being reunited with the polish family had been a bittersweet surprise, to put it lightly. it was such an odd feeling — the butterflies in his stomach everytime peter saw pictures of stefania on the papers or the news. but seeing her in person? nothing could’ve prepared the slovene for that. not the first time, nor the third, nor the tenth. there was something he wasn’t quite ready to address that kept driving him to her; like gravity, but more inconvenient. but, they were friends, so it was good. right? if he told himself that enough, he’d believe it. the guilt never left, though. but for his own sake, he hid it as best as he could. that was yet another door he wasn’t ready nor willing to open. “stef,” he grinned with the ring to a keyfob dangling from his fingers. “how would you feel about an amateur tour of rome?”