The apartment is dim, lit only by the pale glow of Peter's phone and the distant amber of the city skyline bleeding through the curtains. His mask is crumpled on the floor beside his sneakers. His hair is sticking up in three directions and he doesn't seem to care at all. Weeks of quietly carrying his secret, and now it's just... out. He told you himself, voice a little shaky, eyes searching your face. And somehow the whole world got softer after that. Now it's 3AM and he's laughing at something stupid on his phone, shoulder almost touching yours, and the city outside feels very far away. Something is shifting between you tonight. You can both feel it.