Once Pete's finally recovered the ability to speak he says, "I d-did." Still not totally stable. He clears his throat. "I did try to help. But—" Deep breath. "My friends didn't know. About a-any of that. They knew I'd been going out with, with h-him, though he wasn't from our school so they didn't kn-know him otherwise. But they didn't know about... e-everything else that was going on. Not until much later, when I told them. ...I told my sister at the time. But, I mean...

"...I looked fine. F-from the outside. They were all, like, surprised. They'd had no idea. And I'm not, I'm not, I know Riddle is—I'm not trying to defend him. Or anything. I'm just, it's—complicated. And hard. Even if he—I'm sure he—I don't know how to say this without sounding defensive. He's awful. He's a dick. He's—I don't know. It's just—we're teenagers. Even Peter, eighteen is still a teenager. We, our brains don't even finish properly maturing until our twenties, we're, we're all dicks to each other all the time. We're awful. We do awful things. We make awful choices. And we beat ourselves up about them, or we don't, and maybe we live in denial, or maybe we make those choices a deep part of who we think of ourselves as, and that's, it'd be bad if I did that.

"I don't know where I'm going with this. Just—I guess. The story rang a bell."

Susan takes a couple of deep breaths herself.

"...I am sorry," she says. Calmer than before, more of a statement than a reflexive sob. "I haven't really... talked about it, with anyone outside the family. Talked about him, especially. And. I don't know. I – could justify myself, the things I was saying, but I don't think it'd make them right. So I'm sorry."

"I—don't think you need to justify yourself. I understand." Better than she thinks. "Just—I guess—um, there's probably a way to say what I mean that sounds less selfish than 'I don't want that to reflect badly on me'. Or less dumb. Maybe something like, I'm not—blind. I guess. And I don't think—I don't know. That it's okay. What happened. ...I swear I'm usually more articulate than this."

"I'm not saying I like him, or even that I don't think he – did all that. But I'm not going to tar you by association, and I don't need you to agree with me or get out of my life."

"Alright. That's—all I can ask for, really." Also, Time Enough For Love can you please not make this whole thing have taken a completely implausible amount of time? It's fine if it gets fudged around the edges but this much conversation should at least make them late for their first class, come on now. He's going to tell Susan eventually! He promises! Not now, though.

"You could very reasonably ask for more. I just can't give it."

She can, however, give hug.

Yeah. Hugs are good, almost tautologically.

"Anyway, uh, sorry for crying all over you, I did not expect—to be like this today." Melodrama, woo.

"Well I'm sorry for making you cry all over me, you hopeless martyr. And it's not as if I wasn't crying all over you."

"Hopeless martyr? I'll have you know I left all of my Catholicism behind!"

"I've yet to meet anyone who managed that."

"Shush, let a boy live in a dream."