All he could think about was Felix in that moment. Those eyes that had unwaveringly locked with his own so many times before. The cold fingers wrapped around his wrist tugging him closer. Those two scars still etched across his cheek even in this life. And that voice. That voice quietly breathing out words that pulled at his heart.
"Tell me you love me."
Peter stared into Felix's eyes for a long moment, so uncharacteristically soft and warm. Peter leaned closer, their lips mere inches apart as he slowly raised his free hand, about to lightly graze his fingertips over the scarred cheek.
"I love you," he breathed as the hand around his wrist tightened painfully, nails digging into his skin like claws.
The air thickened with tension around them as Peter hesitated, his hand hovering just beside Felix's cheek. The soft eyes directed at him now burned with anger as Peter's wrist began to throb with pain.
"In what way?" Felix asked, his voice a low hiss.
Peter's eyes narrowed as he struck his hand across Felix's face, finding no contact ever being made. The air became like static electricity as Felix's image seemed to glitch out and shutter before finally vanishing completely.
Peter stood there for a long moment, staring at the front door of the shop no longer obstructed by the figure. He looked down at his wrist, the red grip marks slowly disappearing as well before turning his attention back to the door, a quiet breath escaping his lips. He was too weary to feel any sort of anger over what had happened. Some days he was mad, today he was just tired.
He knew better than to fall for the visions. Felix's image had been showing up so much at the shop that most of the time
Peter would just ignore him completely. But this time was different.
The visions had never been so bold as to step up to him and touch his skin. Honestly, Peter didn't think they were able to. Feeling the touch of fingers on his flesh felt so real Peter truly believed it was. How unfair that the visions were allowed to touch him but he couldn't do so back.
He glanced around at the empty antique shop, a quiet sigh escaping his lips once more, before turning to walk back over to the front counter, residing himself to the loneliness.