18. Streets of sugar
So Peter Lake rode. Ran. Galloped. But he didn't fly. Not yet.
The breeze sweetened as he dove through the city. The sky uncurled like a carpet over his head, flattening out into silver blues and pale yellows. The white horse knew the way. Peter's hold on the reins relaxed.
The day had long begun and there were people on the streets. All sorts of them. Walkers. Drivers. Coachmen. They trailed behind him. Their eyes. Small gasps and intakes of breath. Some whispering. The impulsive clamor of klaxons. Startled screams. Strangled groans.
"Hey, buddy! This road is for automobiles!"
"Watch where you're going!"
"Get some reins on that wild horse, will you?"
And Peter laughed at that. A puff of white. His black hair twisting and breaking around his face.
"He has reins, sir! It's me who needs them most!"
The corners of his mouth dug like needles into his cheeks. He lifted his face to the sky, welcoming the daylight into his eyes, and his exhaustion disintegrated in the chilly New Yorkian wind. He smiled until it hurt and the white horse let out a triumphant noise. Ugly and animalistic, but triumphant.
He felt the heat of their stares on the back of his neck. He didn't check whether the staring was due to admiration, confusion, anger, or amusement. He didn't care much about it.
Through this fog of euphoria, Peter acknowledged the illogical nature of his behavior, as well as his journey through the city. He didn't know what this impassioned return would gain. Beverly may not want to see him. Besides, she had to leave today, and so did he. Maybe he could offer to take her to her family. Maybe that's the most he would be allowed to accomplish. It didn't matter. It would be alright. He would be content with escorting her. With seeing her eyes again and hearing her laugh. Or just… just… Anything.
If she didn't want him, he would leave the city, set off to Florida, as he had told Cecil. If she wanted an escort, he would escort her, leave her where she instructed. And if she wanted him… he'd stay by her side. He'd join her where she went. Escort them both.
In any case, Peter thought, he would leave the City of Justice today. It didn't matter what direction he took. He would be walking away from New York and all its sharks. Pearly Soames would be forgotten. So whatever happened, he would welcome it. All options guaranteed a newfound peace.
There was a sugary simplicity in this. Peter felt calm.
The white horse turned the corner, glided into the street that, not long ago, was flooded with moonlight. The concrete gleamed under the watery sky. And she was there. Standing.
And she was not alone.
Author's note: If there's anyone here today, thank you for reading.