Go With It [BXB]

Chapter 15

He used charcoal pencils to make a crude drawing of a pond filled with lily pads and cat-tails. He was obviously in a block. The only reason he drew places was because he barely had to think of any specifics about them. He swept jagged lines out of the water for long grass, liking how rough the motions were. He felt like drawing something sad but that would be too pathetic, even for him.

It was Saturday but he was up earlier than anyone else. He was at the kitchen table this time, not caring whether Duane would come out and make some snide remark. He figured pretty quickly though that he'd probably gone fishing even earlier than Tate woke up, and he probably wouldn't come home all day if he was with his work buddies.

He greeted Gwen and Andy quietly as he saw them both, again ignoring the concern in their voices. He was completely drained of energy. He hadn't gotten a full night's sleep since he last saw Peter. He gulped and shook his head clear of that train of thought.

He was supposed to be furious, not miserable. Peter was the one being thick-headed and naïve. It's not like Tate was the one who started any of this.

Still, he remembered how hurt Peter sounded, how he looked. He thought Tate didn't trust him. And, looking back, Tate was usually the one making decisions for the both of them. Maybe he had been a little harsh.

Breaking out of his daze, Tate looked down at the page. It looked like a scrambled dark mess. Maybe he'd be better off redoing it in color.

His phone vibrated with a text and even though he checked it casually he straightened up once he saw who it was from. When he read the message he shot back, his chair scraping against the floorboards.

"Something happen, honey?" Gwen asked from the kitchen.

He ran to look out the window. Sure enough, parked across the street was the familiar white car and Peter leaning against the hood. He was wearing a flannel shirt and jeans, his arms where crossed as he looked up into the leaves deep in thought. Maybe it was, like Peter would say, 'absence and the heart and all that' but Tate felt butterflies rise up in his stomach.

"Just Peter comin' to see me," he said in response to his mom's question. Glancing back, he figured they'd be safe enough with her in the kitchen and dashed out the door a little too eagerly.

Peter straightened up too as he heard Tate's footsteps, and when he watched Tate coming closer a bashful, almost shamed grin tugged at the corner of his lips. Tate found himself smiling too. He closed the gap between them as quick as he could and wrapped his arms around Peter. That clearly surprised him but he returned the hug greedily, holding him so tight he could barely move.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled. "I've been so awful to you."

"It's okay," Tate said on instinct.

"It's not." Peter loosened his grip so he could look Tate directly in the eyes. "I was way too pushy. You were trying to tell me something important and I said you were wrong without hearing you out. That's not what a good boyfriend's supposed to do."

Tate felt his heart melt, so quickly it almost brought tears to his eyes. "B-but I do that too," he admitted. "So I'm sorry. It's not fair for me to keep telling you who you can and can't tell."

Peter winced and his mouth stretched into a thin, warped smile. "The thing is, you were right." His eyes fell. "He wasn't as gung-ho about us as I thought he was. I was pretty far off."

Tate's throat caught at the sheer disappointment in Peter's voice. He hugged Peter again, tighter than before. He couldn't care less about the fight anymore.

Peter held tight again, closing his eyes. "Do you wanna head out of town for the day? We could go somewhere we can just be together and it don't matter who judges us."