( technically, since Peter tested his ability to survive bouncing off the hood of a moving motor vehicle not too long ago, the hug probably should be enough to hurt. if it does, though, he pays no mind to it. a little pain would be a simple price to pay, in return for the clarity the embrace gives him. uncomfortable clarity, really, when his brain is forced to catch up to everything he's done and not been cognizant of — and recall who he hurt with every awareness in the world, too.
his reluctance to touch Stiles seems to fade almost immediately in the crushing anchor of the embrace. he doesn't have the presence of mind to fight the comfort because of all the reasons he doesn't deserve it. instead he returns it, even though his hands are still shaking from the place they find purchase on Stiles' back. he doesn't want to let go, letting a heavy head fall on Stiles' shoulder, almost like he's running out of strength to hold it up on his own.
it's more a matter of the proximity to a familiar heartbeat that always seems to calm him, whether he deserves to feel calm or not.
Stiles pulls back to explain and Peter doesn't bother lifting his head, simply nodding into the fabric against Stiles' shoulder. he's none too intimidated by the prospect of a medically induced coma, mostly because he already knows it works... as long as someone is there to monitor and make sure he doesn't run out of the medication necessary to stay that way. it's another stupid mistake to hang on his consecience — another way the destruction around him and stale blood on his tongue is his fault, and one he won't easily forget.
he doesn't question the plan. he doesn't argue. Stiles wouldn't suggest if it wouldn't work — Peter is well aware of that.
it feels more painful to let go than anything else he's endured his entire rampage, but he has to. the longer they waste time, the more likely something could go wrong. even with a woman fully capable of forcing himself into an unnatural calm, Peter can't trust that's enough to stop him when Stiles is so close. he offers his arm, grimacing past the burn of salt in his eyes. )
I'm sorry. ( it's such a waste of words, sorry doesn't begin to describe the clawing misery blooming inside of him with the ready knowledge of what he's done. sorry doesn't fix a shattered arm, nor running away when Stiles had been so desperate to protect him and all of Woodhurst from what he was turning into. he was so much more than simply sorry, but he has no time to articulate it properly. honestly it was possible he couldn't articulate it properly even if he had an entire lifetime.
this time, Stiles won't have to worry about putting him under. with the last strands of control Peter has left, he's determined to make sure nothing happens. as if that could possibly change what already has. )
no subject
his reluctance to touch Stiles seems to fade almost immediately in the crushing anchor of the embrace. he doesn't have the presence of mind to fight the comfort because of all the reasons he doesn't deserve it. instead he returns it, even though his hands are still shaking from the place they find purchase on Stiles' back. he doesn't want to let go, letting a heavy head fall on Stiles' shoulder, almost like he's running out of strength to hold it up on his own.
it's more a matter of the proximity to a familiar heartbeat that always seems to calm him, whether he deserves to feel calm or not.
Stiles pulls back to explain and Peter doesn't bother lifting his head, simply nodding into the fabric against Stiles' shoulder. he's none too intimidated by the prospect of a medically induced coma, mostly because he already knows it works... as long as someone is there to monitor and make sure he doesn't run out of the medication necessary to stay that way. it's another stupid mistake to hang on his consecience — another way the destruction around him and stale blood on his tongue is his fault, and one he won't easily forget.
he doesn't question the plan. he doesn't argue. Stiles wouldn't suggest if it wouldn't work — Peter is well aware of that.
it feels more painful to let go than anything else he's endured his entire rampage, but he has to. the longer they waste time, the more likely something could go wrong. even with a woman fully capable of forcing himself into an unnatural calm, Peter can't trust that's enough to stop him when Stiles is so close. he offers his arm, grimacing past the burn of salt in his eyes. )
I'm sorry. ( it's such a waste of words, sorry doesn't begin to describe the clawing misery blooming inside of him with the ready knowledge of what he's done. sorry doesn't fix a shattered arm, nor running away when Stiles had been so desperate to protect him and all of Woodhurst from what he was turning into. he was so much more than simply sorry, but he has no time to articulate it properly. honestly it was possible he couldn't articulate it properly even if he had an entire lifetime.
this time, Stiles won't have to worry about putting him under. with the last strands of control Peter has left, he's determined to make sure nothing happens. as if that could possibly change what already has. )