I Smirk As Peter Misses

Shh,” I Say. “arms Around Me.” Obediently, He Slips Both Arms Around My Waist. I Smile At The Wall. I Am Not Enjoying This. I Am Not, Not Even A Little Bit, No.

He Moves His Thumb In A Slow Circle Over The Back Of My Hand. It Is Meant To Comfort Me, But It Frustrates Me Instead. I Need To Talk To Him. I Need To Look At Him.

I Laugh Shakily. ‘you’re A Little Scary, Four.’ ‘do Me A Favor,’ He Says, ‘and Don’t Call Me That.’ ‘what Should I Call You, Then?’ ‘nothing.’ He Takes His Hand From My Face. ‘yet.

Nothing Else Is All Right.” His Whisper Tickles My Cheek. “but We Are.

I Just Wanted To Thank You' He Says, His Voice Low. 'a Group Of Scientists Told You That My Genes Were Damaged, That There Was Something Wrong With Me - They Showed You The Test Results That Proved It. And Even I Started To Believe It.' He Touches My Face, His Thumb Skimming My Cheekbone, And His Eyes Are On Mine, Intense And Insistent. 'you Never Believed It,' He Says 'not For A Second. You Always Insisted I Was... I Don't Know, Whole.