Work Text:
How is Steph supposed to move on, exactly? Peter is trying so, so hard to earn her trust back, but little things now make Steph’s hands shake as she’s pouring herself a glass of water. Her trembling hands place the little white Brita pitcher back on the granite countertop her father had been so proud of when he was alive.
Her ringtone blasts the middle of a Fall Out Boy song against every wall of the room with another call from Peter that she ignores (after flinching violently at the loud sound). She can’t think about him right now.
He’s all she can think about.
He didn’t mean anything by it, really. It was a joke.
Steph makes her way across the hardwood floors past stark white walls covered by meaningless paintings of people golfing and drinking tea, until she reaches her bedroom, where band posters and Sanrio art bring life to her pale pink walls. The plush pink rug comforts her cold feet before she plops down onto her creaky bed with its pink sheets and wide variety of throw blankets. Why couldn’t things just be easy?
She loves Peter more than anything. He’s been so consistent in his support. He’s held her every time she’s bawled her eyes out over her stupid father or even if she just failed a test that she actually studied for. The point is, he’s a caring guy. Maybe the most caring person she’s ever met. Hell, he nearly took a bullet for her in 2021, and would have died were it not for Jägerman catching the bullet. Not to give credit to Jägerman for anything positive, of course, but in all reality, he did save Peter’s life—even if his motivation was just to have the satisfaction of killing Peter himself later (a thankfully unsuccessful endeavor).
Steph’s phone buzzes instead of ringing this time, with a text from Peter. She doesn’t want to look at it, but curiosity gets the best of her, and she opens it, thanking herself for turning off read receipts a while back.
Peter
Hey Steph, I know I’m probably the last person you wanna hear from right now, but I’m so sorry, and I need you to know that what happened yesterday wasn’t your fault. I feel so bad for hurting you. I haven’t been able to keep any food down today, so I might be acting irrationally by trying so hard to reach you, but I hope I’m not doing more harm by apologizing. I’m really so sorry.
Stephanie breathes, shakily, and shoves her phone under one of her many throw blankets. She knows it wasn’t her fault, but it wasn’t his fault either. It was a stupid misunderstanding—a joke—that now Peter is beating himself up over. Yes, he shouldn’t have kissed her like that, certainly not when she was trying to dodge him, but he thought she was joking, and she, in all fairness, was joking at first. It was even funny right after, before she started to get that horrible feeling in her chest.
Like one minute, she was laughing, the next, she wanted to vomit. Because it started to feel like her consent was worth less than a joke, or like it was something Peter could just violate if he felt like it. He pulled her forward and made her kiss him, and she obliged, admittedly. She went along with it for reasons she’s not even sure about. Maybe she just wanted to hold onto the lighthearted mood or something? She’s not sure.
But immediately after, while Stephanie was still in a joking mood, Peter called himself out. He did! He said something to the effect of, “hold on, wait, I’m sorry if that was like me forcing you to kiss me,” and she reassured him that it was fine, because it was. It wasn’t until after that she started to feel weird about it. And the second she did feel weird, she knew she was safe enough to tell him about it.
That has to say something about his character if she was able to talk to him about it and he immediately acknowledged how wrong he was.
There’s a conflicted feeling lodging itself in Steph’s throat and behind her eyes as she curls up in a different throw blanket than the one her phone is hiding under. A few stray tears roll down her face as pressure continues to build in her body. She’s never felt so emotionally wrecked before, or at least not because of Peter.
She’s come close to this feeling once, when Peter was overwhelmed and stressed and snapped at her, yelling at her for about three sentences before apologizing and promising to never do it again, which to his credit, he hasn’t.
But this feels like a build up of a lot of little things. Peter is not a bad partner, but he makes a lot of mistakes, and Steph has to evaluate whether this feels worth it to her.
Because it is worth it, and she knows that. The good moments outweigh the bad by a lot, but it is these bad moments that feel like the end of the world.
She runs her hand along the plush fabric wrapped around her. Her phone buzzes again.
Peter
Is there anything I can do that would make you feel better? I want to make this better for you, I’m so sorry for doing something so stupid. I should have never made you feel unsafe, and I promise you I’ll never do anything like that again. I can accept it if you never want to kiss me again after that, and even if you want to break up with me, I just want to make sure you feel safe again <3.
Steph takes in the message, and then her surroundings. She looks at her hands, and then the blanket around her. She smells the lingering scent of a candle she lit about a week ago, and hears the low buzz of the air conditioning. She takes a sip of her water, and responds.
Steph
I think I forgive you.
This doesn’t mean it was okay, and believe me, if you ever do that again, it’s over, but I know you won’t, so I forgive you.
I still love you.
She closes her still-watery eyes, makes a promise to herself to abide by her message, and allows herself to sleep.