[ Yeah, okay, fuck, this is really happening, isn't it? Peter stares at the spot, the empty point she directs him too, and takes a deep breath before he starts moving that way. Careful of the lines, got it. Fuck, he'll be careful; he's terrified to mess something up.
So he moves slowly, mindful of where his Converse sneakers nudge, stepping lightly. When he finds the right place he's slowly sinking down to sit, pulling long legs in crossed, looking up at her for a moment to make sure that's okay. ]
Think about the uh, safe place, right?
[ He can do that, even if at first it's sheer willpower forcing his mind away from the anxiety of what's going on around him. After a moment he closes his eyes, and he's picturing a room in his house. The little nook off of the living room, a place he didn't really go anymore as he got older, no reason to hang out there anymore. But when he was a kid... he liked taking naps there.
Maybe in this dream scenario, it's a lazy Saturday, and there's nothing to do. No school, no obligations. He's home and he's young enough to think things are okay. He's alone, but there's the awareness that his parents are somewhere. Close enough he could find them if he needed to. (Maybe his dad's in the home office, working on his computer, and he's made fresh coffee and it smells good. Maybe his mom's outside working in the little flower garden. It's back when she used to do things like that. And Charlie... Charlie's in her treehouse, probably, content to be alone the way she always is. No one's together, but they're all okay. He wishes he could go back to something like that, and he knows he never can.)
Most of all, it feels safe. It's before Mom started getting worse, before he was old enough to start feeling hopeless about everything. He's just closing his eyes on the couch, sun shining through a window, warm. It's safe. ]
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So he moves slowly, mindful of where his Converse sneakers nudge, stepping lightly. When he finds the right place he's slowly sinking down to sit, pulling long legs in crossed, looking up at her for a moment to make sure that's okay. ]
Think about the uh, safe place, right?
[ He can do that, even if at first it's sheer willpower forcing his mind away from the anxiety of what's going on around him. After a moment he closes his eyes, and he's picturing a room in his house. The little nook off of the living room, a place he didn't really go anymore as he got older, no reason to hang out there anymore. But when he was a kid... he liked taking naps there.
Maybe in this dream scenario, it's a lazy Saturday, and there's nothing to do. No school, no obligations. He's home and he's young enough to think things are okay. He's alone, but there's the awareness that his parents are somewhere. Close enough he could find them if he needed to. (Maybe his dad's in the home office, working on his computer, and he's made fresh coffee and it smells good. Maybe his mom's outside working in the little flower garden. It's back when she used to do things like that. And Charlie... Charlie's in her treehouse, probably, content to be alone the way she always is. No one's together, but they're all okay. He wishes he could go back to something like that, and he knows he never can.)
Most of all, it feels safe. It's before Mom started getting worse, before he was old enough to start feeling hopeless about everything. He's just closing his eyes on the couch, sun shining through a window, warm. It's safe. ]