Waiting For Sunset - Chapter 3 {Peter and Ian}
“Ok, I think I’m done,” Peter called.
“Just come out already so that I can see!” Sasha yelled back, leaning against the wall outside of her brother’s room while he donned his Halloween costume.
“Ok, but don’t laugh at me, alright?” he asked, biting down slightly on his lower lip.
“I’ll laugh if you’re worth laughing at - if not, I’ll just tell you honestly what I think.”
“Fair enough.” Peter opened his door slowly. “Tell me the truth - do I look stupid?”
“Oh wow!” Sasha’s eyes widened as she eyed Peter’s outfit. He wore a black button down shirt, black slacks and ebony boots accessorized with a hat and cape, both black, and a fake sword at his hip. The outfit was topped off with a thin black mask around his eyes. “Very Antonio Banderas.” She smiled.
“So you can tell who I am?” he asked.
“If you’re Zorro, then yes, I can. If not, you’ve got me stumped.”
“I’m Zorro,” Peter confirmed.
“Alright then! Now if you want a ride to David’s, you had better get your stuff. I don’t want to miss my party.”
“Got it.” Peter nodded, running to his room and grabbing his backpack and orange Unicef box. “Ready!” He called.
“Ok, come on.” Sasha drove Peter to David’s, stopping in front of the house after almost thirty minutes on the road. “Remember,” she said. “Mom is going to pick you up at 11 for church.
“I know, I know.” Peter nodded. “Have fun at your thing,” he called to Sasha as he got out of the car, heading for David’s house.
“Hey!” David opened the door enthusiastically.
“Hey.” Peter smiled. “And you insisted that you weren’t a Trekkie…” He laughed as he eyed the Spock costume his friend had chosen.
“Hey, Trekkie or not, Spock is amazing.” David defended his costume as he led Peter to the den where they would sleep. “Are you ready to go?” David held up his own Unicef box.
“Yes.” Peter nodded and the two boys set out. They accepted only the occasional candy bar to eat as they walked between houses, preferring the odd quarter or nickel for their chosen charity.
“Hey, Scotty!” Someone called out behind them. “Beam me up!” David looked over his shoulder, grinning as he saw Ian, dressed as Indiana Jones, walking towards them, followed closely by a small boy dressed as a ghost.
“Hey.” David turned to speak to his friend.
“Who’s the dashing swordsman?” Ian joked as he stopped in front of them.
“That’s Peter, actually - you’ve met him, remember? At my party.”
“So I did.” Ian gulped, wishing that he hadn’t used the word dashing; after all, Peter knew the one thing about him that could jeopardize his friendship with David. What Ian did not know was that Peter’s ears, though hidden well by his mask and hat, had grown both red and hot.
“Hi.” Peter raised his hand, waving at Ian awkwardly.
“Hey.” Ian nodded in return. “Um, this is my little brother, Sam.” Ian gestured towards the sheet-clad boy beside him.
“Peter and I were just finishing up,” David explained. “When we’re through, Peter’s coming to my place to stay the night. You should come too.”
“Uh, if it’s ok with Peter.” Ian nodded.
“It’s fine with me.” Peter’s response was automatic; he felt as though the situation had the potential to go sour, but it could go just as wrong if he came up with some reason to stay away from Ian.
“Alright.” Ian smiled. “Thanks for inviting me; I’ll just take Sam home, get my stuff and show up at your place in maybe…30 minutes to an hour?”
“That sounds fine.” David nodded. “See you then.”
“Yep!” Ian turned, leading the small ghost by the hand and Peter found himself watching as the brother’s walked away.
“You don’t mind that I invited Ian, do you?” David asked, turning to face Peter.
“Oh, no.” Peter shook his head. “Why would I mind?”
“I don’t know, you just seem sort of…quiet all of a sudden.”
“David, you know how I get around people that I don’t know.” Peter was glad, for once, to have his shyness to fall back on.
“But you know Ian.”
“Not well,” Peter replied.
“Don’t worry, Ian’s a nice guy - tonight won’t be a problem.”
Peter gulped as they walked back to David’s, only hoping that his friend’s words were true.
***
By the time Ian arrived at David’s house, David and Peter were both out of their costumes and into their pajamas - Peter’s consisting of a large shirt and sweats while David had donned a simple white undershirt paired with basketball shorts. Almost right away, Ian went to the bathroom to change, emerging a couple of minutes later wearing solely a tank top and boxer shorts.
“Someone’s dressed for summer,” David joked, taking a seat in the den’s lone arm chair, leaving the couch, which had been unfolded into a bed, for his guests.
“I get hot when I sleep,” Ian replied simply. Peter chose to say nothing, scooting to the far end of the hide-a-bed as Ian sat down.
The three boys immersed themselves in a movie marathon consisting of B-Level horror flicks about killer refrigerators. They made fun of the end of Snacks in the Night and laughed through the first half of No More Beer for You, Alpha Gamma before David fell asleep, clearly impervious to the discomfort of sleeping in an upright position.
“This movie is really, really bad,” Peter mused, groaning as a vengeful mini fridge attacked a wayward fraternity brother. “They’re not even trying to make the blood look real; it looks just like ketchup.”
“Actually, it’s um, corn syrup and food dye, but you were close.” Ian bit his lip as he offered the more accurate description.
“Ah.” Peter nodded. “I honestly would not have guessed that.”
“Don’t feel bad, most people don’t know that.” Ian shrugged. “If you want, we could um, you know, switch off the TV and just talk; catch up and stuff.”
“Yeah, ok.” Peter nodded. It had been awhile since he had spoken to Ian, and against his better judgment, he was intrigued by the boy.
“Alrighty.” Ian walked over to the arm chair, attempting to take the television remote from David. The task, however, proved difficult as David clung to the device.
“Be careful,” Peter hissed. “Don’t wake him up.”
“I won’t.” Ian shrugged off Peter’s concerns, trying to gently remove the controller from David’s hand.
“Um, Ian?” Peter walked over to the television, pressing the power button and shutting the system down entirely.
“Oh, fine, do it the easy way.” Ian chuckled as he moved back onto the pull out bed, and even Peter couldn’t deny himself a shy smile at Ian’s crack.
“So, uh, what have you been up to?” Peter asked, pulling the bed sheet over his lap, fiddling awkwardly with the corner of it.
“School, friends, the usual.” Ian shrugged.
“Have you managed to keep yourself out of lockers, trash cans and toilet bowls?” Peter looked up at Ian, wondering if the other boy even remembered their previous conversation concerning the matter.
“My record remains unblemished.” Ian nodded. “Though I am thinking about going out for the play, which might increase my likelihood of becoming a target; however, it would most likely be worth it.”
“Oh, that’s cool.” Peter twisted the corner of the sheet around his fingers. “What play is it?”
“Much Ado About Nothing. It’s Shakespeare,” Ian replied. “I read it with my literature class in the seventh grade and it’s really funny - there are some great characters in it. I think that it would be a lot of fun to be in it.”
“Good luck then, I hope that you get in.” Peter smiled.
“Would you come to see it if I did?” Ian asked, the question escaping his lips before he really got the chance to think about it.
“Um…” Peter gulped, taken aback by the forwardness of the abrupt question. “Yeah, I might.” He shrugged.
“Cool.” Ian bit his lip, feeling that he should have kept the query to himself. “I mean I probably won’t get in - I’m not much of an actor and I don’t think that freshmen really make it into the play that often, so you probably won’t have to bother thinking about it.”
“You could get in,” Peter encouraged. “I mean you seem like a pretty dramatic person.” Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “Shoot, I didn’t mean for that to sound like an insult, I just meant that I think you’d do a fine job, that’s…that’s all.” Peter looked down at his hands awkwardly, still toying with the sheet.
“It’s ok.” Ian laughed quietly. “I know that you didn’t mean to offend me - you don’t really strike me as that sort of person, to be honest.”
“Yeah, I’m not really the type to uh…well, intentionally offend people.” Peter mentally cursed himself, fully aware of how stupid his words sounded. “I mean I usually try to be nice and all.”
“I can tell.” Ian nodded. “You seem like a nice guy. If I may be candid, I was disappointed when we stopped talking.”
“You could have called me, you know,” Peter stated.
“I thought that you wanted nothing to do with me, you know, on account of our, um, misunderstanding.”
“I was a little put off,” Peter admitted. “But it’s nothing to lose a friend over, I don’t think.”
“I would think that many of your friends and family members would disagree with that statement,” Ian mused.
“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “Many of them would, David included, most likely, but uh…well, I’m not really all that similar to the majority of the people that surround me.”
“I can tell that you’re different from the run of the mill religious types,” Ian stated. “I just don’t really know where you differ and where your opinions and values join theirs.”
“Sometimes I’m not so sure where the boundaries lie myself,” Peter confided. “I guess I’m just…confused about a lot of things right now.”
“Don’t worry, Peter, a lot of people our age are really confused about things - its part of being a teenager; or at least that’s what my dad has been telling me.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Peter shrugged. “Sometimes it just seems like my parents decided my life for me and I just don’t know if I want a different life badly enough to start down a different path.”
“I’m not really sure that I know what you mean,” Ian admitted, looking up at Peter, again raising his eyebrow in the effortless manner that Peter envied.
“Well here, it’s like…um,” Peter chewed at the inside of his cheek, clearly thinking about how to best word his dilemma. “I’ve just been thinking a lot and questioning a lot of things, and I’m honestly not sure what I want, but I am sure that it’s not the life my parents are setting me up for.” Peter paused, still weaving the sheet through and around his fingers. “And with all of that taken into consideration, I’m just not sure that I should pull away from my current lifestyle until I have a clear idea of what I’m going for…if that even makes any sense to you.”
“No, Peter, it does, it definitely does.” Ian bit his lip as he nodded, trying to read further into what Peter meant specifically without asking him.
“I mean it’s like I said before - there are parts of the religion that I believe in and understand, but then there are all of these other parts that I just can’t get a grip on, some that I don’t believe at all and some things that I’m, um, questioning.” As he said the words, Peter’s mind flashed back to the website that he had stumbled upon, and he shuddered.
“Are you ok?” Ian frowned, catching Peter’s slight shiver
“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “I just hate that I’ve gotten to the point where I’m not sure what to believe about my family, my religion, even about myself some days.” Peter sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be dumping all of this on you - it’s just, it’s hard for me to find people that I can tell this sort of thing to; I’ll stop now. Sorry.”
“Hey Peter?” Ian tilted his head to the side. “I’ve heard that when you finally find someone who will listen to you, you should talk to them, get things out, because you never know when the next chance you get might be.
“Do you mean that?” Peter asked. Ian simply nodded, giving Peter the green light. “Ok.” He took a deep breath. “It’s just - the hardest thing about all of this is…well…I’m not sure that I even believe in God.” Peter gripped the sheet tightly as he admitted something out loud that he never had before. “And I spend all of this time praying to God and doing stuff for God and all the while I’m wondering if he - she, it, them, even exists and it’s hard because that’s one thing that I was raised to never, ever question.” Peter looked down, his grip on the sheet was now so tight that his knuckles were beginning to turn white. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.”
“Peter, it’s ok.” Ian took careful note of the anguished expression on the other boy’s face. “You’re 14 - you aren’t supposed to know what you do and don’t believe in.”
“But I am!” Peter sighed. “In my house, I’m supposed to have it all figured out; I’m supposed to believe in God, love God, find a girl who believes in and loves God, marry her and have kids who believe in and love God - there’s no room in my family for anything less.” Peter felt his body shaking as he twisted the sheet even tighter around his fist.
“Just because your parents expect something from you doesn’t mean that it’s set in stone.” Ian looked down at Peter’s hands. He hesitated for a minute before reaching out. “Don’t do that, you’re cutting off the blood circulation to your fingers.” Ian unwound the sheet from around Peter’s palm. “It’s not good for you.” Ian took a deep breath and a large risk as he gently took Peter’s hand in his own.
“I know that it’s not set in stone,” Peter claimed, surprising both himself and Ian by not pulling his hand away. “I just really don’t want to break my family’s heart - they’ve loved me and raised me; they’re good people.”
“If they love you so much,” Ian whispered. “Then it won’t matter to them what you decide to do with your life.”
“I hope for that,” Peter admitted. “But I honestly don’t expect it.”
“Well you said that your sister was less than angelic - do your parents seem to have a problem with her at all?”
“No, not really, but I mean, she’s different. She still believes in God and she fully plans on marrying a Christian or Catholic man and making fat, happy Christian, God loving, God fearing babies.” Peter shrugged. “I’ve talked to her about it, we’re pretty close.”
“Maybe if you guys connect, you could try talking to her about your fears and hesitations. She might understand things better than I can,” Ian suggested.
“I don’t know, maybe I could.” Peter yawned. “I think that I want to figure things out a little more before I take them home.”
“That’s understandable.” Ian nodded. “You know, if you ever get stuck or just want to talk, you can always call me. I’ll listen and I won’t tell anyone anything.”
“Thank you.” Peter sighed, resting his head on the arm of the couch, closing his eyes. Only a couple of minutes went by before Peter was fast asleep, breathing softly. Ian looked down at their linked hands. He knew that he should pull his hand away and go to the other side of the fold out bed, but he didn’t want to. Instead, Ian lat down next to Peter, falling asleep with their hands still joined.
“Just come out already so that I can see!” Sasha yelled back, leaning against the wall outside of her brother’s room while he donned his Halloween costume.
“Ok, but don’t laugh at me, alright?” he asked, biting down slightly on his lower lip.
“I’ll laugh if you’re worth laughing at - if not, I’ll just tell you honestly what I think.”
“Fair enough.” Peter opened his door slowly. “Tell me the truth - do I look stupid?”
“Oh wow!” Sasha’s eyes widened as she eyed Peter’s outfit. He wore a black button down shirt, black slacks and ebony boots accessorized with a hat and cape, both black, and a fake sword at his hip. The outfit was topped off with a thin black mask around his eyes. “Very Antonio Banderas.” She smiled.
“So you can tell who I am?” he asked.
“If you’re Zorro, then yes, I can. If not, you’ve got me stumped.”
“I’m Zorro,” Peter confirmed.
“Alright then! Now if you want a ride to David’s, you had better get your stuff. I don’t want to miss my party.”
“Got it.” Peter nodded, running to his room and grabbing his backpack and orange Unicef box. “Ready!” He called.
“Ok, come on.” Sasha drove Peter to David’s, stopping in front of the house after almost thirty minutes on the road. “Remember,” she said. “Mom is going to pick you up at 11 for church.
“I know, I know.” Peter nodded. “Have fun at your thing,” he called to Sasha as he got out of the car, heading for David’s house.
“Hey!” David opened the door enthusiastically.
“Hey.” Peter smiled. “And you insisted that you weren’t a Trekkie…” He laughed as he eyed the Spock costume his friend had chosen.
“Hey, Trekkie or not, Spock is amazing.” David defended his costume as he led Peter to the den where they would sleep. “Are you ready to go?” David held up his own Unicef box.
“Yes.” Peter nodded and the two boys set out. They accepted only the occasional candy bar to eat as they walked between houses, preferring the odd quarter or nickel for their chosen charity.
“Hey, Scotty!” Someone called out behind them. “Beam me up!” David looked over his shoulder, grinning as he saw Ian, dressed as Indiana Jones, walking towards them, followed closely by a small boy dressed as a ghost.
“Hey.” David turned to speak to his friend.
“Who’s the dashing swordsman?” Ian joked as he stopped in front of them.
“That’s Peter, actually - you’ve met him, remember? At my party.”
“So I did.” Ian gulped, wishing that he hadn’t used the word dashing; after all, Peter knew the one thing about him that could jeopardize his friendship with David. What Ian did not know was that Peter’s ears, though hidden well by his mask and hat, had grown both red and hot.
“Hi.” Peter raised his hand, waving at Ian awkwardly.
“Hey.” Ian nodded in return. “Um, this is my little brother, Sam.” Ian gestured towards the sheet-clad boy beside him.
“Peter and I were just finishing up,” David explained. “When we’re through, Peter’s coming to my place to stay the night. You should come too.”
“Uh, if it’s ok with Peter.” Ian nodded.
“It’s fine with me.” Peter’s response was automatic; he felt as though the situation had the potential to go sour, but it could go just as wrong if he came up with some reason to stay away from Ian.
“Alright.” Ian smiled. “Thanks for inviting me; I’ll just take Sam home, get my stuff and show up at your place in maybe…30 minutes to an hour?”
“That sounds fine.” David nodded. “See you then.”
“Yep!” Ian turned, leading the small ghost by the hand and Peter found himself watching as the brother’s walked away.
“You don’t mind that I invited Ian, do you?” David asked, turning to face Peter.
“Oh, no.” Peter shook his head. “Why would I mind?”
“I don’t know, you just seem sort of…quiet all of a sudden.”
“David, you know how I get around people that I don’t know.” Peter was glad, for once, to have his shyness to fall back on.
“But you know Ian.”
“Not well,” Peter replied.
“Don’t worry, Ian’s a nice guy - tonight won’t be a problem.”
Peter gulped as they walked back to David’s, only hoping that his friend’s words were true.
***
By the time Ian arrived at David’s house, David and Peter were both out of their costumes and into their pajamas - Peter’s consisting of a large shirt and sweats while David had donned a simple white undershirt paired with basketball shorts. Almost right away, Ian went to the bathroom to change, emerging a couple of minutes later wearing solely a tank top and boxer shorts.
“Someone’s dressed for summer,” David joked, taking a seat in the den’s lone arm chair, leaving the couch, which had been unfolded into a bed, for his guests.
“I get hot when I sleep,” Ian replied simply. Peter chose to say nothing, scooting to the far end of the hide-a-bed as Ian sat down.
The three boys immersed themselves in a movie marathon consisting of B-Level horror flicks about killer refrigerators. They made fun of the end of Snacks in the Night and laughed through the first half of No More Beer for You, Alpha Gamma before David fell asleep, clearly impervious to the discomfort of sleeping in an upright position.
“This movie is really, really bad,” Peter mused, groaning as a vengeful mini fridge attacked a wayward fraternity brother. “They’re not even trying to make the blood look real; it looks just like ketchup.”
“Actually, it’s um, corn syrup and food dye, but you were close.” Ian bit his lip as he offered the more accurate description.
“Ah.” Peter nodded. “I honestly would not have guessed that.”
“Don’t feel bad, most people don’t know that.” Ian shrugged. “If you want, we could um, you know, switch off the TV and just talk; catch up and stuff.”
“Yeah, ok.” Peter nodded. It had been awhile since he had spoken to Ian, and against his better judgment, he was intrigued by the boy.
“Alrighty.” Ian walked over to the arm chair, attempting to take the television remote from David. The task, however, proved difficult as David clung to the device.
“Be careful,” Peter hissed. “Don’t wake him up.”
“I won’t.” Ian shrugged off Peter’s concerns, trying to gently remove the controller from David’s hand.
“Um, Ian?” Peter walked over to the television, pressing the power button and shutting the system down entirely.
“Oh, fine, do it the easy way.” Ian chuckled as he moved back onto the pull out bed, and even Peter couldn’t deny himself a shy smile at Ian’s crack.
“So, uh, what have you been up to?” Peter asked, pulling the bed sheet over his lap, fiddling awkwardly with the corner of it.
“School, friends, the usual.” Ian shrugged.
“Have you managed to keep yourself out of lockers, trash cans and toilet bowls?” Peter looked up at Ian, wondering if the other boy even remembered their previous conversation concerning the matter.
“My record remains unblemished.” Ian nodded. “Though I am thinking about going out for the play, which might increase my likelihood of becoming a target; however, it would most likely be worth it.”
“Oh, that’s cool.” Peter twisted the corner of the sheet around his fingers. “What play is it?”
“Much Ado About Nothing. It’s Shakespeare,” Ian replied. “I read it with my literature class in the seventh grade and it’s really funny - there are some great characters in it. I think that it would be a lot of fun to be in it.”
“Good luck then, I hope that you get in.” Peter smiled.
“Would you come to see it if I did?” Ian asked, the question escaping his lips before he really got the chance to think about it.
“Um…” Peter gulped, taken aback by the forwardness of the abrupt question. “Yeah, I might.” He shrugged.
“Cool.” Ian bit his lip, feeling that he should have kept the query to himself. “I mean I probably won’t get in - I’m not much of an actor and I don’t think that freshmen really make it into the play that often, so you probably won’t have to bother thinking about it.”
“You could get in,” Peter encouraged. “I mean you seem like a pretty dramatic person.” Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “Shoot, I didn’t mean for that to sound like an insult, I just meant that I think you’d do a fine job, that’s…that’s all.” Peter looked down at his hands awkwardly, still toying with the sheet.
“It’s ok.” Ian laughed quietly. “I know that you didn’t mean to offend me - you don’t really strike me as that sort of person, to be honest.”
“Yeah, I’m not really the type to uh…well, intentionally offend people.” Peter mentally cursed himself, fully aware of how stupid his words sounded. “I mean I usually try to be nice and all.”
“I can tell.” Ian nodded. “You seem like a nice guy. If I may be candid, I was disappointed when we stopped talking.”
“You could have called me, you know,” Peter stated.
“I thought that you wanted nothing to do with me, you know, on account of our, um, misunderstanding.”
“I was a little put off,” Peter admitted. “But it’s nothing to lose a friend over, I don’t think.”
“I would think that many of your friends and family members would disagree with that statement,” Ian mused.
“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “Many of them would, David included, most likely, but uh…well, I’m not really all that similar to the majority of the people that surround me.”
“I can tell that you’re different from the run of the mill religious types,” Ian stated. “I just don’t really know where you differ and where your opinions and values join theirs.”
“Sometimes I’m not so sure where the boundaries lie myself,” Peter confided. “I guess I’m just…confused about a lot of things right now.”
“Don’t worry, Peter, a lot of people our age are really confused about things - its part of being a teenager; or at least that’s what my dad has been telling me.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Peter shrugged. “Sometimes it just seems like my parents decided my life for me and I just don’t know if I want a different life badly enough to start down a different path.”
“I’m not really sure that I know what you mean,” Ian admitted, looking up at Peter, again raising his eyebrow in the effortless manner that Peter envied.
“Well here, it’s like…um,” Peter chewed at the inside of his cheek, clearly thinking about how to best word his dilemma. “I’ve just been thinking a lot and questioning a lot of things, and I’m honestly not sure what I want, but I am sure that it’s not the life my parents are setting me up for.” Peter paused, still weaving the sheet through and around his fingers. “And with all of that taken into consideration, I’m just not sure that I should pull away from my current lifestyle until I have a clear idea of what I’m going for…if that even makes any sense to you.”
“No, Peter, it does, it definitely does.” Ian bit his lip as he nodded, trying to read further into what Peter meant specifically without asking him.
“I mean it’s like I said before - there are parts of the religion that I believe in and understand, but then there are all of these other parts that I just can’t get a grip on, some that I don’t believe at all and some things that I’m, um, questioning.” As he said the words, Peter’s mind flashed back to the website that he had stumbled upon, and he shuddered.
“Are you ok?” Ian frowned, catching Peter’s slight shiver
“Yeah, yeah,” he nodded. “I just hate that I’ve gotten to the point where I’m not sure what to believe about my family, my religion, even about myself some days.” Peter sighed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be dumping all of this on you - it’s just, it’s hard for me to find people that I can tell this sort of thing to; I’ll stop now. Sorry.”
“Hey Peter?” Ian tilted his head to the side. “I’ve heard that when you finally find someone who will listen to you, you should talk to them, get things out, because you never know when the next chance you get might be.
“Do you mean that?” Peter asked. Ian simply nodded, giving Peter the green light. “Ok.” He took a deep breath. “It’s just - the hardest thing about all of this is…well…I’m not sure that I even believe in God.” Peter gripped the sheet tightly as he admitted something out loud that he never had before. “And I spend all of this time praying to God and doing stuff for God and all the while I’m wondering if he - she, it, them, even exists and it’s hard because that’s one thing that I was raised to never, ever question.” Peter looked down, his grip on the sheet was now so tight that his knuckles were beginning to turn white. “I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.”
“Peter, it’s ok.” Ian took careful note of the anguished expression on the other boy’s face. “You’re 14 - you aren’t supposed to know what you do and don’t believe in.”
“But I am!” Peter sighed. “In my house, I’m supposed to have it all figured out; I’m supposed to believe in God, love God, find a girl who believes in and loves God, marry her and have kids who believe in and love God - there’s no room in my family for anything less.” Peter felt his body shaking as he twisted the sheet even tighter around his fist.
“Just because your parents expect something from you doesn’t mean that it’s set in stone.” Ian looked down at Peter’s hands. He hesitated for a minute before reaching out. “Don’t do that, you’re cutting off the blood circulation to your fingers.” Ian unwound the sheet from around Peter’s palm. “It’s not good for you.” Ian took a deep breath and a large risk as he gently took Peter’s hand in his own.
“I know that it’s not set in stone,” Peter claimed, surprising both himself and Ian by not pulling his hand away. “I just really don’t want to break my family’s heart - they’ve loved me and raised me; they’re good people.”
“If they love you so much,” Ian whispered. “Then it won’t matter to them what you decide to do with your life.”
“I hope for that,” Peter admitted. “But I honestly don’t expect it.”
“Well you said that your sister was less than angelic - do your parents seem to have a problem with her at all?”
“No, not really, but I mean, she’s different. She still believes in God and she fully plans on marrying a Christian or Catholic man and making fat, happy Christian, God loving, God fearing babies.” Peter shrugged. “I’ve talked to her about it, we’re pretty close.”
“Maybe if you guys connect, you could try talking to her about your fears and hesitations. She might understand things better than I can,” Ian suggested.
“I don’t know, maybe I could.” Peter yawned. “I think that I want to figure things out a little more before I take them home.”
“That’s understandable.” Ian nodded. “You know, if you ever get stuck or just want to talk, you can always call me. I’ll listen and I won’t tell anyone anything.”
“Thank you.” Peter sighed, resting his head on the arm of the couch, closing his eyes. Only a couple of minutes went by before Peter was fast asleep, breathing softly. Ian looked down at their linked hands. He knew that he should pull his hand away and go to the other side of the fold out bed, but he didn’t want to. Instead, Ian lat down next to Peter, falling asleep with their hands still joined.