[ peter doesn’t leave him altogether, not when juno pulls back, but he doesn’t go chasing after him either. he is extended between the both of them, like fingertips glancing off a bare shoulder in the dark, marking out the outline of scars against the pads of them until he has shale and texture memorized. what’s left here is brittle, but not broken or unforgiven. quite the opposite, but peter doesn’t let his mind dwell on it, finding another corner of his mind to stow it away it, shoving it in a glove box like a discarded handful of napkins. let them be. he’s felt enough recently, with juno around it’s doubly important that he doesn’t.
the emotion that he does lay down like a royal flush is singular and strong, unfrayed, uncut as much as juno perhaps had intended to saw away at it (maybe he didn’t, peter isn’t sure he’ll know unless he digs thumbs into that old wound). trust shapes itself like something immovable, cemented quietly in relation to juno and refusing to break or even buckle.
he lifts his head up just a bit higher. ]
(Oh, exceedingly so. Why, I hardly recognize myself sometimes in the process. All I ask is that you keep it simple on your end.)
[ he’ll leave juno to suss out what’s best, the kind of omission he can deal with (being a bad liar is an admirable trait, but one that nureyev is glad he himself doesn’t possess). details will ultimately come later on, but for now, while peter prides himself in his storytelling and elaborate masks, this one must remain simple, easy to guard. it’s there for juno to peruse, like leaning over and sharing the first of a new hand of cards—(small things, black’s voice falls sweeter and more golden where nureyev’s is more of a sigh, cool, but not cold). because there’s a likelihood that hadrian might never come off, which sends a prickle down his spine, but that’s the way isn’t it? some strange hub in the middle of space, an even stranger planet inhabited by life far beyond humans. perhaps it isn’t home, but it’s not worth the risk at least not this early on.
he’s about to speak again, but his temples beat in another rallying surge and he lifts a hand to touch the side of his veil, pressing in a little. he doesn’t like how it’s far more effortless with elliot than it is with juno, how it feels like you’re knees deep in a slurry of emotion that doesn’t fit to your own, that doesn’t wind around your brain the way you’d think it deserves to and it aches in a way that’s catches on the previous note from before, a soft call and respond of “i’ve missed you.” ]
no subject
the emotion that he does lay down like a royal flush is singular and strong, unfrayed, uncut as much as juno perhaps had intended to saw away at it (maybe he didn’t, peter isn’t sure he’ll know unless he digs thumbs into that old wound). trust shapes itself like something immovable, cemented quietly in relation to juno and refusing to break or even buckle.
he lifts his head up just a bit higher. ]
( Oh, exceedingly so. Why, I hardly recognize myself sometimes in the process. All I ask is that you keep it simple on your end. )
[ he’ll leave juno to suss out what’s best, the kind of omission he can deal with (being a bad liar is an admirable trait, but one that nureyev is glad he himself doesn’t possess). details will ultimately come later on, but for now, while peter prides himself in his storytelling and elaborate masks, this one must remain simple, easy to guard. it’s there for juno to peruse, like leaning over and sharing the first of a new hand of cards—(small things, black’s voice falls sweeter and more golden where nureyev’s is more of a sigh, cool, but not cold). because there’s a likelihood that hadrian might never come off, which sends a prickle down his spine, but that’s the way isn’t it? some strange hub in the middle of space, an even stranger planet inhabited by life far beyond humans. perhaps it isn’t home, but it’s not worth the risk at least not this early on.
he’s about to speak again, but his temples beat in another rallying surge and he lifts a hand to touch the side of his veil, pressing in a little. he doesn’t like how it’s far more effortless with elliot than it is with juno, how it feels like you’re knees deep in a slurry of emotion that doesn’t fit to your own, that doesn’t wind around your brain the way you’d think it deserves to and it aches in a way that’s catches on the previous note from before, a soft call and respond of “i’ve missed you.” ]