A/N: Written to My Sentimental Friend by Herman's Hermits
CH 2: My Sentimental Friend
Peter was confused. He saw one pair of eyes in the crowd which he hung to, begging for meaning from them. It was his friend. The eyes held sadness, but nothing else that he expected. Didn't his friend know?
The crowd jeered and made a general ruckus, a fitting background to his mental confusion. And the hard hand squeezing his arm fit the hurt he felt inside. What had happened? Had it really happened the way it must have? It couldn't have.
The sun beat down, making the whole landscape rather expressionless, including his friend's face. Didn't he know what he'd done? The official pushed him on and he lost eye contact. In being jostled, he caught a glimpse of the stern, municipal door he was heading for, but looked quickly away. No. It couldn't be.
The car that had driven him there had driven away. The people that had decided his fate had all gone home. The story that had gotten him here had echoed into oblivion. The situation that had housed the real story was but a faded memory. All that was left was the piece of metal about his wrists and the terrifying knowledge of what was to come.
He found those eyes again. And once again he begged for an answer. You couldn't have done this. Please! Stop them! Say it was all a misunderstanding. Any second, his friend would emerge from the crowd and save him, would proclaim his innocence, would make it like old times, would forgive him.
Something hard, thrown from one of the faceless crowd, hit him. He winced. The panic grew.
He'd thought it was a normal day. He'd thought it was an overreaction. He'd thought it would be okay. He'd thought it would be sorted out. He'd thought it was unintentional. He'd thought it was some sort of mistake. He'd thought there had to be another explanation.
His friend was obscured by the door he was pushed through. His eyes, though sorrowful, had held no regret. They looked away.
He'd thought he had a friend.