At No Time || Bruno Mars

30

Diane did not speak for a beat, then two, then three. She did not speak for so long that Peter assumed she had left him to his lonesome, too pissed to think straight. He almost turned around and walked away before he heard her quiet, "Come on up."

Peter's steps on the stairs were languid with purpose. His mind reeled with everything he and his family had gone through, every curse, shout, door slam, everything. He had to pause one flight short just to make sure he was able to do it, to go to the door and see the father and sister he had not seen face-to-face since he was eighteen. Trystan's supportive words echoed in his mind and pressured him all the way until he was standing outside his old door, room four-oh-six.

He rapped against the door softly, presuming Diane was already there waiting for him, and she was. She opened the door leisurely, as though she were unsure it was really going to be Peter on the other side or if it were a cruel joke someone was playing, but her copper eyes—the same color as Peter's—widened when she saw him.

She did not look much different than the last time he had seen her. Her hair, a mid length brown with blonde highlights, and her clothes, always a simple shirt and pants, reminded Peter of the young woman he left. For a moment, it quelled his anxiousness to see something of familiarity, but he knew the feeling would not last. The memory of their last exchange in the house would not allow it.

"You are so damned selfish, Bruno! How could you just leave? You thought you were the only one who was in pain? Who's still in pain?" Diane shouted at him as he rolled his suitcase to the front door. She grabbed at his shoulder and he shrugged her off.

"Shut up, Diane, before you wake Pop up!"

"Listen to me then!" She refused to lower her tone as she stared her miserly brother down. Peter glared at her with the same menace, infuriated that after multiple debates, Diane still had not seen things from his point of view. He was not sure he could deal with another lecture.

"We need help here, Bruno! You know Pop's not working as much as he used to. It'll take all three of us to get the bills paid! How are we gonna manage without your paycheck?"

"Tell Pop to get off his ass and handle his own damn household."

Diane would have smacked him for cussing—Peter knew better than to use foul language in the house; Mama's rules, but she was not his mother and Peter was not a baby anymore. Plus, it would push him right out the door, doing the complete opposite of what she wanted. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, Peter still stood before her, his drawn eyebrows and frown looking much to similar to their father in his anger.

"You can't just leave like this. Not after the money you took–,"

"That's why I'm leaving! So I can pay it back! I can't stay here anymore, Di! I feel suffocated here. Pop's always slackin', you're working your butt off to provide, I barely passed high school because I was workin', and Mama's not here to make everything alright!"

For the first time in a long time, Diane saw Peter's eyes water. He looked away from her before they could fall, but she felt his angst just the same. Still, she thought, it would not be fair of him to skip town and leave her to deal with their father and all the problems he had caused. "You can't leave me here by myself," Diane told him quietly, and she caught his hand gripping the suitcase handle so tightly his knuckles paled.

"I'll call when I land," Peter all but whispered. "Take care. Tell Pops I love him."

A childish garble pulled Peter from the flashback. There was a child on Diane's hip, wide-eyed with brunette pigtails secured by butterfly barrettes that Peter had only known about from a phone call. She chewed on a toy, having no joy or abhorrence toward him. No regard, as he knew his sister had none for him after her anger finally dissipated for the most part three years before. Did not hate him, did not like him. Simply stopped feeling too strongly.