ever after (an excerpt in the bare novelization)
"Faggot!" Matt cries, his voice loud enough to carry, loud enough to bruise, and Sister Chantelle comes rushing back into the room. "You...faggot!"
Jason's blue eyes are hot with fury, his face flamed with anger. "The fuck did you just call me?"
"Stop it now!" Sister Chantelle yells - screams - in a voice that none of them have ever heard before. Absolute silence falls as she reaches up and jerks both boys up by their ties. "Where do you think you are? Public school?" Her eyes are burning with cold fire, the usual warmth nowhere to be seen. "How dare you both! Rehearsal is over! Get out of my sight now!"
Everyone scrambles for their bags and various belongings, not daring to meet each other's eyes. Matt sees the stricken look on Peter's face and for just a second he feels a deep regret, and he almost reaches his hand out, he almost says I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I shouldn't have - but then Peter turns away, his face stone again, and Matt awkwardly backs out of the room.
What purpose did that serve? Matt asks himself angrily as he storms out of the room. How could he lose control like that? Matt, who never speaks without thinking, Matt, who plays fair and makes honest calls and would neverâŚwould neverâŚThe anger just came bubbling up, fury, absolute white hot rage at the sight of that cocky, handsome face. But that's not him, right? That's not really him. So what was that about?
"What was that about?" Peter asks Jason as everyone else clears the rehearsal room, somewhat subdued after Sister Chantelle's angry command. He's somewhat hesitant, but he thinks it would be even weirder if he didn't ask, at this point.
Jason shrugs it off, like the word meant nothing, like it didn't bruise his soul, stand the hair on the back of his neck. "I dunno."
Peter takes a deep breath. Now or never. It's now or never. In the empty space of the rehearsal room, he puts his hand against Jason's neck, and Jason almost automatically arches into the contact. "Listen," Peter starts slowly. "I had this ... dream last night. A dream, or a crazy vision, and the Virgin Mary came to me, okay? And she was kinda like Sister Chantelle, and she talked to me, and told me all this stuff about us, and my mother, and she said we needed to tell my mother about us soâŚ. So, what are you doing for spring break?"
Jason's mouth has dropped slightly open during that speech, but he manages to recover fairly quickly. Okay. Wacky dream. It happens."Right. Okay. We gotta get going," he reminds Peter, in what he hopes is a gentle voice. "We're gonna be late for class."
Peter spins Jason around so they're face to face again. He's serious the way he almost never is, almost stern. "Jason. Stop. Listen to me."
Jason looks taken aback at the serious tone in Peter's voice, but he attempts to scoff it off - he's at a capacity right now, okay? He's trying to deal with everything, with this play and his grades and Notre Dame and Peter and Ivy and fuck, fuck, when does he get a minute? When? "Come on, Peter," Jason scoffs. "You're kidding, right?"
Peter bites his lip, and Jason has to look away - those red lips and white teeth and the pale skin - but he presses on. "No, Jase. I'm not kidding. I - I need to tell my mom. And I need you to be there when I do it."
Unfamiliar anger bubbles up in Jason. So it's that easy, huh? So it's all gonna be okay because of a dream, is that it? The voice in his head, the angry, stern voice, sounds just like Judge John McConnell, but Jason doesn't allow himself to think about that.
"Okay!" Jason starts cheerfully." Yeah, Peter, let's go tell your mother! And then, hmm, then she can tell my mother, who can tell my dad - "
"Jason," Peter whispers as Jason's sarcasm is becoming more and more biting, but he doesn't even slow down.
"So she'll tell my dad, and the two of them can rush down here for a conference with Father! Hey, you know what? Maybe I can ask for a leave of absence for Notre Dame while I deal with a - with a fucking sexual identity crisis!"
Jason laughs humorlessly. "Or you know what, Peter? Maybe - maybe my dad will just beat the shit out of me and then disown me." He raises his shirt just an inch, just enough so Peter can see the almost-faded yellowish bruise that he had kissed so tenderly the night they came back from visitation. "Yeah," Jason continues in that horrible, sarcastic-happy voice, "Smart money says that's his first move. So, uh great idea, Peter. Let's tell her. When do we leave?"
As angry as Jason is, Peter can't stand this dismissal one more second either. He launches himself at Jason, grabbing hold of the lapels of his shirt as if he can't quite decide if he's going to pull him close or shove him to the ground.
Instead, he buries his face in Jason's chest. "Jason, I can't deal with this anymore." He's not sobbing, but the desperation is clear, note by note. "I mean, you're all I have, don't you get that? And, I have to talk about it."
"We can't talk about it - "
" I almost told the priest in confession the other day!" Peter blurts." I wasn't going to - but - "
Now Jason grabs Peter - pulling his face up so their eyes are meeting, deep, sad green and scared blue. "You what? Are you out of your mind?"
"Jason," Peter begs. "Maybe this doesn't have to be such a problem. We're graduating in three months, Jase. Three months. Out of here. No more nuns - Father Flynn - I know Berkley won't careâŚ"
There's a silence that echoes louder than any of their angry words before. A silence that can't be taken back, apologized for, kissed better. A silence where an unbearably sad truth wells up in Jason's throat, choking him so he has to speak these foreign words that he never wanted to say.
Jason speaks slowly. "No, Peter. This is always going to be a problem."
It can't be. The words don't make sense, they don't compute - they've loved each other for four years. And so Peter asks - he has to, he just has to - "What are you saying?"
Jason's words are cold as his eyes. "ThisâŚ. UsâŚ. It's over."
Peter reaches out for Jason, his actions almost automatic. He leans in to Jason like he has a million times before, and Jason pushes him back - and just that slight push is enough to throw him off balance, send him sprawling to the floor.
Pain and regret flash in Jason's eyes suddenly, and he tries to reach down and pull Peter back up, because God, he never meant to push him, he wouldn't hurt him, he's just so stressed, so tired⌠But this time, Peter knocks his hands away.
"Who are you?" Peter asks, his voice confused and angry. He gets to his feet slowly, with no help from Jason. "What the fuck happened to you?"
Peter bites his lower lip. He's angry and sad and he can't quite even believe this is really happening. "You don't remember saying we were soul mates? You don't remember telling me that things would be okay, because we would always be together? You were the one who made all these rules, and had to handle everything, but you're the one who's so goddamn afraid."
Jason feels his anger flare at the sight of Peter's steady green eyes, calling him a coward again. All this is because of some stupid, nonsense dream that Peter had.
"So let me get this straight," Jason snaps hotly. âYou have some magic Jesus dream or something and now it's all okay, huh? Is it so simple? Christ! I hadn't heard!â
He is angry, so angry now, and instead of backing down, Peter stands toe-to-toe with him. Jason is stronger than him, for sure, but he sure as hell is not afraid of him.
Jason pushes Peter roughly. âYou need to wake up. There's no happy endings for us like this, okay? There's no happy ending for a bunch of queers.â
Jason says the word like it's disgusting - like he hates the sound of it.
Have they said it before? Maybe carelessly in the early years, Jason has called something queer or gay - but towards himself? Towards Peter?
More than anything else Jason says, the sound of him hurling that slur towards him - like it's a weapon, like it will damage him - is what causes a hairline fracture to form in Peter's heart. Faggot was bad enough from Matt - but this, this is heartbreak.
The word hangs in the air between them, crackling with electricity. Peter is ready to give another angry retort, to force Jason to face facts, but after they glare at each other for a moment, suddenly Peter's anger melts away, leaving an aching sadness and a strange sense of pity. Jason is angry because he hates the truth, and Peter doesn't - and there's nothing that Peter can do about that. He can't make Jason accept it, accept himself, and all the love that Peter has poured into Jason isn't enough to change his self loathing.
"So much for our happy ever after," Peter says softly. "So much for true love."
Jason can't speak, for a moment. HeâŚit was love, it was, but they've just been fooling themselves thinking it could last. Sometimes the most beautiful things are made of spun sugar and glass, and they only last until the world crushes the life out of them.
Peter is just staring at him, and he's still so beautiful, but Jason resolves to stop thinking that way right now. Right now. It's over, and it's finished, and it was a beautiful dream that was never going to become their reality.
"Peter," he says finally. "Don't tell anyone."
Peter pulls his backpack up onto his shoulder and silently turns and walks out. He refuses to give Jason the satisfaction of an answer. He refuses to give him his tears.
Jason is left alone in the room, and as soon as he's sure that Peter is gone, he sinks to his knees. "Oh God," he murmurs, half praying, his vision blurring with tears he denies even to himself in an empty room. "Please, help me." His voice chokes. "Somebody help me."
