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@pettypeter
Lucinda glanced at what was in the boys hand, and quickly grabbed back her blouse that slipped from her bag. As of now, she was living out of whatever was in her bag. “Uh- thank you. It’s not stolen I swear.” She told the boy, stuffing it back into her bag.
"Oh - uh, I didn't think it was." He said, raising an eyebrow. "You alright, Lucille?"
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"Oh, thank you. I can be such a ditz sometimes."
"I know the feeling."
"I think you dropped this."
"Everything okay?"
"Mm? Yeah, just tired."
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"S-sorry, th-th-this seat's t-taken."
Marceline looked up at Peter and frowned. “B-because I d-d-didn’t b-belong th-there, P-Peter. I w-was o-only c-causing m-more trouble f-for all of y-y-you.”
"You are my friend," he said, feeling rather conflicted. "Aren't - aren't we supposed to be there for each other? You weren't causing me any trouble."
the truth was built to bend, a mechanism to suspend the guilt
Peter's lips are stained with lies, sweet little lies that roll from his tongue in an almost beautiful way. They poison those around him, make him feel stronger with every victim that falls in his traps. Anyone who believes what he says is foolish, or at least a bigger fool than he is himself. Strong - that's how he feels when he sees how people feel bad for him, the puppet master of a thing bigger than he can actually handle.
It's almost too easy. Finding out information, picking up things that no one with a snake tattooed on their arm should hear, Peter is like a rat, even when he is in his human form. Stealing bits of information to use for his own good, self-preservative and dependent, just like the animal that is disgusted by many.
He is good at it, he knows he is. One thing he excels at, unlike so may others. It's a surprise, that he doesn't slip, that he manages to keep up his façade all day. He hadn't thought he would be able to, had assumed that this would immediately go wrong - that people would notice the obvious change. But they didn't.
It's not like he's happy. He's filled with negative emotions, still. Most of those feelings about his own person, disgusted with his mistakes and choices. It's a never ending circle of self-hatred and pride, part of him despising what he's doing, another part satisfied with the discovery of his talent to sneak around and deceive.
It is only when he is alone, that Peter allows himself to let go of the lies he is slowly growing addicted to. Only then, that he doesn't feel the numb feeling that seems to take over whenever he's with other people. It is only then, that he feels scared, uncontrollably scared. The traumas of the cellar haunting him, the tattoo on his arm burning aggressively as he tries to control his breathing. Panic attacks happen more often, his lungs seeming to shrink over the day, only returning to their usual size after completely blacking out, becoming a quick-breathing mess.
It is then, that he gives in to his cravings, then that he stops fighting his unhealthy urges and binges until he is sure he won't be able to walk. It is then, that Peter feels the weakness of his humanity, the reality and danger of his position, which can sometimes feel so god damn exciting. It is in those moments, that he realises he is losing himself, that he is slowly becoming someone he doesn't want to be, someone with so many faces that he isn't even sure which one is the real him.
"S-sorry, th-th-this seat's t-taken."
"Marceline?" Peter asked. "Why did you leave?"
"So-"
"You like bikes or somethin’?" Marcus asked,"Cause you’ve been staring for about twenty minutes."
Peter's head snapped up. "Huh? Oh, yeah - they're pretty cool. My friend likes them more though."
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"People don’t know better, Pete, they’re just trying to help."
"Yeah, every night."
"I know. I don't blame them. for it - really. I just hate that question."
"Me too." He paused. "Well, if I sleep."
Alecto had always very much been her own person; an individual who preferred her own company over that of others, bar the few people she actually respected and considered worthy of her time. If she wanted company, she wanted it for taunting, no more and no less. It was for that particular reason that Alecto had chosen to enter such a crowded pub, for where better to find a new victim to mock and torment until they ran away with their tails between their legs? Her eyes fell on one Peter Pettigrew, and the redhead made no attempts to hide her dirty smirk as she stalked over to the younger boy, an eyebrow arching in slight surprise as he offered her the chair. “How kind of you.” Her voice dropped with sarcasm as she fell into the seat, her hand gesturing towards the bartender as she kept her gaze fixed on the male sat opposite her.
Peter could feel his muscles tense up when he realised who it was, immediately regretting what he had said before. The nails of his left hand dug into the table before he looked up. Cautiously, he pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt, hiding his face in the shadows. He had not spoken to a Death Eater ever since those three weeks. He was scared to be sitting in a pub with one (admittedly, everything scared him those days), scared that everything would become even more real. He nodded subtly, eyes shifting from the red-head to the people in the pub. "So -" he paused, nervosity flooding over him, the calm feeling he had had earlier totally gone. "Why're you here?"
Remus could see the exhaustion on the other boys face and nodded. “Of course we can sit down, Pete.’ he smiled at him and sits down as soon as they could and turned to the other boy. “I have chocolate with me, as I sometimes do, would you like a piece?” He smiled at him. “I mean.. if you would like some?” He bit his lip, he always offered chocolate when one was down, because it seemed to help him when he did, and he hoped that it would help others as well.
He looked at Peter, he didn’t want to force the boy to talk. Because he hated it when others did so with him. Sometimes it was better if someone was just there with you, to be there for support without being overbearing. He smiled, “I like your hair longer, it suits you.” Then he grinned. “It really does, but I just realised how much of my gayside came out.” He snorts. “I mean, stating how you look.. nevermind..” He shook his head.
Remus was and always had been different than James and Sirius. He was more gentle, a better listener. He understood things better, because he too lacked confidence. Maybe that was why he felt slightly more relaxed around him than he had felt around Sirius or James. Normal. almost. "Yeah, that'd be nice." He said, the familiarity of Remus offering chocolate soothing.
Peter managed a chuckle at Remus' next words. In all honesty, he had not paid a lot of attention to his hair. Nor had he thought much about Remus being gay, but the whole topic change was welcome - a distraction. "Still an idiot, then," he joked.
It does get tiring, doesn’t it.
I’m mostly nervous and tired.
"Very.''
"Nightmares, too?"
I heard you were back. How are you?
I hate that question.
I don't know. What about you?
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"I think you should sit and talk for a moment or so."
"I - uh.. yeah." He paused. "About what?"
