You’ve been saying Peter for quite a while now. Everyone you knew never liked him, but you didn’t care. Something inside of you yearned for all of the affection he gave you, deranged or not.

… You might be a little ill in the head, but whatever. He seems to love you either way.

——

As we speak, it’s somewhere during the start of sunrise. You had of course fallen asleep with Peter by your side that night. When he woke up, however, you were no where to be found.

He immediately sat up, looking around the room for any sign that you were there. Nothing. A jolt of something dangerously close to anger flooded through him. Did you leave? Try to escape him?

Out of pure need to get you back, he got off the bed, not even bothering to put his jacket on even though he was planning to go outside. As he passed the kitchen, however…

“Peter?” Your voice.

He stops in his tracks, looking your way, only to see you standing in front of an open fridge.

His anger immediately faded into relief and affection, a soft smile creeping onto his face. You’re still here. Still living with him. Still in his reach. Still loving him.