𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐬 | pete davidson

thirty four: the wake up call

Dahlia burst from her pillow in an uncomfortable sweat.

Her eyes adjusted and her body settled, soon realizing she was nestled in bed. Her surroundings became clear and she sighed in peace, coming back down to earth in Pete's bedroom.

She sat herself up, back against the bed's headboard, before leveling her feet down into the plush carpeting.

With her eyes now adjusted to the darkness of the room, she maneuvers her way around the room cautiously.

Slowly creaking the door open and peeking through, she finds Pete stretched out uncomfortably on the couch. A scratchy, old blanket was lazily draped over him as he snored away.

Dahlia found it cute, she imagined that's how a teddy bear would snore.

She closed the door as quietly as she could. Walking over to the blinded window, she clears the curtains and allows in a wisp of fresh air to circulate through the room.

She sighed again. This time, out of perplexity.

What an awful dream, she thought as she slipped back into bed.

I never even went to the studio last night.

*

The next morning, Dahlia wakes up to a shiver. She can practically see her own breath as she lays in bed.

She mentally cursed herself out when she remembers about the window.

Her morning shower didn't help the rocky start to her day.

She twisted the knob for the shower head to expel warm water.

Every morning shower, Dahlia liked to pretend she was showering in an oasis. Washing herself with the most luscious soaps under a cascading waterfall on a private island somewhere near Fiji or Bora Bora.

She had only two minutes of her peaceful shower routine before she heard the door open.

The unmistakable sound of the doorknob twisting open, the squeak of the door hinge as it swings. Dahlia held her loofah tight against her chest, caught off guard during her most intimate time alone.

When she heard the shower curtain pull open, she gasped and turned around completely.

Instinctively, she covered herself as best as she could with her arms and hands. When she saw that it was Pete, she felt her heart pound out of her chest.

He looked dead. As if he were on auto pilot. His eyes weren't fully open but he was groggy, already starting to enter the bathtub.

His boxers weren't off yet (Dahlia had to quickly check, just to make sure).

"Pete!" As soon as she spoke up, it were as though he had waken up from hypnosis.

His eyes met hers, and then the rest of her. His eyes widened and his hands slapped his eyes shut.

When he realized what he had done, Pete leaped back in embarrassment, falling through the shower curtain and pulling the shower curtain rings and the pole itself down with him.

All the while, his hands are still glued to his face.

When Dahlia heard him mumble a string of apologies as he struggled to make it out of the bathroom, she could tell he was hungover.

**

Pacing around the kitchen in her borrowed sweats, which sat baggy on her hips, she looked everywhere for a box of herbal tea.

Pete, who sat quietly at the table in his open kitchen with thick black sunglasses on, grunted.

Dahlia stopped what she was doing to look at him.

Sitting back against his chair, he weakly pointed up at the cupboard closest to the fridge.

She nodded at him before following up to that cupboard, using a chair to help her climb up that high.

When she was finally able to make the tea, she sat down across from him and passed him the cup of tea she had made for him.

"Thank you..." He muttered, taking a cautious sip from the steaming cup.

The two of them sat in silence. The only sound present was the whirring of the oven's fan and the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock.

Pete tried to clear his throat, which caused Dahlia to look up at him. But he really was trying to just clear his throat.

He coughed sickly and rubbed his chest soothingly, while Dahlia still looked at him, waiting for someone to say something.

Dahlia tried to search through Pete's eyes to make some sense of what's been going on these last few days.

Pete inhaled softly, putting Dahlia on the edge of her seat, anticipating what he will say next,

"Do we still have bread..?"

Floored and absolutely speechless, she can't control her eyes from widening, her brows from curving up out of shock, and her lips to purse in slight disappointment.

"That's a very anticlimactic way of telling me you drank last night..."

With what little strength Pete had, he gently shrugged his shoulders.

"What did we do last night for you to end up so wasted?" Dahlia asked him.

Pete rubbed his eyes with the sunglasses still perched up on the bridge of his nose. With his arm propped up on the edge of the table, he exhaled loudly through his nose.

"Umm..." Pete winced, chewing his bottom lip. "I-I don't think you want to know the answer to that."

Dahlia shot him a confused look. Before she could ask him what he meant by that, the phone began to ring.

Her phone.

Before she could react, she feels Pete's hand on hers. "Maybe don't answer that, too."

"Pete, you're really starting to freak me out. What happened?"

Through his dark lenses, he examined her. Every inch of her face. She can't see just how truly beautiful she is. It astounded Pete, just being around her. Just being in her presence made his heart both soften for her and toughen for her protection.

She made his heart soft by just how sweet she was; to him, she was the only thing that mattered. Whatever made her happy made him happy. Whatever made her feel good made him feel good.

She also made his heart ache because her ex is Jack Veramente.

"Dahlia," Pete blinked. He had been searching for the right words to say as he stared longingly at her through his chunky black shades.

The phone continued to ring.

"Your... batshit-crazy ex is hosting the show next month. As both the host and the musical guest..."

Huh. She thought.

That really wasn't a dream, then.

The ringing ceased. Dahlia began to get up from her seat at the table, only to be stopped by Pete's scratchy voice calling out to her.

"You know, I didn't see anything... right?" His voice scratched, cracking as he nervously spoke up.

Dahlia's eyes dart to the floor, chuckling, "I don't know what you're talking about."

She turns to leave the room to answer the phone, quickly shuffling down the carpeted hallway and into Pete's room.

Pete grins faintly, his cheeks turning pink and his face growing hot. He chuckles too, looking down at his feet. The undersides of his socked feet were still soaked with shower water.

With a click, on the very last ring, she answers the phone.

"Hello?"

☆

quick a/n: please excuse the chapter break, i had to take some time away from writing to focus on my mental health and personal life.

i hope you enjoy the rest of sunblossoms.