I stepped into Peter's room and shut the door behind me with a sigh. It had been a really rough couple of days, what with having to make big decisions for the following year, and with both of my parents wanting me to go in a different direction. All I had wanted was to get some time alone with Peter. He was the only one who could calm me down. When he listened to me talk, his brown eyes softly following my emotions as they left my lips, and somehow things usually became clear. I would end up saying the very thing that I needed to hear. Peter brought out the best in me. That's why I loved him.
I heard hurried scuffling as soon as the door clicked shut, and I immediately looked up to see what was going on. I managed to catch a glimpse of my boyfriend pulling his hand out from the pillow that was propped up behind him, as if he had stuffed something back there in a rush when I walked in. Peter's usually pale cheeks were tinged pink. My curiosity piqued, but I tried not to let it on.
"What's going on, Y/N?" he leaned forward on his bed, loving concern painted across his soft features. I sighed, all of my anxieties suddenly returning to me.
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"So much."
Peter must have heard the disheartened tone in my voice. He slid to the edge of the bed and opened up his arms, offering me a hug. I unceremoniously dropped my bag on the floor and folded myself into him. His chest was warm, and his curls were still damp at the base of his neck, from a shower he had taken earlier, I guessed. He smelled like comfort and understanding - a warm and spicy cedar wood. The cologne I bought him for his birthday, I realized. The thought made me feel less out of control. Because even when I had nothing, I had Peter.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked gently.
I buried my nose further into the folds of his sweater. "Not really. This is enough."
I could feel the chuckle in the back of Peter's throat. I let out a small unsatisfoed noise at this. "Don't laugh at me. I'm having all of the struggles."
"Of course you are, Y/N." He justified, though I heard a hint of a smile in his otherwise serious voice.
"You can be traded for a nice boyfriend." That comment did draw a real laugh from him.
"I'm sorry." He kissed my forehead and I felt like my insides were melting, all the disdain draining from me. "Would food make up for it?"
"Always." I pulled far enough away to look at his face. "What do you have?"
"Well, you know May's cooking." I rolled my eyes, and his lips quirked upwards. I had been invited for dinner only once, and after that horror show, Peter made May promise never to cook for company again. "But I may have some Half-Baked Ben and Jerry's in the freezer."
