The Lovers - Pete Davidson {FINISHED}

TwEnTy-EighT*

(edited)

cruel youth - hatefuck

p's pov

11:30 PM. Starry skies blocked by heavy clouds that held no tears. A moon blocked but still desperately seeking to be seen. And a man with so much remorse he drank his sorrows away and fucked anything that gave him attention.

Her lips were as soft as a starry night on a farm right out of a painting circa the 1800s. But they weren't hers. No matter how much her hands sculpted around my torso morphing me into whatever she wanted me for; I knew the difference. It wasn't loving and ruthful it was lust and pitiful. Every time her blonde flew around her touching the skin of my chest I knew it was a different shade. It wasn't her.

She left you. Just accept it. The voices screamed in my mind but I wouldn't listen. They weren't right. This whole thing wasn't right.

She left without a word, without a goodbye, without anything. Everybody told me it was for the best, "She was dragging you down, no good for you. You weren't going anywhere with her." Fuck them. 

No matter how many sips I took from this glass it seemed to be never-ending. Being filled over and over again without notice as bodies moved like blurs in front of my vision. Warmth was all over my body no matter how much the air fought against the feeling of blowing cold all over. A chemical mixture swirled into my bloodstream as my mind fogs over anything important. 

"Pete?" Foreign. Distasteful. "Come on, I'm bored." A blood-cold hand grabs mine tugging on me to follow the ghost to the Hell that awaited me. A Hell that was frozen over with no way of direction and empty cities with hopeless dreams.

The brick wall meets my back as a stray hand entangles its way into my hair as a sloppy mess is planted onto my neck. Amore? No. It's a ghost. This is cheating, it's wrong.

"No, stop." Slurred words fall out as I push the ghostly figure off of me but I still see blonde hair. To my left, another blonde. It was everywhere as if she herself was haunting me. The hands reach back linking against my wrist and pulling me back.

"Pete. You promised me." Brunette hair. Blue eyes. So close but so far off. "You don't want to make my dad mad, do you?" Her hair twirls in between her fingers as she smirked but the words made no sense to my mind at the moment. All I needed to do was sleep.

Sleep. That sounded so beautiful, almost as beautiful as the woman that had left me. I had to get her back somehow. These two weeks without her have been so dreadful.. and yet for some reason I don't know why I had waited so long. I should've gone back the second those elevator doors closed, ran down the stairs before she got off, grabbed her soft gentle hands, and run off. But no, I stood there like a big idiot lost in his own damn mind.

I was so sick and tired of living like this. Filled with so much regret that could've been all prevented. If I had just listened to myself and not anyone else. I had to get my Ara back. 

"Your favorite boy is back!" A small voice yells out gaining the attention of the strangers. Some cheered, too blacked out to even know who he was whilst others just ignored him. He passes by through the crowd greeting a person here and there before he made his way to where we all sat. We.

Henry. Sara. Jeffrey. Eli. Some random girls. Me. And now James.

"How was Chicago?" Eli brings a whiskey up to his lips as he eyes James watching his body language. Something was off.

"Fine. Snowy, drugs everywhere, the usual." He shrugs sinking into the chair that was next to mine. My groggy brain turned over to him raking his body language as well. Playing with the rings on his fingers, bouncing his leg, hair that was so unruly from his hands running through it so much, and not to mention the bleeding lip from constant biting. His eyes meet mine and they seem to soften a little before a front came back to it.