At No Time || Bruno Mars

30

The sun had not even risen when Peter left Trystan's home with a note he was not sure he could fulfill. With his hands tucked in his pockets and a scarf tight around his neck, he marched through the winter winds and tried not to inhale some of the smoggy fumes New York obtained even in the early morning.

Peter knew where his old home was, but trekked about as if he were clueless, watching the snow cling to his boots just so he would not have to see that he was nearing the location that made his heart hammer and his head spin. He had taken a couple of buses that circled him around the city so he could get his mind together, but that was an impossible thing to do. He felt nothing could really prepare him. He stepped off the bus four blocks away from the apartment complex, finding no use in delaying but no sense in hurrying either.

He knew he should have called first—that would have been the proper thing to do. His small family was not like Trystan's, where someone who had not been seen in years would be welcomed in with open arms. No, they were not like that at all. If he were being honest with himself, he was not sure how kindly they would take to even seeing him. He gulped when the first shine of morning gazed directly onto the door of the building. His fists were balled so tightly, he could feel the imprints of his nails against his palms. Talking to his own family should not have been this difficult, but he had made it that way and had to suffer the consequences of his own mistakes.

He tried to have Trystan's vivacious spirit, but recalled the moment they shared the night before and remembered that her spirit for the most part had been merely an act. If he could not be high-spirited in its truest essence, he would not be at all. His uncertain frown remained glued to his face as he climbed the aging steps of the building.

For a moment, he entertained the idea of spending more time with Yvonne. Her smiling face was one just as encouraging as Trystan's and just what he needed to make it through his visit. But it was early, barely past seven, and he did not want to intrude even if Yvonne would not have minded if he did. Just fucking do it, he pushed himself harshly, and with a stride of feigned bravery did he enter the dwelling and lift a shaking finger to the intercom button.

It took a long time for someone to answer the buzzing, and Peter did not fault them for any tardiness. It had been his choice to get there early in the morning. If he had waited until later in the day, he would have talked himself out of going, as he had done for the past eight years. He had to do it when he was the least comfortable, and that was in the dawn when Trystan needed to be held more than she had ever been. He regretted having to leave her to wake up alone and probably clueless to what had transpired, and he hoped she could forgive him. It was something he had to do or he never would.

"Hello?" The irritated voice of a woman, who he immediately recognized as his older sister, Diane, answered the consistent jabs of his pointer finger. Peter opened his mouth, but the words were stuck in his throat, willing themselves to go back into his stomach where they had been buried. Diane was usually a pleasant person to be around, so he knew her annoyance had to do with the fact the sun had only just risen.

"Hello?" she asked for a second time, more impatient than the first. Peter knew Diane well-enough to know if he did not make a noise soon, she would leave him standing there in the hallway, looking a fool. "It's too early for nonsense," was one of her favorite quotes growing up.

"Diane, it's me." He hoped she would take the vibrations in his voice as being cold from the wind and not from nervousness.

Her manner had not changed when she interrogated, "'Me' who?"

He exhaled, waiting to see his breath swirl from the chill about him but remembered he had already stepped inside, that much closer to where he had to be. "Bruno. Your brother."