[Peter smiles softly, blue eyes watching as Roman slowly settles himself in against the leaves with him. It's nice, in the way that few things are anymore. Because he can remember her laughter, and it's so easy to think of having it here, of how she'd look with autumn leaves in her hair, wonder what costume she would have worn for this Halloween. Fuck.
He shifts in his leafpile so he's a little closer to Roman, eyes looking up at the sky as the colors beneath them are reflected in the darkening skyline. The east coast is fucking beautiful in the fall, no one can deny that. There's that certain scent in the air, the thin hum of anticipation charge by apple cider and smoke from the fireplaces, and the rosy cheeks from the chill.
He turns to face Roman, and they're too close, really. Laying on their sides, in a vague pantomime of lovers, but there are no soft words spoken here, and he laughs, grinning.]
I stole it.
[Whether it's a truth or more bullshit is hard to tell, but the glint in those blues tends to lean toward the latter. Peter is painfully aware of the energy between them. The current, the connection. He's never known how to deal, and with Letha's death it's harder to face and harder to ignore.
There's nothing between them, no excuses. Just another boy that's just as hurt as he is and that's always understood him too well for either of their good.]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2014-10-19 06:38 am (UTC)He shifts in his leafpile so he's a little closer to Roman, eyes looking up at the sky as the colors beneath them are reflected in the darkening skyline. The east coast is fucking beautiful in the fall, no one can deny that. There's that certain scent in the air, the thin hum of anticipation charge by apple cider and smoke from the fireplaces, and the rosy cheeks from the chill.
He turns to face Roman, and they're too close, really. Laying on their sides, in a vague pantomime of lovers, but there are no soft words spoken here, and he laughs, grinning.]
I stole it.
[Whether it's a truth or more bullshit is hard to tell, but the glint in those blues tends to lean toward the latter. Peter is painfully aware of the energy between them. The current, the connection. He's never known how to deal, and with Letha's death it's harder to face and harder to ignore.
There's nothing between them, no excuses. Just another boy that's just as hurt as he is and that's always understood him too well for either of their good.]