Imaginary Friend
Title: Imaginary Friend
Fandom: bare, a pop opera
Written: July, 2009
Rating: PG
Words: 2700
Summary: Peter never had an imaginary friend when he was younger, but it was now common knowledge that wherever Peter went, Jason came with him.
------
Peter never had an imaginary friend when he was younger. He talked to himself, played with himself, and sometimes went on walks by himself, but he never felt lonely enough to pretend to have someone with him. He always found it silly when another child screamed at someone not to sit down next to them because their invisible friend would get squished. He thought it was cute how the girls his age pretended to have tea parties with their imaginary friends, but did not understand why they just didn't all get together and have a real tea party.
No, Peter had been the type who found the whole 'imaginary friend' deal very childish and silly.
But it was common knowledge now that wherever Peter went, Jason came with him.
It puzzled his classmates at Berkeley to no end why the intelligent young man talked about this 'Jason' as if he was a real boy. If they invited Peter to the movies, he always had to "ask" Jason if he wanted to come too. Jason was always on the list of guests whenever Peter had friends over. He even had Jason in his phone, number one on speed dial no less.
They dismissed this behavior as a quirk, nothing that needed to be looked into deeper. Maybe it was a nervous habit or maybe he had a mental disorder or maybe he was just doing it as a social experiment, but whatever Peter's reasons, nobody questioned it. Some went as far as asking about Jason from time to time, the more immature of their group sniggering behind their hands when Peter answered their questions earnestly.
Whenever the questions became more personal, however, Peter always fell silent. Some had tried to get a straight answer as to who exactly Jason was and where he had come from, but Peter shrugged these away or pretended not to hear or hastily changed the subject. So it was no surprise that people started to get curious.
Peter's roommate, Vince, found himself being endlessly drilled when Peter wasn't around. People would ask him if Peter talked to Jason, if Jason was a family member who had passed away, if Peter laughed about everything when nobody was around. Vince tried to shrug the questions away as easily as Peter did, but his own curiosity began to peak. Just because he was Peter's roommate did not mean they shared everything; Peter was so quiet and introverted that sometimes Vince didn't realize he was in the room.
But regardless of Peter's reasons for not explaining this Jason mystery, Vince had to applaud him for dealing with the constant badgering. It was nearing the end of the second semester, and Peter had almost completed his first year of college, successfully keeping everyone in the dark.
So it was to his great surprise that he entered their room one day to see Peter curled up in a ball on his bed, clutching a framed picture and crying silently. Vince contemplated whether he should duck back out and give Peter some privacy, but he did not want to seem insensitive. After all, the two had shared a room for an entire year. Who could Peter talk to if not his roommate?
"Hey Peter?" Vince's voice was soft and hesitant.
Peter jumped, sitting up hastily and placing the picture face-down on his bed beside him. He looked up at Vince with streaming eyes, silently pleading with him not to press the matter.
Vince ignored this silent plea and sat down on Peter's bed, handing him the box of tissues he kept on his dresser as he did so. Peter blew his nose noisily, tossing the used tissue into the wastepaper basket when he finished. Vince took advantage of this to pick up the picture, turning it over to see just who it was Peter was crying over. Peter made a noise of disapproval as he picked it up, but did not stop him.
Vince found himself looking at a younger version of his roommate, smiling and eyes twinkling, with his arm slung over the shoulders of a slightly larger boy. This other boy had his arm around Peter's waist and his head was cocked to the side slightly, smiling jokingly with his tongue poking out from between his teeth. Both boys wore school uniforms, and as Vince looked closer he saw there was a crowd of people in the background, all clad in similar colors.
"School field trip in tenth grade," Peter said thickly as he reached for another tissue. "I know we look stupid, but it's the only picture I have of us together." A fresh wave of tears came, and Peter buried his face in the tissue, crying into his hands.
Vince's brain was screaming at him to do or say something, but the only coherent thought he had was, 'So this is Jason,' and he did not think that was the best thing to say at the moment. So he just sat there, feeling completely useless as his roommate began sniffling.
"He died a year ago today," Peter explained as he wiped his nose with the tissue.
"Oh," Vince said lamely, setting the picture back on the bed. "I'm sorry."
"D-d'you think you could find Nadia for me?" Peter asked meekly, as if this simple request would anger Vince. It was true, Vince did not get on very well with Nadia, but he wasn't about to refuse his roommate's request because of this.
"Sure," Vince nodded, more than happy to escape the situation. He supposed that, since Nadia and Peter had gone to high school together, she had also known the boy in the picture. As he left the room, Vince closed the door quietly behind him, not wanting to startle Peter or make him cry again.
Peter looked up as Vince left, hastily wiping his eyes and blowing his nose again. He knew he was being stupid, crying over something that had happened a year ago. Everyone else had most likely moved on by now, forgotten about it, put it out of mind.
But I was the only one who really knew him, Peter reminded himself, trying to justify actions he felt were silly. He picked up the picture again, smiling slightly as he remembered how happy the two of them had been that day.
"Jason, wake up!" Peter said, laughing as he sat on top of his still sleeping roommate, bouncing slightly in an attempt to wake him. Jason groaned, lifting an arm to rub his eyes. He tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but Peter's body prevented him from doing so.
"Jason, come on!" Peter bounced again, seizing Jason's shoulders and shaking him roughly. Jason groaned again, but this time he opened his eyes and looked groggily up at the boy perched on top of him. He laughed sleepily, slurring his words as he said, "Quite the wakeup call, Pete. Don't suppose I could get you to replace my alarm clock?"
"Only if you get up," Peter insisted, standing up and grabbing hold of Jason's arm, trying to haul the other boy out of bed. "Come on, we're gonna be late if you don't hurry. Remember, we're going to the museum today."
"Oh yeah," Jason said, standing up as well and stretching his arms up to the ceiling. When he brought them down, he leaned forward, trapping Peter in a tight embrace and pulling him close. Peter giggled, wrapping his own arms around Jason's chest and giving him a slight squeeze in return.
"Now get dressed," Peter instructed, pulling himself out of Jason's arms reluctantly. Jason did as he was told, crossing over to the dresser and pulling out pants and a shirt without really paying attention. That was the advantage of going to a Catholic boarding school that had required uniforms; you never had to think about what you were going to wear.
Peter busied himself with brushing his teeth in the small sink in the corner of the room while Jason dressed. When Jason deemed himself appropriately clothed, he came over and took his toothbrush from where it lay on the rim of the sink, leaning over Peter to do so. Peter himself had finished brushing his teeth, so he replaced his toothbrush and made to leave the sink so Jason could have it all to himself.
Jason obviously had other plans, for he grabbed Peter's arm, spinning him around and crashing their lips together. Peter pulled away, their lips making a small smacking noise as they parted, wrinkling his nose and saying, "Not until you get rid of that morning breath."
He turned away dramatically and sat himself down on his bed, smirking at Jason and motioning for him to turn back to the sink. He fought to contain his laughter as Jason brushed his teeth with a lot more vigor than usual. Making a mental note that Jason worked a lot quicker and more efficiently when he had something to look forward to afterwards, Peter smiled to himself.
Jason turned around, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and walked over towards Peter again. Deciding to milk it for what it was worth, Peter held up a hand to stop him, saying, "You need your tie." Jason rolled his eyes, but crossed back over to the dresser nonetheless, picking up his tie and fixing it quickly.
"Much better," Peter commented, this time reaching out and taking hold of Jason's tie, pulling at it until his hands were at the collar of Jason's shirt. Jason was laughing, and he pressed his forehead against Peter's, saying, "You're impossible, you know that, right?"
"But you put up with me anyway," Peter told him, tilting his head to one side expectantly. Jason was still laughing when he kissed Peter, who did not pull away this time but rather pulled a little harder on Jason's tie. After only a couple seconds the two had to break apart to laugh, not really knowing why but neither of them cared.
"Come on, we've gotta go," Peter said, dropping Jason's tie and jerking his head towards the door. He opened the door and walked into the hallway, Jason following. They walked side-by-side to the door at the end of the hall, occasionally bumping their hands together (by accident, of course).
Most of their classmates were already waiting outside, gathered in small clumps by two school busses. Sister Chantelle was standing near the busses as well, a clipboard in hand and a rather annoyed look on her face.
"There you two are!" a very cross looking Nadia greeted them coldly. "I was about this close," she held up her hand, thumb and index finger a mere millimeter apart, "from barging into your room to make sure you weren't still sleeping. Or hungover," she added, almost as an afterthought.
"Are we the last ones?" Peter asked, voice slightly higher than normal. Nadia laughed, shaking her head and saying, "I don't think it's possible for anyone to show up after Lucas, even if they tried really hard." Jason and Peter exchanged glances, both raising eyebrows in unison and shrugging, making noises of agreement.
"God, you guys are creepy when you do that," Nadia groaned. "I'm the one who's supposed to have the twin telepathy thing, Pete." This made both boys laugh again and Nadia, shaking her head, pulled a small disposable camera out of the bag slung over her shoulder.
"Alright, bunch together, creep-tastic roomies," she instructed. "I want a picture."
There was a soft knock on Peter's door, and it opened to reveal Nadia's rather bulky frame. She smiled at him, but it did not quite reach her eyes. "How're you holding up?" she asked, her voice quiet. She took in his tearstained face and the picture laying on the bed, saying, "Not very well if you sent Vince out to get me."
Nadia sat down next to Peter on the bed, picking up the picture and setting it on her lap.
"I remember the day I took this," she said in an offhand voice.
"It was three months after we got together," Peter said, voice flat and emotionless. He turned his distraught face to Nadia, saying, "I'm sorry we didn't tell you."
"Hey, hey," Nadia's voice was soothing and she pulled Peter into a tight hug, "don't you worry about any of that, okay?" She let go of Peter and held him at an arm's length, saying, "You need to focus on you. On the future."
"I know," Peter whined, voice cracking. "But it's hard."
"I know," Nadia echoed Peter's words, minus the voice cracking. Laughing slightly, she said, "I still try to trade chores with him when we go home for the holidays. And when the last birthday check came, I forgot I didn't have to split it this time and left half the money in an envelope on my dresser with his name on it for at least a month."
"D'you think it'll get any easier?" Peter asked, taking the picture back from Nadia and looking at his and Jason's goofy faces with a misty expression.
"I hope so," Nadia gently reclaimed the picture, setting it on the desk beside Peter's bed. Peter shifted where he sat, meaning to tell her that the picture didn't belong there, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth. Instead he said, "I still act like he's alive. It's almost like I'm… I dunno…"
"Letting him live through you," Nadia finished for him.
"Yeah," Peter agreed glumly. "I mean, he had so much ahead of him. He was supposed to go to Notre Dame and graduate top of the class and then go on and be successful in everything. But now…"
Peter let out a pitiful wail, throwing himself into Nadia's arms again and saying hysterically, "Now he's just a stupid imaginary friend!"
"No he's not," Nadia said in a soothing voice, running her hand up and down Peter's back to comfort him. "He's a part of you. You and Jason had something that nobody else did. He was completely yours, showing you a part of himself that nobody else got to see. He gave himself to you, and that's something that will never go away."
"Promise?" Peter asked, shoulders shaking. "Because I never want that to go away."
"As long as you love him, he'll be there," Nadia promised, remembering how Jason had started his speech the year previously, the speech that nobody had heard. The speech that he had written on notecards that had been thrown into the air after Ivy had come. The speech that she had picked up after everyone else had left, meaning to return it to Jason but never getting the chance.
She had read the speech mere hours after Jason's death, finding that she was able to read between the lines of the clichés phrases and sometimes overly-pompous language to see the love and courage beneath. Jason had written the speech for Peter, trying to force an apology and a confession into a speech that was supposed to be about high school.
Nadia had tucked the speech away in a folder, completely unsure as to whether to give it to Peter or not. In one sense, she knew it would make the poor boy feel worse, but she knew that it would also assure him that Jason really had loved him, that the last thing he wanted was to hurt him.
But as she held the broken boy, trying to comfort him, Nadia realized that she had kept the speech to herself for too long. It was time Jason's speech reached its intended audience.
"Peter, I have something to give you."
Fandom: bare, a pop opera
Written: July, 2009
Rating: PG
Words: 2700
Summary: Peter never had an imaginary friend when he was younger, but it was now common knowledge that wherever Peter went, Jason came with him.
------
Peter never had an imaginary friend when he was younger. He talked to himself, played with himself, and sometimes went on walks by himself, but he never felt lonely enough to pretend to have someone with him. He always found it silly when another child screamed at someone not to sit down next to them because their invisible friend would get squished. He thought it was cute how the girls his age pretended to have tea parties with their imaginary friends, but did not understand why they just didn't all get together and have a real tea party.
No, Peter had been the type who found the whole 'imaginary friend' deal very childish and silly.
But it was common knowledge now that wherever Peter went, Jason came with him.
It puzzled his classmates at Berkeley to no end why the intelligent young man talked about this 'Jason' as if he was a real boy. If they invited Peter to the movies, he always had to "ask" Jason if he wanted to come too. Jason was always on the list of guests whenever Peter had friends over. He even had Jason in his phone, number one on speed dial no less.
They dismissed this behavior as a quirk, nothing that needed to be looked into deeper. Maybe it was a nervous habit or maybe he had a mental disorder or maybe he was just doing it as a social experiment, but whatever Peter's reasons, nobody questioned it. Some went as far as asking about Jason from time to time, the more immature of their group sniggering behind their hands when Peter answered their questions earnestly.
Whenever the questions became more personal, however, Peter always fell silent. Some had tried to get a straight answer as to who exactly Jason was and where he had come from, but Peter shrugged these away or pretended not to hear or hastily changed the subject. So it was no surprise that people started to get curious.
Peter's roommate, Vince, found himself being endlessly drilled when Peter wasn't around. People would ask him if Peter talked to Jason, if Jason was a family member who had passed away, if Peter laughed about everything when nobody was around. Vince tried to shrug the questions away as easily as Peter did, but his own curiosity began to peak. Just because he was Peter's roommate did not mean they shared everything; Peter was so quiet and introverted that sometimes Vince didn't realize he was in the room.
But regardless of Peter's reasons for not explaining this Jason mystery, Vince had to applaud him for dealing with the constant badgering. It was nearing the end of the second semester, and Peter had almost completed his first year of college, successfully keeping everyone in the dark.
So it was to his great surprise that he entered their room one day to see Peter curled up in a ball on his bed, clutching a framed picture and crying silently. Vince contemplated whether he should duck back out and give Peter some privacy, but he did not want to seem insensitive. After all, the two had shared a room for an entire year. Who could Peter talk to if not his roommate?
"Hey Peter?" Vince's voice was soft and hesitant.
Peter jumped, sitting up hastily and placing the picture face-down on his bed beside him. He looked up at Vince with streaming eyes, silently pleading with him not to press the matter.
Vince ignored this silent plea and sat down on Peter's bed, handing him the box of tissues he kept on his dresser as he did so. Peter blew his nose noisily, tossing the used tissue into the wastepaper basket when he finished. Vince took advantage of this to pick up the picture, turning it over to see just who it was Peter was crying over. Peter made a noise of disapproval as he picked it up, but did not stop him.
Vince found himself looking at a younger version of his roommate, smiling and eyes twinkling, with his arm slung over the shoulders of a slightly larger boy. This other boy had his arm around Peter's waist and his head was cocked to the side slightly, smiling jokingly with his tongue poking out from between his teeth. Both boys wore school uniforms, and as Vince looked closer he saw there was a crowd of people in the background, all clad in similar colors.
"School field trip in tenth grade," Peter said thickly as he reached for another tissue. "I know we look stupid, but it's the only picture I have of us together." A fresh wave of tears came, and Peter buried his face in the tissue, crying into his hands.
Vince's brain was screaming at him to do or say something, but the only coherent thought he had was, 'So this is Jason,' and he did not think that was the best thing to say at the moment. So he just sat there, feeling completely useless as his roommate began sniffling.
"He died a year ago today," Peter explained as he wiped his nose with the tissue.
"Oh," Vince said lamely, setting the picture back on the bed. "I'm sorry."
"D-d'you think you could find Nadia for me?" Peter asked meekly, as if this simple request would anger Vince. It was true, Vince did not get on very well with Nadia, but he wasn't about to refuse his roommate's request because of this.
"Sure," Vince nodded, more than happy to escape the situation. He supposed that, since Nadia and Peter had gone to high school together, she had also known the boy in the picture. As he left the room, Vince closed the door quietly behind him, not wanting to startle Peter or make him cry again.
Peter looked up as Vince left, hastily wiping his eyes and blowing his nose again. He knew he was being stupid, crying over something that had happened a year ago. Everyone else had most likely moved on by now, forgotten about it, put it out of mind.
But I was the only one who really knew him, Peter reminded himself, trying to justify actions he felt were silly. He picked up the picture again, smiling slightly as he remembered how happy the two of them had been that day.
"Jason, wake up!" Peter said, laughing as he sat on top of his still sleeping roommate, bouncing slightly in an attempt to wake him. Jason groaned, lifting an arm to rub his eyes. He tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but Peter's body prevented him from doing so.
"Jason, come on!" Peter bounced again, seizing Jason's shoulders and shaking him roughly. Jason groaned again, but this time he opened his eyes and looked groggily up at the boy perched on top of him. He laughed sleepily, slurring his words as he said, "Quite the wakeup call, Pete. Don't suppose I could get you to replace my alarm clock?"
"Only if you get up," Peter insisted, standing up and grabbing hold of Jason's arm, trying to haul the other boy out of bed. "Come on, we're gonna be late if you don't hurry. Remember, we're going to the museum today."
"Oh yeah," Jason said, standing up as well and stretching his arms up to the ceiling. When he brought them down, he leaned forward, trapping Peter in a tight embrace and pulling him close. Peter giggled, wrapping his own arms around Jason's chest and giving him a slight squeeze in return.
"Now get dressed," Peter instructed, pulling himself out of Jason's arms reluctantly. Jason did as he was told, crossing over to the dresser and pulling out pants and a shirt without really paying attention. That was the advantage of going to a Catholic boarding school that had required uniforms; you never had to think about what you were going to wear.
Peter busied himself with brushing his teeth in the small sink in the corner of the room while Jason dressed. When Jason deemed himself appropriately clothed, he came over and took his toothbrush from where it lay on the rim of the sink, leaning over Peter to do so. Peter himself had finished brushing his teeth, so he replaced his toothbrush and made to leave the sink so Jason could have it all to himself.
Jason obviously had other plans, for he grabbed Peter's arm, spinning him around and crashing their lips together. Peter pulled away, their lips making a small smacking noise as they parted, wrinkling his nose and saying, "Not until you get rid of that morning breath."
He turned away dramatically and sat himself down on his bed, smirking at Jason and motioning for him to turn back to the sink. He fought to contain his laughter as Jason brushed his teeth with a lot more vigor than usual. Making a mental note that Jason worked a lot quicker and more efficiently when he had something to look forward to afterwards, Peter smiled to himself.
Jason turned around, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and walked over towards Peter again. Deciding to milk it for what it was worth, Peter held up a hand to stop him, saying, "You need your tie." Jason rolled his eyes, but crossed back over to the dresser nonetheless, picking up his tie and fixing it quickly.
"Much better," Peter commented, this time reaching out and taking hold of Jason's tie, pulling at it until his hands were at the collar of Jason's shirt. Jason was laughing, and he pressed his forehead against Peter's, saying, "You're impossible, you know that, right?"
"But you put up with me anyway," Peter told him, tilting his head to one side expectantly. Jason was still laughing when he kissed Peter, who did not pull away this time but rather pulled a little harder on Jason's tie. After only a couple seconds the two had to break apart to laugh, not really knowing why but neither of them cared.
"Come on, we've gotta go," Peter said, dropping Jason's tie and jerking his head towards the door. He opened the door and walked into the hallway, Jason following. They walked side-by-side to the door at the end of the hall, occasionally bumping their hands together (by accident, of course).
Most of their classmates were already waiting outside, gathered in small clumps by two school busses. Sister Chantelle was standing near the busses as well, a clipboard in hand and a rather annoyed look on her face.
"There you two are!" a very cross looking Nadia greeted them coldly. "I was about this close," she held up her hand, thumb and index finger a mere millimeter apart, "from barging into your room to make sure you weren't still sleeping. Or hungover," she added, almost as an afterthought.
"Are we the last ones?" Peter asked, voice slightly higher than normal. Nadia laughed, shaking her head and saying, "I don't think it's possible for anyone to show up after Lucas, even if they tried really hard." Jason and Peter exchanged glances, both raising eyebrows in unison and shrugging, making noises of agreement.
"God, you guys are creepy when you do that," Nadia groaned. "I'm the one who's supposed to have the twin telepathy thing, Pete." This made both boys laugh again and Nadia, shaking her head, pulled a small disposable camera out of the bag slung over her shoulder.
"Alright, bunch together, creep-tastic roomies," she instructed. "I want a picture."
There was a soft knock on Peter's door, and it opened to reveal Nadia's rather bulky frame. She smiled at him, but it did not quite reach her eyes. "How're you holding up?" she asked, her voice quiet. She took in his tearstained face and the picture laying on the bed, saying, "Not very well if you sent Vince out to get me."
Nadia sat down next to Peter on the bed, picking up the picture and setting it on her lap.
"I remember the day I took this," she said in an offhand voice.
"It was three months after we got together," Peter said, voice flat and emotionless. He turned his distraught face to Nadia, saying, "I'm sorry we didn't tell you."
"Hey, hey," Nadia's voice was soothing and she pulled Peter into a tight hug, "don't you worry about any of that, okay?" She let go of Peter and held him at an arm's length, saying, "You need to focus on you. On the future."
"I know," Peter whined, voice cracking. "But it's hard."
"I know," Nadia echoed Peter's words, minus the voice cracking. Laughing slightly, she said, "I still try to trade chores with him when we go home for the holidays. And when the last birthday check came, I forgot I didn't have to split it this time and left half the money in an envelope on my dresser with his name on it for at least a month."
"D'you think it'll get any easier?" Peter asked, taking the picture back from Nadia and looking at his and Jason's goofy faces with a misty expression.
"I hope so," Nadia gently reclaimed the picture, setting it on the desk beside Peter's bed. Peter shifted where he sat, meaning to tell her that the picture didn't belong there, but the words got lost on the way to his mouth. Instead he said, "I still act like he's alive. It's almost like I'm… I dunno…"
"Letting him live through you," Nadia finished for him.
"Yeah," Peter agreed glumly. "I mean, he had so much ahead of him. He was supposed to go to Notre Dame and graduate top of the class and then go on and be successful in everything. But now…"
Peter let out a pitiful wail, throwing himself into Nadia's arms again and saying hysterically, "Now he's just a stupid imaginary friend!"
"No he's not," Nadia said in a soothing voice, running her hand up and down Peter's back to comfort him. "He's a part of you. You and Jason had something that nobody else did. He was completely yours, showing you a part of himself that nobody else got to see. He gave himself to you, and that's something that will never go away."
"Promise?" Peter asked, shoulders shaking. "Because I never want that to go away."
"As long as you love him, he'll be there," Nadia promised, remembering how Jason had started his speech the year previously, the speech that nobody had heard. The speech that he had written on notecards that had been thrown into the air after Ivy had come. The speech that she had picked up after everyone else had left, meaning to return it to Jason but never getting the chance.
She had read the speech mere hours after Jason's death, finding that she was able to read between the lines of the clichés phrases and sometimes overly-pompous language to see the love and courage beneath. Jason had written the speech for Peter, trying to force an apology and a confession into a speech that was supposed to be about high school.
Nadia had tucked the speech away in a folder, completely unsure as to whether to give it to Peter or not. In one sense, she knew it would make the poor boy feel worse, but she knew that it would also assure him that Jason really had loved him, that the last thing he wanted was to hurt him.
But as she held the broken boy, trying to comfort him, Nadia realized that she had kept the speech to herself for too long. It was time Jason's speech reached its intended audience.
"Peter, I have something to give you."