Peter Vincent thinks people see what they want to (smokingmagician) wrote in wariscoming, @ 2013-03-04 18:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | peter vincent |
Who: Peter Vincent and Hallucination!Jerry
What: Peter is seeing things and fighting to ignore them.
Where: Peter and Andrew's flat
When: backdated to Sunday evening, March 3rd, 2012, directly following this post.
Warnings: Peter’s foul mouth, implications of violence
Status: Complete
He blinked. His laptop was closed on the desk in front of him. He felt off, like he'd woken from a nap he hadn't meant to take... though, that didn't exactly surprise him. He hadn't slept much at all since his foolhardy little rendezvous with Maleficent a week ago, so dozing off in his chair wasn't that shocking. Peter was accustomed to nightmares, but these were so vivid and all-encompassing, they had him writhing in terror and agony and choking on screams. He'd found himself waking curled on the floor more often than not, or tangled in sweat-soaked bed sheets.
Between that, and the off-and-on torment of having that thing following him around, making him doubt his own sanity, it was no wonder he was fucking exhausted. Peter scrubbed his shaking hands over his face, breathing slow. Then he pushed his chair back and picked up the nearly empty tumbler next to his computer. Draining the last drops of dark green liquor from the glass, he took it over to the kitchen, his hands unnaturally clumsy with weariness as he rinsed it out and left it in the sink. He leaned heavily against the counter, his head low and his eyes slipping shut against his will.
---
"No sleeping," the drawl of his voice was more than enough to jerk someone's attention towards him, the amused lilt of his tone almost sickening. "Sleeping is for the dead." a low, dark chuckle emitted from the back of his throat at that comment. "Well, figuratively speaking, anyway." he shrugged and slid down off the counter where he'd been sitting, slowly trudging about the kitchen.
---
At the hated voice, Peter’s heart just about stopped and his hands slipped off the counter, making him nearly lose his balance. He watched Jerry circle around the table, cold terror weighing down his insides so that he couldn’t move. Objectively, Peter knew he wasn’t there. He trusted Andrew, he knew Maleficent was behind this, and there was no way Jerry could truly be within his flat, having no invitation. But he looked pretty fucking real and solid to Peter.
---
"Don't you ever go anywhere, Vincent?" He paused and arched a brow in the other man's direction. "This apartment's really not that great. You should probably get some fresh air sometime." He was standing right next to Peter now, his next words spoke specific, and precise. "Or do you like it when the air is...thick...and kinda musty...almost like it was in that basement." He inhaled deeply and let out a sigh. "Oh, memories."
---
Peter flinched back at Jerry’s taunting. It dredged up flashes of body-memory - claws tearing into his shoulder and legs, shark-toothed jaws into his wrist, heart and breath wild as he struggled but simply not strong enough to get free. Forget the bad dreams; this was so much worse. With the nightmares, powerful as they were, he could at least wake up and escape them. But this... this was his own mind forced to turn against him, with no way to get away.
He threw a venomous glare over at the vampire. “Fuck off,” he spat, “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.” He could hear the little edge of desperation in his own voice and felt like kicking himself. Peter turned away, trying to ignore the specter. He shouldn’t have said anything. Acknowledging the illusion as though it were real would only lend it strength.
---
"You're never in the mood for anything fun." Jerry practically pouted at him. "We should change that." He said suddenly, a smirk spreading across his lips like wildfire. "I could help you get rid of those inhibitions, you know? Real easy. Real quick. It'd be great. I think you'd be way more fun that way."
---
Peter hadn’t been going to rise to the bait. It was just an illusion. Jerry couldn’t really hurt him, because he wasn’t there. He wasn’t going to... but the implications there were too much for him to ignore, and he found himself spinning to face him and backing away. “You fucking touch me and I’ll set you on fire again, you fucking leech,” he snarled.
His entire body was tense; he felt uncomfortably aware of the blood pumping through his own veins, and he wondered what Jerry thought of it, if he could smell it and hear it flowing through him. What would have happened, all those months ago, if Charley had failed? What if his turning hadn’t been halted and reversed, if he’d turned fully? How twisted and terrible a monster would he have become? The very idea of it shook him to the core, and he couldn't repress the horrified shudders as he backed away out of the kitchen.
---
"Gonna set your apartment on fire while you're at it, Vincent?" he smirked, following almost instantly behind him when he walked out of the kitchen. And yet, there he was, in front of Peter and leaning against the wall as he walked by. "Personally, I think it's a great touch, speaks volumes to who you really are behind the lies." Jerry walked in half a circle around him, stopping when he was behind him again. "The coward, taking as many other people down with him as he can, just so he doesn't have to feel alone."
---
Jerry’s movement - too fast even for a creature like him - made Peter nearly stumble in surprise. He felt paralyzed, though whether this came from fear as Jerry circled him, or from that low cold voice saying all the things Peter tried not to let himself think about, he wasn’t sure. “I’m not... that’s not what I do,” he bit out, but even as he denied it, he knew what Jerry said was true.
He really couldn’t bear to be alone. He’d spent so much of his life on his own, unable to reach other people. He was starving for it, thirsty for contact, to feel connected to other people. But whenever things got rough, it didn’t seem to matter if he ran or tried to help - things always got worse because of his actions.
If he stayed away from people, then maybe he wouldn’t...
“They stay because they want to,” he said, low with uncertainty as he avoided meeting the monster’s eyes. "That's their choice."
---
"Don't lie to yourself, Vincent. That's just pathetic." he chuckled darkly in Peter's ear. "They stay because they pity you." He smirked and nodded towards the bedroom, "You don't think you're fooling anyone, do you?" That inquiry in itself made it quite clear he was indicating Andrew. "You may have settled for a few months, but..." he trailed off, shrugging slightly. "It'll all come falling down soon enough. Can you really expect to keep up the monogamy forever? You know, down to the core, that's not you." he shook his head.
---
Maybe it was from the vampire standing so close, but Peter felt cold all over, his insides tight. “That’s not... they don’t.” His eyes followed Jerry’s gesture at the open bedroom door. He could just hear Andrew’s quiet movements inside. “It’s different with him,” he murmured, eyes still on the doorway. “And I don’t want to be that man anymore.”
He would be lying if he said he didn’t still notice other attractive people. He was a sexual creature by nature and had an eye for beauty on top of it, so of course he noticed. But with Andrew, it went further than that.
Peter thought he was fucking gorgeous, of course, but he wanted more, wanted deeper. There were thousands of reasons why, but it all boiled down to the fact that he simply wanted Andrew. That kiss he’d shared with Ginger upon her arrival, months and months ago now, he’d noticed then that it just didn’t feel right, simply for the fact that she was not Andrew. And that had occurred before Peter had fully fallen for him.
But despite all of this, wanting Andrew more than anything, and wanting to be a better man for and because of him, he couldn’t shake those little lingering doubts. He was too damaged, too used to the glitz and glamour of being a celebrity, too used to being surrounded by people without truly connecting to anyone. He wanted to become better than he was... but what if he couldn’t? What if he failed, and ended up hurting Andrew? What would he do then, if everything he’d worked so hard for in the past year came to nothing?
---
"Just because you don't want it doesn't mean it's not still who you are. You can't deny who you are, Peter. You can suppress it, ignore it, pretend it's not there...but eventually, you'll slip. You'll get too drunk, too restless, and you'll fuck someone else." Another glance cast in the direction of the bedroom before flicking back to Peter. "And, I mean, does he really deserve that? Wow, you're such fucking asshole. Save him from yourself, Peter. Jesus."
---
“Save him from myself?” Peter repeated slowly. The thought was not a new one. From the start of their relationship, Peter had wondered if he would have been better off sparing Andrew the risk of being close to him. Because someone like Jerry or Maleficent could hurt him, for no other reason than to get to Peter, because the people he loved had an alarming tendency to wind up dead. But mostly, because Peter himself could so easily end up hurting him. Surely it would have been better to have left Andrew alone.
But Andrew knew all of this. Peter had laid all this out before him the night they’d gotten together, and he’d made the offer to try. He’d promised. And Andrew had leaped at that chance. “He doesn’t need saving,” Peter stated slowly. His eyes raised to meet Jerry’s. “He deserves better than me, but he chose me. He has faith in me and that’s all I need. So you can fuck right off.”
---
"Faith?" He laughed. "Blind hope that you don't fall into old habits. Don't you know old habits die hard, Peter?" He arched an eyebrow at him. "
"He thinks he doesn't. Because he trusts you. Foolishly, of course. Child's trust. Believing the lies their parents told them." A pause. A smirk. "Oh. Sorry." No apology in his tone, and words were just words when the feeling wasn't behind them.
---
“Old habits can still die. And it’s your fucking doing in the first place,” Peter snapped, glaring at the vampire out the corner of his eye. “All of it, every fucking thing that’s wrong with me is your fucking fault. You fucking destroyed me and I’ve been scrambling to fucking hold myself together ever fucking since.” He was so angry now; the snide comment about parents had not gone unnoticed. his fury blended with his exhaustion until he was shaking so hard he had to steady himself with a hand on the wall.
He stared hard at Jerry, straight into those cold blackened eyes. The vampire that had murdered and eaten his parents; the thing that had started his life’s continuous downward spiral when he was only a child. Jerry was the trigger, the catalyst for every terrible thing that had happened in his life, everything about himself that he despised... it all came back to this one creature. Peter shivered and stepped away from him. “He doesn’t need saving because I’m not going to let it happen,” he said, still unable to repress the terrified shudders, but looking the monster that had destroyed him square in the face. “I’m not going to let you win.”
He stood there, staring Jerry in the face, unblinking, and the figure disappeared, like a light being turned off. The room was empty except for him. He could still hear Andrew moving around in the bedroom, but aside from that, there was only silence. The tension in his shoulders released some what, and Peter sank down onto the couch, his palms covering his face. He was so fucking tired, but he was not going to let them win, not Maleficent, and definitely not Jerry. He hadn't survived this long and gained so much just to slip down and let it be taken away.