Peter stood with his back against the bedroom door. He was silent; uncertain what to say or do at this point. He was paralyzed with panic, unable to even blink. His chest heaved up and down in the most movement that he could muster.

Davy looked over at the door. He had had a delayed reaction to Peter's entrance. Davy stared quietly at the motionless Peter. He seemed to be studying Peter. The look on Davy's face was mysterious and unreadable to Peter. He finally stood and came face to face (well as best as he could) with Peter. Davy looked into Peter's eyes searchingly, looking for an answer to everything he had just read.

Davy reached up and put his hands on either side of Peter's face. He pulled himself up quickly and brushed his lips…

No, no, no. It couldn't possibly be that easy could it? As much as Peter wished that the scenario would have played out like his fantasy, it didn't…

Peter had opened the bedroom door cautiously since he had expected Davy to be sleeping and he didn't want to disturb him. He had not opened the door all the way and Davy seemed to be in a trance, so Peter's fight or flight reflex told him the best option was…flight! He quietly crept just as he came, confident that Davy had not noticed him. He had no idea how he would face this, but taking some time to think was better than facing it unprepared.

"Was he sleeping?"

Peter was startled out of his thoughts by Mike's question. He had been staring at the now closed door and turned around to find Mike and Micky staring at him curiously. He leaned against the door carefully for support.

"Uh yeah," Peter answered rubbing the back of his neck. "He's out cold. I don't want to bother him and seeing as I'm already wet I'm going to go back out and…"

Peter was interrupted by the swift action of the bedroom door opening, Davy reaching out and dragging Peter back inside by the shirt collar.

"Man, remind me to not wake Davy up," Micky said.

Peter barely had enough time to process what was happening, when he was suddenly face to face with his attractive fears. The blank stare from before had turned into a questioning frown. Davy's eyebrows were knitted together in confusion. Peter struggled to reach for the door knob to steady himself.

"Don't try to leave again," Davy finally broke the silence that had felt like it went on for eternity.

"I wasn't trying to," Peter admitted. "I'm trying to steady myself."

"I know the feeling."

Peter again took in the sight around him. There was an empty circle on Davy's bed where he had been sitting moments before. Peter noted the letters that were scattered about…except they weren't really scattered like he had initially assumed. The envelopes were stacked in piles and the letters themselves were fanned out in a circular shape and dare Peter note in order. He couldn't see that well but from what he did see it looked like Davy had meticulously taken his time reading and organizing these letters, which was a far cry from the haphazard way Peter had them boxed up.

"I should have never gone through your things," Davy broke Peter's concentration on the scene. "I was looking for that old set of green maracas and couldn't find them. I was looking under the beds and removing things. When I was putting this box back it spilled open. I was putting these letters back in when I saw that all the letters had my name on them…"

Peter tuned things out for a moment. How could I have been so careless? Why put someone's name on letters that they are never supposed to read? That was an invitation to be discovered. He could feel his cheeks flush with a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. There was nowhere to hide now. He was sandwiched between the truth and misfortune. It was of his own doing.

He tuned back in and was observing Davy's speech. There was no recognizable emotion behind it. It was matter-of-fact and distant. Not the talk that Peter was used to experiencing with him. Peter couldn't recall a time when Davy had spoken like this at all. He was usually upbeat and occasionally feisty, but never…nothing, bland, detached.

"…before I knew it I had opened them all, read them all."

Davy looked at Peter expectantly. He knew that Davy was waiting for him to say something, anything. Peter had no idea where to begin because he didn't know what was on Davy's mind in particular. Was it appropriate to apologize? Beg for forgiveness? Ask what he thought? That would be what came out of anyone elses' mouth, but Peter's said…

"The green maracas were broken and tossed out months ago."

Peter wished he could take it back. He had been holding back everything he had ever wanted to say to Davy for so long. Now Davy knew and this was Peter's chance to establish his position. To know where Davy's head was at with all of this. But like all other times, Peter's brain only allowed him to obstruct any semblance of self-respect.

Davy also appeared to be taken aback by Peter's odd answer. He held the unemotional demeanor that was the new familiar. Davy stood waiting for more of a response from Peter. There was none. Peter was panicked but suppressing that panic into a nagging numbness. He didn't realize it but his behavior was matching Davy's to a T. Identical indifference.

"Right, then," Davy responded. He backed away from Peter and sat back down on the circle that fit him perfectly. Davy absently began shuffling the letters into a pile and placing them back in the box carefully.

Peter watched from the doorway still unable to move from the paralyzing panic. He took note of how gently Davy was handling the letters. It was as if he treasured them and didn't want to risk damaging them in anyway. Peter attributed this to perhaps how he was approaching Peter at this time. Davy was possibly emotionless so that he wouldn't upset Peter in anyway during this difficult interaction. He was handling Peter with care and tenderness.

Peter wanted to reach out. He wanted to verbalize the mental notes he was taking. Desperate for Davy to know that he appreciated the delicate consideration he was taking with the letters and his feelings. Peter opened his mouth and tried to speak but no words escaped. Not even a sound. The panic and tightness were not wearing off and the more he couldn't express himself, the more the panic set in giving a cycle of disappointment and things left unsaid. He wished he could show Davy how much he cared, but Peter only had the nerve to stare.

Davy finished packing up the box and gingerly placed it back where he had found it. When he stood up he appeared to stare in the direction of Peter's bed instead of at Peter himself. Peter stared at Davy's back worriedly wanting to know what was going on in his mind. All he had to do was ask.

Peter strained his throat and was able to make the sound of clearing his throat. This got Davy's attention and he turned around to face Peter. Peter saw that the once expressionless face was pained and broken. Davy looked exhausted with a slumped body and facial expression. There were tears glistening his eyes. Peter knees buckled underneath him and he again braced himself with the doorknob. He wanted to hold Davy and tell him everything would be okay, that they would figure this out.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…I don't know what to do or say," Peter managed to squeak out. It wasn't the most smooth or comforting statement but it was a start and better than nothing.

Now it was Davy's turn to be silent. Peter was sure that if Davy spoke the tears would come flooding out. Peter had only seen Davy cry once when he was potentially going back to England. The Brit didn't cry much he was more on the happy or angry part of the emotion spectrum. Peter was sure this was unfamiliar territory for Davy and that he was having a difficult time handling these emotions.

"Please, tell me what you need, what you're thinking."

Davy turned away and wiped at his eyes. Very quickly he appeared to suck all of the emotions back in deep down where no one would find them. He straightened himself up and began gathering some things. Peter was confused but didn't want to push anymore since things were already tense. When Davy finished packing up all the items he had in a bag, he moved towards the door and looked at Peter.

"I need...I honestly don't know."

Peter nodded absently and was finally able to peel himself away from the door so that Davy could leave. As much as Peter wanted to chase after him, he also wanted to respect Davy's space. So instead he crumbled into a heap on the floor and sobbed through the emotional turmoil swelling in his chest.

And this was only day one.