♥ 𝓓𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝓼 ♥ ~ A Your Boyfriend Game Fanfic/AU

Chapter 3: Part III - Strangers In The Night

Soundtrack:

Yandere by Jazmin Bean (Peter)

Deploy by Jack Stauber (Lily)

A car drives past us and splashes water on the sidewalk as we walk. It's brought to my attention how quiet the street is. All the local mom and pop shops are closed. The quaint city street lamps light our path, but do little to make it seem illuminated.

Peter and I walk in silence. It's a peaceful experience, a companionable quiet. I hear him take in a breath and exhale, relaxing into our walk. Most people would want to chatter through any pauses, but we're both comfortable enough, it seems.

The way he scans our surroundings in the same way I do, looking for threats,  assessing possible safe or danger zones... It comforts me. And the way he walks on the road-side of the sidewalk, as though shielding me from potential dangers. It's a bit over the top, but I appreciate his consciousness.

It's calming to walk with him. I feel like I can let my guard down. Someone else will keep watch for a while.

I shake my head, frowning. No. The last time I trusted someone to watch out for me, I ended up—

I ended up here.

Peter's eyes burn into the side of my head. He really wants to ask what I'm thinking. I'm positive he noticed my change in mood.

"Do you have any family?" I ask, trying to fill the silence. Everything in moderation.

Peter's face darkens. "A mom and sister. We're not close."

I nod. "I'm not close with my dad, either," I say.

Peter's eyes widen, and he fixates on me with that inquisitive expression. "What happened with your dad?"

"What happened with your mom and sister?" I retort, hugging myself. Family trauma is such a nasty subject. I suppose I asked, though.

Peter purses his lips. "My sister and I never got along. Personality differences. And my mom...well, she and I just never saw eye to eye on a lot of things."

I nod. "So you're the black sheep of the family. What about your dad?"

Peter shrugs. "Never met him." He looks at me. "So, what about your dad?"

I give him a very wry laugh.

Do I want to tell him this? I hardly talk about it. But somehow, it feels different to talk to a stranger about it.

Peter looks at me curiously while I think.

I grimace. "Where do I even start?" I tick off the negative traits of my dad with my fingers. "Neglectful, narcissistic, alcoholic...and a drug addict. Does everything under the sun, from what I've seen."

I pause and shrug. My hands find their way into my pockets. This vulnerability is freeing but kinda uncomfortable. Peter patiently waits for the rest of my story.

"He justifies his addictions by thinking they make him more creative. He's an artist, ya see." I shake my head and glare at the sidewalk. "And someday, someday soon, he's gonna make the next big thing."

I spitefully kick a rock that's found its way onto the sidewalk. It rolls for quite a ways before falling down a storm drain.

Peter looks distraught. "That must take a toll on you. I'm—"

"There's more," I say, biting my lip. "He...sold me. To pay off one of his debts. To his dealer, I mean." My eyes narrow in disgust, anger, pain.

I can't meet Peter's eyes. I feel ashamed, in a way.

"Heh, it's kinda funny," my voice comes out too quiet. "You're the first person I've ever said this to." TK guessed, but I didn't tell them outright. And even they don't know the full story. They didn't want to pry.

I take a couple of paces, only to realize that Peter isn't with me anymore. I look back at him. He's back lit by a streetlamp, and I can't see his shadowed expression.

"Sold you...how?" Peter's voice is monotone. His head lowers, reminding me of a crouched predator.

A cool breeze slides across my face, causing me to shiver.

I chew my lip, suddenly self-conscious. It's strange to feel self-conscious or insecure about this subject. Normally I just feel bitter. Peter's reaction makes it seem different, though.

His reaction makes it seem real.

"He drugged me and...let his dealer...use me. For payment."

I've never seen someone go so still as Peter does in this moment. His hands constrict into fists. I hug myself awkwardly, in part to shield myself from the dropping temperature.

He's quiet for so long that I continue. "I did my best to fight them." My hands ball into fists in my pockets, and I sneer at a graphic memory in my head. "I beat a few down...But the leader, he—" I drop my gaze, unable to finish the sentence. "He was stronger."

My jaw locks up just remembering the few hazy images in my mind, however little there are.

I flinch as I hear a low growling sound. I look around for the source, afraid that something's hiding in the bushes or something.

"Anyway, I left shortly after. Moved here," I finish.

The memory of the aching, bruised feeling in my abdomen the next day causes me to hug myself. My body didn't even feel like mine for months after. It still doesn't. Not entirely.

"How long ago?" His voice is still monotone. Quiet.

"A-about six months." I notice his tense shoulders, and how much higher than my line of sight they are. "I only grabbed some clothes and some cash when I left. Had to get out of there."

Peter nods slowly.

"And haven't had the money to get more because my rent eats up most of my income." I sigh. "My roommate is nice, but she slacks on rent. So I end up paying for it. She lets me use some of her furniture, though. So that's nice, at least."

Peter nods again, as if this all makes perfect sense.

Why am I spilling my guts to this guy? I stop myself from rambling further, shutting down this vulnerable part of me he's found access to. It's not that I'm afraid of him, just uncomfortable with how exposed I feel.

I refuse to talk until he says something, for fear I'll start chattering again.

"Have you talked to anyone else about this?" His voice sounds too still, if that makes sense. As though it's a taunt wire that's being stretched thinner by the second.

"No."

"The police weren't involved?"

"I... It's complicated."

Peter pauses. His hands ball into fists and then relax a few times.

"Where is your father now?" Peter asks. His voice sounds cold and wrong.

Now, I'm nervous.