[ falco sucks in a breath, soft and barely audible at all— peter, he says, so quiet and in between the older teen’s words. this was about vulnerability. this was about exteriorizing something that was buried because it hurt too much. the boy’s hands wander away from him, to peter, to the curve of his knee and the fall of his arm. it didn’t matter how many times peter would condone himself— falco was there. he no longer feels afraid when he knows what to do.
his eyes are young, but not naïve. they’re sad, but he has hope behind the shine they hold as he shares in the sting of tears burning his eyes. there’s so much of it in him, so much he wishes would spread. ]
Peter . . . [ it’s said again, but only a pause after the last of the young man’s spoken, broken and wet words. ] This doesn’t make you weaker.
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his eyes are young, but not naïve. they’re sad, but he has hope behind the shine they hold as he shares in the sting of tears burning his eyes. there’s so much of it in him, so much he wishes would spread. ]
Peter . . . [ it’s said again, but only a pause after the last of the young man’s spoken, broken and wet words. ] This doesn’t make you weaker.