Peter's first reaction is to protest, to claim that he's doing no such thing. Or at the very least, that he's not out to kill himself. He has to clamp his jaw closed to keep from saying exactly that, breathing hard through his nose, too many emotions flaring to the surface. But why start denying now when he's come this far with his own honesty for the time being.
For a long time he just stares at Adam's hand, not even close to knowing what he's supposed to do about any of this. He keeps trying to grab hold of words when all he wants is to grab hold of Adam and refuse to stamp out explanations he doesn't think he can give. Peter knows he started this, but now he's struggling to finish it as he so often is where Nathan is concerned. To take the comfort he knows he'd find in grasping Adam's hand seems too easy, but he still doesn't think he's allowed. And he can't find an explanation as to why.
"I know." Peter won't say exactly what part of any of that he's admitting to, or if he's simply agreeing with all of it. His chest still feels close to bursting, his lungs collapsing with all the air he can't breathe. Holding onto the edge of the counter until his knuckles go white, Peter's outwardly forced veneer is quickly falling to pieces. "I know nothing's going to be the same again. I know. It shouldn't be, but if I start trying to turn this place into-- If I get chairs and a table and and a television..." Peter's already fumbling, grasping for words he never tries to force himself to find because they're just too hard, ".. I just can't do it."
Out of everything, Peter hadn't expected the concern, not from Adam. And he's falling prey to it, cracking because the person he'd spent years alone with had spared no concern for Peter's feelings. Sylar had only wanted Peter's forgiveness and while he had eventually given it, it had come with a price. Peter had given up his opportunity to grieve and he'd lost all he'd had left of Nathan, and gained a world of guilt with it. He couldn't save Nathan, he couldn't even keep his memory alive.
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For a long time he just stares at Adam's hand, not even close to knowing what he's supposed to do about any of this. He keeps trying to grab hold of words when all he wants is to grab hold of Adam and refuse to stamp out explanations he doesn't think he can give. Peter knows he started this, but now he's struggling to finish it as he so often is where Nathan is concerned. To take the comfort he knows he'd find in grasping Adam's hand seems too easy, but he still doesn't think he's allowed. And he can't find an explanation as to why.
"I know." Peter won't say exactly what part of any of that he's admitting to, or if he's simply agreeing with all of it. His chest still feels close to bursting, his lungs collapsing with all the air he can't breathe. Holding onto the edge of the counter until his knuckles go white, Peter's outwardly forced veneer is quickly falling to pieces. "I know nothing's going to be the same again. I know. It shouldn't be, but if I start trying to turn this place into-- If I get chairs and a table and and a television..." Peter's already fumbling, grasping for words he never tries to force himself to find because they're just too hard, ".. I just can't do it."
Out of everything, Peter hadn't expected the concern, not from Adam. And he's falling prey to it, cracking because the person he'd spent years alone with had spared no concern for Peter's feelings. Sylar had only wanted Peter's forgiveness and while he had eventually given it, it had come with a price. Peter had given up his opportunity to grieve and he'd lost all he'd had left of Nathan, and gained a world of guilt with it. He couldn't save Nathan, he couldn't even keep his memory alive.