Work Text:
the summers of his childhood always contained such fond memories. The tart citrus on his tongue when his mother would serve him and peter lemon-aid on particularly hot days. The stinging pain of skinned knees and he brandished his latest catch to the girls sporting a face-splitting grin and a disgruntled peter in his wake. Chasing fireflies in the yard bathed in soft moonlight. Skin translucent and eyes shining like coals. Snatching his mothers old canning jars to safely stow their prises.. peter always out ran him but would share his fireflies without thought. Long nights spent in the loft, filled with peters sneezes from stray goose feathers finding their way into his nose and stilted laughs of his own at the way peters face would contort in the soft glow of their hard made nightlights. Nose to nose they would talk for hours about every little thing and nothing at all till the sun would make its self known through the cracks in the walls. His mother would always let them sleep past breakfast and greet them with a knowing smile when the would finally grace the table hours after they should have risen. Every happy moment he can recall peter has been by his side, even at his wedding it was peters presence he felt the most. So why is it when this time he stands by peters side he feels empty.