#peter.muse

Pick a line from your favorite book/movie/poem/show/song. This line is now the first line of your story.

Line chosen from: Rifftrax Twilight commentary

“Is she supposed to look... sexy? Or like she’s wearing a rabbit’s dentures?” Peter couldn’t help it when he barked out a laugh at his barman’s quietly posed question, eyes following where the younger man was looking to spot a woman on the other side of the bar. The woman was decked out to the nines, sparkly red dress, perfectly painted lips, but Peter could see where Davis was coming from with the question, the way her lips parted slightly, showing off her teeth in an extremely unflattering way as she put on what Peter could only imagine was her best coy expression. Perhaps Peter wasn’t the best judge of these things, being less than interested in women as it was, but he couldn’t help but think that it was less attracting men and more warding them off.

The fact that the woman was sitting alone at the end of the bar was indication enough of that.

“Send her a drink, on the house.” Peter replied quietly, a pang of sympathy for another lonely soul overriding his desire to sit and shit talk patrons with his favorite employee. Davis didn’t offer much in the way of reply besides a slightly lifted eyebrow and a shrug before wandering off to mix rabbit lady up something tasty. Perhaps it was his bleeding heart, that thing that daddy had always tried to help him harden, that had caused that sudden feeling to wash over him watching the woman. Perhaps he simply understood what it felt like to sit alone at the end of a bar and drink alone, waiting for someone to sit and offer to share one with him. She wasn’t an unattractive woman, any more than Peter was an unattractive man, but in that moment, they shared that deep seeded feeling of melancholy that came with another night of drinking alone.

He didn’t have long to sit and stew in the bitter feeling, however, as the door opened behind him with a loud bang, and his eyebrow lifted slightly as he twisted to see what the commotion was.  People tended to know better than to drag their dramatics into his bar. They knew to keep it outside, in the back alley. Recognition hit him, however, and he met eyes with the two men dragging a third, stumbling and struggling one between them. His eyes cut immediately to the door to the left, the hallway leading back to his office, before turning his attention back to Davis, to the patrons, who all seemed to be confused and annoyed by the interruption of their calm night of drinking. Clearing his throat, Peter stood from his usual stool. “Well.” Clapping his hands together, he watched as eyes drew to him, likely expecting some kind of explanation. Instead, he simply said, “Davis, a round for everyone on the house.” as cheerfully as possible before leaving the bar and disappearing behind the door after the men.

peter's aesthetic: task 13

Peter is 30 and looks a lot like Alberto Rosende.

“Have no fear of perfection, you’ll never reach it.”

m e e t  P e t e r —

+ candid, thoughtful, devoted

- rude, vain, insecure

b a s i c s —

birthday; - august 15th

sexual orientation; - homosexual

religious affiliation; - devout christian

nationality; - columbian 

q u i r k s —

likes; - sunshine, cats, the ocean, spending time at the gym, romantic comedies, old fashioned arcades, chocolate milkshakes

dislikes; - rain, humidity, being idle, extreme hot or cold, itchy fabric, plaid patterns, horror movies

habits; - nail biting, skin picking, excessive workouts (especially when angry)

moral allignment; chaotic neutral

mbti; - ENTP, The Visionary

strengths; - physically fit, excellent at public speaking/interaction

weaknesses; - painfully self-involved, pride often overrules everything else

phobias; - being buried alive, dying alone, losing salvation

e x t r a b i t s —

Owns a cat named Belle.

Was raised by his Grandmother and idolizes her.

Speaks fluent Spanish and has a very faint accent. 

Signature color is blue.

a r e t h e y —

introvert / extrovert / ambivert

risk-taker / cautious

organized / disorganized

close-minded / open-minded

calm / anxious / restless

disagreeable / agreeable / in-between

patient / impatient

outspoken / reserved

leader / follower / flexible

empathetic / un-empathetic

optimistic / pessimistic / realistic

traditional / modern / in-between

hard-working / lazy

c o n n e c t i o n s —

kolya — lover/fiance/soulmate

marisol — younger sister 

He had vaguely heard Davis speaking quietly and frantically on the phone to someone, though the words had been completely lost on Pete as he slipped in and out of a coherent and conscious state. The only thing that he knew was that every time his eyes slid closed for more than a few seconds, Davis was shouting at him, making him wince as a pain flared in his head, and blink his eyes back open to try and focus on the man who looked rather panic-stricken.

At some point, someone had stripped his shirt off, though he didn’t realize it right away. It was only after Davis had shoved the window to his office and the cool night air wandered in, creeping over his bare skin and making him shiver. He was exposed and each breath hurt and honestly, Peter was starting to wonder if he actually had died. He was laying in wait for his judgement from the devil, because no God would let him into heaven.

He thoroughly believed that, too. With everything he’d done, he was destined for Hell. Those were the thoughts swirling in his mind as he lay on the itchy carpet under him, staring at the ceiling of his office and wandering in and out of conscious with the occasional demand from Davis that he wake up. He barely heard the office door open and close, barely realized he was alone for a moment before the door opened again, and this time Davis’ face appeared in his vision for a moment before another was there, and his eyes widened slightly, breath catching and... “Are you an angel? Because you’re radiant.”

Character A to Character B: “holy crap this is a terrible idea”

"Holy crap, this is a terrible idea."

Peter felt his eyes roll, fingers tapping idly at his desk as he shot his sister a warning look. The open notebook on his desk had so many scribbled notes that he was sure he would go blind looking over them all. The plan was simple, totally and completely simple and all he had to do was not lose his nerve. All he had to do was not fuck everything up or get so nervous that he threw up on Kolya's shoes or something. It was getting closer to time. Closer to that fateful moment, but for now, all he could do was repeat the plan over and over again in his head.

Because tonight was the damn night that he finally worked up the nerve to ask Kolya on a real damn date. None of this studying and sending coy looks over text books. None of the will they-won't they lingering smiles and casual touches. He didn't want to make a big deal out of the whole thing, but he definitely wanted Kolya to know that this was way more than casual flirting for him. He wanted some cheesy high school romance, completely with seeing Kolya walking around proudly wearing his letterman jacket, cheering him on at football games. He wanted to take drives in his beat up old pick-up truck and go to movies together and support all of Kolya's hopes and dreams for after high school ended. He had heard a few during those library study sessions. He had hung on every word, and found that his own dreams shifted to wrap around them. Maybe it was lame, maybe a little obsessive. Maybe Peter was too young to declare himself in love at 17 years old. He didn't care. Because he needed to know if whatever he felt, if it had any hope to fly. If Kolya felt the same way, or simply saw him as a friend.

"Earth to doorknob." Marisol's knuckles rapped against the top of his head, not at all gently, and he shook his head a bit, eyes narrowing a bit as he returned his attention from his daydreaming back to his sister. She made a face at him before letting out a harsh sigh. "Has it ever occured to you that Kolya might not like the big public display? What if you embarrass him? What if he hates it and runs off? This whole scheme could completely blow any shot you might have."

And he... hadn't thought of that. Not in the slightest. Suddenly, his heart was hammering in his chest too hard. His fingers were drumming a bit harder. God, he had no backup plan, but Marisol might have been right. Maybe this was a bad idea.

No. No he couldn't back out, now. "Just help me with my face, please?"

-----

The dance was already in full swing as Peter rolled in, Marisol beside him, though his sister quickly disappeared into the crowd the moment they'd made it through the doors. He scanned the room, eyes landing on a few of his friends off to the side, sipping punch from red cups and laughing about something. A hand lifted to push curly hair from his eyes. He'd let it go wild tonight, remembering an offhanded comment Kolya'd once made about liking it curly, though if he'd had it his way, he would have slicked it back and out of his face. His scan of the room didn't make it too far before eyes landed on Kolya and his entire brain seemed to freeze. The man looked incredible. Stunning. Peter's nerves shot to one hundred, especially when it seemed that the other boy looked up and saw him immediately. He seemed to be in the middle of a chat with Sorin, but he lifted a hand and waved, flashing a smile that had Peter practically melting as he returned it, and the wave. He might have made his way over, but he couldn't. He couldn't yet.

The plan.

The dance was boring. Both running by too quickly and dragging on forever. The key event, crowning the Homecoming King and Queen. That was the part he needed to get to. He was almost positive that he was going to win King. It wasn't necessarily narcissism, just the fact that he was likeable, and he had heard plenty of 'totally voting for you, Pete's over the past few weeks. It felt like years before the class president was taking the stage, tapping on the mic to get everyone's attention and finally, finally pulling an envelope from his pocket. His plan hinged on him winning. He could only cross his fingers and hold his breath as the Queen was announced first. No surprise when Savannah Grace won. She was charming and pretty. Nice. People liked her. But he couldn't even find it in him to be congratulatory as the boy cleared his throat to cut through the cheers. "And now, for our homecoming king..."

Time stood still, and Peter felt himself getting dizzy from holding his breath. He nearly missed it, missed his name being called. But... his name was called and he felt his sister, suddenly materalizing from the crowd to slap his back and shove him toward the stage. He took the stairs with shakey legs, knelt to let Savannah put the crown on his head, offered her a nervous grin.

"And now, our King and Queen, the floor is yours for a dance."

Planning a wedding was fun an exciting, right? Peter could only imagine. He’d spent the better part of the last two years planning the proposal, surely the actual wedding planning would be fun, too.

If Kolya said yes, that was. If he said no, Peter wasn’t quite sure what he would be doing after that. As sure as Peter was about them, about the relationship they had, there was a chance that Kol wasn’t ready for this, for marriage and for forever and whatever the hell else marriage meant. He would be heartbroken, sure, but he would absolutely understand if Kol wasn’t ready. He wouldn’t push it. 

He wasn’t quite sure he would manage to stick around the party if that was the case, though, so having Marisol there was a blessing. She could get him out if things went south.

The ring box felt like it was burning in his pocket, he was so sure that there was a spotlight on the thing all night long as he laughed and drank and went over the speech he had planned in his head for when the clock struck midnight. He made sure that he didn’t let himself get too far gone, and he was extremely careful that Kolya didn’t press too closely to the side of him that hid that box, lest his cover get blown early.

There was no telling if Kol knew what he was planning, no telling if the man was suspicious of his behavior in the slightest, but considering their relationship and how well the man could read him, he wouldn’t be surprised if Kolya had at least some idea of... something.

A phone call from Tate came at the wrong time, too close to midnight, and he was as polite and jovial as he could be while trying to rush his friend off the phone, disappointed that he wouldn’t make it in time for the big moment, but not pressing too much. Because the moment he hung up the phone, the countdown had started and he only had 7... 6... 5...

His nerves set on fire. Every word he had rehearsed in his head was gone and he had no idea what to say, just knew that he was supposed to get down on one knee now, and he did, squeezing Kolya’s hand to get his attention, vaguely aware that people had caught wind and had pulled out phones to start recording this as his mouth opened and words just started tumbling out. “Kol... I had this whole speech planned. I remember something about like... new year and new beginnings and all that jazz but it doesn’t matter, does it? The words? Because what matters is that I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you and I want that to start right now, for the beginning of this year to be the beginning of the rest of forever.” His other hand fumbled in his pocket, finally managing to pull that box out, to open it, and his tongue got all tied up again before he finally managed to get out, “Marry me?”