Word count: 1361
Prompt: Sweater
Notes:
• This ends sad, yes, because I like sad endings. But it all works out, don't you worry💗💌
• I don't usually write Peter, sorry for this🤷🏻
• This is my own storyline and so the things that happen may not make sense to all- but it only matters that they make sense to some😉 ( StorySnippets and SaharaCastine I'm looking at you🕺🏻)
• Some of these stories are a bit rushed, sorry🐿️
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Crickets could be heard chirping outside, and the wind fluttered through the night sky and made their house feel extra chilly.
It was late, but responsibilities still had to be done- and one of those things was washing the dishes since Mum was gone; dead.
He tried not to linger on the thought of his parents. That only ever made things worse.
Stepping up onto the stool, Peter pushed the stack full of plates back into their position in the cupboard, smelling the aroma of wood from the cabinet and the scent of chocolate from the cake they'd had for dessert.
He dusted off his hands and scooted backward off of the stool and onto the floor.
Now that the dishes were done, he could finally sit down and relax, get himself a cup of tea, and...
There stood Edmund with a plate in his hands, his dark hair a disheveled mess, and his blue sweater one size too big.
Peter sighed, "I'll take it."
How did his siblings always manage to wait until he was finished with whatever task he was doing before they piled something else to do on top?
"Sorry," Ed apologized, coming nearer and handing the plate to his brother sideways, crumbs falling into a tiny pile on the floor, "If I had known earlier I would've given this to you before you washed the dishes."
Intently gazing at the pile of crumbs, he sheepishly twisted a foot.
He could say sorry for the most frivolous, light-hearted things, but never for the things that Peter needed to hear him say it for. And that was all too late now anyway.
Shaking his head and laughing a bit to hide his hurting heart, Pete waved a hand, "It's no big deal."
Edmund turned to leave, but Peter cleared his throat, "But... you could help me...?" He gestured to the one plate he had placed in the sink.
If had to do all this work, and then be interrupted with more work, his brother could certainly help.
After all, tomorrow was a work day for Peter, he needed to get to bed soon. Or not, what did it really matter?
With a roll of his eyes, Ed wandered over and slouched against the sink, towel in hand, "Fine, but, hurry, I have things to do."
Peter nodded and gently turned on the sink, watching as the water ran into the small, metal tub, and he inspected the clear liquid as it trickled down the drain.
"I said, hurry?" Grabbing the towel and getting ready to dry the dish, Edmund narrowed his eyes and flung the towel in a circle over and over, signaling that he was waiting.
Putting the dish under the water, Pete scrubbed at the chocolate cake stains on the plate, his fingers smoothing over the porcelain.
Suddenly, Ed grew unexplainably quiet and he stopped spinning the towel around.
Peter glanced up, and saw a shy, sad frown on his brother's face, "Ed?" He shut off the water and turned completely to see him, the plate in his hands.
"I..." His cheeks blushed red and he took the plate and began furiously drying it in circular motions.
"What?" Pete leaned against the counter, his work boots scuffing the wood floor.
"I... well... I've wanted to say this for a while, but..." Biting his lip, Ed put the plate down with a clink on the counter, "I'm sorry."
Sorry? Whatever did he mean? Raising an eyebrow in confusion, Peter came nearer, hearing his footsteps echo off the floor in the silence. "For what?"
"For everything." The emotions were plain on his face, the tears came dripping down, his lips trembled and his hands shook. He was upset, truly upset.
Peter thought hard for something Ed had done recently that he would have thought he needed to say sorry for. "Rita?" Swallowing hard at the thought of her, he tried to meet his brother's gaze.
He shook his head, "No- I mean yes, I feel bad for all that, I always will, but, um, no. I meant I was sorry for everything I did back then. In London."
His breath catching, Pete blinked, unsure of what to say. Was he...?- truly sorry for all that? He'd always said he wasn't sorry.
"I'm sorry for the times I mocked you. I'm sorry for when I said I didn't need you. I'm sorry for the times I said "I hate you". I was hurting. I'm sorry. I'm just- I'm really sorry. I understand if you can never forgive me. Because I can't forgive myself." Then Ed ran out of the room, tears rushing down his face, leaving Peter speechless and alone.
Mind whirling, Pete bit his lip, he didn't know how to feel. Sorry. After all these years.
After all the "I hate you's" he didn't think he could take. After all the times he felt like a failure because Ed always said he didn't need him.
Sorry.
His eyes burned with unshed tears, his heart hurt, and he didn't know what to say to his younger brother. He knew he was supposed to forgive, but he didn't necessarily want to.
This is what he always wanted to hear... but he hadn't been expecting it tonight. He hadn't been expecting it all, really; he didn't think Ed even remembered all he said. And he specifically did not want to forgive it, all he wanted was to be out, drinking his problems away.
Outside the window, the stars twinkled in a bright contrast to the black sky.
Maybe sleep was the best option for now. Forgiveness was hard to give, and he didn't know how Ed took his silence, he didn't know he himself took his own silence.
"Pete," A voice squeaked from behind him, shaky and small- almost frightened.
It was Edmund.
His dark eyes darted around the room, they were so lost and large, he was hurt; that much was clear.
"Yes?" Peter attempted to clear the tears from his eyes with a backward wipe of his sweater sleeve. He looked like a mess.
"I meant what I said back there. That I'm sorry."
"Oh," Was all he could say, though he had much more on the tip of his tongue. Fiery responses mostly. What kept him from saying them, he didn't know.
"When I said I hated you all those times, it was coming from a place of hurt; it didn't have a lot to do with you necessarily. Every time I said it, I always had somewhere or some way to hide my face. When I said I hated you, I really hated me." Ed cautiously took a step forward, his hand out, almost offering peace.
"I see," Peter could hear the sharp edge to his tone and he saw the way Ed cringed, he could see the light fade from his brother's eyes, yet he stayed silent.
Because he didn't know what to say. Forgiveness was never something that had been easy for him.
Never.
Ed stepped back, he lowered his head, "Sorry." Then he opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but instead, a tear slipped down his face and landed with a thud on the kitchen floor.
The stairs eerily creaked with his brother's light footsteps, the crickets had died off and Peter dashed into the living room, grabbing the nearest blanket and plopping into the large armchair.
For once in his life, he didn't know what to say.
All he wanted was a way to forget; and as he sat, even though he knew with tomorrow being a work day that it was a bad idea- he stood, put on his coat, and headed out into the cold.
He knew it was reckless, but he was done being responsible and happy and fine.
And he knew he was sure to forget all the hurt in his life, even for a moment. All the memories, all the heartbreaks, all the "I hate you's". And all the "I'm sorry's".
Peter would forget again tonight, but never permanently.
Someday he'd have to remember, someday he'd have to forgive. But today was not that day.