In the dark, Peter's eyes flash open, and he scrambles for the light-switch for the lamp on the small table between their beds. Four thirty. Only 2 hours since he'd last woken up.
The nightmares are getting unbearable.
They were performing the Queen Mab scene, and Jason, who's normally their best dancer, was just suddenly not, worse than Tanya even. And then he just collapsed in Peter's arms and it was all over.
Peter is sick of those dreams, of waking up afraid, shaking and covered in cold sweat. It had been worse over the spring break, when he'd wake up alone, doubt like a heavy stone in his gut, because he had no way of knowing whether it had really been just a dream or not. At least now when he woke up, he could see Jason lying across in the other bed.
"Hey, you alright?" Peter blinks in shock. He'd forgotten how much of a light sleeper Jason was. He gives a brief nod, but something of the truth must show on his face, because Jason only looks incredulous. "Come here," he says.
Peter moves, so tired he can barely feel the movement, and lies down, flicking off the light as Jason's arm settles protectively around him. It makes him feel safe, even though he knows nothing is anymore.
"What happened?"
He shakes his head. "Nothing. Just a bad dream." If only.
"Pretty bad, huh?" He has no idea.
"Yeah," Peter answers, sleepily. It's like just lying there with Jason is enough to relax him. It's all an illusion, but it helps so much.
"What happened? Same as usual? You seem kind of tired recently."
"Just go to sleep," Peter says, and hears Jason sigh in the dark.
"You won't. Come one, tell me."
"We're performing and we're wearing all the costumes and stuff, and we're at the Queen Mab scene. And then, all of a sudden you just fall, like, collapse, and then you don't wake up and…"
"Shh…" Jason murmurs against his ear. "It's just a dream, yeah? I doubt I have any weird heart conditions or anything."
"I think you overdose actually." Peter says, because actually, he knows.
Jason is just silent. "Didn't think Lucas ever gave enough to OD," he says finally.
"I guess." Peter replies, though it feels terribly inadequate. He wants to say something along the lines of don't but he knows Jason won't know what he means, and he doesn't want to push too much. After all, Jason had already as good as agreed they could come out, stop hiding this, although half the time Peter wasn't even sure what this was. Jason traces light random patterns on Peter's shoulder, and doesn't answer him. Peter gulps, squeezing his eyes shut and tries to force himself to relax.
Jason stops short in his tracks when he sees her, and, cursing under his breath, ducks into the nearby hallway, silently praying she hadn't noticed him.
No such luck.
"Jason!" she calls after him, and then suddenly she's there again, pushing him into an empty classroom and shutting the door, like a bad penny doomed to show up whatever he does. In a twisted way, it reminds him of his feelings for Peter.
"You didn't mean it," she pleads, half-sobbing. "Oh, please tell me you hadn't meant it." Her eyes are darker than usual, with an abundance of eyeliner that fails to disguise the rawness of bitter tears. He says nothing. "Jason!"
"I thought you said you'd leave me alone," he replies finally, although he'd quite happily wipe that whole evening from existence. Oh, thank God he'd stopped before they went to far. Peter would never have trusted him again.
"For a girl. Jase, please, you don't mean this." It's an odd impulse, but he flinches. That's Peter's name for him, and only Peter's, belonging in moans between spread lips and dark hair tossed back.
"Don't call me that." It's colder than he'd intended. Outside, the hallways are filled with nameless students, loud and carefree. What would they say if they knew?
"Don't you see what he's doing?" She asks, and actually looks sorry for him. If anything, it should be him pitying her, and her unrequited crush, but at the moment, all he can feel is vague annoyance. "This isn't you. I mean, you've always been normal."
It hits too close to home, and he looks away, wondering how many hours he'd spent praying in vain, waiting for those feelings to go away. It had never worked, and eventually he gave up.
"Normal?" he questions instead, raising an eyebrow, because this is what he does when faced with something like this.
"You know," Ivy says, waving a hand vaguely. "Not," she leans forward, like it's some sort of disgrace to be saying it, even where no one is around, and finishes, barely loud enough for him to hear, "gay."
He shrugs, "I don't know if I am really." he says, because he'd fancied girls as well, Anna, an older girl who'd had singing lessons from Nadia's cello teacher, and little red-haired Freya Reynolds, who'd once gone to his golf lessons. But Peter was different, and he kind of can't see ever not wanting him.
Ivy gives him a triumphant smile, but it's a little strained around the edges, like it's a victory she's not yet sure of. "See?" she says. "Whatever he's forced you to do or manipulated you, or convinced you of, but it doesn't matter. You can get over it."
"He hasn't tried to convince me of anything!" Jason snaps, and even though it's not really true, because Peter had, over coming out, and films, and auditioning for that damn play in the first place, but it didn't count, because it had never been like Ivy was trying to tell him now; like forcing him. If anything, it was her attempting to do the manipulating.
"Oh, Jason," she murmurs, sounding quite genuinely sorry for him. "We'll get you through this, don't worry."
"You don't need to get me through anything!" he says, "Look, I'm sorry. But who I'm in a relationship with is really none of your business."
"It's a sin," Ivy reminds him patiently. It's the patience that gets to him really, like she understands. She understands nothing.
"I love him," Jason blurts out unthinkingly. Oh, shit. He hadn't even realised it. He was such a goddamn idiot.
Something shifts in her expression then, dark and painful, but he turns away so he won't have to face her, and goes outside.
It's cold, but it helps him think. He's going to need it, if he's going to be able to score any baskets later.
"Thanks, by the way. This morning, I mean," Peter says, not looking up, when Jason comes in from practise. He thinks it's basketball this time, because for all of Jason's talk about baseball he hasn't played it properly since they were twelve and barely knew each other.
Jason shrugs, "You haven't been sleeping."
"It was fine afterwards" It's not a defence, and they both know it.
"Well, you can always sleep with me tonight," Jason suggests.
"Really?" Peter looks up then, sees the glint in Jason's eyes, the half-smile and blushes.
"Jerk. Only you could go from nightmares to sex so quickly."
"Is that a yes?" Jason asks, amused, dropping down on the bed behind him.
Peter leans back and inhales sweat from the workout and Jason's soap, and beneath that something that's just Jason, strong and warm and addictive as sin. "You know it is," he murmurs.