If you want to read a better-formatted version, please go to my Fanfiction Livejournal theblackmonster.

A/N: This is basically set during .07, so spoilers for that, and it's basically taken from Nathan's POV. Also, check the warnings. Eh, that is really all.

Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.

Warnings: Slash, Incest. Nathan/Peter is the pairing.

I Need You So Much Closer

He holds the glass up to the light.

Red reflects onto the papers and objects on his desk, catching on other objects and causing the light to reflect onto other surfaces in the room. He spins it around with his fingers, watching with sick fascination as the red light dances around him.

Dead.

His breath catches in his throat and he twirls the shard of glass around in his hand again. He doesn't want to think about what the object in his hand had almost meant to him.

Peter.

He can't.

He twirls the glass around again.

Dead.

He sets the glass down and closes his eyes.

Peter is alive right now, talking with their mother and Claire in the other room. He's breathing and for the most part well, at least well enough, and he's alive. He's still alive. This knowledge should be enough for him.

He tries to breathe through the constant pounding thoughts in his head of 'Peter... dead... Peter... dead... Peter... deaddeaddead' and counter them with his own 'No, no. No, he's alive. He's still alive. He's okay, he's okay.'

It isn't enough to know this.

He opens his eyes then and picks the glass up off of the desk, again spinning it around in the light, watching as the red reflects all around the room once more. He could almost get lost looking into the color and forget about everything.

Forget about Peter.

Almost.

He stops spinning it around when he closes his eyes once again, instead tracing along a sharp edge with his fingers, turning it over and over in his hand.

"You should throw it away."

He doesn't jump at the sound of Peter's voice suddenly next to him, but his hand does clench around the glass there, the sharp edge cutting into his skin.

When he opens his eyes Peter is not staring at him, but at the glass in his hand and the blood welling from the cut there. He only looks at both of their blood on the shard briefly before setting it down on the desk, turning back to look at Peter.

"I could," he says flatly, but Peter is still staring at the bloody glass.

He stands up from the desk then, moving to stand by Peter's side, but once there he doesn't know what to do. He brings his hand up to Peter's shoulder, but it only hovers near there, almost touching, but not quite. He can't seem to bring himself to make the contact.

Peter is the one staring at him now, looking at the hand that hovers between them, eyes dark and confusion spreading throughout them. Questioning silently why his hand is only just hovering there.

Time seems to stand still for a few moments, neither moving nor knowing how to move, waiting for the other to make the first action, waiting for a reaction. Time restarts just as suddenly as it seemed to have stopped and he shakes his head, lowering his hand and backing away from Peter a little.

"Maybe I should throw it away," Peter whispers as a look of hurt crosses over his face, quickly hidden by the fact that he turns away and looks down at the glass as he had before.

He nods his head in agreement with this, words barely filtering into his head, muttering a short, "Sure."

Peter glances up at him then, the hurt once there now gone, worry replacing it, and he follows Peter's gaze onto his own hand. There isn't much blood there, but enough for Peter, and his hand is suddenly in Peter's own before he can even begin to protest.

The contact of Peter's skin on his own is like electricity flooding into his system, shocking him, and he yanks his hand back.

He wants more than anything to feel Peter's hands running over him and for the feeling of Peter beneath his own hands. He wants nothing more than that, but suddenly this terrifies him, and he backs away from Peter a little more.

"Nathan-" Peter starts, but he backs away far enough that Peter falls silent.

He moves to pick up the glass then, finally wanting to rid himself of it, but right as his hand is about to pick up the glass it flies off of the desk, moving away from him and hovering in the air in front of Peter.

"Peter, what-?" he starts to ask, but stops as cracks appear in the glass, before it finally shatters into little pieces, none falling to the floor, all still hovering in the air. "What are you doing? Are you doing this?"

Peter is the one that moves this time, only instead of backing away he moves toward him, and he is the one to fall silent.

"The shards were all bigger than this when he put them out around him. I was invisible and-"

His eyes widen as Peter starts to speak and he tries to breathe through the panic that courses through his veins at the words. He can't think about Peter and glass and blood and dead. Deaddeaddead. He can't know this.

It's too much.

"Don't," and the sound comes from his throat more like a growl, panic turning into frustration as he searches for any emotion to feel, anything other than the panic that turns into grief. "Don't tell me, Peter. Don't."

At his words the glass moves closer together, falling into a pile on his desk.

Peter moves at the same time the glass does, standing before him, a hand on his shoulder, dark eyes looking into his own. He wants to look away from them, he even knows he could, that Peter would understand if he were to. Instead he stares straight into them.

A smile appears on Peter's face then, although seconds later it becomes serious.

"I want you to know that I understand."

He sighs, looking toward the ceiling now instead.

"I understand, Nathan. I know. But I'm not dead now, I'm here. I'm okay and I'm alive. I want to tell you because I can tell you. I can because I'm here. Now. You didn't lose me."

He shakes his head then and breathes out, eyes still focusing on the ceiling. He knows if he were to look at Peter now everything would fall apart in a matter of seconds.

"He killed you," he whispers, trying to keep his voice steady.

A hand brushes against his cheek and the hand on his shoulder moves around his back as Peter steps closer to him. He closes his eyes at the contact and breathes in relief when the hand on his cheek removes itself.

"Look at me," Peter says softly, "Nathan, look at me."

He finally opens his eyes then, shifting his gaze away from the ceiling and onto Peter who has a small smile on his face, whose eyes look so incredibly warm and loving to him. It's almost unbearable with Peter this close.

"I'm still here."

At Peter's words arms wrap around him, encircling him in a hug, and Peter pulls himself closer, against his chest now. His own arms are stiff, still at his side even as Peter rests his head on his shoulder.

"You died," he whispers, voice barely audible and barely held together.

"I'm still alive."

The words come from Peter in a breath against his neck and he shivers.

'I need you,' he thinks helplessly as Peter seems to move even closer to him, arms tightening around him, head now resting in the crook of his neck instead of on his shoulder. 'I need you. I need you.'

He almost jumps in surprise when he hears Peter whisper into his neck, "It's okay, I need you too."

He doesn't know what to say then or even how to move. He barely even knows how to breathe when Peter moves his head to look up at him. He's sure he stops breathing when Peter's eyes look into his own, radiating warmth and love and reassurance.

"I won't break if you touch me, Nathan. I can't shatter like glass. You won't break me."

Peter leans forward then, head tilting up, lips almost brushing against lips, silently asking for permission to move.

He still doesn't know what to do, though, although he knows what he wants. He knows what he wants more than anything, but it's so hard to know that he's afraid of it at the same time. He wants Peter, but it feels like Peter would disappear and fade away into nothing if he touches him.

He only closes his eyes in response, waiting for Peter to be the one to make the first move.

"It's okay."

Lips brush against his own then, kissing him slowly and gently and softly, and at the contact he can't help his own arms wrapping around Peter, pulling him in even closer. This is the only thing he could ever want.

He kisses back harshly and needy, fear still thrumming through his veins, but another emotion with it this time. Something he doesn't know quite what to call, the only thing able to describe it PeterPeterPeter.

Peter is the one who finally breaks the kiss, both breathless and dizzy from the contact and then the sudden lack of it.

"I need you," he breathes out suddenly, saying it more for himself than for Peter. The words spoken aloud more as a realization to himself just how much he needs him.

An admission on just how lost he is without him.

"I need you."

Peter only kisses him softly in response, leaning up and moving his head to the side so both of their cheeks rest against each others, both of their eyes no longer open. Simply holding each other and holding onto each other.

He holds his breath and he can feel Peter's heart beating against his chest. He can feel the thump-thump-thump there and it reminds him that they're both alive. That Peter is alive.

He's alive.