Three Little Words

by T.L. Imela

"It is the unsaid words in a relationship that come back to haunt us the most." Post series, Gabriel grapples to understand his new relationship with Peter.

36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Author's Note: As always, thank you to everyone who leaves me such awesome reviews! And thank you for your amazing review FannyWon! It made me so happy! The fact that you even compared me to authors like Dostoevsky and Gorky surprised me. And yes, you can translate my story into Chinese. I would be so grateful and I am honored that you would even ask to do so! And thank you to Raindude, Liasid, and Kessi38! I hope you guys (and EVERYONE reading) like the next chapter! :)

P.S. All my readers who speak/read English as a second language, PLEASE do not be shy about leaving reviews! I don't mind grammatical mistakes at all, so don't worry about that. Also, I know Spanish and can use Google translate for other languages, so feel free to leave a review in your own language if you feel more comfortable! :)

Sylar sipped at his cup of tea as he tenderly gazed upon Peter's slumbering form on the couch. Peter looked so angelic...soft lashes touching his cheeks, gentle puffs of air slipping past his parted, full lips.

Sylar hadn't seen Peter look this peaceful since...well; Sylar had never seen Peter look this peaceful. The two men had been hitting at the Wall for months now...and still, nothing changed outwardly. The Wall remained unmoving, a stalwart object that refused to budge.

Peter was exhausted after yesterday's continued battle to knock it down, but he still insisted that Sylar read to him again that night.

And Sylar was beyond thrilled that they were reading together once more. Peter requested that they revisit Pillars of the Earth, since it had become both of their favorites.

Sylar eagerly obliged, although the book was becoming old and tattered from years of use, with the binding now barely hanging together. Nonetheless, Sylar spoke the now-familiar words of the story with Peter watching him all the while...his big, hazel eyes trained so intently on Sylar's face...on Sylar's lips as the taller man read in a hushed whisper.

Sylar had just been getting to the end of the first chapter, when he had heard a low rumbling noise coming from where Peter sat. Sylar turned his head to see that Peter was fast asleep...his eyes fluttered shut, his breathing shallow, his mouth open and emitting a deep snore, much to Sylar's amusement.

Peter hadn't slept in years it seemed, and Sylar was grateful that the young man felt safe and relaxed enough in Sylar's presence for him to drift off now. Sylar silently rose from the couch and grabbed the comforter that he always used at night. He gently draped the blanket over Peter's still form, tucking it around the young man with a sincere tenderness.

Sylar tentatively reached out one hand...he hesitated, before allowing himself to touch the tips of his fingers to the soft tendrils of Peter's dark, messy hair. "Peter..." He murmured, his hands slipping through the thick strands of Peter's mane with a mere whisper of a caress. "Peter...I..." Sylar smiled, his gaze falling slightly to the ground before bringing it back up in a fixed manner upon Peter's face. "I l-love you..."

And it was the first time Sylar ever spoke the words out loud, and he almost gasped when they finally left his lips. He had wanted to say those three little words...those three powerful, beautiful little words...for so long now. He almost wished that Peter might've heard them...but no, it wasn't safe to let Peter hear them yet. Sylar wasn't sure if it would ever be safe, but the moment it ever was...god, Sylar knew he wanted to simply shower Peter with them.

Sylar opted to sleep in the chair that night...not reflecting on the slight possessiveness of his position, intent on watching the young man until Sylar's own tiredness overtook him. Sylar awoke the next morning to find that Peter was still sound asleep; and so he took to fixing some tea before settling back down in his chair.

God, Peter was so beautiful. The more Sylar watched Peter, the more he wanted to make the moment last. If only Sylar could find some way to bring peace into Peter's waking world...if only Sylar could find a way to always capture this contentment for Peter. A thought began forming in Sylar's mind, and he couldn't help but feel pleased with the idea.

Sylar's thoughts were interrupted, however, when Peter scrunched his nose before finally opening his eyes, blearily. He seemed to notice Sylar at once, as his lips pulled up into an easy grin. "Hey, mornin'."

Sylar returned the smile, a sense of relief and joy flooding his system. "Good morning, Peter." He murmured, bringing his teacup back up to his mouth. "You slept all through the night."

Peter gave a small yawn as he reached his arms over his head and arched his back up off of the couch. He slumped back down, a hint of laziness working its way onto his features. "God, it feels like I never wanna move again."

Sylar chuckled, softly. "Here, I made you some tea. It's called chai, it's an old Indian recipe that I picked up. You'll like it."

Sylar felt his heart skip a beat, aware that Peter was still watching his retreating form. Sylar's hand shook a little as he poured Peter's tea, and a few drops spilled onto the countertop. He sucked in a deep breath...urging himself to keep calm. He was Sylar, after all, not embarrassingly awkward Gabriel Gray.

Sylar turned back towards Peter, the steaming cup of chai clenched tightly in his hands. He smiled, nervously, as he gave the cup to Peter. "Careful, it's hot."

Peter cocked his head to the side in curiosity as he took the beverage from Sylar. "Wow...this is..." He gave a cautious smile and nod in Sylar's direction. "This is really nice of you. Thank you."

"Well," Sylar shrugged as he awkwardly folded his hands on his lap...he was suddenly distinctly aware of their presence and hadn't a clue of what to do with them. "You've always been so kind to me, Peter. It's only right that I return the favor."

"I can't believe I slept for so long though." Peter murmured contemplatively, as he drank from the tea. "I mean, it's gotta be almost noon, right? We should probably head on out to the Wall after this..."

"I was thinking we could take a break from the Wall today." Sylar interrupted quickly, his idea now fully-formed in his mind. "We could use a change of pace."

Peter raised his eyebrows at Sylar, knowingly. "We don't have time to take a break. We need to get out of here so that we can..."

"Save the world." Sylar replied, completing Peter's sentence for him. Peter gave an understanding grin in response.

"And we will." Sylar added, as he tried to give Peter a reassuring smile, although it probably just looked slightly mischievous. "But I have something else planned for today."

Peter chuckled, uncertainly. "Like what?"

Sylar shook his head, eagerly. "No. It's a surprise." Sylar pushed himself up onto his long legs, beckoning Peter to follow him. He frowned slightly, watching as Peter remained seated and unconvinced.

"Peter..." Sylar sighed, insistently.

"I dunno, man..." Peter shrugged, shaking his head.

"Peter." Sylar chided, softly. He pressed his hand to his heart, mirroring a look of sincerity that he often saw was one of Peter's mannerisms. "Trust me."

Peter cocked his head back at Sylar's words and actions...a small struggle apparent in those deliciously expressive eyes of his. Finally, he pursed his lips tightly together and gave a conceding nod of his head. "Alright...fine. You win; we'll do what you want today."

Sylar smiled, deeply pleased. A thousand butterflies were flitting around in his stomach and his heart was beating madly in his chest. "Come on," He settled on saying, trying to keep the light flush from his features. "Just follow me."

Today they weren't going to be two heroes bent on saving the world. Today they weren't going to be two very powerful men using their godlike abilities. Today they were simply Peter and...and Gabriel. And both of them were going to experience the simple joys of life for the first time in ages.

Sylar took Peter to the old comic book store first. He told Peter that he wanted the young man to pick out some comics for them to read together at night, since up until now, Sylar was choosing their material. Peter was ecstatic; it was like setting a little boy loose in a toy store.

"Have you ever read any of the Iron Man comics?" Peter asked, taking several comics off of the shelves and adding them to the growing stack in his arms.

"No, I was never really into comic books much as a kid." Sylar admitted, and Peter glanced up at him in surprise. Sylar shrugged, defensively. "I...I know that I lied about liking comics when we first got here. It...it was only because you liked them so much...and...and I wanted to have something that we could talk about." He glanced up at Peter, hesitantly. "But I'm...I'm sorry that I..."

Peter chuckled, softly. "No, don't worry about it, man. I always knew that comics weren't your thing." He gave Sylar a small nod and grinned. "You know, you're not a very good liar."

Sylar raised his eyebrows in disbelief. Lying was something that always came easily to Sylar, ever since he was a very small boy. At times, he was so accustomed to lying and telling half-truths that he himself began to believe some of them. For that reason, it was especially curious to Sylar that Peter seemed to believe the exact opposite to be true now.

"I...don't know if that's true." Sylar murmured, cautiously.

"I mean you're not a very good liar when you're actually trying to make an effort to connect to someone." Peter explained, softly. He bit his bottom lip, worrying it slightly between his teeth. "I think it's when you're trying to distance yourself that you become really good at it."

Sylar shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious at Peter's insight. He cleared his throat, glancing around the room for something else to talk about. "I...I do like Superman though." Sylar whispered, his eyes drifting towards the floor. "I...I wasn't lying about that."

"I know." Peter agreed, his gaze softening.

Sylar forced out a rough laugh, trying to ignore the way his pulse fluttered roughly within his wrist. "Well, look at you, Peter. You've got me all figured out now, huh?"

"No, not yet. Not entirely." Peter admitted, gently. And then he lifted his eyes at the exact instant that Sylar did as well, and they arrested each other's gaze for only a moment...until that moment turned into another moment, and soon the brevity of their stare stretched on for one moment too long.

Peter cleared his throat and glanced away, pointedly. "Um...I think I have enough comics for us to read now. You'll like these...I got Iron Man, Prince Namor, the Hulk, Spiderman, the Fantastic Four...oh, wait. We still need some Superman, right?"

Sylar chuckled, shyly, and simply nodded his head. He watched Peter closely as the young man grabbed some Superman comics off of the old, battered wooden shelves.

"Here we go." Peter grinned, holding up three crisp-paged Superman issues. He then gave a conceding half-smile. "This...this was a nice break from hittin' that Wall, man. Thanks."

"Well, we're not done yet." Sylar replied, smugly. "Come on."

And now Peter followed Sylar without question. They went to the old warehouse that was filled with dry goods and picked out an assortment of canned fruits, the only food available that didn't require any baking. As they were preparing to leave, Sylar spotted a bottle of wine on one of the shelves, but he left it there. He no longer wished for Peter to come to him when the young man was merely intoxicated and lustful.

No, Sylar now knew that he wanted only for Peter to love him. Whether or not that was even possible, Sylar still couldn't settle for anything less. Peter's affection couldn't be cheapened...Peter's emotions couldn't be toyed with in the dark of the night, only to have every beautiful moment shared together recanted in the morning's light.

Sylar took Peter to the roof of his apartment building. They both took turns eating out of the cans of fruit...but Peter loved the canned peaches the best, so Sylar let him finish those.

"It's beautiful up here." Sylar sighed, propping his arms up on his knees as he sat. He cast a sidelong glance at Peter, who was busy fishing out one last peach from the can. "Don't you love it up here, Peter?"

Peter sat the can down next to him as he gave a sad smile. "Rooftops and I have a...complicated relationship."

Sylar crossed his long legs and pulled them in closer to his chest. He frowned at Peter's words. "What do you mean by that?"

Peter chuckled, roughly. "I was on a rooftop when I first figured out that I could fly...when I first figured out that I had these abilities."

Sylar hesitated, running his fingers through the gravel on the roof, absentmindedly. "Tell me about that. About how you discovered your power."

"I was with...Nathan..." Peter murmured, softly. He glanced away from Sylar, his voice coming out in a gravelly whisper. "I was tellin' 'im how I was meant to be somethin' more. How it was my turn to be somebody. And then..." Peter glanced back at Sylar, a rueful smile now tugging at his lips. "And then I jumped."

"You jumped?" Sylar demanded, a disbelieving grin painting his features. "Wait...and you didn't even know for certain that you could fly yet?"

Peter scratched the back of his neck, clearly sheepish. "Well, I had been having these really vivid dreams that I could..."

Sweet Peter. Sweet, crazy, impulsive Peter.

"Peter!" Sylar laughed, throwing his head back in amusement. "You just jumped off of a building. That's insane. You know that, right?"

Yes, it was insane. But somehow endearing...and enticing...at the same time.

"Hey, you wanted to know how it happened." Peter replied, pointedly. He shook his head, still slightly embarrassed. "Look, I can't really explain it. I just...I just knew that I could fly." Peter glanced over at Sylar, curiously. "Didn't you ever feel that way when your power first manifested?"

Sylar felt his smile melt away from his face. He drew his arms up around his legs, in self-protection. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right."

Peter raised his hand as if to indicate that Sylar should continue. "And...?"

Sylar shook his head, bitterly. "And what, Peter?"

"How did you feel when it first manifested?" Peter's eyes grew intense, and Sylar knew that the young man was not teasing him. "I'd...I'd really like to know."

Sylar let out an uncomfortable snort as he inched further away from where Peter sat. "Why? So that you can remind yourself again of what a monster I am?"

"You didn't start out that way." Peter insisted, fervently. He dipped his head towards his chest and let out a long, audible sigh. "At least...I don't think that you did anymore."

Sylar felt his breath catch in his throat. He cast a quick glance in Peter's direction, taken off-guard once more by the passion that resided in those bright, sharp eyes. Peter didn't appear to be condemning Sylar at the moment, on the contrary, the young man looked very curious to hear what Sylar had to say.

"It was overwhelming." Sylar groaned, his chin settling down onto his crossed arms. "The need to have something more...to be something more." Sylar growled roughly, trying to keep the pain from bursting forth anew. "Someone had something that I wanted. And I could hardly think...I could hardly breathe. All I knew was that I needed it. And so I..." Sylar gave low sigh, his eyes moving out towards the horizon. "And so I jumped, Peter. I jumped too."

Peter nodded, in a sudden and slow understanding. "We aren't so different, are we?" He gave a mirthless chuckle, his gaze following Sylar's out to the endless blue skies. "If you were born with my power and I was born with yours..."

"You'd still be a good man, Peter." Sylar interrupted, harshly. And for some reason that fact was deeply important to Sylar. "You'd still be a hero."

"How can you say that?" Peter demanded, roughly. "I wasn't a good man when I had your power just a few years ago."

"Seems like a lifetime ago." Sylar breathed out in response. He cast another sidelong glance in Peter's direction. And the young man suddenly appeared to be so dejected. "Hey."

"What?" Peter asked, his fingers toying with a pebble on the ground. "And don't try and make me feel better, you know that it's true. You were there."

"I was." Sylar admitted, slowly. Still, he shook his head resolutely. "But it doesn't change anything. It doesn't change the fact that every time you come close to falling, Peter...you manage to regain your footing and fly again. And it doesn't change the fact that every time I jump...I just fall and cut myself deeper."

"Like this scar." Peter murmured, absentmindedly reaching out to touch the pale line on Sylar's shoulder. And it felt as if Peter just sent shockwaves of electricity pouring through Sylar's veins, the voltage coursing down his arm before riveting back up Sylar's spine. Sylar stifled his gasp, his eyes blinking heavily in response.

"What about it?" Sylar whispered roughly, noticing how Peter's finger seemed to refuse to leave. Instead, the young man traced the faded scar, lightly and slowly.

"You got it from falling once in real life, right? When you jumped out the window when you were just a kid. When you were trying to fly." Peter replied, gently. He glanced up into Sylar's eyes...and somehow, Peter's eyes always made Sylar feel so safe and secure. They were filled with such passion, such tenderness, such an earnest wish to be good. There was also something else in those eyes, something that Sylar could barely acknowledge...but something that both scared and filled him with wild excitement.

Sylar self-consciously pulled away from Peter's touch, his fingers absentmindedly lifting to trail down the same spot. He gave a small shudder. "What was the question?"

"Your scar..." Peter whispered, his eyes following Sylar closely. "How did you get it?"

Sylar readjusted his body so that he was slightly farther away, "I think I told you once, I jumped off the first floor of our apartment building when I was seven. I landed on a rock and cut my shoulder open." Sylar gave a rueful smile, but there was clearly no joy in his eyes. "I wanted to fly so desperately that I thought it might actually be possible. I thought that if I could fly...I could leave that place forever. I could fly far away...find the place where I was supposed to belong. The place where I was meant to be a hero." Sylar gave a conceding nod and eyebrow raise. "Well, as you know, that didn't go exactly as I planned. You see; whenever I jump, Peter...I only fall."

"But that's what happens to everyone." Peter's smile was soft but deliberate, that boyish half-grin appearing so easily on his face. "We all fall and cut ourselves. But then the scars fade. And then we jump again...and hope like hell that eventually we'll get it right. That in the end, we'll fly." Peter gave a reaffirming nod in Sylar's direction. "I think it's finally gonna happen, you know. I think it's finally your turn to fly."

Sylar merely grinned, but inside he was overflowing with pleasure. He rubbed at his neck, a bit awkwardly. "Because of your dream, right?"

"Right." Peter nodded, firmly. But Sylar knew that Peter still held a sliver of doubt about whether or not that would come to be true. It didn't matter, however, it was enough to know that Peter was beginning to imagine Sylar as a hero at all.

"When we..." Sylar bit at the inside of his cheek, trying to reign in his sudden excitement. "When we get out of here, I'm gonna change everything, Peter. I don't even want to be a watchmaker anymore..."

"Really?" Peter sat back, his hands propped behind him. "What are you gonna do instead?"

"I...I'm not exactly sure yet." Sylar gave a self-conscious shrug, his shoulder stooped. "But I'm damn sure not going to do something just to please or impress someone else again."

Peter gave an approving nod, before pressing, "Well, what do you like?"

Sylar hesitated, the words forming slowly on his lips. "Books." He murmured, catching Peter's gaze uncertainly. "I've...I've always liked books."

Peter snapped his fingers together, excitedly. "That's it!" He exclaimed, proudly. "You should open up your own bookstore. You could sell books to people."

Sylar smiled, pleased. "Yes! I...I could sell books to people." And a future without fear, without pain, without anger, or regret, or death...it had never seemed so real...so tangible...to Sylar until this very moment. Until now, sitting on this dream-rooftop with Peter...looking into Peter's beautiful, gold-and-green flecked irises and feeling quite invincible. "And you could...you could come and visit anytime. You could have any book you ever wanted, Peter, and I would never charge you."

"Better not." Peter teased, nudging Sylar's arm slightly with his elbow.

Sylar chuckled, lightly. He loved this camaraderie with Peter...this friendship. "I could sell books to people." He reiterated, enthusiastically. "It sounds so...normal. I've always wanted to be so special, and yet..." He shook his head, chuckling again. "And yet I love the sound of that, Peter."

"I'm glad, Sylar." Peter grinned, tossing a pebble off of the roof. It carried as far as his throw could take it, before tumbling down to the earth.

Sylar hesitated...there was something else normal that Sylar had a feeling he would also love the sound of. It had been such a long time since Sylar had heard someone say it...but in this instance...in this perfect moment...he knew he wanted Peter to be the first in a very long time.

"Call me Gabriel." Gabriel hissed, barely above a whisper. His heart slammed up against his ribcage...his lungs barely able to squeeze out a single breath. He wondered how Peter would react to this request...he prayed that Peter would do it...that those imperfectly perfect lips would finally speak his real name...

"Gabriel." Peter responded, softly. Their eyes met and they held each other's gaze once more...and this time neither one hurried to break away. "Gabriel."

Gabriel let out a choked sigh. "It's...been awhile since anyone's called me that." He gave a small, far-away smile. "I've always...hated that name. It made me feel weak... insignificant. But when you say it..." Gabriel smiled brightly, his eyes glazing over as he nodded in Peter's direction. "God, Peter you turn everything...good..."

Peter shook his head, nervously. "Stop that." He shot a hesitant look in Gabriel's direction, his breathing coming out a bit more stilted. "Don't—don't look at me like that."

Gabriel cocked his head back in surprise. "Like...like what?"

"Like I'm perfect." Peter responded, his voice cracking softly. "I'm not..."

"Yes..." Gabriel breathed out, his eyes subconsciously lowering towards Peter's mouth. "Yes, you are. You're so good...so good, Peter...you'd never hurt a soul..."

"I killed my own father." Peter growled, but it merely came out in a husky groan. He turned his head ever so slightly...his eyes lowering to match Gabriel's gaze.

"No, Peter, I killed your father..." Gabriel hissed, his own head turning to match Peter's angle. "Remember...?"

"Stop it..." Peter insisted, fervently. His neck craned forward, his lips parting slightly. "I need to take responsibility for it. I pulled the damn trigger, you can't take that blame." He hesitated, a sudden question painting his features. "And I...I always wondered...why...?"

"Why I took the blame, why I wanted to kill him for you?" Gabriel whispered, his own neck craning forward, slightly. "Because you're good, Peter, and I wanted you...I needed you to always stay that way. Even all those years ago."

Peter blinked quickly, a sudden understanding washing over his sharp, handsome features. He continued to lean forward, blinking heavily, "When you threw me out the window that time at Pinehearst...you did it to save my life, didn't you...?"

"When we thought that we were family...I cared, Peter." Gabriel admitted, his face now mere inches away from Peter's. Those lips...those lips...Gabriel was obsessed with those beautiful, beautiful lips. "And I couldn't watch you die..."

"I knew..." Peter admitted, his hot breath burning across Gabriel's face like a bright flame. His hand trembled forward, mere inches from cupping Gabriel's cheek, and yet not daring to make the final contact. "I always knew..."

"Peter..." Gabriel whispered, his lips opening ever so slightly. He continued to slowly move forward, his head turning and searching for Peter's mouth with utter desperation. "Oh, Peter...please..."

Peter leaned forward, brushing his nose up against Gabriel's with searching hesitation. And Gabriel couldn't even breathe; his slamming heartbeat the only audible noise in the world.

And then it happened...god, after all the years of wanting...and yearning...and praying...and thinking it to be forever impossible...it happened.

Peter's warm lips pressed firmly up against Gabriel's...and Gabriel squeezed his eyes shut tightly in response, his lungs constricting in his chest. Peter's mouth was warmer and safer than Gabriel had ever imagined it to be...it moved so fluidly against his own, it drank so sweetly from Gabriel's lips. A warm glow pressed itself into Gabriel's insides...filling him to the brim.

Peter brought his hand up to press comfortingly into Gabriel's cheek, securing both men in their newfound embrace. Peter's lips suckled at Gabriel's bottom lip searchingly, giving it a slight and ardent tug with his teeth. Gabriel felt a small moan bubble up in his throat, but he suppressed it, lest the choked sob that threatened him should find its way to the surface as well.

And this is what being in love felt like...god, it was overwhelming...it was so overwhelming that it almost hurt to take it all in at once.

Gabriel tilted his head to the side in order to press his mouth firmly into Peter's, taking in all of the heat that emanated from it. Peter turned his own head in response, the young man's mouth moving forward to encompass Gabriel fully. And Gabriel couldn't take it any longer, a rough growl bursting past his lips as he broke away, dragging his lips up Peter's cheek, leaving kisses all the while. Gabriel groaned violently as his mouth rose to press into the slightly salty skin of Peter's temple. "God, Peter...god, I've wanted this for so long..."

And with those words...with that honest and innocent admittance, it grew painfully cold again. Because Peter had pulled away...blinking rapidly...looking quite beside himself with disbelief. And damn it...damn it...DAMN it...Gabriel could never quite grasp how to make love stay...how to make warmth last...how to make Peter LOVE HIM, DAMN IT!

"I'm sorry..." Gabriel gasped, his chest heaving rapidly. Because those were the go-to words whenever Gabriel was with Peter. It was always an apology...it was always an admittance of wrongdoing...why couldn't Gabriel ever just get it right!

"Don't apologize." Peter hissed, his own breath coming out in hot and desperate spurts. "You...you didn't do anything wrong..."

"Then..." Gabriel shook his head in agony, trying to stop the angry tears from blurring his vision. "Then why did we have to stop...?"

"Because..." Peter groaned, running one of his hands through his mess of thick hair. "Because I don't feel that way about you." He cast a guilty look in Gabriel's direction, his eyes swimming with pain. "I'm sorry..."

"Liar." Gabriel seethed through gritted teeth. And he was shaking...shaking with rage, with adrenaline, with a familiar self-hatred for his inability to keep people from leaving him. "Stop lying to me, Peter."

"I'm not lying." Peter insisted, a sudden desperation rushing into his words. He held up his hand, beseechingly. "Gabriel...I'm so sorry..."

"You kissed me first!" Gabriel cried, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Don't change it, Peter." His hands came up to grab onto the sides of his head, trying to center his thoughts once more. "God, I know I'm not crazy...I know what just happened..."

"God, Gabriel, please understand..." Peter murmured, his eyes growing red and glassy as he spoke. "I do find you...endearing...but..."

"Screw you, Peter!" Gabriel roared, pushing Peter away from him with both hands. Peter stumbled onto his arms and back, but he seemed to accept Gabriel's angry response. "You can't do that to me! You can't kiss me like that and then...and then take it back!"

"I am so sorry." Peter breathed out, pressing his hand into his chest...with the same sincere gesture that Gabriel had learned to mimic from him. "God, believe me when I tell you that I don't wanna hurt you."

And Gabriel felt like such a fool. He had spent an eternity wanting Peter...only to have the young man for mere seconds before Peter threw it all back in Gabriel's face. As if it meant nothing. As if Gabriel meant NOTHING. God, Gabriel was such a damn fool...such a pathetic, useless fool...and it was all suddenly too much...too much...too much...

"Go away!" Gabriel hissed, wrapping his arms tightly around himself as he squeezed his eyes shut. He felt Peter's light touch to his shoulder, but Gabriel quickly threw it off as he rounded on Peter with an uncontainable self-rage. "GO AWAY!"

"Gabriel, please..." Peter whispered, insistently.

"Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" Gabriel begged, pressing his hands tightly against his ears. "God, Peter...god, I've wanted this for so long"...how stupid he must've sounded...how needy...how vulnerable...he hated being vulnerable...he hated how in that one, breathless moment he had revealed so much of himself to Peter. "Just leave me alone!"

Peter allowed his hand to drop down to the side. He gave a shaky sigh, his eyes still shining with tears that refused to fall. "I hope you know that none of this is your fault."

"Please...leave." Gabriel hissed, burying his head down into his arms. His whole body trembled as he cursed himself repeatedly.

"God, Peter...god, I've wanted this for so long..."

Stupid, stupid, stupid, STUPID! He was so embarrassed...he was so ashamed...his face was flushed red as he gritted his teeth and moaned; head pressed flesh against his knees.

And Peter silently left...left Gabriel all alone once more. And he seemed to take Gabriel's wish for solitude to heart...for Gabriel saw Peter leave the apartment building altogether. Peter walked down the street; his form bathed in orange from the sunset...for somehow night was falling already, leaving them in a hushed and empty darkness.

"God, Peter...god, I've wanted this for so long..."

Gabriel groaned again as he lifted his head towards the vastness of the night sky...his pained features bathed in the dark beauty of the starlight.

And somehow it was fitting that he was going by the name Gabriel again. Because Gabriel was eternally alone...Gabriel was forever to be unloved.

No...NO! A little voice...a voice of truth and not merely self-pity...screamed in Gabriel's head. Peter had kissed Gabriel. Gabriel knew this to be true. No matter how much Gabriel might've hated himself, he couldn't deny the realness of Peter's lips...their softness...their indescribable warmth. It had all been so real...and Peter had felt something, Gabriel was certain of it. And that...that was the thought that Gabriel was determined to cling to now in order to survive the hopelessness of the night...the thought that somewhere Peter was just as desperate as Gabriel to make sense of what that kiss really meant.