January 20th
I don't sleep
•••••
"You're up late."
"I could say the same about you."
Peter stared at his Dad, who was sat in his armchair, a mug of tea gripped tightly in his hands.
It was currently three o'clock in the morning, and Peter had been woken up thanks to the stupid cold he had, being unable to breathe properly had made his throat hurt, and he'd needed a drink.
He'd come downstairs to find the living room light on and his Dad wide awake, all but staring into space.
"Needed a drink." Peter finally replied.
"How you feeling?" John asked, giving his son a sympathetic smile.
Peter shrugged. "I'd like to be able to breathe properly but oh well." He said jokingly.
John chuckled again, taking a sip of his tea.
"How come you're up?" Peter asked, sitting down on the edge of the sofa.
His Dad stared at him for a while, before he sighed a little. "I don't sleep well anymore." He replied quietly, not willing to lie to his son, he was old enough to understand now anyway.
Honestly, he wasn't stupid either, he'd probably already figured it out.
Peter of course had had a feeling that was the case, and he understood probably a lot more than his Dad knew.
He too had had sleepless weeks after a battle, and it had been an awful experience, so he couldn't imagine how his Dad was currently feeling after fighting in the war for years.
"You want me to stay up with you?" Peter asked.
His Dad actually laughed gently at this. "Bless you," He breathed. "No, no, you need your sleep Peter."
Peter smiled weakly.
"You don't want that cold when you go back to University." John added.
Peter nodded a little. "Anything you need while I'm up?" He asked.
John slowly shook his head. "I'm okay." He whispered.
Peter hesitated before he stood, unwilling to leave his Dad, but if he wanted to be alone, then he knew better to argue with him, he too would probably want to be alone at a time like this.
"Come get me if you need anything." Peter murmured.
His Dad stared at him, before smiling. "I'm proud of you." He whispered. "I hope you know that."
Tears sprung to Peter's eyes before he could even say anything, and he had to quickly blink them back. "I'm - I'm proud of you too Dad." He choked out.
Seeing the tears, John placed his tea on the small table, stood and walked over to Peter, pulling him into a tight hug.
Peter buried his face in his Dad's shoulder, gripping him like he'd never let go. "I'm glad you're home." He whispered.
His Dad nodded a little. "So am I."
•••••
