He's not a mind reader!!
They don’t raise their voices. That's not how Peter and Chris fight.
Chris goes still, shoulders locked, silence stretching waiting to snap. Peter doesn’t pace or sneer—he just fixes Chris with that unblinking stare, the kind that feels like he’s calculating the damage before anyone moves.
It hangs there too long, until Peter finally breaks it with a quiet, “I'm not a mind reader. I need you to actually use your words.”
Chris drags a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into the gesture. “I know. I’m just—afraid of saying the wrong thing. Of… screwing this up.”
Something in Peter eases at that, sharpness melting into something softer. He steps closer, voice low but steady. “Then we’ll figure it out. We always do.”
