Pete Davidson Imagines

High.

tw: drug use

        you looked up at your ceiling. everything was so blurry, things were moving and your body felt heavy. you looked over at the small bag that once held the pills you just took. next to you was a blunt that was slowly burning out. you look over at the blunt and pick it up slowly, taking hits off of it. you close your eyes and listen to the music playing in the background. you open your eyes and you only had one person on your mind. pete. which was odd because you guys haven't spoken in months. you try to blink away the blur out of your eyes. it helps a little bit but not much. you pick up your phone and look at pete's contact name. you hold your phone up to your ear.
two rings in you hear some shuffling around. probably pete putting the phone up to his ear. "what's up?" you stay quiet for a minute. "y/n?" you lean your head back, taking a long drag out of the blunt and cough. "y/n?" pete sounds more concerned this time. "i'm sorry." you say and bite your lip. "i miss you." you say. pete stays quiet for awhile. "y/n, what are you on right now? you're slurring your words." he sounds frustrated. but you don't blame him. "i just..i just took a xanax." you were starting to now fall asleep. you kept trying to open your eyes back up. you dropped the blunt and it ended up burning a small hole in your couch. "do you need me to come over?" he asks through the phone and you quickly open your eyes. "i-i....no. i'm fine. i just called to tell you i miss you." you didn't want pete to see you like this. even if he's seen you like this before. you waited for pete's response but realized that he hung up on you.
         about 30 minutes later you woke up to banging on the door. your body felt way too heavy to get up and answer it. so you just decided to leave it. after a couple of knocks pete just lets himself in. "oh my god." he says and picks the blunt up off the couch and setting in the ashtray. thank god it burnt out before it burned through more of the couch. "come on." pete lifts you up but you protest. "stop. you shouldn't even be here right now." you say. "i need to make sure you're okay." tears start forming in your eyes. "you didn't care that one night." pete ignored you and lifted you up, taking you to your room as tears streamed down your face but you quickly went back to bed. pete lays you down on your bed, on your side and pulls the covers up to you. he walks down to the kitchen he grabs a glass and pours some water in it. he walks back upstairs and sets the glass of water on your nightstand. pete sits in the beanbag chair in your room and turned on the tv, staying there until you woke back up.
            it was a couple hours later and you wake up. you reeked of alcohol. you didn't even know you drank last night. you close your eyes again and sigh. you look over and see pete sleeping on the beanbag chair as an old episode of criminal minds was playing. you were so confused. did you really invite pete over? you couldn't even remember the last time you talked to him. did he get fucked up with you? you sit up and rub your head. you slowly stand up and you felt sick. you push the sickness down and walk up to pete.
         "pete." you say sternly and he wakes up. "oh shot. hey. how you feeling?" he says in his morning voice. "i feel fine. what the hell are you doing here? thought you never wanted to see my face again." you snap at him.
         you and pete ended on some pretty bad terms. one night you ended up getting super fucked up and the xanax bar you took ended up being laced. you were admitted to the emergency room and pete was no where to be found. he didn't show up at the hospital to make sure that you were okay. you and pete never officially broke up. he just ghosted you. "y/n. calm down. i didn't come here to argue." he said. "well obviously you-" he cut you off.
      "y/n i came here because you fucking called me. or were you too fucked up to remember that? you called me and told me that you missed me. i had to come over here and make sure you were still alive."
        "why was last night different than that night in november?" you ask him and scoff. "because i realized that i was wrong for that. i was scared. i did not want to walk into that hospital and hear that you were dead." he snaps and stands up, towering you. you shake your head and walk away from him. "can you please leave? look i'm fine. you see that. now you can go. i didn't mean to call you." you say and roll your eyes when you noticed he was following you.                                       "who gave you those pills, y/n?" he looks at you with anger and you laugh.
      "like it's any of your business." you turn your back to him so you can make you something to eat but he grabs your wrist and forces you to look at him. "who." you looked at his eyes and realized that he wasn't upset with you. he was upset with the person who sold them to you. "i don't want any problems, pete." you whisper and he holds your face. you had bags underneath your eyes from lack of sleep and stress and pete could definitely tell that you've dropped some weight. "you need to get help. i can't see you like this." he says. "you're one to talk." you say and move away from his grip and continue to heat up leftovers. "i've gotten help, y/n." you laugh and shake your head. "that's not what i've been hearing but okay pete." he scoffs. "of course your friends will have nothing but bad things to say about me. they fucking hate me."
      "because you left me there to fucking die pete!" you scream as loud as you can. "why didn't you come home that night? that shit that i took came from your pocket. you gave that to me!" you scream and tears start forming in your eyes. "y/n i didn't know it was laced...i can't believe i did that to you and i feel so fucking horrible about it. please fucking believe me." he gets on his knees, grabbing your hands and holding them as tears streamed down his eyes. "get up. you look fucking pathetic." pete looks down and gets up. "forget i ever called you. i want nothing to do with you." you spit hatefully at him. he grabs his keys and jacket and walks out.
       you wondered what life would have looked like if you and pete sobered up.