... Being sad counts as a sickness sometimes, doesn't it?
So it's not, like. A complete lie.
[In normal situations, Peter would be a little flabbergasted or embarrassed by the idea of someone worming into his bed. Or at the very least, he'd be kind of mortified by the idea of someone seeing him like this? Here in the dimness of the blanket's coverage, he looks back at her with unkept hair and a tired frown, and eyes that threaten to shine with emotions that he doesn't want to actually face. If he'd just convinced his mind to sleep... if he'd just been able to close his eyes and forget, at least for a little while...]
It's her birthday today.
[Only, there's no one alive to celebrate. Is this what it's gonna be? Getting sad on her birthday, then getting sadder on her death day? He can't stand the thought of it, or even find comfort in the idea that it'll slowly get easier.]
no subject
So it's not, like. A complete lie.
[In normal situations, Peter would be a little flabbergasted or embarrassed by the idea of someone worming into his bed. Or at the very least, he'd be kind of mortified by the idea of someone seeing him like this? Here in the dimness of the blanket's coverage, he looks back at her with unkept hair and a tired frown, and eyes that threaten to shine with emotions that he doesn't want to actually face. If he'd just convinced his mind to sleep... if he'd just been able to close his eyes and forget, at least for a little while...]
It's her birthday today.
[Only, there's no one alive to celebrate. Is this what it's gonna be? Getting sad on her birthday, then getting sadder on her death day? He can't stand the thought of it, or even find comfort in the idea that it'll slowly get easier.]