Warnings: Mention of sex, alcohol
Word Count: 345
He spent the entire week working up his courage to say it. You two have been dating for two years so far, and he feels like it's time to say it. He's almost said it so many times, during sex, during the cutest moments, during the darkest moments, but now he wants to say it to you during a romantic moment. He brought you to a restaurant in dark light and he's holding your hand tightly, over the covered table. Candles are lit around you two and he swears out loud, "You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen."
When he sees you smile, his heart skips a beat. "Thank you, Peter." You squeeze his hand back. His gaze drops from yours when he realizes it's time to say it now. He brings a cup of wine to his lips first, and chugs a little before he coughs, realizing how nasty that tastes when he swings it back that much.
And then he says it. "I'm in love with you, sweetie. I love you so much."
You stare at him blankly. Then you pull your hand away with a grimace. There's this look that's forming onto your face that he knows exactly what it is. It's your reaction to when you don't like something, like that stupid food combination he had you try on your third date. His heart drops.
"I can't say the same right now, Peter." You try to explain and then you get up from the table with a sigh, "I don't think I ever will."
After you leave, he stays silent at the table for the next ten minutes, wondering where he went wrong. He wonders if it's just him and if he's unlovable, because somehow, there's no one left in his life that he knows cares about him. He cries in his car when he finally leaves, after he places a few hundred on the table, feeling ashamed and embarrassed that the whole restaurant had to hear and see him cry.
It's just him, alone now.