Cornered
Oscar gets caught snooping. Peter has a little talk with him.
Author's Notes
Sorry for the homoeroticism. I was bored and reading Goncharov (the definitely real 1973 movie by Martin Scorsese) fanfictions and felt inspired. Not very good because I don't really write intense/dramatic stuff often, but, well... I figured I'd post it!
On a desolate night like this, Oscar would once have expected himself to be sitting alone, outside, using the light of the moon as a natural substitute for a lamp. Tonight, however... Well, tonight was different, just as every night had been since he arrived in Stonewyck. Often he wondered if he'd ever have a normal night again.
Such a thought was meaningless, though, as he found himself pinned to a wall, the cold stone sending shudders down his spine as the man before he loomed menacingly.
"And what's a pest like you doing lurking around?" Peter studied him with a quick glance downward before returning eye contact.
Though he tried to look away, Oscar found himself continuously returning his gaze. His dark, ink-black eyes sucked him in like a black hole the longer he stared, the unforgiving scowl upon thin, pale lips, and the sunken shadows beneath his lower lid that reflected the weary defeated spirit of a man who was as dark and disorienting as the night itself.
"Ah, um-" Oscar stuttered as his brain and mouth worked against each other, desperately trying to come up with an excuse.
Peter pulled himself closer to Oscar, his hand firmly pressed against the wall, leaving the freckled boy with no escape routes.
"You're not a cat, so don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong."
His breath was hot against Oscar's cheek as he pressed the tip of his nose tenderly against it. Though such a gesture would typically be seen as affectionate, it evoked nothing but unease as Oscar gently placed his hand on Peter's chest in a feeble attempt to push him away.
He did not move.
At that moment, Oscar felt something twist within his chest - a spark. A feeling that was ultimately unfamiliar to him. As much as he wished to convince himself it was nothing but the stinging twinge of hatred and fear biting at his gut, he knew it was something much more than that.
"Well?" Peter's biting voice pulled him out of his trance. "Have you any excuse?"
Oscar stayed silent again for a few moments, their synchronized breathing being the only sound to soften the tension.
"...My apologies."
Peter was right, Oscar was not a cat. Right now, he felt much more like a hunted mouse, fueled by the adrenaline of finally being cornered.