves were bright in shades of red and gold, and every store week replete with pumpkins and cobwebs and the myths of what lurked in the dark. Peter knew the answer to the unasked question, and Hemlock Grove was more aware of it than most places, even if they clung tight to their denials about a rational world. Whatever.
Peter wasn't waiting for Roman. Or, well, he wasn't just waiting for Roman. He had a rake, and was showing some of that rarely applied determination as he built himself a leaf pile fit for a king. Fuck the world, fuck the hurt, the pain, the confusion... fuck everything. There was warm cider and something with apples in the kitchen, Roman was on his way, and so Peter even managed to laugh as he spread his arms and flopped into it, sending leaves flying. It was autumn. He'd never quite appreciated the season before.]