CAPTURED BEAUTY (Peter Steele x Reader)

NINETEEN: Unraveling

Peter quietly tends to his wounds in the dead of night, not caving into sleep as he had once been used to. This time, there are no aches and bruises on his forehead from bashing them into walls or scrapes on his knuckles that ghosted his skin for weeks. A deep yearning sets him to pace in his basement, wondering what the fuck went wrong. Josh watches him as he does this. Pete can't even glance at them as he's trying his hardest not to call his dealer.

"Listen, none of us knew she left. No calls or nothing." Josh pipes up after what felt like an eternity in a cesspool of tense silence. In the late hours, he was the one to always show up.

"I haven't been able to reach her. I feel like shit about it." Peter huffs and plops on the couch across from him. "Drugs made me feel like shit. No drugs make me feel like shit. Everything is just—"

"Shit?" Josh asks before adding, "Yeah, I know."

"I can't let her go, man. I...gotta make things right," Peter sighs, "I really fucked up."

"You did. Everyone's got their moments, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

Between the two lifelong friends was the tape that Peter found a few days ago. It still remains unknown to what the contents were and Peter stares at it as if he were trying to dissect it and put it back together. Josh on the other hand keeps his gaze set on Peter, wondering what the plan was going to be. There was always a plan. Even on the late nights they'd meet up to shoot the shit on day to day struggles of life or concocting another depression brewery of songs needing producing. Josh knew he hadn't lost his friend even with this drug scare. Yet, the reality of the waves caused by it still rippled and shook the trust of many; the record label didn't give a damn, the fans were greatly upset, the contract was still ongoing and the personal issues.

"What if the cassette is just an old tape she had and tossed out?" Josh reaches over to grab the tape and flips it about. It didn't look damaged. It still had that glossy look to it. "Or maybe it's blank."

"Could be either of those things but when I took out the trash I just noticed it. Want to say it's because of the box that had her name on it that caught my attention." Pete shrugs, sitting back on the couch to stare up at the ceiling. "Maybe I should just check myself back in and not come back out."

"Doesn't hurt to at least listen to it, right? Can't be anything too bad."

Peter, afraid on what's on the tape shakes his head. "No. Not yet. I can't right now."

"Why not?"

"Because what if it's nothing? It's nothing and I burst into that door for fuckin' nothing."

"Uhh, well ... at least you did something? Best to find out and look than not look at all." Josh says, rising to his feet and Peter does the same.

"Wonderful quote, Mr. Twain." Pete drawls sarcastically, "You sound like those damned posters hanging on those office walls. Maybe I'll check you in instead and have your cell covered in those things."

"I'd kill myself before I'd let you do that." Josh smiles, only the slightest as he ends up at the front door. "You wanna head into town for a bit. Get out of your dungeon and whatever?"

"Might as well." Peter nods, already shrugging on his green coat as he stuffed the cassette in his pocket.

—————

Josh and Peter squeeze themselves in the welcoming establishment of L'Amour. It isn't hard for Peter to get noticed by the regulars. The thought of attention on him usually made his shoulders tense but these people knew him since forever. It wasn't fake smiles and jokes flying into the ether with no reply. There's no kiss ass attitudes but decent people through the workforce or just the common family friends. That was something that put him at ease.