When he blinks, he rests his eyes shut for a beat longer than he needs to, gathering the loose ends as he feels himself drifting, and drawing them back together. Two words quickly became the most complicated question ever posed, and he's losing himself in all the many ways he could screw up this answer. He forces himself to relax under Peter's gaze, taking half a step closer to him if for no other purpose than to demonstrate his intent to stay.
"I don't belong here," makes its way through before he properly settles on what to say. It's true, and vague enough to let him still hide, and so it's acceptable to him for now, allowing the empty words to hang. They're Peter's to do with what he will now, and Adam finds himself calming visibly as his eyes trace paths down Peter's jaw, over his lips. It's easy to distract himself with the man before him, and it's easier still to forget his own upset with Peter this near.
The streets still nag at him and he can't help but feel that they want him gone. Whether their purpose is to torture Peter or protect him isn't to know, but Adam can only suspect it's some mixture, designed as a prison to the man's very own guilt and self-destruction. Any hardness left in the planes of his face is melting, and he only wants Peter to understand that it isn't him he fears but his own stifling inadequacy. He can only be sure the city will see him for what he is before Peter has the chance.
Another chance to be alone with Peter; another chance to tell him all the things he's never said. He doesn't deserve this borrowed time, and he's beginning to think it's taking more of a toll on either of them than it could possibly be worth. But Adam's greed is immeasurable, and his ability to take even when there's nothing left to. It's his own particular skill, a honed craft that's outlasted more ages than he himself could ever hope to.
no subject
"I don't belong here," makes its way through before he properly settles on what to say. It's true, and vague enough to let him still hide, and so it's acceptable to him for now, allowing the empty words to hang. They're Peter's to do with what he will now, and Adam finds himself calming visibly as his eyes trace paths down Peter's jaw, over his lips. It's easy to distract himself with the man before him, and it's easier still to forget his own upset with Peter this near.
The streets still nag at him and he can't help but feel that they want him gone. Whether their purpose is to torture Peter or protect him isn't to know, but Adam can only suspect it's some mixture, designed as a prison to the man's very own guilt and self-destruction. Any hardness left in the planes of his face is melting, and he only wants Peter to understand that it isn't him he fears but his own stifling inadequacy. He can only be sure the city will see him for what he is before Peter has the chance.
Another chance to be alone with Peter; another chance to tell him all the things he's never said. He doesn't deserve this borrowed time, and he's beginning to think it's taking more of a toll on either of them than it could possibly be worth. But Adam's greed is immeasurable, and his ability to take even when there's nothing left to. It's his own particular skill, a honed craft that's outlasted more ages than he himself could ever hope to.