They're walking down the boys' aisle at Ross. Ben is looking around like a man who's just been suddenly transported to an alien planet, and Peter is trailing after him, running his hands over shirts that are too large because they are in the 10-12 section and Peter still wears 7-9, even though he will be eleven in just a few months. It's the first time they've had to buy clothes since the accident. This is fine. They're just clothes. Peter has had to buy tons of clothes before, and he'll have to buy tons more in the future. He didn't even like shopping when he used to go with his mom. In fact, he hated it. And this feeling he has, like he's going to become a stranger if he has to give up his old t-shirts—someone his parents wouldn't recognize on the street, if they ever saw him—doesn't make any sense, because his parents are dead.
It doesn't make any sense, so neither does the fact that right as Ben turns to examine the tag on a shirt with a green cartoon superhero on it, Peter starts to sob.
"I'm sorry," he says, as Ben drops to one knee in front of him, grabbing him by the shoulders and looking into his face like he expects Peter to suddenly disappear. "I'm sorry."
"Peter," says Ben, "Peter, buddy, what's going on? Are you hurt?"
Peter shakes his head. The tears on his cheeks are so thick they go flying in every direction.
"I just—I just—I don't know," he admits, when no other words will come. "I don't know. I don't know." He presses his hands to his eyes, knocking his glasses off. Peter hears them clatter to the linoleum floor, but neither of them retrieve them. "Please don't be mad."
"Mad? Peter, honey, why would I be mad?"
Ben has never called him honey before. Peter's dad never used the word. He only ever called him "pal," or "buddy," which is what Ben has done too, until now.
The strange endearment makes Peter look up. Ben doesn't look mad. He looks… scared. Tired. But not mad.
"I'm sorry you have to do this," Peter whispers, finally. "I'm sorry you have to take care of me."
Ben's eyes turn to water. It's scary, and Peter stops crying abruptly.
"Honey," Ben says again. "No."
Ben tightens his grip on Peter's shoulders. He looks at the floor, just for a second to compose himself, and his tears meet Peter's on the ground.
When he looks up, his expression is fierce.
"Peter," he says, "what happened to your parents… that was the worst thing that's ever happened to me." Peter flinches. "But you? You're the absolute best. The greatest gift I've ever gotten. I will always, always want you. Do you understand me?"
Things start to get better after that.
It turns out Ben knew about the hidden tears. Pretty much all of them—he just wasn't sure what the best way to approach them was. He'd opted for giving Peter space, but after the incident at Ross, he switches tack.
"You look sad," he says, whenever Peter gets the distant look on his face that says an episode is arriving. "Do you want to talk about it?"
At first, Peter does not. Ben doesn't push, but he also doesn't let him hide. When the tears are silent, they sit together and watch TV wait for them to peter out. When they're not so silent, Ben hugs him and shushes him and Peter doesn't even mind that it makes him feel like a little kid because that's how he feels when it happens and when he feels like that all he really wants is a hug.
His parents were never huggers, besides a quick squeeze before bed, or after a school play. Peter never resented it, or even really thought about it, but he's glad that Uncle Ben is different. He seems to like giving Peter hugs. Sometimes he asks for it even when Peter isn't crying, and after a while Peter stops feeling guilty when he asks for them too.
"Are you happy, Peter?" Ben asks him one day while they're both on the couch. The TV is off. They're both reading identical copies of Where the Red Fern Grows, even though Ben's eyelids are drooping from his double shift, because it's Ben's month to lead the parent reading group at Peter's school.
"Not really," says Peter, frowning at the book. "It's a super depressing story, Uncle Ben."
Ben smiles, and some of the tiredness leaves his face.
"Just wait 'til next month, they're gonna make you read Bridge to Terabithia." He closes his copy, sets it on the coffee table. "But I wasn't talking about the book. I mean… just in general, I guess. Are you happy?"
Peter's frown deepens. Ben has never asked him before. He sometimes asks why Peter is sad, but only when he's having a moment.
"Uh, yeah," he says, nervous. "I mean, sure."
"No, that's not what I meant," Ben says. "I'm not looking for any particular answer, Pete. I really want to know. The truth, I mean. Are you happy?"
Peter gets that feeling in the back of his throat, the one that usually signifies tears are on their way. He looks at his book, shrugs. Pretends to read in the hope that Ben will drop it.
Ben does not. He puts a hand on Peter's book and waits until Peter looks up at him.
"Pete," he says. "You know, grief doesn't have a timeline. You're allowed to be sad as long as you need to be."
Peter swallows.
"I want to be happy, though," he says. "I mean, it's not like… I like living here. It's just…"
"It's just not your parents' house."
Peter nods.