puckandpie | a shopping excursion [dated to 2/4/16]

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peter

a shopping excursion [dated to 2/4/16]

There hasn't been a day since Jack's arrival that I haven't wished and wished and wished that he could go home. It's certainly not because I don't like having him here -- that honestly couldn't be further from the truth, which is a little bit surprising all in itself -- and more that he looks more lost and utterly depressed by the hour.

I can't blame him, obviously. As hard as it is for me here, especially lately, I know it has to be at least ten times worse for him. I've never felt so useless in all my life, though. I mean, I know pies can't cure everything, I'm not completely stupid, but I'm so used to being able to sit and with someone and try to talk things out, or hug them for awhile until the pain subsides a little bit, or yes, serve them pie until the inevitable sugar rush perks them up a bit.

And no amount of pie or hugs or talking is going to magically bring the NHL to Darrow or whisk Jack back home.

Neither will a brand new wardrobe but, frankly, Jack is going to have to wear something other than hoodies whether he likes it or not.

Of course, Kate is the first person I think of when I decide on buying Jack a couple new shirts. The Dressing Room is a little bit pricey, but it's also amazing quality and I have no doubt she'll be able to help me.

I don't immediately see her when I step in and I wander for awhile before spotting a guy who appears to be another associate. He has a strikingly familiar face, but I can't immediately place it, and I refuse to let myself wonder about it for too long.

"Hi, excuse me," I say with a sheepish smile. "Is Kate working today by chance?"

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Peter is constantly exhausted.

In the beginning, Peter figured that going to school and work at the same time would equal just about the same amount of effort that Catholic school and constant extracarriculars had taken. He'd never been more wrong. Stressing about buses, finding time to find food, harder homework than anything he'd done at St. Cecilia's and trying to find time to keep his social life afloat was nothing short of Herculean. That morning, he'd even stopped by that coffee shop he and Kavinsky had discovered and ordered coffee instead of tea. He's glad he did. At least now he stands a chance of getting through the rest of the day after a full day of classes.

This doesn't seem to affect his mood too much. When he turns toward the voice, he's smiling, easy and bright. Peter likes his job; he gets to talk to people and help them and he gets paid to do it. It's a good situation.

"I'm sorry, I haven't seen her today," Peter responded, giving a cursory glance around to make sure he isn't mistaken. "Is there something I can help you with?" Peter feels like he's seen the boy around -- possibly visiting Kate like today.

"Oh," I reply, immediately mentally scolding myself for not bothering to text ahead. I shouldn't have just assumed she'd be here, that was stupid.

But the guy seems nice and he's offered to help instead of just telling me to come back later so I latch on, nodding with a smile. "Actually, you might!" I tell him. "I have a friend who just got here a few weeks ago and I'm lookin' to see if I can broaden his wardrobe beyond a bit. I'm hopin' for something not too pricey, but still nice if you think that's possible."

The boy's mood shifts quickly and Peter lets his swing up, too; Peter is easily swept up in the energy of others. He doesn't mind going with the flow now that he has nothing to hide.

"Yeah, I'm sure it is!" Peter chirps. He holds his hands out to shake. "I'm Peter, it's nice to meet you." He's sorry that this guy has missed Kate, but if it gives him something to do for the next little while that isn't sweeping up an already-clean floor, he's grateful. Doing this kind of thing is the best part of the job, anyway.

"What kind of things are you looking for?"

"Eric. Hi!" I reply, taking his hand gratefully. "Thank you so much. Honestly, I'm not even entirely sure what I'm looking for. Maybe a couple button-up shirts or nice sweaters. Just something that isn't a hoodie for once."

There's a rack of shirts a few feet away and I wander over before idly flipping through them one by one. "He has blue eyes and dark hair if that helps. And he's sorta pale. Canadian. Tall.

He's sweet, Peter thinks as their handshake falls away. There are many kind people in Darrow, but many of them aren't sweet, per se. Alec is wonderful but certainly not sweet, and Magnus is many, many great things but definitely not sweet. He supposes Luke and Reid are. Either way, Peter doesn't know a lot of people his age that are excitable as he is. Except maybe Beth.

"Hi, Eric," Peter repeats. His well-constructed manners smack of a Catholic schoolboy and that's exactly what he is. It's obvious, he knows that, but his shame rarely seeps in. Until he thinks about what happened to Jason.

"Go ahead and pick out a couple things in his size that you think he may like and we can go from there." He wonders if "Canadian" is a stylistic hint. He hopes not, since he can't imagine how a Canadian fashion sense might differ from an American one.

"Great! Okay!" I respond, happy that his nice smile isn't just a front at all. Of course, he's working at the moment and sales associates are generally supposed to be nice, but still. He could be like those awful sales women in Pretty Woman that made poor Julia Roberts run out of the story in tears.

With another nice smile, the guy quietly lets me take my time riffling through the various racks on my own. I feel more than a little bit like a fish outta water in here, but I find about four tops I think might be nice, one of them a delicious cable knit sweater I know for a fact would look amazing on Jack even if I'm not sure he'd ever wear it. The other three are all long-sleeved button-ups, one of them flannel and the other two solid blues to bring out his eyes.

Finding Peter a few moments later, I hold out my haul. "Here's what I've found so far. I think the sweater is my favorite, but I'm not sure he'll actually wear it. It's so nice, though. Do you have any more like it?"

As Eric shops through some of their shirts, Peter stays close but not too close. He has plenty he could be doing and he's never really liked the idea of hovering about; it's always made him nervous and he can't imagine anyone really likes being monitored by a person. Doubly so for a person that wants to sell them something. As it is, there are an inordinate amount of mediums in with the extra large shirts. Someone has to have done this on purpose.

Though Peter is surprised to see that his store has any flannel, he is pleased when he turns around to be greeted by Eric's enthusiasm. The sweater is quite nice, and Peter notices that they're all in darker hues. It's Alec's shopping trip all over again.

"We can look!" Peter offers. He flips the tag up with his index finger and heads toward a rack with more sweaters, waving Eric along with him. "You can always bring it back if he doesn't like it. Our return policy is a little weird but I'm sure if Kate vouches for you, it'll be fine." Kate can do no wrong at work and -- Peter estimates -- ever. Kate Gregson is a truly flawless individual that makes existing look as effortless as breathing. "Why don't you think he'd wear it?"

"Well, he tends to dress like someone who's about to rob a fast food joint," I tell him with a small, rueful grin as I follow him toward a rack of gorgeous sweaters. "Lots and lots of hoodies and t-shirts. Occasionally just an underarmour shirt and shorts if he's feeling really lazy."

Thing is, Jack could so easily have afforded a better wardrobe back home and there's some part of my soul that's bothered by the fact that he could never dress himself properly. I guess maybe I'm just trying to right that a bit here now that I'm actually making more than he does. And goodness, isn't that a thought.

"This sweater is so nice though," I add, reaching out to touch it again. "If I could just wrestle him into it, we'd be golden." I glance over at Peter again, still smiling. "Thank you for your help, by the way! And, not to sound rude, but have you been here long? I'm not sure I've seen you around."

Peter laughs at this estimation of Eric's friend's fashion sense. It's a brief description, but it paints a powerful picture. Behind it is the kind of fondness Peter recognizes. Some may see it as something friendly, but seeing other out couples has showed him a few things about how thin their "discretion" had been. None of the roommates at St. Cecilia's -- male or female -- shared clothes as often as Peter and Jason did. And no one had ever noticed that they did their laundry together.

Jesus, how had people not noticed before?

"Well, do you wear the same size?" Peter asks, gesturing as if he's carrying the solution with him. "Then if he doesn't wear it, you can." Or Peter has misjudged this situation entirely and he just thinks everyone is gay, now. If that's the case, Darrow is to blame for providing so much familial company.

"Since October, so not too long. How about you?" Peter is inclined to believe that Eric hasn't been around too long either. If Peter doesn't look familiar, that likely means Eric hasn't met Marius either, and everyone seems to know Marius.

It's a perfectly innocuous question, but the idea that Jack and I could ever share clothes is ridiculous enough I can't help a laugh as I shake my head. "Oh, no. He's about six inches taller and has about fifty pounds of muscle on me. I mean, I could probably wear this sweater if he doesn't want it, but it'd fit like a tent."

Somehow, that's a mental image that makes my cheeks go pink though. It's dumb, of course; the day Jack got here, I lent him the only pair of sweats I had that he could possibly fit into so it's not like we've never shared clothes. And even if we did, it wouldn't mean anything. Not that I think that's what Peter's getting at, but I still can't seem to shake the notion.

So instead I focus on his answer, brightening a little when I realize he hasn't been here very long either. "Since August," I tell him. "Sometimes it feels like a whole lot longer, though, and sometimes like no time at all. Can I ask where you're from?"

Peter laughs at the mental image. True, now that Peter looks at the sweater Eric is holding up, it don't seem like his size. It does seem more his style, though.

"We have a pretty reasonable return policy," Peter offers instead, picking his fingers through the rack and tugging something out. "What if it was something more like this? It's still a hoodie, technically, but it's cut a bit more cleanly. Maybe it's a good stepping-stone to get him to future cable-knit sweaters." It's not a sales pitch. Peter is talking to another person about clothes: something he did a lot back home. Commission doesn't matter too much to Peter, since his salary isn't dependent on it, and even if it was, Peter's not about pressure in sales. He's too genuine.

"I'm from New York," Peter says. It's the second time he's classified himself that way and he's still surprised by it. "Home" was Arizona, but his heart called St. Cecilia's home, not because of the fathers that measured their successes in Confession or the Sisters who knew them better than they knew themselves, but in his private world with Jason that has since become his public life in Darrow. "And you?" He's said his friend is from Canada, but Peter doesn't assume that means he is.

Edited 2016-02-23 00:35 (UTC)

"Ooh, the city or the state?" I ask, not quite able to keep the silly-sounding note of awe from my voice. "I grew up in Georgia and, down there I always just sorta lumped all of New York into the city. But then I went to school up in Massachusetts and my eyes were sorta opened, I guess. Not that I got a chance to go ever, unfortunately. I was really hopin' to, but instead I ended up here, so."

That's probably quite enough rambling I realize a few moments too late. I haven't let him get in a single word since he asked.

"Oh, uhm. I really like this though," I add, running my fingers along the fabric of the hoodie he's pulled out, admiring the cut of it. "The color is just about perfect for Jack. He really likes Blue. Do you have any others like it?"

"Upstate New York, I'm sorry to disappoint you," Peter says with a bright smile. He likes that people have an idea of New York. Peter does too. It's like there's a mythical line that separates St. Cecilia's from the rest of the world, not wholly unlike Darrow. It feels like a lie when Peter says he's from New York the same way it feels like a lie when he says he's from Arizona. If anything, Darrow is his home, for that is where his heart is.

Also, though, he likes this person's energy. He's like Beth, like Rapunzel in that they are both wide-eyed and kind and eager. They're not totally unlike Peter himself. Being able to lump himself into a group with others is a concept that is as foreign as it is welcome. He doesn't mind that he's not doing the majority of the speaking; he's quite enjoying taking it all in.

"Sure! Right here," Peter gestures to about three or four more, surrounded by a few that are subtly different. At first glance, they likely look the same.

"You know your friend from home, right? But you said he's Canadian and you're from Georgia? How do you know each other?" He's not prying, he pays attention. Peter loves people and craves knowledge so when the two things intersect, Peter's an incredibly happy camper.

"Not a disappointment!" I hurry to assure him even if it maybe is just a little bit. It's just that New York City has always sounded so glamorous and exciting. But then I think of the people I'd imagine might come from New York City and Peter, despite the fact that he has a famous face I know I should recognize, doesn't strike me as very NYC-type.

For one, he's not wearing nearly enough black.

"Honestly, anywhere outside of little Madison, Georgia is pretty thrilling," I continue, following him to the rack of hoodies he has to show me. And, he's right, these are all ones I could definitely see Jack in. Maybe if I get him more than one, I can ease him into the idea of the cable knit sweater sooner rather than later.

"Oh, we went to school together," I reply, glancing up again at the question. "College, I should say. We were on the same hockey team at Samwell University. He's originally from Montreal, but his dad played in the NHL so he moved around some when he was younger, but he's still very Canadian. Speaks French and everything!" I don't mention that Jack was also almost in the NHL, I don't mention what it is that made him miss out or how he landed at Samwell. That's a story for Jack to tell if he ever wants to.

A sweater is out of place, so Peter relocates it to a nearby rack quickly, but doesn't break his attention on Eric. His sweet face, his friendly smile, his passion for his friend: Eric is another one that could have been at St. Cecilia's with them, though he may be a touch older than Peter or Jason. Hadn't Jason toyed with hockey to please his father before Lord McConnell had settled on lacrosse as Jason's legacy? Baseball, hockey, basketball, they'd all failed to erase what his father knew to be true of his son.

"I bet you're glad he's here. I'm not sure what I would do if I didn't have someone from home." He leaves it at that. Normally, Peter is pretty forthcoming with the nature of his and Jason's relationship, but he's at work and it's not an appropriate place to divulge such information. It's just bad manners.

It'd be easy enough to nod and agree that I'm glad Jack's here, but it's a lot more complicated than that. Part of me is glad he's here, of course; I can't deny that. And that same part is just as convinced that the only reason he is here is because I've somehow managed to will it so after months and months of missing everyone.

But then, I don't know why I would have willed Jack of all people. Even if he remembers us as friends and even if I would definitely call him one now, the Jack I remember from back home could barely tolerate me. I can't say Jack is the absolute last person in the world I'd want here in Darrow, but he's pretty low on the list. Partially because of how we got along back at Samwell, but also just because Darrow has nothing to really offer him. Regardless of everything else, Jack is undoubtedly a phenomenal hockey player and he's worked so, so hard. The fact that all his dreams are blowing up in smoke again just kills me.

So, instead, I focus on Peter, taking the happiness I wish I could have for Jack being here and shoving it at the other boy instead. "Oh, you have someone from home? That's great! Did you show up here together then? I was here for five months before Jack arrived and, let me tell you, it was not easy. Though, I guess it could've been worse all things considered."

They're not really shopping anymore, now they're just talking and Peter is cool with that. He does well enough with sales that he doesn't have to worry about wasting time and there's no one else in the store. They'll get back to it. And Peter's in no rush.

"He got here a little before me, but we didn't find each other for a bit." Peter smiles. Finding each other is what Peter and Jason are good at. From living across the country to winding up in a strange place that offers a perfect life, Peter believe he and Jason will wind up together wherever they go. He believes God is on their side, despite what he's been told. That means a lot when Peter lets it. But his relationship with God hasn't been as solid as he wishes it could be still.

"You have other people here, right?" Peter asks, suddenly somewhat concerned. "I mean, you have your friend now but people here are so nice, I'm sure you've found people to spend time with?"

There's something about the way he says that, something in his smile that makes me wonder if this friend of his from home is more than just a friend. It wouldn't be the first I've seen, of course. Simon and Baz had been roommates back home and, even if I still feel a pang when I think of that whole situation, it does make me wonder if I should've known all along.

I almost want to ask, but given that we've only been talking for about ten minutes and he's at work, it's probably not appropriate.

"Oh goodness, yes," I say instead. "I've met a lot of really great people here and they've all helped so much. I don't know how else it'd be possible to survive here if not for some of the people. Kate's one of them," I add, gesturing vaguely even though I know she's not around. "I met her through Derek, actually. Derek Hale? Do you know him? And he introduced me to Neil and Hild and Mindy. And then there's Thomas who I met only a week or so after I got here and his friend Krem and Krem's boyfriend Noah and Noah's friend from home, Blue. So many amazing people."

Peter listens to Eric ramble, nods along when there's a name recognizes. Really, he's still thinking about Jason a bit, about how much their situation has improved being in Darrow. For one, Jason isn't dead and even more, their love isn't so much a secret anymore. Less so every day. If Darrow were a person, Peter would serenade it.

"I met Derek and Noah my first day," Peter says, smiling along. "I've met Krem a couple times. I feel like Noah probably makes it his business to know everyone here." His smile turns fond. How could anyone not think well of Noah? His ghostly charms are only exceeded by his adorableness. Noah is a gift. Peter doesn't really know Derek or Krem well enough to make that assessment of him.

"So you like it here?"

I'm not surprised that he's met Derek, of course. Everyone seems to know Derek. And Noah, of course, is just wonderful. It's nice to know he's also met some truly great people here and that, hopefully, they've helped him settle in a little bit.

But his question is a little bit trickier.

"Well, uhm. Honestly, I miss home a lot," I admit with half a shrug. "I can't say this place is awful, I guess. Not all the time. But I really miss my friends back home, and my family. My teammates. Having Jack here helps a little, but I feel guilty a lot. Like my missin' home so much inadvertently pulled him here." And it's a lot different, me being here compared to Jack. Sure I have stuff that I miss, but Jack has his entire career. All his hopes and dreams. And there's no replacing that.

"Anyhow, what about you?" I ask, still idly touching the fabric of the hoodie he's picked out. "Do you like it so far?"

"I do," Peter responds mildly, but his smile tells the entire tale before he does. Darrow is better than anything he's ever tried to dream up. His cheeks burn a bit with how much he means it. "Things were really complicated back home and here it's not like that. I get to be who I am here." That probably says a lot, but since it's a work conversation, Peter leaves it at that. He's an open book -- that much is probably apparent -- but he doesn't feel totally comfortable initiating that kind of conversation when he's on the clock. Eric doesn't seem the bothered type, but Peter's manager is lurking around somewhere and it's better to play it safe, sometimes.

"I don't think you should feel guilty, though," Peter continues. "I understand that you don't have control over that and I understand why you feel the way you do. But I think whatever brought us here is stronger than just wishing. Some people talk about this place like it's a living thing, so maybe it's just about what this place wants." He considers this for a second. "I know it sounds weird, but I'm just thinking out loud." He's suddenly self-conscious, focused on the clothing in Eric's hands. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have taken it there."

There's something in Peter's smile when he answers, something so absolutely genuine that I'm reminded of how this place actually really is a much better alternative for some people. People like Thomas and Krem and even Derek. They have opportunities here, they can have whole lives they could never even dream of back home.

Maybe I'm just reading too much into it, but I suddenly get the feeling Peter's like that, too. Even if I don't know his story.

But then, the more he talks, the more I start to wonder if he's... if he and his friend are maybe more than just friends. If that's what he's alluding to by talking about complications and not being able to be himself. Because, Lord, if there's anywhere I can relate, it's in that.

"No, no," I tell him with a rush, reaching out to touch his arm lightly. "No need to apologize one bit. I don't think that's a weird thing to think at all -- it's actually kinda... I don't know. Kinda neat. And helps sorta explain things a bit. I like having Jack here and maybe I won't ever stop feelin' guilty about that, but thinkin' about what you said might help. Can't for the life of me imagine what this place wanted me for, though. Except maybe it felt there was a shortage of pie," I tell him with a quiet, slightly awkward laugh. Then, taking a chance, I add, "It certainly didn't see a shortage of, uhm. Of... of people with my lifestyle."

Another tactile person. Peter smiles his familiarity and appreciation. They have so many things in common, it appears. That smile widens.

"There are a lot of us," Peter chances in return, but it's clear they're singing the same song. Now that it's out like that, the game seems almost silly and makes Peter laugh lightly, easily. That probably goes without saying, at this point. Peter's efforts to disguise himself have ceased almost completely. In fact, there are a few returning clients Peter knows with absolute certainty ask for Peter because they want the "gay opinion." They haven't said it -- hell, it's not even a word Peter's ever said -- but it hangs in the air, thick enough to identify.

I'm holding my breath for about two seconds when Peter confirms my suspicions and I immediately feel a rush of a relief, lips slipping into a wider smile.

"Oh, my goodness, there really are," I tell him with a quick laugh. "Back home, I was going to a school with a pretty big faction of uhm, of people like us," I continue, careful of my language considering we're at his work and I don't want to accidentally out him if he's not already. "But here, it's... my gosh, it's like we're everywhere. It's amazing."

Not that it's really increased my chances of dating, of course. Not beyond Simon and I have a feeling that was doomed from the start.

Peter laughs louder than he meant to. He feels a little giddy from under the unexpected rush of being so brazen about it. Earlier in the day, Peter had been somewhat dreading going to work simply because of the startling amount of homework he couldn't do while working, but now, he's intensely glad to be there. The city is small, so it's likely he'd have met Eric somehow anyway, but it's so nice that it's happened then.

"It is!" He laughs again, delighted. "Jason and I were the only ones where we were. No one knew. And here..." Well. Eric knows what it's like, so Peter doesn't bother finishing. "It's one more reason I really like it here, I guess."

"It's one of the things that makes this place a little easier to stomach," I agree with a laugh. I don't mention how it's also made it a lot more obvious that it's not the lack of gay guys or being busy with hockey and school that ever made it so hard for me to get a date. That it really is just me.

This conversation is absolutely not about that though and I put on a wider smile. "I'm glad it's easier for you and, uhm. Jason," I decide on because he hasn't really confirmed that he and this Jason are together and I don't want to presume. "It's still hard sometimes, I think. Like, it's so ingrained to keep it quiet, you know? I was just startin' to come out back home, hadn't even said anything to my parents yet."

There's something sad about Eric and Peter can empathize. Darrow would be a different place without Jason, pleasant but not the paradise it is with him there. Promises are kept that never could have been at home, chiefly among them, how Peter can hear Jason's perfect voice whisper how much he loves him whenever he wants. That's worth it all by itself.

"Thank you," Peter says softly by way of confirmation. He isn't ashamed of Jason's place in his life when he can duck out from under the weight of what he's been taught about the way he feels, least of all to another gay boy.

"The family thing is hard." It was his way of saying he related without getting too deep at work. He wanted to know more, though, wanted to see how their stories related. These were the kinds of connections Peter had yearned for his whole life and there's a wealth of them in Darrow. Eric's another cute, conflicted, and despite all, confident boy like Peter. There are so many and Peter wants to know them all.

"We could talk more over coffee or something?" The issue of time-and-place is cropping up in the periphery and he's afraid he sees his manager eyeing him. "Tuesday afternoons are good for me."

Peter's voice is quiet and understanding in a way that's a little too familiar, I think, and it hits me that I've never really talked about this stuff with anyone before. Not even back at Samwell. All my friends were hockey bros and I didn't really have time to make friends outside of that group, to find other queer kids who might have similar experiences to mine. And here, while there seem to be an abundance of us, it's just... not something anyone talks about. Or maybe they just don't talk about it with me.

But I think... I think Peter might be offering and, as nervous as it makes me, I can't deny the flip of hope in my belly.

"Yeah?" I reply, nodding already. "I usually have to work Tuesday nights, but if you can do early afternoon, I'd love to meet up with you. I'll bring snacks, even. Do you prefer cookies or muffins?"

Peter's appreciation comes out in a bright smile. He's nervous, himself, especially since postponing such a conversation could mean that it never happens. Still, Peter is optimistic.

"I have class, but let me give you my number and we can work something out," Peter says, meaning the snacks and the meeting time. He doesn't have his phone out on the floor so he's not tempted to spend his entire shift texting Jason or Magnus. The fact that his phone can do pretty much anything is utterly distracting.

"Okay!" I reply, completely unable to keep the excitement (and little bit of relief) out of my voice as I pull my phone out of my pocket. With a quick swipe and some tapping, I have it unlocked before handing it over to Peter so he can put his phone number in.

"I also work at Semele's five nights a week. If you ever swing by, I'll give you a free slice of pie," I add, pushing up onto my toes briefly in excitement. Not for the first time, I'm glad that Derek really doesn't seem to mind that I give a good percentage of the pie I make away. It's not the best business practice, I know, but it makes people happy and it makes me happy so he doesn't complain.

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a shopping excursion [dated to 2/4/16]

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