Chapter Text
Prologue:
It’s like a vacuum in their living room. Chris is sitting in his favorite chair, face blank and staring at Peter. Between them on the coffee table is evidence of his indiscretion. Peter stands there numb. Maybe it’s time to let go. Maybe this is all we ever were meant to be. His chest is wound tight and his muscles are locked up. Peter rubs his hand across his heart hoping it will help relieve the tightness even just a little. He so desperately wants to scream and shout, to rage and hit, but instead, all he can do is stare at Chris. He closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath, instead only making a stuttering sound when it catches in his throat as his lungs freeze up. It appears air is too inconsequential to his body when his heart is shattering into tiny little fragments. Peter tries again and this time manages a shallow intake. Carefully he relaxes his fist and opens his eyes, only this time he doesn’t look at Chris. Instead, his head is already turning, his mind made up.
With shaky steps he makes his way into their bedroom, heading over to the large walk-in closet. He grabs a suitcase and a duffle, the only things he will really need will fit fine in here. Everything else he can buy at a later date. Peter feels disconnected with reality even though she’s screaming right in his face. Robotically he reaches up and pulls down some dress shirts, grabs several pairs of pants and matching jackets, and a tie or two before making his way to his dresser. Here he grabs his essentials: underwear, t-shirts, and socks. A couple of pairs of jeans and a couple of favorite sweaters join the pile and then he’s heading over to the bathroom. Peter goes to grab his toothbrush, hand stopping over the head before changing his mind. It is part of a matching set with Chris, and well, they no longer match. Instead, he leaves it behind, taking one last glance to see if there is anything of importance remaining.
Peter’s last stop is the nightstand drawer on his side of the bed. He digs to the bottom and removes a large manila envelope, an offer inside for an editing position his friend Lydia has been trying to persuade him to take. Peter had been waffling on whether to even tell Chris or to just chuck it in the trash after declining. He is suddenly grateful that he waited to make a decision. It looks like his decision has now been made.
Peter’s eyes catch on the platinum ring on his left hand and he stops to stare at it, drawn into a memory. One heartbeat, two, three… With a shake of his head to clear his thoughts, he reaches over and twists it off before gently laying it on the nightstand. He will no longer need this as well. He stares at it blankly for a moment before gasping a shuddering breath and walking away.
Grasping the handle of his suitcase after slinging the strap of his duffle over his shoulder, the man hesitates when he approaches the door, aware he’ll need to walk by his ex-fiance to leave the apartment. The devastated man refuses to look around at all the memories scattered around the room. He is not strong enough for that torture. Instead, he will stick with the ones from before that are not tainted by this moment. With this last thought Peter takes a deep breath and straightens up, shoulders are thrown back in a mockery of courage and pride he feels that he sorely is lacking, but desperately wishes he had. With a nod to himself, he walks through the door.
As he approaches Chris, Peter reaches into his pocket and pulls out his key ring, stopping to take off his copy for their ( his he silently amends) home. He sets it down on a side table and goes to walk on, only to stop after one step. Chris is looking at the key and when he raises his head and looks Peter in the eye, the other man quietly speaks with a tear filled eyes and a bitter smile, “You could have just told me you wanted to end it, I would have understood.”
With this said, Peter resumes his walk to the door. As he opens it to let himself out one last time, he calls back quietly without looking behind, “I’ve taken everything I need, you can get rid of the rest. I won’t be back.” The door latches with a tiny snick of sound and the room once again falls into silence.
Chris sits staring at the door, wondering where the hell it all went wrong between them.
~~~~~
He’s trapped in another memory tonight. A crystal cut tumbler of whiskey on the rocks in his left hand, the calloused finger of his right lightly tracing the picture frame of the two of them. It’s the only thing he keeps exposed of their time together. After Peter had walked out, Chris had eventually made his way to their, his bedroom. Everything had looked the same, except for the platinum ring on the nightstand. Cold and lonely lying by itself instead of warm on the hand of the one he loves.
As he had walked around the room Chris had looked at the framed photos sprinkled across the surfaces, little mementos of happier times tucked between them. There was the dried flower daisy chain that Peter had made as a joke on their first date, once fresh and pretty, so full of promise, now looking brittle and just dead. A few sea shells with letters written on the tops that spell out ‘You’re so Beautiful’ next to some photos of the beach where they had become engaged eighteen months ago, now looking out of place on the shelf. Lying on the chair in the corner of the room was Chris’ old blue hoodie, a favorite of Peter’s to snuggle in. It was draped across the seat and no longer looked like it was comfortable and well loved. Instead, it looked like what it really was, a natty tattered piece of cloth held onto for sentimental value long past its expiration date.
Chris swims out of the memories and takes another swallow of the liquid, holding it in his mouth before letting it burn its way down his throat. This is his nightly ritual for the past two years. Stuck in the past of happier times, embittered to what he did to ruin it all. Drowning drowning drowning…
~~~~~~
Peter has been gone for over two years and to be honest, stepping back into the state is a little traumatizing both emotionally and mentally for the man. The night it had all ended, something else had begun. He had driven himself to a hotel closer to the airport and booked himself a room for the one night. The following morning he had bought a ticket on the earliest flight to New York City, stopping by the bank to give notice regarding his plans to move cross country so they didn’t think his bank card had been stolen. He had left their joint account nearly untouched. Truthfully most of the money belonged to Chris anyway and he wasn’t so vindictive that he would clean it out. Instead, he asked to have his name removed from the account and then asked the associate if she would be so kind to shred his card for him. The startled look on her face at his request would have made him laugh, that is if he could remember how. Instead, he gave her a wan smile and wondered vaguely how long it would take before the gossip made the rounds that the Argent heir’s fiance was removing himself from the picture.
The girl had searched his face and gave a small nod of her head, carefully retrieving the card from his hand. Before her sat a man who looked exhausted as if he had fought his demons and they had won. The young lady was pretty familiar with demons, so when she had finished the requested task, she kept her mouth shut. Though he wouldn’t know it, his secrets would stay safe with her.
After the stop at the bank, Peter had headed to the airport and boarded the plane for his flight. He had checked his phone one last time, hurt burning in his chest to see no messages, before switching it off. Later, when he arrived at his destination, he would go to the nearest cellphone store and get himself a new one with a new number. There was no point in holding onto something that didn’t want to be held onto in the first place he had thought bitterly. He had touched down in New York, retrieved his bags from the carousel and flagged down a taxi. It had been the start of his new life and he’d been scared shitless.
~~~~~~
“Mr. Argent, there is a call on line three for you,” the crisp voice of his long time secretary says smoothly. With a nod of his head as thanks, the man walks into his office, shutting the door before seating himself behind his desk and retrieving the handset.
It’s business per usual for the businessman. Multi-million dollar deals, contract negotiations, and other things that used to excite him and capture his attention are now just the status quo. He’s changed in the past two years, becoming more quiet and more ruthless in his dealings. People have guessed correctly that is has something to do with the absence of his former lover, but no one wishes to broach the subject. Once the furor had died down in the papers over the noticeable lack of Peter by his side, they instead began to focus back upon his business and his sudden increase in wealth and prestige from several lucrative international deals. Even though Peter had left, he was still helping Chris out. After all, when one is trying to run away from the mistakes they made, don’t they usually focus on something else. The laser sharp focus that once was fixated on a lover, is now solely for business, and the attention has paid off.
~~~~~~
“Why am I going to this again?” Peter mutters as his older sister straightens his tie for him.
“Because you haven’t gone out yet since being back and you’re leaving again in two days. Also, this is a big deal for David and I’m nervous for him and you need to hold my hand so I don’t do something stupid to embarrass him,” Talia replies dryly.
Peter chuckles at Talia’s antics and gives her a small smile. “As if you’ll be anything other than your usual calm and collected self,” he says fondly with a roll of his eyes.
Talia stops a moment, eyes staring into her younger brother’s intently before her own lips break into a soft smile. There it is she thinks to herself. It’s been too long since she’s seen that smile and the light in those eyes, and she’s so so so desperate to keep it there. Peter’s sudden departure had left her reeling, along with the man telling her eventually what had happened between the couple. She had felt so sick at the thought of the suffering Peter was going through alone on the other side of the country, but she understood where he was coming from, why he had to leave before he lost his courage. So she had provided her love and strength through Skype, text messages, e-mails and the occasional weird postcard. They have avoided any mention of the other man, and Talia thinks that it is best to let sleeping dogs lie.
“There you go,” she says cheerfully, before lightly brushing off imaginary lint from Peter’s shoulders. “All spiffed up and ready to knock everyone on their asses!”
At this, Peter cracks up and gives a big belly laugh. “I doubt that very much, but thanks for the unwavering confidence you have in my personality,” he says while wiping moisture from the corners of his dancing eyes.
Talia gives him a quiet smile in return and then a hug. She means for it to be quick, a brief self indulgence, but instead her arms have locked up and she rests her chin on her brother’s shoulder.
“Tal?”
“Just give me a moment,” she whispers to Peter. “Let me just have this one thing, I’ve missed it so very much.”
Peter brings his arms around to return the hold, lightly starting to sway.
“I miss this too,” he says quietly, chin propped on her shoulder as tears prick the corners of his eyes again.
~~~~~~
Chris gives a twitch of his wrist to straighten out the cuff of his shirt sleeve before exiting the limo. He reaches back to assist his date from the back seat. Victoria is a friend/business associate who had heard about the show tonight and didn’t wish to go alone. As a concession to their business relationship and the newly undisclosed business deal between their two companies, he had agreed to escort her.
“What is this show about?” Chris asks in a disinterested voice as they walk the carpet before photographers.
“Oh this brilliant artist is exhibiting his best pieces this one night only for charity. I’ve been dying to see him, but it’s difficult to get tickets to his shows,” she says airily. “When they came up for tonight I had to grab them,” she continues.
“Hmm...that’s nice,” Chris replies distantly, voice void of any emotion, no real interest in the actual answer given.
Victoria swats a hand playfully at him in response, smirking a little as a show for the cameras.
When they enter into the building and hand over their tickets, they are escorted further inside to the exhibit. Victoria gives a little smirk as she looks around. Partly because she’s on Chris’ arm and everyone is looking, and partly because she’s here about to meet her favorite artist.
Chris slowly scans the room, nodding slightly to various people in his social circle who have come to check out the works. He pauses when his eyes connect to a familiar pair across the room that have widen in surprise. It’s Talia Hale, Peter’s older sister. He has seen the formidable woman only a handful of times in these past few years, somehow missing one another even though they live in the same town. The fiery brunette had stared him hard in the eyes, lips pressed tight before giving him a small nod and turning around to exit the room they had been in. He has not seen her since, until now. Victoria leans over and whispers close to his ear, “That’s the artist’s wife, Talia Hale. Supposedly someone close to them suggested holding this event while they were visiting. I wonder who that person is?”
It hits him like a punch to the gut at this question because he knows the answer. Talia has only one other person she’d listen to, her baby brother in fact, that she feels is worthy to come before her husband, and Chris knows this. Peter was a huge patron of the arts and had always spoken about how important it was for everyone to get to experience it, not just the rich socialites of their social circle. That means Peter is most likely here tonight. At this realization, Chris unconsciously rubs his hand over his heart, unsure how he feels about this sudden revelation.
Talia can only scoff quietly under her breath wondering at the odds that her brother’s ex-fiance would be here. She thought this was a sure bet of a Chris free evening. Art was not normally his thing, always more Peter’s interest. She eyes the woman speculatively and figures she must be the reason he is here. She recognizes the woman and knows who she is. Not only by her family’s reputation in the business world, but their influence in a particular social circle. Talia really hopes that this isn’t the one who helped break up Peter’s relationship, but she’s uncertain. Knowing the course fate has decided to take, she has a feeling luck is not on their side. She’s now regretting her involvement in persuading David to hold this exhibition and for Peter to even attend.
“Hey babe,” David’s deep voice speaks by her ear as a strong arm wraps around her waist. “Where’s Peter at?”
Talia takes a small sip of her drink, pausing to allow the rim to hide her lips from anyone who may look their way. “He’s further in the room, already looking at your darker pieces,” she mutters. “Look, I think I need to go and get him and take him home.” As David starts to protest, the artist looks in the direction Talia is staring in and realizes why his wife is so eager to leave.
“How about I go over and greet them and keep them occupied. That should give you enough time to find Peter and ask him what he wants to do,” he offers softly.
Talia can only give a curt nod in agreement before dropping her now empty drink glass on a waiter’s tray as it passes by. She gives David a quick peck on the lips and says a soft thanks before melting into the crowd.
With a sinking feeling, David notes how Chris’ eyes follow Talia, and he realizes the other man knows what is going on. Well better get to it, he thinks as he mentally prepares himself for whatever may happen later.
“Oh here he comes,” Victoria murmurs. People standing between the artist and the couple who know of Talia’s relationship with the two men, raise eyebrows and turn to discreetly watch what happens next. This is the first time that the notorious couple have been spotted in the same vicinity in two years and people are hungry to find out what happened and what will happen next.
Talia casually weaves herself through the crowd, easily sidestepping couples who are standing around admiring some of her husband’s pieces on display. When she makes it to the third section of the exhibit, she spots Peter. Not many people have made it this far into the show just yet so the area is relatively empty. Peter is standing before a massive piece suspended from the ceiling with cables. It’s meant as an interpretation of broken dreams and shattered promises and ironically it’s a piece that David said came to him after hearing about the demise of the local celebrity couple. Talia stands there behind him, a lonely figure made even more diminished from the immense size of the art. It’s meant to signify how emotions can overwhelm a person and make you feel like you’re drowning, that when you stand before it, all you can see is the anger, betrayal, bitterness; that it blocks out all the light and hope and love.
Was this what you felt when you found out the truth? Is this a summary of your life for the past two years?
She draws up beside her brother, not saying a word, eyes still focused on the piece. They continue to stare together at it in silence.
“This is familiar,” Peter says wryly.
Talia turns her head to stare at him, waiting to see if he will continue.
Peter doesn’t say anything more, instead he just has a small bitter smile on his face, eyes no longer focused, looking back into the past.
Talia turns to face forward again, unsure of what she should say next.
“Do you want to go?” she asks softly. “We can leave, I’ve already seen everything I wanted.”
Peter blinks back to the present, turning to stare at the side of Talia’s face, contemplating on whether he would like to stay or return to the comfort of his room. After a moment he shrugs his shoulders in indifference. “It doesn’t matter to me, although wouldn’t David be upset if we left soon?”
“Nah, I already spoke to him and he’s doing his rounds with all the guests. I’m pretty much useless at this point. Already scored my brownie points for the evening,” she jokes with a weak smile.
Peter stares at his sister, a feeling of disquiet poking at the back of his mind from her subdued behavior.
“Sure, we can leave. Why don’t we go say our goodbye’s and head out then. I actually have a friend of mine that wanted to meet up tonight, but I declined because of this event. I can check and see if Stiles still wants to meet up,” Peter says with a smile.
Talia raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. “Stiles? Is this the same Stiles from several months ago?”
Peter just shrugs his shoulders lightly and gives her another small smile.
“Maybe.”
Talia wants to drill him, but she’s aware of their time constraint to get out of there unnoticed. “Why don’t I find out where David is and we can meet up with him and then head out. I wouldn’t mind meeting this Stiles gentleman.”
Peter gives her an amused look and a does a soft little hum under his breath. “I’m sure you wouldn’t,” he murmurs in return.
Talia pulls out her cell phone and shoots off a quick text telling David that they are leaving, but Peter wants to say his goodbyes. She makes sure to add in that she hasn’t told him about Chris being here and if there is a side exit they could use that would be great, thanks.
Peter has wandered off a few feet to look at another piece waiting for Talia to give him the word on where they should go. There’s a small beep from her phone and Talia is striding over to inform him that they’ll meet David one room back to say goodbye. Peter gives one last thoughtful look at the massive piece from earlier before turning around and walking away.
Unbeknownst to David, Chris and Victoria have decided to follow at a discreet distance. Chris, in hopes of seeing Peter again and Victoria out of sheer curiosity on who could be such an influential friend that David considered worthy enough to display his artwork for.
~~~~~~
The next day Peter opens the door to step out, head down and smiling at his cellphone in his hand. Stiles has just sent him an amusing text about his book signing today, and Peter laughs at the picture that accompanies it. He fails to notice the other man standing outside his door before he nearly walks into him.
“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you,” he apologizes before looking up and freezing, smile slowly fading from his face and eyes dimming when he recognizes his ex standing before him. Peter quickly pulls the door completely shut, double checking that it’s locked before taking one last glance at his phone screen. He flicks it off and slides it into his pants pocket, waiting to see if the other man will say anything. Peter’s not naive enough to think it’s a coincidence that Chris is here, so he decides to give the man a moment to say something. When the man continues to just stare at him, Peter gives an internal shrug, sends a curt nod to the other man and turns around to walk away. He makes it three steps away when he feels a hand wrap around his right bicep and a hoarse, “Please, wait,” spoken.
Peter freezes, resisting the urge to simultaneously rip his arm out of the other man’s hand and melt into his touch. Instead he takes a steadying breath before calmly saying, “I’m sorry, but I’m rather in a hurry. I have someone waiting for me. Can we do this another time?”
Chris loosens this grip on the man’s arm, hand slowly sliding down his arm before falling away. “Sorry,” he says in a quiet voice.
Peter gives another small nod without turning around and walks away. It’s the third time in a row that Chris has watched that back walk away. He notes in a distant part of his mind that it hurts just as much as it did two years ago, just as much as it did last night at the art gallery.
Chris continues to stand in the hallway, long after Peter has boarded the elevator and presented a blank face to him when he turns around to face the door. He continues to stand there after the elevator shows it has arrived at the ground floor, and he is still standing there until the phone vibrates in his pocket ten minutes later. Still in a daze he looks at the screen blankly before taking the call.
~~~~~~
Peter takes a deep breath to calm himself down. He realizes that he may need a few more, so he takes a couple of more, shaking out his arms and rotating his shoulders to try and loosen up his suddenly too tight muscles. His hand is shaking and his right arm feels like it has been branded from where Chris had caressed it, because that is what the man had done he thinks numbly. The reflection staring back at him looks haunted, eyes wide and skin pale. He tightens his hands into fists to try and stop the trembling. The elevator is still descending, and so he takes a moment to close his eyes and steady himself. He pinches his cheeks and slaps them lightly to put some color back into them. Not that it will fool Talia, but at least he’ll look less like he’s just seen a ghost from his past when he gets to the lobby.