Ruled, ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ ᴋᴀᴠɪɴsᴋʏ

The day after V day

The night seemed to have lasted an excruciatingly long century. The squared alarm clock over Peter's nightstand beside my head was moving so slow it was as if time wasn't going by at all, to my dismay.

I wanted to sleep but the thunderstorm had arrived at last, and it was so strong, every five minutes I would go blind from the bright lighting bolt, then deaf from the deafening thunder.

Every noise was a distraction, every little clatter kept me alert, awake and overthinking. From the hailstorm and thunder to speeding cars and to little Owen who I, at some point, heard running down the stairs to grab something from the kitchen and coming back up so quickly it was like something was after him.

However when the world fell quiet at last, I still couldn't sleep. Peter kept turning and tossing an awful lot on the other corner of the bed. Maybe if we were touching I wouldn't have been so worried, for I would be sure he was warm, calm and resting, having only a bad dream. Because we were not I had no idea what was happening. The empty valley that separated our bodies was cold and man less. I didn't dare to cross it, even if I really wanted to.

I kept glancing at him over my shoulder tough, as to make sure he wasn't having some sort of thing. I still wasn't sure if he wasn't. All I was sure of was how much I loved the deep scar across his chin and how much I just wanted to kiss it and kiss him.

I wish that was the only reason I remained awake until the sun pierced trough Peter's curtains.

Heartache was keeping me awake above the everything else I tried to justify it with. I was so sad and hurt my head ached so massively it was probably a migraine the size of Texas. All I wanted was to let it all out and cry it away, but I couldn't. Peter was just inches away from me. I couldn't cry that silently if I really tried. Instead my nose was clogging up, stinging badly and my throat was dry and scratchy. My body was punishing me for stuffing it up, yet another time.

What else was there to do? It was alright to feel broken. The person I was in love with had spoken wonders of someone else, using the words I constantly and proudly used to describe our own thing and it hurt. It freaking hurt like hell.

It wasn't that I didn't believe Peter hadn't notice what he was doing, that It wasn't on purpose but it didn't make it hurt any less for It meant he had truly forgotten all about us and all about me.

When Peter stood up from the bed at around nine I ,some why, decided to pretend I was sleeping by holding my breath in and only exhaling when he closed the bedroom's door behind him on the way out. Apparently in my head sleeping was the same as being dead. Either way, I knew that if I faced him I'd let my feelings surface and I couldn't let that happen. For all Peter knew I was long over him and that's how I wanted him to keep thinking.

There was no point of declaring myself to him. I had to keep myself in my own place, and it was being, solely, his friend.

For a while I just laid in bed, debating just leaving without saying anything, but then again, that would be a dead giveaway of how his words wounded me. Instead, I sucked it up and jumped from bed, undressed his clothes, put mine back on and walked down the stairs to meet Mrs. Kavinsky and Peter in the kitchen.

''Hey, sleeping beauty.'' Peter smiled from the island counter. His mouth full of french toast. I ignored him, in fact I didn't even look his way further than that. I know It was borderline stupid and he didn't deserve any of my attitude, yet, I did it as a way to protect myself, for whenever I looked at him all I could picture was him and Chloe. That was one mirage I wanted to avoid at all costs.

''Good morning honey, we didn't want to wake you up.'' Mrs. Kavinsky said, smiling like mornings were her favourite thing in the entire world. I didn't match her mood at all but her cheerfulness made me feel a tiny bit better. ''Did you sleep alright?''