For some reason, all Pete wanted to do was cry; cry his frustration and anger away. It was quite peculiar that he enjoyed crying, and cried when he needed to, in private areas of course, mostly when he has time alone with Keith.
He found it to be the perfect stress reliever, the feeling of warm tears flow down his face at either a slow or fast pace. The emptiness of his mind making him feel calm in a tranquil state, the fatigue that would slowly lull himself to sleep, sometimes curled beside his significant other, Keith, while running his fingers through his boyfriend's hair, his arms wrapped around his waist, embracing his presence.
He would cry silently and cry until he would seize; he would refrain from whimpering and muttering. Sometimes he'd cry with Keith when they were both stressed, mostly when he would give Keith therapy to help with his anxiety and low self esteem.
He gazed at the blank sheet of paper on his desk once more, the dim light of the desk lamp revealing it to him vaguely. He felt his vision become blurry as hot tears trickled down his eyes, falling onto the sheet of paper.
His feeling of being miserable and frustrated solidified, as if the emotions were in his tears, leaving his mind as they abandoned his eyes. The paper was gradually becoming wet from his tears.
Pete lifted himself up from his desk chair and rummaged around the kitchen to find something to drink. Booze, he thought. What I need is booze, but only a little. I don't want to get drunk. He looked in one of his cabinets to find a bottle of booze. He grabbed ahold of the bottle, opened it, and had a swig.
YOU ARE READING
I Love You. I Really, Really Love You.
FanfictionWhile Pete Townshend suffers from stress and writer's block, an unexpected phone call from his significant other sparks an idea, along with a change in the way he sees things that surround him every day.
