Work Text:
“I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not fine.” Tricia raises an eyebrow, challenging. “If you were fine, you would be in the living room with us right now playing Guitar Hero, not sitting out here on the back porch brooding.”
Pete looks up at her with a frown, arms crossed over his knees. Definitely brooding. “I just need to be alone.”
She can tell there’s something else to it, something he’s not saying because he’s Pete and he’ll never ask for help even if he’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to fall. Even if she’s so close she could reach out and grab his hand, pull him back onto solid ground, if he’d only let her. “Do you want to talk?” Tricia sits down next to him on the back steps.
“I don’t know,” he says quietly, fidgeting with the zipper on his hoodie. “Every time I try and get the words out, it just doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense when I say it.”
Tricia takes his hand and squeezes it, knowing exactly what he means, knowing exactly how it feels to try and speak but the words come out all wrong. That's why she sings Pete’s words. “Just try,” she tells him. “And if it doesn’t make sense, we’ll figure it out together.”