Ray had to wonder if Pete would have wanted to be free of the jagged, pale pink scar on his cheekbone that had been given to him by an angry, greedy girl, or if he would have wanted to keep the memory of the incident, of the way rejection had felt not just emotionally but the physical pain along the edge of his face.

He suspected the latter, because even the way he was now, Pete still had that metaphorical 'BEAT ME HARD' sign tied around his neck. Even now, the inquisitive puppy look in his pale blue eyes and the hopeful way his lips were turned up still said 'BEAT ME HARD.' (beat me hard because i don't know any better beat me hard because i will not say no)

Ray let out a long sigh. "Don't take this personally, but..."

Pete watched him, still inquisitive and bright looking. "What is it?"

"I'm starting to wish..."

He looked into Pete's expectant, alive face and was suddenly overwhelmed with love. He loved this boy, loved him when he was angry and yelling at the blank-faced soldiers (loved him when his face was contorted and his eyes were blown wide) and loved him when he placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him away from the stupid decisions he'd made that had lead to him winning (loved him when he smiled and sat down and then his body was on the road)

"Nevermind, actually."

"I still can't believe I was in the fucking Long Walk."

"You really don't remember any of it? Anything at all?" Ray's mind wandered back to the Walk, to that thin half-smile Pete had had and would you let me jerk you off (did i say yes i said yes didn't i why didn't he i wish i had).

"Little bits and pieces. It'll probably come back to me." He smiled forlornly. "Why, anything important happen?" The way his voice hitched made him think of the old Pete, the way everything he said sounded like he was making some sort of sick, self-deprecating joke.

"Yeah," Ray said, shifting slightly on the bed. "I missed you, you know," he said lamely. He noticed that his voice was cracking slightly on the words. (oh i am pathetic)

"Let's not turn this into one of those old movies where they confess crying and kiss and then the credits roll and your girlfriend's face is still glued to the screen while you just want to get the hell out of there."

Ray was about to reply when a knock on the door caused both him and Pete to look up sharply. It was his mother, staring down at her feet with the guilt of a little girl who stole from the kitchen. "Ray, Jan's here...she wanted to...apologize...and..."

"Your girl?" Pete turned to him, and Ray was suddenly infuriated with Jan, infuriated with how she interrupted them, because she didn't need to apologize because she didn't matter. (that's not what i would have said before)

"Used to be."

"Fuck girls," he said, almost under his breath. "I had one once. She tore me the hell apart. They're not worth it."

"Ray..." Every time his mother said his name, it sounded more and more like the kind of whisper you'd hear in a haunted house, the hissing of the wind in the trees when you think it's saying your name. "Ray, come downstairs, please, Ray, please..."

"Don't beg...mom." The fact that he punctuated that sentence with mom gave him a pang in his chest, the kind of nostalgia that old men whose wives have died feel when seeing their clothes go to charity. His mother stared at him, her eyes wide and confused and her face gaunt. "I'll come. Come on, Pete." He allowed himself a small smile.

The other boy got up and for a moment Ray considered slipping his hand into his, but he was already making his way down the stairs before he had the chance to. (i want to touch him i want to feel him i want to know that he's real and that he's mine)

Seeing Jan standing in the doorway with her long, golden hair and her downcast eyes made him feel sick with guilt all of the sudden. Something in him had suddenly began to remember, to remember what it had been like to be Raymond Davis Garraty and something in him was beginning to miss it.

"Jan."

"Ray," she shot back. "Ray, I wanted to say...well, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I yelled. You were right, I didn't understand." The evenness in her voice and the way she spoke to him as though he was an idiot brought back that burning, irrational anger at her.

"You don't."

Jan's eyes traveled to Pete, who'd been standing awkwardly behind Ray and his mother and taking in the details of Jan. "Who's that?"

"My prize," he said, with sudden, surprising possessiveness. (he is a person not a possession but he is my person no one else can have him now) "Pete McVries."

"The boy from the Walk...The Major can't have...he didn't...that's not possible." Jan's voice was suddenly tight. "It must be a different guy, Ray. You're not going to buy this, are you? The Major's just trying to get you to like him."

"No." Back to monosyllables and one word answers. It'd been different with Pete, easier to talk, but Jan brought back that sad, defensive mode that he'd been stuck in since coming out of the clean, white hospital.

"You can't bring the dead back."

"The Major can do anything." (stebbins would have agreed stebbins would have said that the major can break you into pieces in a split second stebbins was a mystery would the major bring back stebbins) "Jan, I couldn't care less about how he brought him back, I'm just glad that he brought him back." He was practically snappy, an irritation that he usually reserved for his mother had crept into his voice.

Jan sighed. "Well, I'm glad you're happy, frankly." Her softspoken, muted demeanor was the one that Ray wanted to see most on her. Not angry, defensive Jan, but Jan who nodded and agreed that she didn't understand. He didn't know what previous him would have thought of her like this, and all of the sudden he had an urge to just forget about what previous him would have done or said.

Because he was not who he was before, and it didn't matter who he'd been before. He was this boy now, whether this boy was an imposter in Ray Garraty's pure and sweet and innocent skin or not. And he would not go back to being the way he had been.

He noticed that while he'd been going through this internal monologue, Pete had been introducing himself to Jan, smiling pleasantly and shaking her pretty little hand. All in politeness, although Ray watched for any sort of romantic attraction between the two.

"Really, Ray, if you ever need to talk to anybody..." She placed a hand on his shoulder and he felt like batting her away, but instead he stood as still as he could and tried to just shut her out of his world view.

"I won't need it," he said quickly.

"I might." Those sad, downcast, guilt-inducing eyes again.

It hit him that she was trying to make him feel that. She wanted him to feel bad for her. She wanted him to come crawling back into her arms and kiss her and hold her and love her the way he loved Pete. She was jealous, surely, that was it. (because pete is mine mine mine mine) She was babbling away about something, false comfort lacing her words, and he felt his face redden with anger.

"See, I just-"

Ray slammed the door in Jan's face.

garraty has become kind of a yandere okay

also my paragraphs have started getting longer and i don't know why