There's a second before collapsing, before going back onstage, where Peter kisses him and Jason wishes it could be different, wishes he didn't have to do this and that Peter wouldn't be better off without him. That he could take it all back -- the drugs, and Ivy, and breaking up at all. He remembers that with surprising clarity, lying in a hospital bed, still alive despite his own best efforts. It just doesn't make him feel any less like things would have been easier if he'd died.
It's been a long few days since he woke up, between the boredom and the bone-deep exhaustion from realizing he has to figure out what to do next. His parents haven't officially disowned him, probably because Mom's decided it'd look bad to abandon their son while he's still in the hospital, but they haven't visited either. He's pretty sure they're arranging for a rehab place to hide him away at next, and the rest will come when he gets out of there. The only person he's seen is Nadia, who sits with him when she comes and kindly hasn't made him talk about it yet.
When the door opens, he's expecting her again, and it takes a second for him to look up from the book he's holding but not really reading -- and then he stiffens, staring when Peter walks in instead.
"Peter?" His voice cracks, surprise evident, more so than is probably warranted. Peter's too good a person not to want to make sure he's okay, and Jason knows that, it's just...
There's a million reasons Peter would probably be better off walking away from this mess and forgetting about him that he's ignoring to be here instead. A million reasons why Jason's swallowed it down every time he had the urge to call or send a message, no idea what to say, just wanting to hear his voice again.
It had taken Peter a little while to come around to the idea of visiting Jason in person. He'd called and texted Nadia every day, asking for updates. Making sure Jason was okay, was healing. Recovering.
It had been heartbreaking. They had been so close to a breakthrough that night during the show, their conversation backstage. That final, tender kiss. No -- not final. They still have a chance. There is still hope.
He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. "Jason..." he says, sounding lost. Sounding broken. "I'm --" But he's not sure what to say. There are no words for how he's feeling right now.
He feels sick, hearing Peter sound so lost and knowing it's his fault. Jason wasn't trying to hurt anyone, and least of all the people he's hurt the most in all of this; he doesn't even know what he was trying to do, except that fixing anything didn't seem doable and living with all of it broken seemed impossible. He wasn't thinking about after for anyone else.
He hesitates, lets the silence stretch out for a second; the urge to curl up is strong enough that Jason stops trying to hold back, drawing his knees up to his chest as he finally says, "I -- fuck, I'm sorry." He doesn't to sound as miserable as he does -- he should be stronger, let Peter be broken right now, but obviously he's not strong enough anyway, or he wouldn't be here right now.
"I'd say you have nothing to be sorry, for, but -- well." Peter sighs and pulls up a chair next to Jason's bed. Taking one of Jason's hands and pressing his forehead to it. Just breathing for a long moment.
"I didn't come here to be angry at you, though. I've had my chance to be angry. Now it's our chance to heal."
He clears his throat a little, but that doesn't help him sound less tearful. "I've talked to Nadia most days. Checking in. Making sure you're doing okay. But I had to come see you. To make sure, for myself."
Jason's instinct is to glance at the door -- and God, if he doesn't feel stupid for that, because taking a friend's hand in the hospital isn't exactly obvious. But it's Peter, and it's hard not to feel like anyone who sees them touching is going to know. As if anyone who matters doesn't know anyway.
"She mentioned." And then dropped the subject, because it wasn't long after Jason had woken up and he'd freaked out at the idea of having that conversation with her already, but he's not going to bring that up. For all he knows, Nadia already shared that part. "They said that I shouldn't be here that much longer." He doesn't sound excited at the thought. Wherever he's going next is most likely going to be worse.
He squeezes Peter's hand lightly, and looks away. "I thought about calling. I just... I didn't know if you'd want me to."
"I thought the same. About calling, about being unsure whether I should or not. If you'd want to hear from me. Ever.
But I had to see you. I had to know for sure. If you meant everything you said that night." Or if Jason had just said it because he hadn't thought he'd make it through. If he'd said it as a goodbye.
"I was angry, after. But not at you. I was angry -- not at God, not exactly. At the church. For failing us. Failing you. I went to confession and I yelled at the priest. Can you imagine?" He lets out a laugh, but it's weak. Less than half hearted.
It's enough to draw Jason for a second out of the panic that was starting to creep up his throat, barking out a laugh that's more surprise than anything else. "Shit. Really?" It's hard to picture, and trying to is distracting for a few seconds more.
But he can't hide from the rest of it forever. It feels a little like he's dragging the words out, and it's quiet, because he can't seem to say it any louder. "Of course -- of course I meant it." He probably wouldn't have said it if he hadn't been high enough not to care, or if he thought he'd be here now, but that doesn't mean it wasn't the truth. "All of it. You. Peter. You know I."
Which is where he'd usually leave it, and let Peter fill in the blank for him, because it's easier. He swallows, throat dry, and pushes forward, because isn't keeping this shit to himself part of what got them into this mess? "I love you. I know I, I fucked up beyond belief in every way possible, but I... I always have. I don't -- I don't know why I wouldn't want you here."
Peter sniffs and swallows hard, trying and failing to keep back tears. He presses a kiss to their joined hands and holds on that much tighter. To know that every word he said that night was true. To know that Jason wants him here. It means everything.
"There's no place I'd rather be than right here. By your side. Always." It comes out a choked whisper, because that's all he can manage right now, but Jason needs to know. "I still love you. No matter what."
It's instinct to try and shift closer across the bed, to reach out and gently cup Peter's cheek with his other hand, like Jason can make it better if he touches him carefully enough. Habits from trying to chase away anything that's upset Peter for years that haven't had enough time to change.
"God, you.... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was scared, I'm sorry I didn't tell you more, I'm. I can't believe you're still here." He can feel himself starting to tear up too, closes his eyes and tries to push it away.
"It's okay..." It's not, but it can be. Will be okay, some day. He rests his forehead against Jason's and holds his hand as tightly as he dares. Worried that Jason is still fragile, still recovering.
"It's going to be okay," he amends, quietly, resting his hand over Jason's where it sits against his cheek. "I love you too much not to be here. And I'm going to take care of you. If you'll let me."
"I don't need you to," Jason starts, and then stops, because he probably can't get away with that right now. Almost dying pretty much ruins all his credibility in playing okay, and anyway, when he puts it that way it sounds like he doesn't want Peter. And that's not it, it's just--
"It's too much. I don't have any idea what I'm doing from here. You shouldn't have to put up with all that."
"Not if it's you." His smile is sad. Still broken. But he can manage a smile, at least. "When are you going to get it, Jason? I've loved you since we were twelve years old. That's not going to stop.
You fucked up. I'm not going to pretend you didn't. But we can make it better. Together. We can heal together. Because God knows I need your help healing from this, too."
"I don't know how." Jason's voice cracks, and he can't hold the tears back anymore. It's a kind of step forward that he doesn't pull away when he starts crying; he's always been inclined to shut himself off, needed Peter to coax him into being comforted, but all he wants is Peter near him and he doesn't have the strength to make himself move. "I don't know how to help you, or make any of this better, or... or stop waiting for the day we grow up and all of this has to end."
"It doesn't have to end, Jason. That's what I keep trying to tell you. This isn't just -- a fling. It's who we are. It's who I am, I know that. I'm gay, and that's not something that isn't going to change.
You're more than just some teenage fantasy to me, Jason. You're the man I love, and I will tell every single person in the world that. Sister Chantelle told me that God doesn't make mistakes and I know now that that's true. He didn't make a mistake with us, Jason. This is who we're meant to be."
"How are you so sure?" His hand grips Peter's tighter, something desperate in the clinging hold, in the tone of his voice. "I want to believe you. I want to."
But that has to hold up to years of knowing down to his very core that everything he is and wants is wrong, and right now that feels like a losing battle.
"I feel like if a nun tells me that God says we're going to be okay, that's something. She would know, right?" He tries to laugh through his tears, shaking his head a little.
"I'm not sure, that's the thing. I don't know that it's going to be okay. I don't know what your parents are going to do. I know that my dad has barely spoken to me and my mom keeps treating it like her own personal failing as a parent, but -- " Peter sighs and presses a kiss to Jason's knuckles. Like that will help heal him, somehow. "I know Nadia's on our side. I know that Sister Chantelle is. Maybe she can talk to your parents, I don't know.
But what I do know is that there is strength in what we have. And if we hold on tightly enough to each other, we can make it through anything."
Maybe it should make things worse, but it's actually kind of a relief to hear that Peter's not sure, either. If Peter can keep saying it, keep trying to believe it, without really being sure, then Jason can at least try.
"Okay." He still sounds more unsure than he wants to, but he nods, just enough for Peter to feel the motion with how close they still are. "Okay."
He goes quiet for a few seconds, and then sighs. "My parents are... they're going to send me to rehab, probably, because it'll make them look good. Then they'll kick me out and tell people I wasn't willing to 'give up my self-destructive lifestyle'." The quotes are practically audible. Jason tries to smile, like it doesn't bother him, but it doesn't really work. "They're pretty predictable."
"Then -- forget your parents. You can come live with me. I'll talk to my mom, and we'll make it work. Somehow, we'll make it work. We'll get you feeling better. Actually better, not whatever they're going to try to 'fix' for you in rehab.
Jason, I'm not going to lie, it's going to be hard. Of course it is. It can't not be. But I'm willing to go through whatever it takes if it means we can be happy again.
But I need -- " He bites his lip against a fresh bout of tears. "I need you with me on this. No more pretending. No more hiding. After what we've been through, it would absolutely kill me to go back to playing the best friend again."
Jason goes rigid, stomach dropping, terrified at the very idea of it. Logically, there's nothing left to be scared of. His parents know. They've graduated. Notre Dame is a bust, since it's not like his parents are going to pay for it anymore. But the instinct is there, warring against the other instinct to immediately promise anything, whatever Peter needs if it means he'll stay, because he can't start promising things and go back on them later. Not when it's this important.
He takes a deep breath, almost visibly trying to fight through it. "I want -- I want to. I can try, I'm just. I'm still a fucking coward," he finishes, with a surge of bitterness he doesn't really mean to be there. All directed at himself, of course, because it's not Peter's fault that Jason's fucked up over this.
"I'm not going to pretend like this doesn't terrify me, too. But I'm willing to do it anyway, Jason, because I want to be with you. And it may take us trying a million different things before we get it to work, but I'm willing to do that, too."
Slowly, carefully, he lets go of Jason's hand to wrap his arms around him. Gently, like Jason might shatter if he holds too tight. "Please don't give up on us. Not yet. Not if what you said that night was true."
He's still stiff at first, even as he shakes his head, as his arms come up to wrap around Peter in return. "I love you." It comes easier, this time, less hesitation, and with it it's like a switch is flipped, and Jason practically collapses into Peter, almost clinging to him.
"I'll -- whatever I can do, I'll do it. I'll try," he amends, because he still doesn't want to set Peter up to agree to this on false hope, doesn't want Peter to end up regretting it. "No more hiding. And the rest of it, we'll just... we'll figure out."
"I love you so much, Jason," Peter sighs, clinging tight to Jason. "I know you'll try. We both will. And it may take a while, to work through things. To work everything out. To figure out what we're doing, where we're going. But we'll do it."
"Okay." He hides his face in Peter's neck, awkward as it is to do it at this angle, but it feels a little easier to accept it if he doesn't have to face the rest of the world right now. To say things if he doesn't have to focus on anything but Peter. "Long as you're here. Love you," this time almost apologetic, because Jason doesn't have any helpful words to give back right now, but at least he can make up a little for the hundred times he should have said it before and didn't.
"I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry it took me this long to get here but I was so scared -- maybe you didn't want to see me." He gives half a laugh, a noise choked with tears as he buries his face against Jason's neck. "Nadia told me to stop being such a little bitch and get my ass in here."
Jason's laugh isn't much more than a huff, but it's something. "It's okay. I don't blame you, I've been pretty fucking awful to you this year." Longer, depending on which part of his shit they're talking about, but instead of dragging them down that rabbit hole he just holds on tighter. "And I would've taken a lot longer to get my shit together and call, so. You're here, the rest of it doesn't matter."
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please understand that I tried
It's been a long few days since he woke up, between the boredom and the bone-deep exhaustion from realizing he has to figure out what to do next. His parents haven't officially disowned him, probably because Mom's decided it'd look bad to abandon their son while he's still in the hospital, but they haven't visited either. He's pretty sure they're arranging for a rehab place to hide him away at next, and the rest will come when he gets out of there. The only person he's seen is Nadia, who sits with him when she comes and kindly hasn't made him talk about it yet.
When the door opens, he's expecting her again, and it takes a second for him to look up from the book he's holding but not really reading -- and then he stiffens, staring when Peter walks in instead.
"Peter?" His voice cracks, surprise evident, more so than is probably warranted. Peter's too good a person not to want to make sure he's okay, and Jason knows that, it's just...
There's a million reasons Peter would probably be better off walking away from this mess and forgetting about him that he's ignoring to be here instead. A million reasons why Jason's swallowed it down every time he had the urge to call or send a message, no idea what to say, just wanting to hear his voice again.
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It had been heartbreaking. They had been so close to a breakthrough that night during the show, their conversation backstage. That final, tender kiss. No -- not final. They still have a chance. There is still hope.
He steps into the room and closes the door behind him. "Jason..." he says, sounding lost. Sounding broken. "I'm --" But he's not sure what to say. There are no words for how he's feeling right now.
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He hesitates, lets the silence stretch out for a second; the urge to curl up is strong enough that Jason stops trying to hold back, drawing his knees up to his chest as he finally says, "I -- fuck, I'm sorry." He doesn't to sound as miserable as he does -- he should be stronger, let Peter be broken right now, but obviously he's not strong enough anyway, or he wouldn't be here right now.
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"I didn't come here to be angry at you, though. I've had my chance to be angry. Now it's our chance to heal."
He clears his throat a little, but that doesn't help him sound less tearful. "I've talked to Nadia most days. Checking in. Making sure you're doing okay. But I had to come see you. To make sure, for myself."
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"She mentioned." And then dropped the subject, because it wasn't long after Jason had woken up and he'd freaked out at the idea of having that conversation with her already, but he's not going to bring that up. For all he knows, Nadia already shared that part. "They said that I shouldn't be here that much longer." He doesn't sound excited at the thought. Wherever he's going next is most likely going to be worse.
He squeezes Peter's hand lightly, and looks away. "I thought about calling. I just... I didn't know if you'd want me to."
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But I had to see you. I had to know for sure. If you meant everything you said that night." Or if Jason had just said it because he hadn't thought he'd make it through. If he'd said it as a goodbye.
"I was angry, after. But not at you. I was angry -- not at God, not exactly. At the church. For failing us. Failing you. I went to confession and I yelled at the priest. Can you imagine?" He lets out a laugh, but it's weak. Less than half hearted.
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But he can't hide from the rest of it forever. It feels a little like he's dragging the words out, and it's quiet, because he can't seem to say it any louder. "Of course -- of course I meant it." He probably wouldn't have said it if he hadn't been high enough not to care, or if he thought he'd be here now, but that doesn't mean it wasn't the truth. "All of it. You. Peter. You know I."
Which is where he'd usually leave it, and let Peter fill in the blank for him, because it's easier. He swallows, throat dry, and pushes forward, because isn't keeping this shit to himself part of what got them into this mess? "I love you. I know I, I fucked up beyond belief in every way possible, but I... I always have. I don't -- I don't know why I wouldn't want you here."
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"There's no place I'd rather be than right here. By your side. Always." It comes out a choked whisper, because that's all he can manage right now, but Jason needs to know. "I still love you. No matter what."
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"God, you.... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I was scared, I'm sorry I didn't tell you more, I'm. I can't believe you're still here." He can feel himself starting to tear up too, closes his eyes and tries to push it away.
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"It's going to be okay," he amends, quietly, resting his hand over Jason's where it sits against his cheek. "I love you too much not to be here. And I'm going to take care of you. If you'll let me."
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"It's too much. I don't have any idea what I'm doing from here. You shouldn't have to put up with all that."
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You fucked up. I'm not going to pretend you didn't. But we can make it better. Together. We can heal together. Because God knows I need your help healing from this, too."
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You're more than just some teenage fantasy to me, Jason. You're the man I love, and I will tell every single person in the world that. Sister Chantelle told me that God doesn't make mistakes and I know now that that's true. He didn't make a mistake with us, Jason. This is who we're meant to be."
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But that has to hold up to years of knowing down to his very core that everything he is and wants is wrong, and right now that feels like a losing battle.
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"I'm not sure, that's the thing. I don't know that it's going to be okay. I don't know what your parents are going to do. I know that my dad has barely spoken to me and my mom keeps treating it like her own personal failing as a parent, but -- " Peter sighs and presses a kiss to Jason's knuckles. Like that will help heal him, somehow. "I know Nadia's on our side. I know that Sister Chantelle is. Maybe she can talk to your parents, I don't know.
But what I do know is that there is strength in what we have. And if we hold on tightly enough to each other, we can make it through anything."
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"Okay." He still sounds more unsure than he wants to, but he nods, just enough for Peter to feel the motion with how close they still are. "Okay."
He goes quiet for a few seconds, and then sighs. "My parents are... they're going to send me to rehab, probably, because it'll make them look good. Then they'll kick me out and tell people I wasn't willing to 'give up my self-destructive lifestyle'." The quotes are practically audible. Jason tries to smile, like it doesn't bother him, but it doesn't really work. "They're pretty predictable."
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Jason, I'm not going to lie, it's going to be hard. Of course it is. It can't not be. But I'm willing to go through whatever it takes if it means we can be happy again.
But I need -- " He bites his lip against a fresh bout of tears. "I need you with me on this. No more pretending. No more hiding. After what we've been through, it would absolutely kill me to go back to playing the best friend again."
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He takes a deep breath, almost visibly trying to fight through it. "I want -- I want to. I can try, I'm just. I'm still a fucking coward," he finishes, with a surge of bitterness he doesn't really mean to be there. All directed at himself, of course, because it's not Peter's fault that Jason's fucked up over this.
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Slowly, carefully, he lets go of Jason's hand to wrap his arms around him. Gently, like Jason might shatter if he holds too tight. "Please don't give up on us. Not yet. Not if what you said that night was true."
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"I'll -- whatever I can do, I'll do it. I'll try," he amends, because he still doesn't want to set Peter up to agree to this on false hope, doesn't want Peter to end up regretting it. "No more hiding. And the rest of it, we'll just... we'll figure out."
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