“ where i’m going, you can’t come. ” from peter.
Where the Water Tastes Like Wine | @deificates
Tʜᴀᴛ's ᴡʜᴀᴛ it always comes down to, isn't it? No matter what happens in the time in between (sometimes, it's nothing but fights, sitting at each other's throats if engaging with another at all, sometimes it's almost gentle — after all, there are some reasons why they keep returning to circle one another, and not all of them the obvious ones — more often than not, some thing in between, something not quite equal, but similar to an addiction and no will to quit); but in the end, it's always this: Peter returning for months back to the sea and him, well, he got enough things to do in the meantime. It's hardly even notable he's gone at all. (Who is he lying to, though? It's not like Peter is the one inside his head, after all.)
It is for the better, after all. They are both aware that the first loyalty of them each lays far from one another but the things they serve, no matter where they currently stand with one another. (That doesn't dismiss any trust, that — as far as possible at least — sits there clearly and maybe a little too obvious, a little too gentle and easy to take apart no matter what else happens, but again, knowing someone else as well and for as long — entirely regardless from Knowing itself — tends to only happen in two directions, this being the lighter one of it.) And in all honesty, whatever it is they share, it wouldn't work without these long times of separation. Not even if they were other people, not even if this was merely between two normal human beings and not having to feed their masters. No: these are quite necessary.
And besides, can you imagine? Him — him! — following Lukas into the Lonely? One of the few things shielded from his view? Even worse, the accommodations of the Tundra? (It happened once. Briefly. He'd been sick for weeks after; both from the boat — been a long time before that that he ever stepped on one — and from starving out there at sea, and it's not something he'd like to repeat, ever.)
No, most certainly this is for the best. Still, the sentimentality of that soft fool is appreciated. Maybe even returned, somewhere, in that rotten thing that might have been a heart so long ago. (Before it's been stolen, of course, and then given away — it's safer with this one than himself.)
"Suppose I have to trust you to return on your own, then."
(And that's just it, isn't it? Trusting another, despite... everything. Still being able to.)
"Don't be late."









