[ For a few seconds, he's scrambling, heels skidding at the ground as he tries to gain purchase, fight back for control of the moment. Reaching up, he has every intention to shove at the other man as Sylar's fingers close in, anticipating the terrifying loss of breath he's bound to get hit with at an moment.
But it never comes.
His own hand is frozen at Sylar's shoulder and Peter is just confused. What else is he supposed to be? Because Sylar's just staring at him, fingers settled in against his skin, and Peter can feel his pulse pounding against them, pounding against his temples, a constant thrumming that seems to still the moment completely. This is the way out he was looking for and yet he can't move, too consumed with wanting to know why. ]
no subject
But it never comes.
His own hand is frozen at Sylar's shoulder and Peter is just confused. What else is he supposed to be? Because Sylar's just staring at him, fingers settled in against his skin, and Peter can feel his pulse pounding against them, pounding against his temples, a constant thrumming that seems to still the moment completely. This is the way out he was looking for and yet he can't move, too consumed with wanting to know why. ]
What?