A/N: Whenever I watch Michael Arden sing No Voice, the look on his face radiates such awe and acceptance that it dumbfounds me. It reminded me of acceptance, though, the last stage in the Kubler-Ross model of grief, so I decided to write this. It isn't great, but it's about all I have time to write anymore :).
Five Stages
Denial.
He sees Jason falling. He sees them carrying him offstage. He hears the gasps. He knows in his heart that the curtain has fallen, never to rise again, but his brain can't- or won't- make the connection. He refuses to look at Nadia's direction, refuses to acknowledge the confused sobs, refuses to scan the audience for fear he would see his mother's pitying eyes.
Later, after the crowds have cleared out and after the McConnells are escorted to the hospital, Peter makes it back to their room and simply sits on the bed. He'll be home any minute now, he knows. He'll be back.
Anger.
Nadia finds him sometime later- he's not quite sure how long it's been. Has it been mere hours, or days? When she, stifling tears, tells him the results of the tests, Peter wants to be sick. Overdose?
He knows Jason knew how much to take. He knows Jason wouldn't be careless enough to accidentally overdose. He clenches his fists in irrational anger. Damnit, Jason, what the hell were you thinking?
Bargaining.
He prays, knowing even as the words slip past his lips that it's futile. God, please bring him back. Bring Jason back, and Peter'll behave. He'll stop sinning. He'll do whatever Jason needs. Hell, he could try and stop loving Jason if that's what it took.
Just, please, bring him back so he can graduate. He worked so hard for it.
Depression.
Graduation is tomorrow, and the only person Peter wants to see is… well, dead, if he's to finally admit it to himself. It's almost as though life has no point anymore. What's life without love? What's life if you have to live through it knowing you could have saved him?
A tale of star-crossed lovers indeed. He seriously considers, if only for a few seconds, following the tale, taking on the part of Juliet, and joining his Romeo. He knows, though, that he could never do it.
Acceptance.
The priest's words calm him, releasing what little anger and sadness was still there. And he stands now, complete with cap and gown, listening to the speech that should've been Jason's. He wishes Jason were here with him, but his mother's sudden appearance helps temper the flow of grief.
And as he turns around to face the audience, he hears the choir and a moment of breathtaking beauty overcomes him. He knows, in that moment, that God still loves him. He knows that Jason loved him. He knows he'll be all right.