2. Thoughts of him (part 1)
Black hair, black eyes, black clothes. A soundless, open mouth. His face had been twisted in embarrassment.
Squeak.
He had been cowering in the doorframe, under a veiling shadow. Hidden away from the pools of daylight drinking at the windows.
The floor squeaks.
Beverly had been greedier, back then. She had expected something brighter, perhaps scarier. But Peter Lake was neither monstrous nor peculiar, in presentation.
He was all but strange. His were thick, ashy colors. She didn't even find him especially handsome, at first glance. He looked like he was trying to melt into the walls.
He was her senior for more than a decade, and yet there was a boyish spontaneity to the faces he made. He never stopped moving. The arch of his eyebrows. The twisted corners of his mouth. The subtle twitch of his nose.
How he looked around. How he looked at her.
I wouldn't laugh at you.
Black eyes. His eyes.
I would never laugh at you.
Darker than Willa's and drowned in exhaustion. Mountains of sadness that she would never understand. But eyes that lingered, regardless. A gaze that persevered. Caring. Invested.
He drank in her every detail. Her words, her glances, every movement she made, however minimal. Sometimes, intentional.
It's late!
During the first couple of days, she had found delight in his torment. She'd played him like she played her pianos. Fiercely, passionately.
She had never been prone to flirt this shamelessly, but much had happened in such short time. She'd been grabbed by the arms and cornered in the open sunlight. A new prison, outdoors. Glassless. A reeking doom. A silver blade. A dash of light.
Beverly!
But then she'd heard her name in a scream that pierced and cracked through the concrete. She'd seen Peter, his face contorted in panic. She'd reached for him. She'd run. She'd flown.
Oh… Her name, a scream.
Beverly!
Beverly Penn, an explosion. A shout.
She'd become loud and violent and she'd been trembling with genuine dread. But, then, when all had passed, and Peter Lake carried her upriver, her fear had molten into a potent sense of thrill.
Thank you for coming for me.
And she'd been bolder than ever before, in just that day.
To kiss a stranger on the cheek. To touch his face, his hands. To keep her arm around his, even after he'd reclaimed his balance. To spin, and let her hair blaze at her back, and let him watch her. To wait, in case he felt as desperate as she'd been.
Yes. She'd waited. She'd been ready for anything.
Because she'd become a warcry. She'd become a scream.
Thank you.
So Beverly spent their first day together in reckless abandon. She'd felt so powerful, all at once. And he'd been frightened and that had only made her feel even more delighted. Even greedier and happier.
She'd loved knowing that whenever his expression softened, every time a smile teased the corners of his mouth, all the times he froze in place, and stared, and kept on staring, it was because of her.
She adored his every reaction. The silent ones. The vocal ones.
You're beautiful.
The quiet ones… Those were the ones she felt the fondest of.
You're… impossibly beautiful.
He kept looking at her. He waited for her.
And his interest was surprising. His questions. His worry. And his sweetness, too. He was so sweet.
I don't understand why no one has ever loved you.
And Beverly had been kind to him, in those occasions.
You're not dumb, you're not ugly.
She had been honest. She never lied to him. She looked to him as a friend, and she did think he was worthy of more self-esteem.
And in those instances she had become a little aware of how careless she'd become. How vulnerable she was making him feel.
But then… he'd taken her hand and kissed her knuckles.
You are summer, Beverly.
And only then, once he'd kissed her, in that moment, she'd understood completely. She'd felt flustered. She'd seen him.
She'd felt him.
Every time I look at you I have to remind myself that you're real.
A quiver had gone through her bones. She'd soared and broken into particles of sunlight. Her body splintering under his lips. Then, reshaping. Solidifying anew. Fused by the desire to go through that same experience, all over again, as many times as possible.
The desire…
Oh, Peter…
Beverly had felt the fear she'd put him through. A delicious defenselessness. A wonderful panic. The longing for repetition.
And she'd felt moved by it. Enthralled, infatuated, marveled by what he'd done. As well as humbled.
From that moment on, she swore to never torment him again. Not unless she intended to make up for it with fear of her own. Panic, desire of her own.
Peter was no instrument. He wasn't her toy. Ever since he kissed her hand, his fear ceased to be an attraction to her. She didn't want Peter Lake to be afraid.
She wanted him around, all the time. And she wanted him to feel at ease in her presence, rather than intimidated.
Thus, every glance he gave, from then on, she'd return. And every kindness he offered, she'd reciprocate with one of her own. The more she practiced this dynamic, the happier Beverly felt. The dearer Peter became to her.
You're kind to me, I'm kind to you.
And she fell in love on the third day. The day the house trembled.
Author's Note: To anyone who is here today, thank you for reading.
So... This was super interesting. I spent a long time reconstructing this chapter, or, this set of chapters. I don't know if I'll be able to publish Chapter 3 today, too. Maybe. I hope. Cause... I love exploring this particular side of Beverly.
Beverly is a role model, to Peter, and to the audience. She's open-minded. She's brave. She's lively. And she suffers, but she perseveres despite her pain. However, I think exploring Beverly's flaws is just as important for her good traits to shine even brighter. I explored Peter's flaws in "A Star in the Lake" and I want to give Beverly the same treatment.
I do believe that Beverly would feel a sense of satisfaction from "toying" with Peter. I make her flirt with him very openly in "A Star in the Lake", but I also made sure to dim her playful behavior down as the week progresses and the relationship between them deepens. By the time the tent chapters arrive, the playfulness is gone from her. She and Peter are on the same level. No smoke and mirrors, no flirtatious teasing, etc. They both know what they want and what they're doing. They're respectful to each other. And they do share laughs, too, but... it's not the same.
And that's what I'm exploring with these first chapters - I want to flesh out Beverly's love for Peter since it'll be a crucial part of this tale. And I've already fleshed Peter's love for her, like, a lot. So it's her turn.
Beverly's progression, from being attracted to Peter's attentiveness (she knows he is in love with her from the start, come on, he's very obvious about it), to comprehending Peter as a person. And falling in love with him.
I loved writing from Peter's POV because he saw Beverly so positively, all the time. He's devoted to her completely. And he worries for her, pities her, but also finds her very strong. Stronger than him, braver than him. To write about Peter from Beverly's eyes, I want a different dynamic. Mostly because I want to explore another side of what it's like to fall in love with a person. Not just, "I love you" from the getgo. Which is Peter's case. But Beverly's, I doubt it. I think she took longer than he did to feel the love he feels for her.
I think it makes sense, for Beverly to start off showing a hint of morally-grey excitement. She is purposefully being bold because this is the first time in her life she's allowed to be bold, but... eventually, she learns that what she truly craves is to feel what Peter feels. To share this with him. Once the thrill of this new friend is gone, all that remains is him. And she loves him. I'm very happy with how this turned out.
Oh, and I love the "scream" part. That Beverly sees herself as a "scream" and feels powerful about it. Whereas it's a moment of trauma and panic for Peter, it's a moment of power for her. I thought it'd be a neat little twist. So I'm so, so proud of that :3 And... yeah. I'll see you again soon.
Again, thank you for reading. Thanks a lot for being here.
