"And most of all, I'm scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my life the way I feel when I'm with you."
-Baby, Dirty Dancing
There's a tension in the air that is so heavy that Peter can almost taste it on
his tongue. He wonders if Regulus can too, if it isn't all in his head.
"What am I doing?" Peter asks, his voice frantic as he begins to pace.
If he keeps moving, maybe he can escape the feelings that won't leave him alone. Maybe his skin will fit properly on his bones, and he won't feel so anxiously, like his flesh might burst.
It doesn't help. Try as he might, he still feels so miserable. There is some nameless thing that he doesn't dare to voice, hidden deep within him, lying in wait and ready to consume him. He resists, but it's only a matter of time.
"No one asked you to stay," Regulus says dryly, lighting a cigarette. Smoke drifts from his lips as he studies Peter. "You can leave."
Peter almost laughs. Leave. As if it's that simple. Maybe, under different circumstances, it could be. Maybe he could just walk away and never look back. He's in too deep to resume the life he once lived, but maybe he could start over somewhere else with a new name and a fake story.
But he won't. He knows he won't.
Peter is scared to death. He never wanted to be part of this war. He never wanted to be a traitor, to lie to his friends. Knowing he could be found is terrifying.
And yet, something else keeps him here.
Regulus takes a drag on the cigarette, exhaling a puff of white-grey. Why does he have to look so beautiful? Why does he make it so hard for Peter to even think clearly?
If he walks away, he loses Regulus, and he can't live with that. Regulus is the only one who has ever truly seen Peter, who has ever made him feel like maybe he is more than just a burden.
Walking away will mean giving that up.
"Well?" Regulus lifts a brow, a smirk on his lips as though he can read Peter's mind.
"I think I'll stay."
And so he stops fighting the war inside his head, and he surrenders.