conservateur

Tres

Chasten

Maybe have some sadness and some kissing, y'know.

I tried to wake up Peter for 30 minutes.

"Peter Paul Montgomery Buttigieg!" I shout and he bolted up and hugs me tightly. "Peter? What's wrong?"

"Memories..." He mumbled. I knew what he was talking about. War. Then he pulls away and smiles at me. "You said my last name correctly!"

"Good, I didn't practice." I joke.

"You don't need to practice anything, you're perfect," Peter whispers. I lift his chin since he is sitting and I'm standing. I put our lips together. I push him against the couch with my hands on either side of his head. He put his hands on my back and pulled me down onto him. He tries to make a move. I gasp and pull away, sitting a little far from Peter.

"Chas, what's up? Did I do something wrong? Are you not ready for that?" Peter asks calmly putting an arm on my shoulder and I pull my shoulder away and he puts on a confused face.

"It hurts Peter." I blurt out, then I lose it. I latch onto him and cry. "Why did it have to be me Peter..."

"Shhh, Chas, I know..." He coos.

"No you don't. It haunts me." I cry. I explain it all to him. He held me tighter.

"I'll protect you. I'll help you. I'll fix you. I'll save you from this conservative world." Peter Told me.

Peter

If I had known that this was the last time I'd see him, I'd hold him tighter and tell him that I love him.