"Good things about Tom Ripley? Could take some time. Tom is talented. Tom is tender... Tom is beautiful... Tom is a mystery. Tom is not a nobody."
Peter Smith-Kingsley smiled as he lay on his bed, placating the man who had become his best friend, the man for whom he developed very strong feelings. He stared dreamily towards a window view of the Italian seaside, unaware of Tom Ripley approaching him slowly with a tie in his hands. Tom, meanwhile, was trembling, holding back the sobs gathering in his throat.
Peter looked so peaceful when speaking well of Tom. He took in his friend, from the crinkles on the outer corners of his eyes when he smiled to the faint bergamot smell of his cologne. I have to do this, he thought to himself, though every urge fought him with the intensity of a thousand soldiers.
"Tom has secrets he doesn't want to tell me, and I wish he would. Tom has nightmares. That's not a good thing. Tom has someone to love him. That is a good thing," Peter continued, his voice becoming equal parts somber and reassuring.
Tom has someone to love him, repeated Tom's thoughts. He studied Peter's lanky frame strewn across the bed and Peter's seaglass green eyes, which were now downcast. Tom has someone to love him.
Tom slowly dropped the tie, and then collapsed onto the floor, letting the sobs escape. Peter sat up and rushed over to Tom, holding him securely.
"Tom, what is it?"
Tom continued to sob and Peter continued to cradle Tom in his arms. When Tom was ready to speak, he slowly stood up and sat on the bed, Peter beside him.
"I'm lost, Peter. I'm not Tom Ripley. I'm not Dickie Greenleaf. I don't know who I am anymore."
"What are you talking about?"
"Peter, I...no, if I tell you this, you would hate me."
"Tom, I could never hate you."
Tom took a sharp breath, considering the pros and cons of telling Peter the whole truth. He trusted Peter, the way he trusted no one else. In a world filled with venom, Peter was pure. He was kind. He sought to understand and empathize. But Peter was a human being, and all human beings have their limits of what they will and won't accept. Furthermore, his attraction to Peter might have been clouding his judgment. Did he trust Peter because he adored Peter?
"I don't know if I can trust you enough to tell you," said Tom, and Peter responded with a hurt expression.
"Oh," was all Peter said.
"It's not that I don't trust you, it's just...I've done some terrible things."
"We've all done things we regret. I sure have."
"No, but there's regrets and then there's regrets."
"Tom, I swear on the Complete Works of Shakespeare that I won't tell a soul anything that you tell me."
Tom searched himself for the correct way to frame his confessions, but his cowardice overtook him. He needed to come up with a confession that would satisfy Peter without making him suspicious.
"Peter...I love you."
Peter smiled.
"I love you too, Tom."
Tom and Peter shared a gentle kiss.
"Was that what you wanted to tell me?" asked Peter.
"For the time being," replied Tom. Peter was uneasy at Tom's crypticness but overjoyed by his declaration of love.