Peter ran into town, taking almost the exact same route Eli had taken about 40 minutes before. He passed by the collapsed synagogue, eyes skimming over the crowd outside, searching for Eli.
He wasn't there.
He pushed through, stepping on people's toes in his panic. He ignored their indignant helps and kept running, not caring about literally anything else in that moment except finding Eli.
It was dangerous enough for him to be out by himself at night, but tonight, when the SS were clearly up to something, it was the worst night he could possibly have run away.
"Eli!" He screamed, his voice echoing around the houses. "Eli, please!" His voice cracked. He ignored the looks he got from passers by, instead running up to them, expression wild.
"Hi, have you seen my boy-. My friend," he hurried, gesturing frantically. "He's about 5'7, crazy curly hair to about his shoulders? Long brown coat? Jewish, So he's got the star," he said, pointing to the breast pocket of his coat. With every description of Eli's appearance, tainted with a question of if they'd seen him, he got more desperate. They shook their heads and brushed him off. He approached more people. Same exact response.
"Lord help me," He mumbled, tears streaming down his cheeks as he walked, too exhausted to run. Defeated.
And then he saw him. His heart sank.
He was dead oh god he was dead, just lying there in the street in front of a burning building no no no no he was too late he was too late...
He swallowed the lump in his throat and sprinted over, skidding to his knees, his pants ripping there as he fell to Eli's side.
"Peter?"
Peter's eyes snapped to Eli's face. It was so quiet, so weak, but he'd definitely said it. He wasn't dead. He was looking at him now with teary eyes, looking as though he didn't truly believe he was there.
"Holy fuck!" Peter exclaimed, throwing his arms around Eli and pulling him up into a seated position, hugging him like he'd never let him go again. "Fuck, darling, Schatzi, holy shit, never do that to me again," he whispered into his hair. He noticed Eli groaning and pain and the strong scent of blood coming off him. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, are you okay?" He said, pulling away and examine his face. "What did they do to you..."
Eli shook his head silently, his eyes drifting shut. "I'm sorry, Peter," he whispered, voice barely audible. He was hardly breathing, blood everywhere, most worryingly from the deep gash on his forehead where he'd hit his head on the curb.
Peter's eyes widened and he shook his head quickly. "No, no, Schatzi, don't say that. Don't be sorry. This isn't your fault." Tears stung his eyes, threatening to fall. But he didn't let them just yet, didn't want to worry Eli more. "It's okay, it's all going to be okay." He reached out and held Eli's cheek in his hand, stroking his thumb against his skin softly.
It was his eyes. It's why he thought Eli was dead when he first saw him. Staring up at the sky. Just dead, no feeling, nothing there behind them.
He helped Eli lie back down, noticing how pale he'd become.
"It's okay. You're going to be okay," he whispered in his ear, leaning over him, stroking his hair.
Eli smiled weakly, closing his eyes and relaxing against Peter's touch.
"I love you."
"I love you too," Peter replied, his voice getting caught in his throat and when the words came out, it came out as a loud sob. He covered his mouth with his hand and shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just...I hate seeing you like this. And I'm so worried but I don't know what to do because I don't know what hospitals will accept you and I don't even know how I'd get you to one that would. If I can't even hug you, how am I going to move you..." He trailed off, looking around at their surroundings.
Eli nodded slightly, and even just that sent waves of pain running through his body, his head spinning again.
"Stay awake, Eli," Peter whispered, noticing how close he seemed to slipping away into the blissful peace of sleep.
Eli was dying.
He was going to lose him.
He couldn't. He couldn't live with that, knowing it was his fault.
He shouldn't have left, should have known Eli needed him there, to talk about things, not to storm off and leave him alone.
"Peter?" Eli mumbled.
Peter looked back at him, realising he was full on sobbing now, unable to contain it anymore. Eli was looking at him with those big, doe eyes that contained every sunset there had ever been, warm light shining in through closed blinds. The cool satisfying crunch of autumn leaves, the silky smoothness of caramel. Everything. His eyes, his face, his body. Him.
He was everything.
And now he was going to be taken away from him.
"It's okay, Peter," Eli whispered, taking his hand in his and squeezing as tight as he could, which wasn't very tight in his condition. "I promise."
That broke him. His heart shattered into a million pieces and he didn't care about not crying anymore. He leant into Eli's chest, great heaving sobs shaking his whole body.
"So will you, so will you," he choked out, shaking his head. "You have to be okay too, you can't leave me. Promise?"
Eli didn't answer.
"Eli, promise me," he whispered, his face still buried in his coat. He looked up.
Eli's eyes were closed, his expression peaceful. His grip on Peter's hand went limp.
"Eli? Promise? Promise me you'll be okay!" He fumbled to press his fingers to Eli's neck, trying desperately to find a pulse.
Alive. Still alive. But just. He wasn't going to last much longer, especially now he wouldn't wake up.
He leant in, pressing his lips to Eli's gently. He stroked his hair as he kissed him softly, still holding onto the hope that he'd wake up and kiss him back.
He pulled away, his hand over Eli's heart, helpless to do anything but watch. He looked like an angel, his hair spread out on the pavement like a halo.
He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the SS officers behind him when he kissed Eli.
He was only made aware of their presence when they grabbed him from behind, taking him by surprise and dragging him backwards. He screamed and fell back so they were dragging him from under his arms.
"No!" He screamed, kicking and punching wildly. "No! No! Let go off me! I have to be with him! I can't leave him to die alone! Please..." he trailed off, sobbing.
They'd seen them kiss. It was their worst fear. Being caught.
One officer punched him in the stomach, winding him and shutting him up effectively. The other one kept dragging him. He didn't know where to, all he knew is it meant he'd never see Eli again, even if he did survive the beating he'd taken.
The second officer watched him, making sure to maintain eye contact with him as he reached to his belt, and very...very... slowly...
Pulled a gun out it's holster and walked back towards Eli.
"NO!" Peter roared, fighting desperately now to get free. "YOU BASTARD! GET AWAY FROM HIM!"
His voice was hoarse and he kept screaming, even when he was pulled around the corner and could no longer see what was going on.
BANG!
He went silent, the deafening gunshot ringing out so clearly it was like Satan was fucking taunting him.
He was completely limp in the officers grip as he dragged him away and towards a truck filled with other people. He let the fact sink in.
Eli was dead. And it was all his fault.