Chapter Text
Pete knew he wasn't stupid.
Maybe not a genius, but he had passed tests to become a bodyguard for the family, had easily taken to identifying threats and dealing with them in the most efficient way. Sure, he hadn't managed to go to college, what with getting the hell out of his house the moment he hit 18, but he had graduated high school. His grades weren't the best even there, but he could attribute that to having to keep up with his father's boxing expectations, spending most mornings or afternoons quite beat up.
Pete knew he wasn't stupid. And although he knew, it still made something inside him rot bit by bit everytime someone called him that.
It used to be his friends. "Idiot", or "Dumbass" called playfully over lunch had him hiding how unsettled he was under a big smile.
After them came Vegas. With his cunning smile, open shirts, and cruel hands, Vegas crashed into Pete's life with the force of a hurricane. Throughout all torture and poisoned words, Pete could still very clearly remember being called stupid, dumb, every other synonym in the book.
It shouldn't matter this much. It truly shouldn't. Both of them are past all that now.... And yet the memory is something ugly inside Pete, clawing at his guts, threatening to spill through his eyes everytime Vegas converses in English, or uses fancy terms Pete cannot comprehend.
It feels wrong and justified at the same time. It feels humiliating and it burns. The ache of it consuming Pete whole. Which is what brings him where he is now. Alone at 3am on the kitchen table, wrestling a math question high schoolers are able to answer. Frustrating.
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Something was up, Vegas was certain. Call it his gut, call it being able to see, something was up with Pete. Ever since he found a sense of normality after the hospital, Pete became a bit more closed off. Sometimes he would get a strange, almost angry glint in his eye when Vegas spoke, especially to Macau.
Vegas tried to fix it. He made great effort to be the best boyfriend but it changed nothing. He started to get worried. Anxious, even. Pete, his Pete, looked more tired day by day, and Vegas had started to think Pete was getting tired of him. Who could blame him? He had to suffer through taking care of Vegas for months, of course he didn't sign up for that. Now that he had no reason to pity Vegas, Pete was starting to see much clearer, wasn't he?
His worry turned into desperation soon enough. It made him snappy, lead to rushed descisons at work that could cost a lot. The anxiety made him wake up for seemingly no reason more nights than not.
That symptom of his becomes a catalyst one warm April night, with the sound of the wide awake city as background music.
Vegas wakes up for seemingly no reason once again. What's rare is the cold, empty sheets next to him, which are enough to startle him awake. Before he can even register whats happening he rushes to get up, getting tangled in the covers, almost hitting the floor.
As soon as he manages to free himself with a plethora of curses, he almost runs to check the rest of the house. He checks the bathroom; nothing, the guest room (perhaps Pete was just too warm, needed his space) ;nothing.
Running downstairs, his mind has almost begun spiraling - something that usually happens on nights like this, although having Pete next to him always helps him calm down- when he catches glimpse of the light spilling through the kitchen door. Barging in, he finds what seems to be a panicked Pete trying his best to hide something.
"Pete..." Vegas squints at the sudden light. Pete looks like a deer caught in headlights, making Vegas raise his hands, gesturing he means no harm, though he probably doesn't have to.
"Vegas love, what woke you up?" Pete's eyes flit around the room.
"I could ask you the same thing" Vegas tries to keep his voice calm, as if he just so happened to come down here.
"I just.... Water. I woke up and felt thirsty." Usually, Pete is a decent, if not good, liar. He has talked his way out of situations countless times before. Vegas simply had a way to see through him. A way to make him feel as if his thoughts were all out loud. Many times, like now, it makes his skin itch, the hair on it prickle.
Vegas looks irritated. Pete swallows. They seem to be in a staring contest now and, unfortunately for Pete, Vegas is winning.
Pete sighs, giving in.
"Fine... I'll tell you but you have to promise to not get mad, or start yelling or laugh." Pete looks straight at him until Vegas nods his agreement, more than a little unsettled.
"I was thinking...if it was possible with everything happening, it really won't hold me back I promise- maybe I could...."
"Pete, you can tell me" Vegas puts his hands on Pete's shoulders, grounding both of them, while also trying to stomp down the anger trying to claw through his lips. He knows he shouldn't get mad before knowing what's going on, but the ugly little monster inside him insists that all secrets are part of a ploy to get him.
"I want to go to college, ok? There, I said it! You can consider me dumb all you want but not all of us could go to those fancy, out-of-a-movie schools and get degrees in Lord knows what. Some of us could barely afford living at 18 let alone even think about education! Sure, I might be stupid but I can still do it!" Pete rambles on but Vegas is stunned. He takes note of reddened eyes, wild in the search for justification. He notices hands that itch for something. Heaving breaths are the only sound in the room.
" that's it? " Vegas asks because it's all he can do. It's the only thing that comes out. " that's it? THAT'S IT!?! Is this so simple, so miniscule to you?! Oh, fuck off Vegas" Pete attempts to bypass Vegas to get out of there, it's suffocating and he's too furious now to deal with this. He doesn't manage that, though, as Vegas catches his arm with perhaps more force than necessary.
"Wait Pete no, that's not what I meant. It's just that I've been losing my mind trying to figure out what was going on and I-" Vegas sighs and closes his eyes as Peter's gaze softens.
"I was worried about you, ok? I thought I was doing something wrong, I thought I was losing you." It feels easier to confess such things with his eyes closed, more liberating, less vulnerable. Opening his eyes, he meet's Pete's almost teary ones.
Pete moves towards him ans and touches his face with that gentle way of his. They stand there for a few moments taking each other in.
"What college do you want to go to, then?" Vegas inquires after a deep breath
"I don't know, to be honest. It's not like I'll make it in one anyway. I'm already having a hard time with the exam material." Pete laughs bitterly, wiping at his eyes.
"I could help you, you know. At least I could try." It's weird coming out of his mouth. Vegas never helped, maybe not even Macau.
"You really would?"
"Of course" It feels so natural.
Dawn finds them at the kitchen table over a book with two mugs of coffee.
Pete never had dreams. He never could. There was no time, no will. But maybe he could make some. Here, over a math book with the sounds of a waking city.