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Peter Vincent thinks people see what they want to (smokingmagician) wrote in wariscoming,

Peter watched her shrink back from him and his anger evaporated. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, listened to her talk, and felt the guilt come burning in again. It made him feel very old and very tired. When he looked back at her, his own face crumpled with pain because oh god she was actually crying and he fucking knew she had to be barely holding it together as it was without him snarling at her, without him telling her all of this. And she sank down in front of him, completely breaking down, and he could feel his heart wrenching in two at the sight. He’d never wanted this for her, never intended for things to go like this.

He hesitated, unsure if his touch would be accepted or even appropriate at this point. He hated watching people hurt. He never had any idea how to comfort them. It was even worse when he was the one who’d hurt them.

Haltingly, Peter kneeled down next to her. He wanted to reach out, wrap his arms around her, pull her close and never let anything touch her again. But that was no longer his place, his right. Feeling awkward, he settled for putting one arm around her shoulders, a friend’s comfort rather than a lover’s. “Fuck, Ginger, I’m sorry,” he said, whispering the words into her hair. “I don’t mean to... I’m so sorry.”