Though he didn't want to admit it, there was something soothing about being taken into Sylar's arms while he shook, and he let himself go slightly slack with devastation, trying to clamp down on laughter that sounded anything but humorous to Peter.

"You can't kill anyone right now," Speaking through gritted teeth around laughs that were forcing their way out of his lungs, Peter tries to stop thinking about how humiliating this is and instead stuffs his face against Sylar's shoulder, as if that somehow made the torturous laughter go away. If anything it simply muffles it, made it quieter so hat Peter could tell himself it wasn't truly there anymore, even though it was all he could hear, ringing disgustingly in his mind.

Knees going stiff with paralysis, Peter grabs hold of Sylar's shirt almost painfully tight, already finding it hard to catch his breath in between the laughs he's stuffing against Sylar's shirt, and Peter has to wonder if this was going to make him lose his mind. If this was going to stop, or if this was what was truly going to kill him like nothing else had.