Wishes In The Dark - A Peterick Fanfiction

Twenty Five

I blink.

I blink again.

I blink once more, to make sure what's happening is real.

Pete had drugs. Pete had drugs. Pete had drugs and he didn't tell me.

"Those packets you saw were packets of speed," Andrew says after a long pause. "Pete's speed."

He had packets of speed...

"I've been hiding them under my bed," Pete says, his voice cracking several times.

I look down at him; he looks up at me. Tears are in his eyes and some are starting to roll down his cheeks.

"That's what I've been doing when I say I need to 'do something'. I've been taking speed, Patrick. I'm an addict. I'm a fucking addict and I don't deserve you."

He buries his head in his hands again and starts to sob.

I want to reach out and comfort him, but a) I can't seem to move, just like when Kevin died, b) I don't know how to comfort him, and c) I'm hurt. I'm hurt by what I'm hearing. I don't know what I'm more hurt by: the fact that Pete's been taking drugs, or the fact that he didn't tell me. But then again, would I tell him if it were me?

"Why'd you take them?" Pete asks eventually, glaring at his brother.

"She wanted more," Andrew replies.

"Why? Why now?"

"Shit, I don't know. She just asked me for more than usual all of a sudden. Maybe she's started supplying for someone else, I don't know."

"Who...who is she?" I ask, so quiet it's almost a whisper.

Andrew sighs. "Chelsea."

Chelsea...

"Andrew's dirty drug whore," Pete snaps bitterly.

Andrew looks ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry, little brother..."

Pete stands up, wipes his eyes and is about to walk past Andrew, but he stops and growls, "You are not my brother."

He starts towards the door of the apartment.

"W-where are you going?" asks Andrew.

"To find Chelsea," Pete replies. "I need that stuff."

Andrew rushes over to Pete and grabs his arm. "Pete, you can't!" he exclaims. "You're gonna go cold turkey soon – you need to stay here!"

"I don't want to stay here!" Pete cries, shaking his arm away from Andrew's grip. "I need my drugs! I need them!"

Pete hugs himself and starts to have a breakdown. Andrew grabs his shoulders and starts leading him away, Pete crying and screaming in protest. Seeing Pete cry makes me want to cry too...I can't stand seeing him like this. Much to Pete's distress, Andrew pushes him into the bathroom and slams the door, pulling a chair over and fixing it to the door handle to block the door. I approach the bathroom.

"Leave him for today," Andrew tells me strictly through the sounds of fists colliding with wood. "Don't let him out of there. I'll go to Chelsea and try to fix this. Don't call me and don't be worried if I take a long time. You got that?"

I nod. "Will he be okay?"

"Not for a day or two," Andrew sighs. "But I know he'd want to recover for you."

With that, he picks up his bag and leaves the apartment.

------

This waiting is hideous.

I've been alone in the lounge, watching stuff on the TV that I'm not even interested in, for hours now. Pete's crying and door punching died down about five minutes after Andrew left to go to Chelsea. Whether or not it's a good idea that Andrew went to her, I'm not sure. But all I want is for Pete to recover. He needs to get better. For me, for his friends, but most importantly, for himself.

I can't stand waiting for Andrew to get back. It's unhappy and very unsettling. When he gets back, will he have fixed this? Will he have Pete's drugs so he can continue feeding his addiction? Will he return empty-handed so Pete will have to suffer without his drugs? Will he even return at all? All these questions, and no answers. No answers until Andrew gets back.

But for now, I have to wait. On my own. While Pete suffers on his own in the bathroom.