Work Text:
Saturday nights are the worst. Add alcohol, wondering thoughts, and the anklet, well, that just was the icing on the cake. Not to mention, he seemed to just never do anything right. Every single decision lately seemed to end up in disaster and disappointment. Especially from Peter.
Peter.
Wine swirled around the glass, his thoughts flowing the motion. Vacant eyes staring out.
Maybe it would be better to run.
To get away.
To disappear.
To just.... stop.
Nothing seemed to be in his favor. Kate died, El's been hurt, and Peter's career and life have been put on the line more than once.
The anklets light seemed brighter tonight, it's glaring light a blinding reminder of his failure and loss. So much loss.
How much longer could he do this?
How much longer?
What was the point?
Who would care?
Who?
Peter? His life would be so much easier if he wasn't around...
Mozzie, Alex, Sarah.... they would be so much safer without him....
He put the wine glass down on the table, the sound echoing through the quiet room.
Maybe.
He didn't want to die, he was sure. Just disappear. Away from expectations, jobs, and illegal and dangerous dealings. He was just so tired of all of the disappointed glares, the sighs, constant questioning, and distrust.
He just wanted to be Neal... who he hasn't quite worked out yet. He just wanted to be free.
He just wanted to paint, but was that even something he liked? Was it that he just tied his worth to the quality of the forgery? What would he even paint if it wasn't a copy. What would he even paint. He didn't have anything else.
He didn't even graduate. Just another black mark on his life.
As the night darkened, his thoughts followed.
His phone buzzed, the screen illuminating the side table, and pulling his thoughts away.
He sighed, stood, and dragged himself over to open the text.
It was from Peter, telling him they had a lead and he would be there to pick him up early tomorrow. A box of forgeries had been found in a warehouse and they needed to be verified and checked.
Needed... that's all the really wanted. Wanted, needed.
He sighed and fell heavily into to his bed. His eyes shut and damp. Tomorrow. Tomorrow had to be better. Right? Right.