Brent and Brant think Doyoon is cute and are both subtly (...for them) flirting with him.

Doyoon can tell that they think this! It feeds his ego! He is summarily uninterested, though. Not that he won't play along for a bit.

See, narration, the thing you're doing there is lying to the audience, because you're making it sound like you're eliding over some more contentful interactions by not including the actual speech quotes but Peter, here, who is being forced to actually perceive the interactions in their raw forms, is party to the fact that there was no content. These people are incredibly unsubtle and their ability to string sentences together flies in defiance of their apparent inability to string thoughts together.

"Are you alright, Peter?"

"Oh, yes, I'm fine, I'm just faced with the prospect of dying in twelve weeks and the notion that people around me feel very alien to me and I'm having a little bit of trouble with all of that but, you know, I'm fine."

Brent looks at Doyoon. "Did something happen?"

"I think a friend of his died."

"Oh. I'm so sorry."

"My condolences."

"It must be very hard to be going through a life transition like starting university and feeling like everyone around you is strangers but here at Chi Beta Gamma we want to be as close to your family as we can. We're your brothers. You can count on us."

...okay, that's sweet, Peter's coming back around to feeling like an asshole again. "Thanks. Sorry. Just, a lot on my mind, is all," he says, running his hand through his hair.

(What food is he even making, he was going on autopilot trying to distract himself, oh, he's frying some eggs, okay, how did that... happen...)

"Did your friend already move on?"

"...I don't actually—move on from where?"

"The mortal plane."

What. Is this guy talking about.

The oven dings and he disentangles from his husband to grab oven gloves and retrieve the brownies he's been baking from it.

"Sorry, I don't think I understand."

"Oh, I mean—"

"Brant, you're being insensitive."

"—sorry."

"No, no, please go on."

"I mean, if they didn't leave a ghost then they probably moved on immediately?" he guesses.

A gh—

—wait.

Peter... believes in ghosts? Apparently? Or—he believes in ghosts in the sense that he... knows they exist? Like how he believes in tables? Like they're a normal thing? Like there's nothing particularly remarkable about them other than them being kind of spooky and creepy?

What the FUCK is going on in Peter's BRAIN. He really, really feels like he hasn't ruled out the stroke hypothesis sufficiently.

"Oh. Uh. No, uh, no ghost."

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