post no way home, pre brand new day
you lost your earrings in her bed
when you walk into the cafe wearing his earrings, peter's breath catches like it did the first time he saw youβ same cafe, same earrings, just a different season. He never understood why you still wore them. How, like him, every trace of them should've been ripped away. gone. forgotten forever. But you still had them, still wore them, not knowing that the person who gifted you these is a stranger now, who's heart still skips a couple beats when you look at himβeven though he knows you look right through him nowβ always has
you couldn't tell her that
you're scared that you're not talking
The jingle of you coming in, 4 minutes later than your usual time, cheeks slightly flushed from the snow outside, was what arose peter from his daily musings of self pity. you sat down after deviating from your usual coffee order and ordering a plain hot chocolate. it's a shame that this is how peter uses his super hearingβstalking his ex who has got nothing to do with him now. and he sat relatively closer than he should haveβon a table he had picked two years ago when you had picked yours.
peter knows it looks and sounds really badβ that he knows all of your schedule, your drink orders, the picture you keep in your wallet purse, your new friends' addressesβjust in case he needed to reach them because of an emergency, nothing else, the key you use to unlock your door, where you keeps the spare one and the paper you're working on right now. But half of the things he knew alreadyβfrom when he had known you, when you had been in loveβwhich seems so distant that it might as well be in another life, had his same broken earrings on you not kept him tethered. And the other half might have him sitting through a whole lecture about boundaries, had he any friends or family. but because peter has none, he continues. besides, it's not like he wastes his time, he actually gets his work done, and it also helps knowing you are a few feet away, doing the same thing. It almost feels like the old times, save for all the people between you both. two tables feeling lightyears away.
so you think of what to say
then save it for another day
cause you just never had the heart, now
and they just drift further apart
even though it's been two whole years of chickening out, dozens of failed tries, shaking his head at the last second and disappearing, peter still carried that damn piece of paper, stained with everything that had happened the night his life fell apart. It was worn at the edges, torn somewhere too, but still intact enough that if peter ever wanted to attempt to tell you the truth, he could. He would watch your face contort with confusion and then maybe understanding. He would tell you that those mysterious pair of earrings were once given by him. He would watch you look down at the ground, still processing and then maybe you would hug him and tell him that you believed him and everything could go back to the way it was. but peter knows that would never happen, he would never let it happen, but still that piece of paper waits in his flannelβs breast pocket, close to his heart. it always will.
extra, extra, read all about it
and he can't get out of it
(notes: omg please tell me if there's any mistakes because unfortunately english is my third language and I still mess it up sometimes)
