Just Once - A Peterick Fic

Chapter 38

A/N: Warning: last chapter besides the epilogue and this gets emotional

I am definitely not breathing down Pete's neck. I mean, I haven't even spoken to the little fucker since we got back to Chicago a month ago, not really. There had been small interactions - strictly business and usually with another person as a buffer. He still emails me snippets of lyrics, basically just what he needs to get out of his head, and I still play around with them, try to make sense of them, but something is off. We just aren't working like we used to.

The distance between us scares me. I try to not let it get to me, but it does. My biggest fear right now is the two of us never going back to how we were and it feels all too real lately. I don't deserve him, I know I don't, but that doesn't stop me from wanting him.

The last email I got from him was just two lines of lyrics with no explanation, no little note or anything from him to accompany them. Just the lyrics. It really wasn't that strange, not for Pete, but the lyrics themselves bothered me.

 I just want to be better than your head's only medicine

 Lunatic of a god or a god of a lunatic?

It seemed as if he was self-destructing, imploding upon himself, and this time I couldn't help him. He wouldn't let me in, wouldn't return any of my texts or calls or emails or anything because I'm the source of his problems and if you eliminate the source, you eliminate the problem, right? The scary thing is, I'm usually the one to help him when he gets like this, was the only one that could do it quickly enough so he didn't do himself any damage. If he won't speak to me, I can't help him.

I had texted Joe yesterday to see if he had heard anything from Pete and the conversation had given me no new information.

 >Hey, have you heard anything from Pete? He won't talk to me.

 >Jesus: You sound a bit like a desperate ex...

 >Jesus: But no, I haven't.

 >Ok. I'm kind of worried about him. The lyrics he's been sending me are pretty dark.

 >Jesus: He's probably fine. Just give him time. That's what he asked you for, right?

 >Yeah, I just can't shake the feeling that he's in a bad place.

 >Jesus: He probably is, but who wouldn't be after all that's happened. Its probably not a bad place quite like an episode is.

 >Hopefully

That had been the end of the conversation. I hadn't asked Andy, maybe he had talked to him. Or maybe he had finally emailed me back. Probably neither, but both were a possibility.

I decided I would check my email and if there was nothing, then I'd text Andy. If nothing else, we had a studio day next week where he'd be forced to speak to me. We wouldn't be there long - we're just recording a couple demos - but it's crucial for Pete and I to speak while in the studio. Still, there was a knot in the pit of my stomach slowly forming.

I opened up my email only to be greeted with another email from him. It was probably just lyrics so I didn't get too hopeful as it loaded, but it was something.

 A downward spiral, just a pirouette

 Getting worse until nothing's left

Figures. Lyrics. More dark lyrics that only made me worry more. Fuck you, Pete. Fuck you and your cryptic lines of shitty poetry.

I shut my laptop probably a little too violently and pulled my phone out in search of Andy's contact. So what if I sound like a desperate ex? That's what I am, I realized, and the thought was a sobering one.