Chapter Text
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just borrowing things for a while and I promise I'll put everything back exactly how I found it when I've finished. Well, almost exactly how I found it. ;)
WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD-WtD
Peter stormed up the path to his house and flung the front door open, not caring if his parents where in and heard him, not caring about the glares he was receiving from the neighbours. He didn't care about anything except being left alone.
"Try not to destroy the house, son," Joseph called. "And don't leave your bag in the hallway!"
Peter scowled in the direction his father's voice had come from, halfway to dropping his bag on the floor. Hoisting it onto his shoulder again, he started up the stairs, his feet connecting heavily with each step he took.
"There a letter here for you," Joseph said, walking into the hallway.
Peter stopped. "Who's it from?"
"You're home early," his father replied instead. "Has something happened?"
Peter scowled. "No."
Joseph sighed. "Look, son, I know you miss Grace…."
"This has nothing to do with her!" Peter shouted. "How can it? She isn't here!"
"Exactly my point, but she'll be back for Christmas I expect. Now, are you going to tell me why you're so angry all of the time?"
"No," Peter replied after a while. "It's nothing."
Clearly nothing could have been further from the truth, but Joseph let it slide. "And why are you home early? Won't the university complain?"
Peter laughed. "I doubt it; it's their fault I'm here."
Joseph sighed again, this time a little disappointment rising in him. "What happened?"
"I-I got into a fight," Peter said quietly, sitting down on a step and not looking at his father. "They said that my behaviour was despicable and along with my abysmal grades, they decided to ask me to leave."
"They expelled you."
"This is university, Dad," Peter replied. "Attendance isn't compulsory, so they can't expel you. Then can ask you to leave rather forcefully, though."
"It amounts to the same thing," Joseph snapped. "Don't get smart with me."
Peter finally looked up. "I'm sorry, Dad. But university wasn't for me."
"What now?"
"The police have been around looking to recruit over the past couple of weeks," Peter said. "I'm going to see someone tomorrow."
"That was fortunate for you," Joseph replied in a deceptively mild voice.
Peter grunted. "Not really. They saw me brawling and were ready to tell me I wasn't police force material, but my other qualities outshone my temper."
Joseph raised his eyebrows. "What other qualities?"
"How should I know? Just telling you what they said." He looked hopefully at his father. "So, erm, can I have my letter now? Please?"
Joseph sighed, smiled and shook his head. "I suppose so," he said, handing the envelope over. "But you'll have to tell your mother as soon as she gets home."
Peter was already on the move again, taking the stairs two at a time now. "I will!" He slammed his bedroom door shut, dropped his bag on the floor and flopped onto his bed, remembering at the last minute to kick his shoes off.
He tore open the letter, eager to see what news Grace had for him, eager for some sort of contact with her.
*'Dear Peter,
You would not believe what happened to me yesterday! It was fantastic….'*
Peter's bad mood suddenly re-emerged with every word he read. By the time he reached the bottom of the letter, he was so furious he couldn't see straight. Without thinking, he screwed the paper up and hurled it across the room, completely unsatisfied by the quiet noise it made as it landed on the floor.
Not once had Grace asked how he was; not once had she expressed any sort of interest in his life; and the end of the letter, 'I'll write again soon!', caused Peter the most pain. It brought home everything that frustrated him, everything that made him angry, and the reason he had been fighting earlier that day.
Peter had always been an outcast; from the moment he had been born he had been different because he didn't cry. But he had always had Grace, though she once tried to reject him because she thought she was 'too cool' for him. She came back to him, though, and he had never been alone since. As long as Grace was with him, Peter didn't care that people called him names or gave him strange glances or crossed the street to avoid him.
But now he didn't have Grace. From the sounds of it, she had her own life at university and wasn't giving a second thought to Peter, still stuck at home. 'Out of sight, out of mind' sprung up in Peter's thoughts and he felt so angry it scared him. He resented everything around him, every person who was connected to his life, and especially Grace. And Peter found himself hating with such conviction he thought it would consume him like fire.
Then he heard the front door shut, a sign his mother was home, and the rage threatened to burst over when his father shouted, unnecessarily, "Peter!" For a moment, for one terrible second, Peter almost shouted back, unleashed his fury on his parents. The realisation hit him like a slap around the face and he paled. His parents didn't deserve his behaviour, but he couldn't help it. The object of his anger wasn't there; all the people who shunned him for being different.
"Coming!" Peter called back, tempering his voice. He wasn't afraid of hearing the disappointment in his mother's voice when he told her what had happened; he'd be worried if he didn't hear it.
What scared Peter the most, and added to his anger, was that he might actually break down and start crying at the sheer damned injustice of it all.
TBC