Autumn never seemed like so in Los Angeles. It was still as hot and dry as the summer had left it, leaving the trees green as they clung desperately on to their last weeks of life. It was a month later, a month after Peter confessed to himself that he still had feelings for Trystan Wildes.
It was not a surprising revelation, but it annoyed him. What was he supposed to do with those feelings? He could not shower her with them, because she was still with Derek and had not expressed, not that he expected her to, if she felt the same way. So he pent up the verboten thoughts in respect to her, and begrudgingly, Derek.
Peter wondered of her bond with the man, what it was that had her clinging so tightly to him. She had said out of her own mouth she thought of leaving him, insinuating he was not the kind of man she wanted for herself. Alas, in almost every conversation they had, she would have to leave before Derek got home, or mention something that he had done to annoy her. It was frustrating for Peter to hear, but he listened on, encouraging her though he wanted to tell her to leave him.
But Peter knew that would not be fair. He knew that just before he wanted her to be happy, that he greedily wanted her to himself again. He could not help it. With every interaction, he grew more and more attracted to her, and though he did not act on it, he wanted to. But he did not know if she wanted to, and that made it all the worse.
Trystan had become an unclear woman. Not that she had been completely expressive in the past, but Peter felt he could at least get some notion of what was going on in that head of hers. But now, it was so hard to. It was strange. The more they spoke and the closer they got, the more she seemed to be holding off, as if protecting something Peter was sure would be safe in his hands.
She allowed only what she wanted people to know, and Peter tried not to be gluttonous as he knew she shared a lot more with him than she did anybody else around her. But he wanted more and then some.
That cupidity had not been lost on him. As of recent, Peter allowed himself to think thoughts he would have initially forbade.
Some innocent, like days where they would sit and talk or laugh over the silliest of things, others especially vulgar, images of her pinned to a wall where only her gasps of breaths could be heard, but they were there nonetheless.
Peter welcomed them, because he felt he would drive himself mad if he ignored them. But what came with that, was that other people began to notice, too, no matter how hard he tried to conceal it.
Neal had been over one evening, discussing production deals that Peter had finally managed to get around to, Jewel at his heels as she sniffed about for a treat.
"Jewel, no. Go to your bed," Peter demanded as he rubbed her head before gently pushing her into the direction of her cushion. She whined, begging for a while longer before Peter threatened to give her a bath. He learned that she absolutely loathed those, and the mere mention of them had her obeying an order without another complaint.
"So, how's everything going with Trystan?" Neal had asked suddenly, eyeing his set of papers with vigilance as if he had not just asked that question.
"Everything's fine. Good," Peter answered with as much nonchalance as he had been given, but he noticed Neal peering over the top of his glasses to look at him. Peter had not spoken much about Trystan since the day in the restaurant where he was accused of feeling something for Trystan that he refused to see and admit.
"So, you guys are cool again?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
"Mm."
Peter looked up at him. "What's that mean?"
"What?"
" 'Mm'.What's that about?"
"Why are you getting so defensive?"
"I'm not being defensive."
"You kinda are."
Peter groaned. "If something's on your mind, then just say it."
"Fine." Neal shrugged, setting down his papers and looking at his friend squarely. "So you do you like her or what?"
Peter exhaled. "We're good friends, Neal."
"I thought we were passed this point."
"What point?"
"The lying point. The 'I'm gonna act like it doesn't really matter so people don't think it matters when it actually matters a lot' point."
"Neal–,"
"I'm not judging." Neal threw up his hands in surrender. "That harshly, at least. Don't think I haven't noticed it, P. Roger probably hasn't, you know how slow he is to things, but I have."
"Noticed what?"
"You have the tendency to smile every time she texts you."
"How do you know it was her I was texting?"
"No man smiles like that over some random chick, and I've never seen you that happy about anything work related, so it has to be her."
Was there a point in lying some more, denying all accusations? Probably not, but Peter continued to do so. "It's nothing like that, Neal. We're just friends."
Peter's phone buzzed against the coffee table, Trystan's name lighting up the screen. He grabbed it, opened the message, and snickered.
"See? You just did it again!" Neal accused.
"Did what?"
"Peter!"
"Okay, fine! Damn, I have feelings for the girl all right?" Peter finally confessed, throwing up his own hands. "I do. I have feelings for Trystan."
To wipe the look of triumph off Neal's face, Peter added, "But what the hell am I supposed to do about that? She's with another guy. Just leave it be."
Neal was quiet for a moment, watching his comrade as he tried to continue rummaging through his work, but the staring got so annoying that Peter set the papers down again and demanded, "What?"
"You know what? I'm gonna tell you something. Not because I'm pressing you to do anything about this, but because you should probably know."
Peter looked at him carefully.
"You remember that time you came over to my place drunk as hell and saying you didn't want shit to do with her anymore?" Neal asked.
Peter grimaced. He hated to be reminded of that night where he had hit a particularly low point. A small bottle of vodka sat in his stomach and tantalized his brain. He remembered how he was still holding the glass of booze in his hand when Neal opened the door, and how clumsily he had walked inside, proclaiming he was completely over Trystan.
"If s-she hasn't come back now, and anssswered any of my calls a-and messages, then fuck it and fuck her. It's been almost two years, guys, two fucking years and she still hasn't spoken to me. I'm over it. I'm moving the hell on. She-she can go do what she wants to do and I-I'm gonna go do me. I'm better off by myself anyway. I don't need her."
He remembered how Neal and Roger had not really known what to do or say, so allowed him to rant on about his disdain for the woman.
He had been thinking about her all day, angry at her, questioning whatever forces of religion or the universe that was listening, why she had left him. Left him all alone to bare the damage of what could have been amazing. He thought she had some nerve, to leave him without another word. Hell, at that point, an e-mail would have sufficed, but she left him all alone. He had resented her.
Peter wiped a hand down his mouth. "Neal, that was a long time ago; I don't feel that way anymore."
"I know, and you didn't feel that way back then either."
Peter's brow furrowed. "Huh?"
"Listen, man." Neal leaned forward on his elbows. "You may have said a lot of things that night, but you never said you hated her. You were hurt, and me and Rog got that, but we knew out of all the words that came out of your mouth before you threw up on my carpet and passed out on my couch, you still felt something for her. You were ready to let her go, but you still loved her."
Peter was silent, thinking back to the unclear thoughts that roamed about his head when he had gone off on a tangent. He could not recall much, but he could admit: he never had said he hated her. Hated what happened, but never her. It was never something he had even thought to proclaim. "How'd you come to that conclusion?"
"Nobody's gonna get drunk out of their mind to get over someone they don't love. And P, you still loved her . . . and I think you still love her now."
"Neal, I don't love her." Peter stood and walked toward the kitchen. Jewel, who had obediently went to her bed, perked up when she saw him sauntering by. She quietly followed at his heel, still awaiting some sort of award for being on good behavior.
Peter grabbed a green bottle of beer from the refrigerator. "I said I have feelings for her, but love?" He popped open the top. "That's kind of far."
He went to the pantry to grab a single dog treat for Jewel as Neal went on to explain, "Maybe you don't see it or you just won't admit that it's there, but it is. It's just been . . . I don't know . . . lying dormant for all this time."
"Dormant?" Peter cocked a brow as he settled back onto the couch. "Or just not there?"
"Why do you keep lying to yourself?" Neal laughed incredulously. "I already told you; I see it. She's making you feel the way you used to feel about her. Maybe it's not love yet, but it will be sooner or later."
Peter took a swig of his drink, closed-mouth that maybe he indeed was lying to himself for the sake of it all. "Why are you so sure about that?"
Neal's brow rose. "Because I know you're sure about it."
"Ah, Trystan. Thank you for coming in on such short notice. How are you, dear?" Dr. Roberts welcomed Trystan into her office, who settled her purse down onto the couch before siding it.
She crossed her legs, the tiniest bit uncomfortable, and replied, "I'm well, Dr. Roberts. How are you?"
"I've told you before, Trystan. Please, call me Erin. And are you sure you're doing well this afternoon?"
Trystan licked her lips, not answering immediately. She had not had the best week. She and Derek had begun fighting again over the most menial of matters. One morning, she ended up crying after he left for work, thoroughly upset with him and feeling more helpless than she had in years.
The argument had been over Raina, who had heard nothing as she was still asleep in her room. Trystan was glad she had not heard anything, Derek's voice becoming loud and hers doing its best to match it. He left before things could be fly against the wall. When Trystan got Dr. Roberts' call moments later, asking for her to come in the next day without Derek, she could not have been anymore relieved. A moment with the therapist without Derek's presence was something she had not known she had needed.
"Derek and I got into a bad fight yesterday morning, and we haven't talked to each other since. He's been sleeping on the couch," Trystan quietly confessed.
"Do you want to tell me what the fight was about?"
Trystan swiftly shook her head. "No, at least not today."
Dr. Roberts' nodded. "That's fine, Trystan. You can tell me whenever you're ready."
The younger woman nodded, her arms crossed, before she quietly queried, "Why did you ask to see me today, Dr.–I mean, Erin. And without Derek?"
Trystan was sure she would never learned to appreciate Dr. Roberts' candidness, never beating around the bush and always getting straight to whatever point she was trying to make. "I wanted to talk more about this Peter character."
Trystan had not mentioned him once to the therapist since the appointment where Derek had brought him up. She shifted in her seat. "Okay . . . what about him?"
"You said he was an old friend of yours," Dr. Roberts' recalled. "Was that all he was to you?"
Minus the romantic affair? "Yes."
Dr. Roberts squinted her eyes lightly. "Trystan, I want you to know that this is a complete safe space. What is said in this room stays in this room. I'm not here to blabber to Derek about what we talk about. Whether or not he knows about is up to you and only you. Now, I'll ask again and I implore you to be absolutely truthful with me. And I only ask because that name was the only name to specifically come up in our past meetings. Was Peter only a friend to you?"
Trystan shifted again though becoming comfortable was virtually impossible. She breathed in, let the air out slowly, looked out the window, watched a bird fly past it, then looked the therapist back in the eye. It took her a long time to form the word, "No."
Dr. Roberts nodded. "So you were more than friends?"
Trystan nodded and admitted softly, "Yes."
"Were you two in a relationship–,"
"We had an affair," Trystan blurted and she was not sure why. Certainly she had not wanted her doctor to know that, anyone hardly, but it had come out of her own mouth. Put all onto the table, clear to see.
Dr. Roberts rose a brow, but not in a shocked way. "When did this affair occur?"
"A few years ago."
"Were you in a relationship?"
"No, he was the one in a relationship."
"How did this affair come about?"
"How any affair does, I supposed."
"Trystan, I'm going to need you to be a little clearer than that."
She sighed, scratching at her thin hairs near her temple. "It was an accident," she said in almost a whisper. "Neither of us really meant for it to happen. Something just . . . clicked between us. And then we . . ."
Dr. Roberts leaned forward. "You all what?"
Trystan licked her lips, flashbacks crossing her mind. "We fell in love."
The therapist sat back in her chair, and scribbling something onto her notepad, as Trystan continued on. "We didn't mean for things to go as far as they did. We didn't even mean to fall in love but . . . I don't know . . . it just happened. And things went from bad to worse."
"But now, you two are friends again?" Dr. Roberts clarified, looking back at her.
Trystan affirmed, "Yes."
"Are those romantic feelings reoccurring?"
Trystan took too long to answer, so Dr. Roberts asked another question, "Trystan, are you having another affair with him?"
"No!" she responded quickly this time. "No, we're not having an affair. Nothing like that. We really are just friends."
"Hm." Dr. Roberts wrote something else down. "Trystan, remember when I was speaking to you about emotional affairs?"
"Yes, and I'm not having one."
Dr. Roberts did not skip a beat as she interrogated, "How often do you speak to Peter?"
Trystan exhaled, "A few times a week."
"What do you two talk about?"
"I don't know . . . a lot of things."
"Things involving your relationship with Derek?"
Feeling as if she were being pinned, Trystan defended herself, "Sometimes, but friends do that with other friends."
"Friends with whom you have a romantic past?" The therapist's brow quirked.
"I–," Trystan began to talk, but realized she had not really anything to say. She quieted herself.
"Trystan." Dr. Roberts' set down her notepad. "I'm not here to judge you, but I do want to help you before you do something you regret."
"I'm not going to," Trystan insisted.
"Well, that's what a lot of people think when involved in emotional affairs. I'm not actually sleeping with them, so I'm safe. Emotions play into almost everything we do, Trystan. How does he make you feel?"
She wanted to play dumb, ask her who? But they both knew whom, so there was no point in doing that. She did not speak, for so long that Dr. Roberts moved to ask another question, "Well, do you–,"
"Good."
"I'm sorry?"
Trystan breathed in and out slowly. "Peter. . . . He makes me . . . feel good."
"Mm." Dr. Roberts grabbed her notepad again. "How so?"
Trystan pulled in her lips and sighed, but not exasperatedly so. Longingly was the right word.
"I talk to him to escape."
"From what?"
"From Derek, work . . . from . . . the things that make me feel bad."
"So Peter is like your escape?"
"Yes."
It was out, but she did not know if the weight on her chest had been lifted. It was not because she was embarrassed by it, but she did not like that an aspect she held very near to her heart was being shared by someone else now. She liked that her friendship with Peter had been hers and hers only. But she tried not to feel too badly; Dr. Roberts was not there to steal her joy.
Over the past month, she and Peter had grown closer than she would have assumed years ago. They talked so often, more often than she had let on to the therapist, but she was very truthful about Peter being her escape.
Whenever her day had gone wrong, whenever she was stressed, his voice was enough to soothe her. She did not even have to tell him that she was upset—he could hear it in her voice as she had learned not to hide it.
He made her feel safe when she did not even know she needed protecting. He spoke to Raina with as much vigor that other children would be jealous of the attention. And best and worst of it all, were the dreams. The two of them together, as friends, and as lovers.
Constantly, she debated on whether or not that was a bad thing, to again fall for the guy where their shared past had turned so ugly, but the only man to make her feel so beautifully.
"So I'm assuming that since you and Peter are only friends, you two haven't had any sexual relations," Dr. Roberts assumed, and Trystan was internally relieved that she could affirm that.
"No, nothing like that. Not a kiss or anything. We've hugged, but that's it. Other than that, it's just talking, I swear."
"I believe you, Trystan," the therapist noted as her pen scratched along her paper. "But let me ask you this and I want you to be as honest as you can with me. Do you wish you were with Peter instead of Derek?"
Trystan opened her mouth to vehemently deny the question. Of course not, she would say. She loved Derek and wanted to make things work with him. But the words would not come out of her mouth. All this time they had been automatic, to Angelique, to her mother, even to Peter. But right then, they had frozen in her throat. "I . . ." she licked her lips. "I don't know."
"It's okay to not know," Dr. Roberts assured. "Do you love him, Trystan?"
Trystan did not answer.
"Do you love Peter?"
She looked away, out the window again, but there were no birds this time to distract her.
"I want to tell you no," she answered.
"Then why won't you?"
"Because I don't think it'd be true."
Another moment of weakness displayed. Another moment of honesty. Trystan did not look the doctor in the eye. Had not the bravery to. She did not know how to express her feelings without feeling that maybe they were completely wrong, or maybe completely right. They had not crossed any lines, they had not embraced with anything more than innocence, had not tasted each others' lips, had not made love.
But maybe those things did not have to happen for her to feel the way she did. Maybe his friendship, his just being there, had been enough.
She could not out-rightly say that she loved Peter, it was too intense, but she could not say that she did not either. She was in limbo, her mind wanting to stay there to be safe, but her heart yearning for the latter.
"Trystan, why are you still with Derek?" Dr. Roberts asked.
The younger woman shrugged.
"If he's not making you happy, if he's not your escape, why do you stay? Why do you think he stays?"
"I really wish I had an answer for you," Trystan chortled in spite of herself. She knew the reason, knew it deep down, but she could not bring herself to say it. At least not then.
"I think that's enough for the day," Dr. Roberts reasoned and flipped over her notepad to the front page. "Thank you for coming to meet me on such short notice, Trystan. We're making good progress."
Trystan snorted, "Progress?"
The therapist nodded. "We're getting closer to figuring out your escape."
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Thanks for reading! ^_^