⛓ • we'll never have sex ;; peter ballard ;; ❤︎

one

You hold Eleven's hand, smiling softly at her as you both walk to the rainbow room. You're in a much better mode, having slept peacefully for the first time in a very long time last night.

There's a noticeable change, a bounce in your step as you reach the beloved playroom with Eleven in tow. You press open the door and smile adoringly at Peter as he spots you both.

The sweet smile he directs at you for some reason makes your anxiety spike, but you brush it off as just being nervous. Your heart knows better than your mind, that's what you tell yourself and it seems to work as your feet stay planted in one spot.

"Well, well. Look who finally decided to join us." His tone is playful, but again you have to resist the urge to yank Eleven closer and turn around right there. You shrug your emotions off, telling yourself it's just nerves once again. Your mom had once told you to follow your gut, but then again, what did that woman know? After all, she was six feet under now.

You step in completely after Eleven, and usher her to go and play— but she glances between you, Peter and Two and her grip tightens on your hand significantly. It almost hurts, and the laugh you give is simply to break the tension growing in the air. It's thick, and you can practically feel eyes burning holes into your side.

"Someone's a sleepyhead this morning, isn't she?" Peter smiles gently, and it's enough to make your heart skip a beat as he directs it towards you. Wether that is out of love or fear, you don't know. You choose to ignore it, and smile back with a nod. You nudge Eleven forward a little harder this time and her grip on your hand finally loosens and slips before she waddles forward into the room.

You turn, going to leave to walk towards your office when a hand catches your wrist tightly. It's painful, and you swallow down the surprised yelp that almost slips. Your head snaps around, and you note that the grip keeping you from leaving feels like molten rock against your skin.

And against your better instinct you keep your feet planted, and smile weakly at Peter as he tilts his head. "Are you alright?" He is not asking before he cares, he's asking because he needs to know if this will hinder your time with him.

You ignore the way your whole body seizes up at his almost knowing tone. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" You grow shy staring into his pools of blue, which drown you in the intensity of them. His smile grows wider and he lets you go as he concludes that no, it won't.

Your hand immediately finds itself on your erratic heartbeat, feeling it bash against your ribs at an ungodly speed. Peter glares you down, searching for something in your eyes and body language. When he can't find it, he seems almost happy.

"No reason, have a lovely day, (Y/N). I'll see you later, hm?"  You nod, not trusting your voice. Your dark eyes are trained on him as you back up from the door before turning around and speed walking away.

You can't ignore his smoldering gaze as it burns holes into your back before the door slams shut with a small satisfying click and the feeling of his gaze goes with it. Sighing doesn't seem like the right reaction after that, but you don't know what else would be quite as fitting.

Your body releases the tension it's been holding onto, and you finally relax as you walk towards your dainty little office. The walk is long and quiet, and you think about how you and Peter came to meet. The memory is anything but hazy, and it feels as if it had happened yesterday. Sometimes, you wish it had..maybe then things would be different.

Kids came and went, you knew this by heart. Your job, as a nurse, was to get rid of anything that could possibly hinder any child's capabilities. Your job wasn't meant to care for them, it was simply only meant to patch them up so they weren't "weak."

Affection was against the rules, so you had to watch as each day a new child would come into your room sobbing with a guard accompanying them, and you wouldn't be able to do anything but stare as they cried.

And this, disgusted you.

Before you had began to work here, you had a deep caring soul. Sensitive and always open the new ideas. A love for each living thing, and you had wanted to be a Pediatrician.

You had a big heart, especially towards children, your dream had been to have a big family. Four or maybe six kids, half of them adopted and half of them grown in your womb. Though, you doubted you could ever have children now.

Every child here was treated as a lab rat, nobody was loved or taken care of whatsoever. You remember the first time you had been forced to watch a child get "behavioral correction therapy."

You had stayed standing to the side, next to one of your co-workers with big wide eyes. Staring in disbelief and heartbreak as the little boy, barely even 8 got shocked. Again, and again. All because he had accidentally hurt one of the other kids while fighting over a toy.

Once they stopped— only because the boy had fallen to the floor, convulsing and foaming at the mouth. Everyone besides you and the man standing next to you was told to leave the room by Dr. Brenner

You were instructed to aid the boy back to health, while the man next to you— who you found was named Peter- was told to carry 006 to the nurses office- which was next to the head nurses office who at the time was not you— with you accompanying him.

You did as you were told, guilt eating you alive when you stared at the little boy on the bed. Then, a hand brushed against your own and you looked at it. Your mind had stilled while your heart beat against your ribcage violently as you tried to swallow the sob that threatened to slip, and you looked up to meet the blue eyes of Peter.

The man was angelic, a sharp jawline and locks of somewhat blonde curly hair cascading down the sides of his face and framing his features. You stared, teary eyed at the neutrality on his face.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." He whispered, so gently and yet his words bounced around your skull. Hitting every pathway in your brain and soon settling into your hypothalamus. His long slender fingers wrapping around your own, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into the meat of your hand.

And after that moment, you two had been inseparable.

You press open your office door, stepping inside and slumping at your desk almost immediately. Life had been so simple at that time, you and Peter quietly in love- well, you in love and Peter fascinated by the human mind and it's emotions. How easily it could break and then be rebuilt on new fundamentals.

You sigh, rubbing your neck as your body relaxes into the white leather of your seat. Your head aches dully as you look at the papers that were left for you. You barely read any of them, just briefly skimming through and you find yourself having to look through them multiple times.

Your mind seems to be somewhere else today.

All of it is stuff you recognize anyhow, and so you begin to sort each paper into the correct file. Two's physical results goes into his file, Three's into their file and so on and so forth.

You let your mind wander, and you look at the candle that had once been lit. The wax surrounding the wick has long since melted away. You think it's fitting, and you think back to a project you did in your last year of college.

You set me ablaze my love, so hot I'm afraid that I'll melt away and burn out before our love has reached its climax.

It had been a silly project, somewhat fun and amusing to write. Now you just thought it was sad that you could relate to it. That you could relate to heartbreak.