Hate Is An Evil Type Of Love

3. Envy

"What d'you mean?" I asked, taking the plate of food he held out to me.
He sighed, and sat down with me on the bed. "My father died in a car crash almost a year ago. My mum was an addict and she...overdosed...a month later.
Before she did, she told me constantly how his death was my fault, and I-I believe her.

The only reason he was out driving that night was because he was upset at me.
He found out from the school that I'd been bullying you, and had taken a drive to help clear his head."
Peter explained, trying to keep his composure.

"You...believe her? As in...present tense?" I asked quietly.
He chuckled a bit at my description, and nodded his head.
"It is, isn't it? I mean...the only reason he was out there was because of me, so..." I was surprised at this sudden change of character.

The once angry and rude boy was now upset and moody. It was impossible to believe, but I believed it.
I not only believed it, but I understood it, and sympathized with it too.
"My parents died in a car crash when I was six. I don't remember much, I just remember little bits.

Like, my dad had red hair and freckles, and my mum was blonde with green eyes. I can't remember any of the games, but we used to play a lot of things in the backyard.
I had a tire swing, and my dad would spin me around a lot on it.

And my mum liked to set up a picnic on the lawn. The grass was so green, and it grew so fast, my dad had to mow it twice a week.
My mum also loved to grow flowers, all different types, by the front porch.
That's where we would set the picnic blanket, with a small basket filled with whatever homemade treats my mum would bake.

My favorite was her brownies, they were so soft, and she'd put caramel cream filling on the inside, so when I'd bite into them, I'd make a mess all over the blanket.
She was gentle, and caring. I can't even remember her ever getting upset.
My dad was distant, but he always put just enough time aside to take me to a baseball game, or take me for a ride on the ATV."

I was struggling to keep my emotions in check, and not cry, but a couple tears managed to slip past. Peter was listening intently next to me. He'd put his hand in mine, and was rubbing circles in my palm, the plates of food completely forgotten.

"Once they were gone, I went to live with my grandparents on my mothers side. The house we lived in was old, and the neighborhood was a terrible place to live. I was sleeping over at a cousins house one night when my grandparents were taken from me.

A couple of thieves got in, they had originally planned to only scare and rob them, but it went sideways.
My other grandparents died when I was three, and my aunts and uncles refused to take me in. So...CPS put me into the foster care system. And...ever since I was seven...I've been through some shit.

Homes that were too strict, too aggressive...and the one I live in now."
I don't know why I'm telling him this, I just feel like I can trust him, since he told me his story.

"So...I guess we are similar in a few ways. Both our biological parents are gone, and we live with foster parents now. The only difference, I started out with bad parents and ended up with good ones, and you...have been through shit." Peter said, trying to calm me.

I sighed, setting my plate of unwanted food on the nightstand and lying back on the bed. I swallowed hard, trying not to break down sobbing as I thought of all of my favorite memories with my parents.
God, I miss them so much. Peter, copying me, lays next to me, still gripping my hand.

He pushed his head into my shoulder, and said, "I'm glad I followed you." Those five words broke me, and I lost control of my emotions, sobbing into Peter's chest and ruining his shirt. "I'm so sorry, Peter. I-I didn't meant to upset you, I was j-just scared and u-upset and-and-"

"Shh. It's ok. You probably-no-definitely wouldn't have known. And for me of all people to be here to comfort you...I understand why you can't trust me." Peter said, his hands gently caressing my neck and the hair on the back of my head.
"N-no, I d-do trust y-you it's just h-hard!" I sobbed, burying my face deeper into his chest.

I was losing it, the sobbing only got longer, and worse, but Peter didn't care.
He just held me, occasionally saying gentle words to try to calm me down. Eventually, I did calm down though.
It felt like it had been hours when my sobs slowed to hiccups of sad breaths.

I closed my eyes and focused on calming my breathing even more. Peter was there for me, he's the only one who cares enough to stay, and to just be here for me.
"Thank you." I whispered in between soft, wet hiccups. I kept my eyes closed as I felt my mind drifting, slowly bobbing like a boat on calm waters, towards sleep.

"You're welcome." Peter whispered softly, before I completely fell asleep. That made me smile, and wake up a bit.
"Damn it Peter, you're making me too happy to fall asleep." I whispered, the grin he'd plastered onto my face growing swiftly.
He chuckled at my stupid comment.

"Well, if you can't sleep, you could always eat the sandwich I conveniently slaved over for you?" He joked, his whisper shifting to a soft tone.
"No," I breathed, exaggerating the 'o's,
"Let's just lay here, and let the sound of each other's breathing lull us into a dreamless slumber."

"Wow. What is that, Shakespeare?"
I giggled at his remark, "No, that was just...me."
He hummed, "Well, then you were beautiful." "What?!?" I basically screamed, jumping out of his hold, in an enthusiastic tone.
"No! I mean...the words were beautiful not-"

He groaned, sitting up next to me. I laughed at him, the tears of sadness being washed away by tears of happiness, and laughter.
I felt like I could live solely off of the sound of his laughter as he joined in.
I calmed down, and just looked at him.
I let my gaze trail up and down his face, scanning every single speck of his features.

That's when I remembered, "Wait, earlier, did I hear you say you...liked me?"
That cut his laughter off completely, making him flush deep crimson.
I giggled at his reaction, "You're the color of the walls, Peter. I'll take that as a 'yes' then."

"Oh shut up." He joked, shoving me lightly. I gave him a look, and he pushed me harder. I pretended to fall back onto the covers at his touch, giggling.
He leaned over me, propping an elbow by my side.
"Yup, I was right." He stated bluntly.

"Right about what?" I asked, a joking tone hinted in my words. He didn't answer, he instead pressed his lips into a thin line, and pretended to zip up an invisible zipper.