Just Once - A Peterick Fic

Chapter 18

        Pete shut off the water, climbing out of the shower and grabbing two towels from a rack on the wall, throwing one to me and keeping one for himself. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him as he dried off, running the towel over his head in an almost aggressively fast gesture. God was he sexy after an orgasm.

        Looking away before he caught me again, I stepped out of the tub and unfolded the towel, beginning to dry myself off.

        When I'd walked in here this morning, I sure as hell didn't expect to find Pete still sitting in the bathtub like he said he was going to do last night when I went to bed. Had he slept at all? Maybe he was up for a bit, went to bed, then woke up before me...but he was still in his clothes from the night before.

        "Pete?" I asked, trying to keep the concern from my voice.

        "Yeah?" he answered, tying the towel around his waist and turning toward the mirror.

        "How much sleep did you get last night?" I said, trying once again to sound unconcerned and I'm not sure I was doing too well. Being pretty well dry for the most part, I too wrapped my towel around my waist, tying it near my right hip and resting my hand on the knot. I most definitely didn't want to sound like I was trying to be his mother, but I was a little worried.

        "I haven't been to bed yet," he told me as if it were nothing, as if he weren't sleep deprived, as he turned from the mirror and leaned back against the counter, meeting my gaze.

        "Maybe it would be a good idea to get some," I suggested softly, keeping my tone anything but commanding.

        "But I just 'got some' from you," he told me with a smirk like he thought he was clever and that comment was, I'll give him that.

        I allowed myself a small smile, shaking my head and hesitating a moment before responding. "That's not what I meant. Maybe you should get some sleep," I told him, hardening my tone just a fraction from last time.

        "I'm fine, I don't need sleep," he told me, his brows furrowing in confusion, barely visible anger bubbling just below the surface.

        "Pete, you're human. You need sleep." My tone was adamant this time, telling him this wasn't his choice although I had no way of forcing it. Maybe I'd just make him think I did and it would work.

        "You can't tell me what to do," he said, his tone even stronger than mine due to the anger within it. His eyes flared as he spoke, fists clenching the edge of the counter behind him.

        "I'm only doing this because I care about you; I'm worried, Pete," I told him, making an effort not to be angry with him. If I kept my cool, maybe he wouldn't become any angrier.

        "Whatever. I'm going to find something to do," he informed me, rushing out of the bathroom, throwing on some clothes that didn't match, and heading out the door, his hair still wet.

        His actions lately were worrying me beyond belief. He seemed happy, but he just wasn't himself and that was scary for everyone involved.

        I didn't normally look at anything Pete wrote until he explicitly told me to, but this time I didn't think a peek into that notebook he'd been writing in all night would hurt, or would at least help more than hurt. Sitting on the back of the toilet is where I found it, face down and shut with a pen stuck in the spiral that ran down the side, holding the scattered thoughts together.

        I picked it up and flipped it over, the red cover scratched and even missing a few chunks here and there. Did I really want to look in here? Pete wouldn't be happy with me, that was almost certain, but a peek into his mind at the moment wouldn't hurt and since he wouldn't talk to me, this would have to do.

        Decoding what he wrote to find what he actually meant would be the hard part, though.

        Hesitantly, I flipped the cover over to the first page only to find it blank. Dirty and torn in places, but blank. 

        The next page was the same, less worn, but lacking any writing what so ever.

        Every page was like that until I made it nearly to the end and found a page entirely covered in writing, without any space to mark another letter. His handwriting, let alone the cramped space made it incredibly difficult to read but I was able to make out some of it.

        I'm in the details with the devil

        So now the world can never get me on my level

        They scream when they look at me

         I'm a star

        Watch us until we blur

        Walk off into the sunset

        I'm on deck

        I'm up next

        Tonight I'm high as a private jet

        It's all over now before it has begun

        We've already won 

        At least that's what I think it said. Some words were written over or scribbled out, but that was my best guess. What I got out of those at first read was that he was mentally in a good place, or at least thought he was. He saw himself as perfectly fine, absolutely nothing wrong and that's what worried me the most.

 A/N: Yes, I know I spliced lyrics from several songs together. It's not meant as though Pete was writing a song; he was just writing several lines that don't necessarily belong together and if they're incorrect, it's because Patrick couldn't make out some of the letters and totally not because I looked them up online instead of putting forth the effort to look in the booklets sitting 5 feet from my computer.

Also, this is kinda late bc my life has been kinda hectic lately so my apologies.