Peter looked at you with so much love. It was all in his eyes. You often wondered what he thought about while he did this.
And tonight one of his thoughts was revealed.
"You're so beautiful, Y/N," he murmured.
Only being able to hear your name, you tilted your head slightly, looking at him curiously. "What was that?"
The drummer cleared his throat. "I said you're beautiful. So beautiful."
Your cheeks heated up as you glanced downward. "Thank you, Peter."
Although you were trying to hide it, Peter could see something was wrong. He even heard you sniffle. Frowning, he placed a finger under your chin and lifted your head so that you were looking at him. "What's wrong?"
"It's nothing. Really."
"But something is bothering you. Can't you tell me?"
Your (e/c) eyes stared into Peter's brown ones. And that's how he was able to see them water as you moved his hand away. You looked down again. "I'm not . . . I'm not good enough for you, Peter."
He blinked, trying to process your words. Not good enough? That wasn't right. To him, you were perfect. He was in love with you. So how could you say something like that?
"I don't understand," he said.
You breathed in deeply, then exhaled. But you didn't elaborate nor did you gaze at him.
He sighed. "Y/N, look at me."
You shook your head.
"Darling, please look at me. Tell me what's wrong." Peter took your hands and squeezed them gently. "Did something happen?"
A tear slid down your cheek, then another. You opened your eyes to see him looking at you, his brown eyes full of concern and his red lips in a frown.
"Nothing is wrong," you lied. You didn't want him to worry, not when the time of the concert was coming. "I'll be fine."
But you and Peter knew the truth.
"Now don't say that. You're crying." He reached over and wiped the tears that had just escaped from your eyes. "Tell me what's wrong."
You sniffled, drawing in a shaky breath. You tried to think of how to begin but the more you thought about what happened, the more you wanted to cry.
"If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine. But I want you to be okay. I don't like it when you're sad."
More tears streamed down your face. You sniffled again and wiped them. "As I was going to the venue tonight, I ran into some girls, and well, they said some things. They said . . . our love isn't real and that you didn't care about me."
Peter opened his mouth to speak but you shook your head, silently saying there was more. "They also said I wasn't good enough and that we're just . . . using each other."
"What?"
"That's what they said."
"But you know that's not true. None of it is." He frowned. "You don't believe them, do you?"
"Of course not! But I just . . . I just couldn't help but think about it. They weren't nice to me at all." A tear slid down your cheek, making you wipe it away. "They said some awful things."
"Well those awful things aren't true. And I love you so much." Peter took your hands and kissed them, running his thumbs over your knuckles. "I care about you. Honestly I do."
There was sincerity in his eyes. You could see it very clearly.
"Not everyone is going to like our relationship," he continued. "But I don't care about that. I care about you. And I don't know what else those girls said, but I'll tell you now that you are good enough. You're beautiful, perfect, and I'm very in love with you."
"Really?" you asked.
He nodded. "I love you, Y/N. Very much."
"And I love you, Peter." You smiled and leaned in for a kiss. He gave it to you, but then a few more followed. And it probably would've continued a bit longer if a certain lead guitarist didn't speak in the hallway.
"I think that's our cue to leave," Peter said once he and you broke apart.
"You're right," you agreed.
"Should we go?"
"Let's."
The two of you stood up with a smile. Peter offered his hand, which you took. Then without a word, he and you left the room.