You'd like her. [ he says, in the tone of voice that says of course you'd like her. everyone likes her, how could someone not? and then he takes a breath, the corners of his lips quirk and he laughs again. ] Do you want to know the really ridiculous part? Not the bit where we're currently stuck in what's probably a pocket dimension masquerading as the afterlife and she's on Earth, but—. [ beat. ] I was almost stupid enough to think I was too good to meet her. My aunt and her aunt tried to get us to meet for ages, and I kept— [ he waves a hand ], blowing her off.
My aunt's the most incredible woman I've ever met, but I thought that any woman she thought was the right one for me would be, I don't know — dull. Not that there's anything wrong with that — my definition of interesting is listening to an audiobook on magnetic fields, but somehow I managed to think that my aunt didn't know me at all.
[ he pauses again and then his gaze drops. he feels, suddenly, like he knows more about quentin than quentin knows about him. sure, some of that was thanks to circumstances — thanks to quentin's string of unbelievably awful luck in beacon and his propensity, almost, for being an open book.
peter thinks that he tends to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he's aware, too, that he's cagier about a lot of things than he really means to be. he knows it's unfair, and he knows that it can be more than frustrating. he tends to get called out on it more at home than he does here, but that's probably because no-one knows him enough here to call him out on it.
then, he thinks that maybe quentin thinks that mj is gwen, because he'd told quentin more about gwen than he had mj, because somehow that was easier.
(geez.)
the loss was harder, because gwen was dead and there was no getting away from that, whilst they still might get home and he'll be home with mj, but talking about gwen was easier. gwen was, ostensibly, his past and he wanted so much for mj to be his present and his future.
he skips past the what of the memory to instead say— ]
I did tell you about her in the church, but she's—. [ he admits as he spreads his hands and seems to find them incredibly fascinating for a moment. ] She said no the first time I proposed. Then she said yes and I left her at the altar. [ he waves a hand. it's not a dismissive gesture because there's nothing dismissive about that, but it takes him a second to add: ] There'd been a reason, but it wasn't — you know. It's complicated.
But that— [ he gestures at the opal ], was before. [ beat. ] We fixed things a little while before I ended up here.
no subject
My aunt's the most incredible woman I've ever met, but I thought that any woman she thought was the right one for me would be, I don't know — dull. Not that there's anything wrong with that — my definition of interesting is listening to an audiobook on magnetic fields, but somehow I managed to think that my aunt didn't know me at all.
[ he pauses again and then his gaze drops. he feels, suddenly, like he knows more about quentin than quentin knows about him. sure, some of that was thanks to circumstances — thanks to quentin's string of unbelievably awful luck in beacon and his propensity, almost, for being an open book.
peter thinks that he tends to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he's aware, too, that he's cagier about a lot of things than he really means to be. he knows it's unfair, and he knows that it can be more than frustrating. he tends to get called out on it more at home than he does here, but that's probably because no-one knows him enough here to call him out on it.
then, he thinks that maybe quentin thinks that mj is gwen, because he'd told quentin more about gwen than he had mj, because somehow that was easier.
(geez.)
the loss was harder, because gwen was dead and there was no getting away from that, whilst they still might get home and he'll be home with mj, but talking about gwen was easier. gwen was, ostensibly, his past and he wanted so much for mj to be his present and his future.
he skips past the what of the memory to instead say— ]
I did tell you about her in the church, but she's—. [ he admits as he spreads his hands and seems to find them incredibly fascinating for a moment. ] She said no the first time I proposed. Then she said yes and I left her at the altar. [ he waves a hand. it's not a dismissive gesture because there's nothing dismissive about that, but it takes him a second to add: ] There'd been a reason, but it wasn't — you know. It's complicated.
But that— [ he gestures at the opal ], was before. [ beat. ] We fixed things a little while before I ended up here.