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Peter has been through three houses before finally ending up on his fourth. As much as he loves this home, he can't help but imagine it meaner than his first, sharper than his second and colder than his third. They all had their downsides, their bad days, but he can't help but feel as though the fourth house has the most.
His childhood home he shared with his parents, Mary and Richard, they were his everything. Sure, he was only ever a child in that house, never more than age six before he left but maybe that's why it only ever feels of childhood memories when he thinks back. Maybe that's a good thing. A child's giggles ring out as he’s chased by his family around the house in circles, a warmth that makes its appearance in the early school mornings sitting by a poor working floor heater when he first wakes up. It lasted long, but not long enough before he had it leave it all behind.
The second was called his home just longer than the first. From the age of 6-11 he spent those years in a house filled with just him and Uncle Ben. Memories full of warmth, not the same as the first but that can only come from a fast-spreading air duct heater, working to fill a room with warmth quite easily. Late nights up with all colors of the rainbow present in his LED lights, writing an idea in his notes that soon turns to a story, he loses motivation for it quickly and drops it, leaving the thing forever unfinished, an idea never able to be put into words. A crazy old ex forces them to leave for their safety and sanity, but the memories remain, forever reminding him of the late nights he would spend reading til dawn with his window open, letting the cold of the fresh air mix with the warmth from the heater. The only thing that made those nights better was the sky full of stars with only a few clouds littered around.
The third was built in an old style, subtle but present. This would be his shortest house yet, barely lasting a year before they moved in with May. The windows would let the golden sun rain into his room at the perfect time each day, right when he would be resting after school. It never really spelt warmth like the others but it was home, even more so than his first, with the cold surrounding the outside of his body, but the warmth present in his bones. The smell of baked goods always emitting from the kitchen; a true fairytale house, not so much raining with laughter but instead a comforting sense of not so much being alone but space, space to be himself, to have fun. Nights sitting on a couch watching ghost hunters, no forced dinner table meals, left to be how they wanted to be, how they always were.
While Peter loves how May makes Ben so happy, he sometimes wishes they never met, if not because he had to leave the third house to move into his fourth, shared with May this time, then for the arguments that would soon come, then for how his fourth home would never, ever, compare to any of his other homes. That might be the worst part, as they had no plans on moving. Out of all the houses he wished to leave, it's one he has to stay.
The fourth house, the present house, the worst house. It was old in looks but not in the ‘Homely’ way that the third was, but in a way that had no effect on you other than bringing down your mood, like the walls scream cold. Normally Peter likes the cold, as previously seen, but this cold is full of hate, it fuels his worries about when the next time he has to leave is. When will May and Ben get into a fight again? When will he have to turn on his music just below the fight’s level to be able to hear if needed but just a click would envelope him and block the yelling? Peter took the fact he wouldn’t be leaving this frozen hellscape as a sign to decorate, which people would normally do but his rooms have always been so empty, only meant to be a room but not a home as the actual house did that for him. In this apartment he doesn't have that luxury, he has to create a safe spot for himself in the area he could, so he does.
Of course it doesn't stop the yelling but it does let him have a space to be comfortable, something he wasn't outside his room. So for now he’ll wait silently, flinching whenever the screaming gets too loud. He’ll buy his time til he can leave this hell, til he can leave this time loop of failed leaving and screaming.