( It isn't fair of Peter to equate the boy to Charlie. To... push his past, his loss, her ghost, onto Falco. Some part of Peter knows that, and hates himself for it, and the other part clings onto those small, sturdy shoulders even tighter, lets himself be held the way he needs to be. Pretends, just for a few moments, that he's able to somehow convey these words to Charlie, those things he'll never get to say.
And some other part in him clings on, too. Tucks its face into the crook of Falco's neck and holds onto the smallness of him, and feels.... something odd and yearning. The demon Paimon is currently held by a body that feels more familiar than the one he's currently inside of. A body that's smaller and softer. It was wrong, his existence within the child Charlie; it was always wrong. She was always only meant to be a placeholder until he could be placed within Peter. He doesn't explicitly remember that fact, but he remembers.... pieces of it. Of being within her. Of a pair of small hands, working at their crafts, piecing things together. Charlie was never "home", but a part of him longs to be where he once was.
For a moment, the demon wishes to be impossibly close to the child Falco, wishes to slip out of his current skin and into another. Even with Falco's Corruption so close (Paimon can sense it there, that Darkness), he doesn't flinch back.
'I love you, too.'
Peter exhales quietly at those whispered words. He doesn't deserve forgiveness and this isn't that, but.... some part of him feels as though it is. As though someone he cares for very deeply has seen the most horrific part of his past, the thing he never, ever wanted anyone to see, and loves him anyway. He's not forgiven (he can never let himself be), but he's not unloved. He stays there, holding onto the younger teen, trembling quietly against him. For how long, he doesn't know.
Eventually, when his tears have stopped freely falling and are becoming dried crust on his cheeks, Peter pulls back a little, palms gently finding Falco's face, smoothing back against cheeks. He himself must look an absolute mess, and his voice comes out hoarse, but there's a softness, too. Always a softness, for Falco. )
I'm sorry. You're— we're both going to get sinus infections after this. ( He tries to find a smile, but everything's still raw, and it wavers feebly back into a frown. )
Are you okay?
i believe we may splice ourselves and bring this to a splicing close...... our hearts (crymoji)
[ flaco will help him, in that regard. an inhaling gasp that finds its way into a breathy exhale. a sinus infection— of course. they don't want to get each other sick. falco squeezes the boy's head one more time before he pulls back with a more visibly drawn smile. wet, exposed and tight around the lips as he presses them together, but there all the same. ]
Yeah. [ he's more worried about peter than he was himself— how could peter be an awful person, still asking him those things? the boy dips his head, and offers a suggestion to prove his care toward the elder brother figure: ] Let's— Let's get some fresh air. For our sinuses.
[ he takes peter's hand, gives it an expecting tug— and whenever the older boy is ready to follow, falco will help themselves up, and make for the door.
he's always looking up, always offering peter the same smile, and the support in the grip of his fingers against the other's palm and sleeve. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
it is in fact MY heart that has been spliced....
And some other part in him clings on, too. Tucks its face into the crook of Falco's neck and holds onto the smallness of him, and feels.... something odd and yearning. The demon Paimon is currently held by a body that feels more familiar than the one he's currently inside of. A body that's smaller and softer. It was wrong, his existence within the child Charlie; it was always wrong. She was always only meant to be a placeholder until he could be placed within Peter. He doesn't explicitly remember that fact, but he remembers.... pieces of it. Of being within her. Of a pair of small hands, working at their crafts, piecing things together. Charlie was never "home", but a part of him longs to be where he once was.
For a moment, the demon wishes to be impossibly close to the child Falco, wishes to slip out of his current skin and into another. Even with Falco's Corruption so close (Paimon can sense it there, that Darkness), he doesn't flinch back.
'I love you, too.'
Peter exhales quietly at those whispered words. He doesn't deserve forgiveness and this isn't that, but.... some part of him feels as though it is. As though someone he cares for very deeply has seen the most horrific part of his past, the thing he never, ever wanted anyone to see, and loves him anyway. He's not forgiven (he can never let himself be), but he's not unloved. He stays there, holding onto the younger teen, trembling quietly against him. For how long, he doesn't know.
Eventually, when his tears have stopped freely falling and are becoming dried crust on his cheeks, Peter pulls back a little, palms gently finding Falco's face, smoothing back against cheeks. He himself must look an absolute mess, and his voice comes out hoarse, but there's a softness, too. Always a softness, for Falco. )
I'm sorry. You're— we're both going to get sinus infections after this. ( He tries to find a smile, but everything's still raw, and it wavers feebly back into a frown. )
Are you okay?
i believe we may splice ourselves and bring this to a splicing close...... our hearts (crymoji)
Yeah. [ he's more worried about peter than he was himself— how could peter be an awful person, still asking him those things? the boy dips his head, and offers a suggestion to prove his care toward the elder brother figure: ] Let's— Let's get some fresh air. For our sinuses.
[ he takes peter's hand, gives it an expecting tug— and whenever the older boy is ready to follow, falco will help themselves up, and make for the door.
he's always looking up, always offering peter the same smile, and the support in the grip of his fingers against the other's palm and sleeve. ]