Speak slowly,
My heart is learning.
Teach me heartache,
Stop this burning
Jason stood outside the door, listening to those heart wrenching sobs and knowing that he was the cause of them. Was he so wrong? .. Of course he was wrong. This was wrong. Actually, this was more than wrong, this was sick. There was something wrong with him. He was sick. How could he possibly even entertain the idea of admitting to himself he was… was… This just didn't make sense! How could he be… be… one of those? He didn't like pink or dress in girls clothes or wear make-up, that's what… what… they did, wasn't it? But that wasn't like this, this was different.
He'd expressed this to Peter once, but the boy had simply shaken his head and laughed, then said 'Jason, you can be such a dick sometimes.'
Thinking about Peter, how close they were at that moment, how he was just on the other side of this door, made Jason's chest hurt. Why, then, did he seem so far away? And if this was so wrong, so sick, why did it feel so right. So good. At times it felt normal for Christ's sake. When they were alone together, when there were no prying eyes, nobody to judge, scold or ridicule. It was so hopeless. He felt so helpless. Everything was terrible and wonderful and nothing made sense anymore… Because the bottom line really was…
He loved Peter.
At times just seeing him made him stop breathing, then he'd begin to shake and he'd want to cry because it wasn't right. It was freakish that he felt like that. WHY HIM? WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE HIM?
Jason pounded his fist against the door in blind frustration.
The sobbing stopped.
"Jason?" Came a quiet voice from inside their room. Then the door opened and Peter's tearstained face peeped out and the best thing was that none of it mattered to Jason anymore. Jason stepped into the room, shut the door, and enveloped Peter in his arms, comforting him, and at the same time comforting himself. Peter kissed his cheek gratefully and they stayed, holding each other in their solitary world for a long time.