Peter
the seasons are turning into goodbyes I can live through
”He’s... tall.” Peter started with, lowering his hands just enough to keep his words from being muffled. The one word was apparently all he needed to start a flood though. ”And nice... nice to me! And his hair is... it’s poofy, and nice, and... curly, but not like mine, like... nice. And he has these... these dumb shirts, and they’re open, and... it’s nice.” Embarrassment returns to Peters face swiftly, and the hands are back up, both for his rant, and for the number of times he’d said nice. It had been like a skipping song in his brain, he couldn’t help it after first one. ”We’re boyfriends. It’s...” This was said through his hands, though thankfully he managed to bite yet another nice back behind his teeth.
Blue eyes flick to the sky after Rexannas, as if he can glimpse whatever it is that has made her face pinch. He can’t, but he does notice her gentle look, the quiet request for a hug that is reciprocated after only a moments hesitation. ”It’s alright.” He replies softly. ”We can talk when... whenever you want. When there’s more time.” Peter wishes that there was more time right now. But some things couldn’t be helped, and it does jo one any good to voice a complaint.
As much as he wants to stay, and see Rexanna off, Pete is cold, and as soon as they part he is tromping back through the snow, towards a bed made warm by another, his scarves pulled tightly around his body.
