Splinters In My Heart
In this big, ever changing world, there is no constant. There is nothing that stays unchanged, no matter how hard or how trying some people struggle to keep it the same. Relationships disintegrate and start anew; people are born and people die. Nothing can stay, no matter what the consequences of it fading is.
Peter Kirkland knows this. He knows how hard it is to ache like that, knows how trying it is for him to try and keep things the same. But he cannot accept that, nor would he ever really try to. It's a funny thing, that...aching. It resided in his chest when Arthur abandoned him some months ago, and has stayed there, a splinter lodged in his chest.
There is a splinter in little Peter's heart. Unless looked at very carefully, no one would even notice that it's there - not through his laughter, his incessant grins, his entire being. And even if it was commented upon, one would assume that because of those smiles, that laughter, that it was lodging itself out.
If only they knew, just how much Peter desires to keep it there.
He remembers getting a splinter once, while he was hiding in the wooden boxes full of supplies on his fort. He hadn't initially noticed it, and he only realized it was there when it got in the way while he was trying to sleep. Peter Kirkland looked down at that splinter and swallowed, pulling on a brave face and cheering up all of his soldiers the next day.
I'll tell them about it later, he promised himself, and kept promising himself that day after day, until eventually he forgot the splinter was even there. It was only a dull ache, he reasoned. No one should bother worrying about it.
Of course, the next time he hopped on a boat to Essex, and then traveled to London, Arthur had immediately taken notice of the splinter in his palm. The older Brit's eyebrows crinkled in that special way that could only have meant a scolding for the poor lad. Instead of doing that, however, he set Peter down and went to work unlodging the small piece of wood - which, Peter was quick to find out, was incredibly painful. He cried and whined, trying to squirm away, trying to tell Arthur to leave it alone, but the English gentleman disregarded his voice and continued to prod at the splinter. After a few moments, it popped out, leaving only a crying, sniffling Peter in it's wake.
And then, once the splinter was out of his palm, Arthur's eyes narrowed, and he pulled the crying Peter into his lap.
"Shh, there now, Peter," he cooed gently. "How long was that in there? Normally they don't hurt as much if you take them out right away. Didn't you ask your soldiers to help you?"
And Peter, being the honest lad that he was back then, (because now, he feels like he's in a constant state of lying, of pretending things are fine when they really aren't), shook his head and rubbed at his eyes, crying harder.
Arthur looked down at the boy, brows furrowing as he gently rubbing his hands on Peter's back, soothing him slowly. "And why didn't you?" he chided as gently as he could. "I'm sure they wouldn't have gotten sore or angered at you, old boy."
"B-because," Peter sobbed back. "Because I didn't...think it was that big a deal...it didn't hurt that bad when I got it...didn't wanna be a burden..."
And Arthur looked down at him, gaze softening, before pulling him tight into a hug, shushing and petting at his hair.
"There there," he murmured. "You didn't realize it, Peter, but splinters hurt more if you don't remove them right away. You must always ask for help, lad. Please, promise me you'll never leave a splinter in again."
Peter hiccoughed into his shirt and nodded, because that was all he could do. He was a good boy, he always listened to Arthur.
But then things changed.
Arthur left. It left a large splinter in little Peter's heart that could never really heal properly without some care. Peter knows that, but he keeps it there. He doesn't touch it, nor does he ask anyone for help. He's, terrified even, scared it will hurt even more. that splinter in his heart, and that if lodged out, it will rip at the corners of his chest until he is completely broken. And no one, he reasons, deserved to deal with that.
There is a little splinter in Peter's heart. It's nothing more then a dull ache at times, but sometimes, little Peter picks at it, making the hole there bigger. He does it to remind himself, that it's still there. That all those memories were not a lie.
And little Peter smiles though all of that. He smiles and laughs, plays and pretends.
Because that splinter will never unlodge itself.