.ೃ࿔*:･𝐱𝐱𝐱𝐢. all of this silence and patience, pining and anticipation

𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐏𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐑, trying to push away the memories that clawed at the edges of her mind. But the more she tried to ignore them, the more they pressed in, bringing with them the sound of her father’s voice, filled with the same desperation she felt now. She could almost hear her his voice, weary and filled with guilt, echoing in her ears.

She remembered those long nights, huddled together in whatever safe house they could find, Bruce pacing the room, his voice low but tight with emotion. He would talk about how selfish he was for keeping her with him, for dragging her along on this never-ending run from the world. He'd say he should have left her somewhere safe, somewhere far from him, far from the danger that shadowed his every step.

He’d say these things over and over, like a mantra, and each time Ingrid would shake her head, not understanding why he couldn’t see what she saw—that all she wanted was to be with him. That he was her father, and that was where she belonged. His fear of being alone, of losing the only family he had left, was something she could never begrudge him. But now, sitting here, alone with Peter, she started to understand.

The same feeling gnawed at her, a mix of guilt and selfishness that settled in her chest like a weight. She wanted to reach out to Peter, to pull him close and keep him here with her, even though she knew it wasn’t fair. He had his own life, his own battles to fight, and yet... she couldn't help but wish he’d stay, if only for a little longer.

They had spent the whole day together, talking and laughing like they used to, as if nothing had changed. But everything had changed. And now, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the light in the dingy motel room turned a dull yellow, the reality of it all started to set in. This day was coming to an end, and soon Peter would go back to his world, leaving her in this rundown room with nothing but the ghosts of her thoughts for company.

She watched him now, lying on the bed, one arm draped over his eyes, the other resting loosely by his side. His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, but she could tell he wasn’t as relaxed as he appeared. His fingers twitched occasionally, and his eyes, though closed, weren’t peaceful. He was probably thinking about all the things they didn’t say, all the words they’d left hanging in the air between them.

Ingrid bit her lip, feeling a pang of longing so strong it nearly took her breath away. She knew she should say something, anything, but the words tangled in her throat, and all she could do was stare. The light from the bedside lamp cast shadows on Peter's face, highlighting the curve of his jaw, the way his lips parted slightly as he breathed. She wanted to reach out, to trace those lines with her fingertips, to feel the warmth of his skin under her hand.

Peter must have felt her gaze because he slowly turned his head toward her, his eyes opening to meet hers. His look was soft, questioning, as if he was waiting for her to speak, to tell him what was on her mind. But as their eyes locked, Ingrid panicked, her heart hammering in her chest. She tore her gaze away, focusing instead on her hands, which had started to tremble slightly. She picked at her nails, hoping it would distract her from the emotions swirling inside her.

Peter broke the tense silence, finally voicing the question that had been gnawing at him all day. “Is it scary? Living alone, sleeping in motels like this?”

Ingrid’s gaze flickered, her thoughts churning as she considered his words. Her eyebrows drew together, reflecting the weight of her experiences. “Not scary, really,” she began slowly, choosing her words with care. “It’s more... unsettling. You’re always on edge, always looking over your shoulder. You can’t let your guard down, even for a second. It wears on you after a while.”

She turned to him then, and the concern etched into Peter’s expression caught her off guard. He looked at her with an intensity that made her heart ache, a mix of worry and something deeper, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to acknowledge.

Peter sat up, closing the distance between them until they were face to face, the mattress shifting under his weight. “How long are you gonna be alone after I leave?” The words tumbled out of him, laced with the anxiety he had been holding back.

Ingrid hesitated, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she tried to ease his worries. “Just for a few days, maybe a week tops.” But the way he was looking at her made it hard to maintain her composure. “I’ll be safe, I promise.”

Peter’s expression softened, but the concern didn’t fully leave his eyes. “You better be. I can’t lose you.”

The sincerity in his voice sent a warmth spreading through Ingrid’s chest, and she found herself leaning just a little closer, as if drawn to him by some invisible force. “You won’t,” she said, her voice firm. “I’ve made it this far, haven’t I?”

“Yeah, you have,” Peter agreed, but his tone was quieter now, almost reverent. His hand twitched, as if he wanted to reach out to her, but instead, he clenched his fist, holding himself back. “Just... take care of yourself, okay? And call me if you need anything. Even if it’s just to talk.”

Ingrid nodded, her heart swelling with an emotion she didn’t dare name. She could see the worry etched into the lines of his face, the way his eyes lingered on her as if trying to memorize every detail. “I will. And you take care too. Don’t go doing anything reckless.”

They exchanged a long, lingering look, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air between them. It was a silence that spoke volumes, filled with the things they were too afraid to voice, the feelings they kept hidden just beneath the surface.

Peter broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... different when it’s you. I worry about you more than I do about myself.”

Ingrid felt a flutter in her chest at Peter’s words, a sensation that was both thrilling and terrifying. She sighed softly, her gaze locking onto his, searching for something in his eyes—maybe reassurance, maybe something more, something she hadn’t dared to hope for. The intensity of the moment made her feel exposed, vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to.

“I worry about you too, you know,” Ingrid admitted, her voice carrying a tenderness that caught even her by surprise. “More than you think.”

Peter’s heart skipped a beat, his throat tightening slightly. He had always known there was something special about her, something that set her apart from everyone else. But hearing those words, spoken so quietly in this intimate moment, made it feel even more real, as if the bond between them was something tangible, something that had been quietly growing beneath the surface all this time.

He took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice, though it was thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

Ingrid could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way he was trying to keep his emotions in check, but she could also feel the same fear gnawing at her own heart. She leaned in closer, closing the small distance between them until their faces were just inches apart, her breath mingling with his.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me, Peter,” she whispered, her voice gentle but firm, as if willing him to believe it. She needed him to believe it because she wasn’t sure how she’d handle the weight of his worry otherwise.

The tension between them thickened, becoming almost palpable, an invisible thread pulling them closer together. Peter reached out, his hand trembling slightly as it brushed against her arm in a tentative gesture, as if he were testing the waters, afraid of crossing an unseen line. But when Ingrid didn’t pull away, when she instead leaned into his touch, he let his fingers trail up her arm, his touch soft and lingering, sending a shiver down her spine.

“Ingrid... I—” Peter began, his voice low, filled with a mix of uncertainty and longing, but the words caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure how to express what he was feeling, the intensity of it overwhelming him. Instead of finishing his sentence, he leaned in closer, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek with a tenderness that made Ingrid’s heart ache.

The world around them seemed to slow down, the noise of the motel and the world outside fading into the background. The air between them was charged with an almost electric tension, the kind that made every nerve in her body tingle with anticipation.

Ingrid felt her pulse quicken, her heart racing as she leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. She could see the conflict in his expression, the way he was struggling with something inside himself, torn between the fear of what could happen and the undeniable pull between them. But beneath that, there was something else, something deep and unspoken, a connection that had always been there, just waiting to surface.

“Peter...” Ingrid breathed, her voice barely a whisper, her heart hammering in her chest as she searched his eyes for any sign of what he might do next. She could feel the tension coiling tighter between them, a tension that had been building for so long that it felt like it might finally snap.

The sound of her voice seems to snap something inside Peter. Before either of them can think twice, he closes the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that’s both tender and intense. It’s a kiss filled with all the unspoken words, all the emotions they’ve kept locked away, the weight of almost two years of separation pressing down on them. It’s as if everything they’ve been holding back, all the fear, longing, and love, comes rushing to the surface, breaking free in a single, searing moment.

For a heartbeat, time stands still, and it’s just the two of them in this tiny motel room, the world outside fading into oblivion. The kiss deepens, their bodies pressing closer together as if trying to erase every bit of space that’s ever existed between them. Ingrid feels like she’s floating, like the ground has disappeared beneath her feet, leaving her suspended in a moment that feels both eternal and fleeting. Nothing else in the world matters—just this kiss, this connection, this person who means more to her than she can ever put into words.

But then, all too soon, reality comes crashing back in. Peter pulls away abruptly, his breathing ragged, his eyes wide and wild with a mix of emotions—surprise, confusion, and a fear that Ingrid can almost taste. There’s a heavy beat of silence, the air between them thick with everything they’ve just unleashed and everything they don’t know how to handle.

“I—I’m sorry, Ingrid. I didn’t mean... I just...” Peter stammers, his voice shaky, barely holding together.

Ingrid is still reeling from the kiss, her heart pounding so hard she can feel it in her throat. She wants to say something, anything, to tell him it’s okay, that she’s just as overwhelmed as he is, but the words are trapped somewhere deep inside her, tangled up in the whirlwind of emotions swirling through her mind.

Peter sits up from the bed, the old mattress creaking beneath him as he shifts his weight. His hand falls to his side, fingers curling into a tight fist as if trying to ground himself. He looks like he’s on the verge of saying something else, something important, but then he just shakes his head, as if trying to clear the storm of thoughts raging in his mind.

"I should go. I—just... take care, okay?" Peter said, his voice almost in a rush, his voice thick with emotion.

“I should go. I—just... take care, okay?” Peter’s voice is a rush, thick with emotion, as if he’s trying to get the words out before they choke him. His eyes meet hers for the briefest of moments, filled with a mixture of regret and something deeper, something he’s not ready to confront.

And before Ingrid can find her voice, before she can tell him not to go, that they need to talk about what just happened, he’s already turning away. His steps are quick, almost frantic, as if he’s fleeing from the intensity of what they’ve just shared. The door closes softly behind him, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room, leaving Ingrid standing there, her heart still racing, her lips tingling with the memory of his kiss.

She stands there for what feels like an eternity, staring at the door as if willing him to come back, her mind a chaotic swirl of thoughts and questions. What had just happened? What did it mean? And what were they supposed to do now, with everything that had just been laid bare between them?

Finally, as the weight of the moment settles over her, Ingrid sinks down onto the bed, her legs no longer able to hold her up. Her mind replays the kiss over and over, the way his lips felt against hers, the way his hands trembled when he touched her. She wonders if she’ll ever be able to look at Peter the same way again, if they can ever go back to the way things were. But deep down, she knows that something fundamental has shifted between them, and there’s no going back now.