He almost lets himself smile, hand coming back out of his pocket to squeeze Peter's shoulder. Each simple, companionable touch only leaves him wanting, but he shoves those thoughts away. He needs something else from Peter now, and though he could find it in the other man and take it, as he had done before; it isn't what he wants now. Not only does he want Peter to give freely of himself, he wants to find himself on equal ground. It's never the way it works for Adam, he used and was used to varying degrees and to varying use to himself, but to connect with Peter; with another person simply to make the connection--it was something he'd gone centuries without.
Under this barren sky, he wonders if Peter could find comfort in Adam, the person, and not the idea. He wonders if there is even a person left to connect with. He's so hollowed himself out, replaced with false promises and dark motives; is that even a person? Is he anything more than his own agenda? All of it must show on his face, but not even Peter would know what it meant, and so for once he doesn't bother to cover it. Why shouldn't he feel, as any man felt. He's not a god here, he can't affect anything. He's the same as Peter, and that's what he wants; just the same.
Tipping his face down to catch Peter's words, they seem meaningless at first until they filter through. When he had pledged of next time, this had hardly been his expectation. But even a man who sat on a mountain of broken promises would keep this one, if only to wait this out, as Peter had so eloquently put. He finds himself nodding, some of Peter's hair brushing his face. "I'll come with you," and it's all he needs say. Peter can see the gladness echoed back if he's looking for it, and Adam isn't up to his usual snark.
Peter's apartment at least will be his, even if it still will be overshadowed by Sylar, a presence even Adam can feel now. He's with them, omnipresent, and yet not here at all. Though Peter claims it's nothing, the minimal and shiftless collection of rooms keeps the man together, holds his sadness when he leaves. Even if Adam had never seen it for himself, he would know exactly what Peter's apartment is; the strange safe haven it projects here, through the dark.
He draws away, a step back though his hand stays, merely a pressing of fingers with the added distance. Not only does temptation weigh on his bones like lead, dragging him down until he's sure only Peter's touch could make him light enough to walk again-- but he needs the space to take in a proper breath, something he hasn't done since this dream began. Adam nods forward, letting his hand drop at last, indicating for Peter to lead the way. Though ordinarily he would step ahead, or even take the lead himself as seemed natural; he reminds himself again of his own motives. To share in everything with Peter alike, and to not take until he was offered. It's as unnatural as breathing underwater, and yet the tightness in his chest bears evidence to his certain drowning.
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Under this barren sky, he wonders if Peter could find comfort in Adam, the person, and not the idea. He wonders if there is even a person left to connect with. He's so hollowed himself out, replaced with false promises and dark motives; is that even a person? Is he anything more than his own agenda? All of it must show on his face, but not even Peter would know what it meant, and so for once he doesn't bother to cover it. Why shouldn't he feel, as any man felt. He's not a god here, he can't affect anything. He's the same as Peter, and that's what he wants; just the same.
Tipping his face down to catch Peter's words, they seem meaningless at first until they filter through. When he had pledged of next time, this had hardly been his expectation. But even a man who sat on a mountain of broken promises would keep this one, if only to wait this out, as Peter had so eloquently put. He finds himself nodding, some of Peter's hair brushing his face. "I'll come with you," and it's all he needs say. Peter can see the gladness echoed back if he's looking for it, and Adam isn't up to his usual snark.
Peter's apartment at least will be his, even if it still will be overshadowed by Sylar, a presence even Adam can feel now. He's with them, omnipresent, and yet not here at all. Though Peter claims it's nothing, the minimal and shiftless collection of rooms keeps the man together, holds his sadness when he leaves. Even if Adam had never seen it for himself, he would know exactly what Peter's apartment is; the strange safe haven it projects here, through the dark.
He draws away, a step back though his hand stays, merely a pressing of fingers with the added distance. Not only does temptation weigh on his bones like lead, dragging him down until he's sure only Peter's touch could make him light enough to walk again-- but he needs the space to take in a proper breath, something he hasn't done since this dream began. Adam nods forward, letting his hand drop at last, indicating for Peter to lead the way. Though ordinarily he would step ahead, or even take the lead himself as seemed natural; he reminds himself again of his own motives. To share in everything with Peter alike, and to not take until he was offered. It's as unnatural as breathing underwater, and yet the tightness in his chest bears evidence to his certain drowning.