The Noble Desire (Peterick)

.•°Two.•°

The media liked to display them as a supporting family that carried each other through thick and thin, but they were far from any type of contentment. Going to events and dinners or anywhere that required they be together were where the fake smiles were worn and meaningless words were spoken. At the end of the day, the joy dissipated, and the cold hearts emerged once again. He was starved of affection, physical affection and pure validation he craved almost constantly nowadays. He'd run into the first pair of arms that didn't reject his charm for a quick fix, wild night and raging hangover the very next morning because he needed to feel that someone wanted him even if their desire was masked by dollar signs and their lips were only ever hungry for the fame that dripped from his tongue.

That made him much more of a slut than any cheap hooker, but all the magazines ever called him was a bachelor. He hated the irony. The last he'd slept with a woman was less than a week ago, and if he really wanted to he could have had a girl every night, but it grew tiresome to have to cut ties with the desperate ones looking for permanence. Pete didn't do permanent or clingy or anyone who wanted anything more than a one-night stand. It was too dangerous to open himself up for something more when they were bound to crush his heart and stomp all over the remains because no one could truly love Pete, the Pete behind the whole royalty facade he'd been forced to put on since he was old enough to think for himself.

Everyone was in love with the material things about him, and he would be damned if he allowed for someone to tell him they loved him and never really mean it. Sometimes he wished he could leave this miserable life done up in glamour like golden-crest ribbons on a romanticized lie, so he could have a shot at something real. But what else did Pete have besides this? He'd never done anything with himself, never understood what he wanted in his future. His family had aimed to train him to be a royal and nothing else, and even then Pete seemed to fail at that task alone.

He was rich and adored and celebrated for simply being born into the right line of blood, so why wasn't he happy? What more could he want? Pete thought he was selfish for having things a majority of the world didn't have and still feeling like he didn't belong, like there was something he was missing. The prince stared at himself in the full-length mirror on his bedroom wall, adjusting the boutineer in his pocket square and tightening his pearl white bow tie, but he himself was encased in this emptiness he couldn't shake.

The attire Gerard had picked out for him earlier somehow made it seem as though he cared about being there with its crisp, ironed, old-fashioned appeal. If he was being honest, he didn't even know what the ball was for or why his parents had put so much effort into this night. Perhaps it had been disclosed to him at one time, but he must've been lost in a daydream or not cared at all to listen. His lips curved into a smile secretly laced in despair as he practiced how he'd greet the guests. The facial had done wonders for his skin, and he was practically glowing underneath the chandelier on the ceiling.

He reminded himself to thank Gerard later for partially saving his ass and morphing the bruises into faint marks that was easily concealed with a little foundation. Of course the publicity of the accident had to have put a damper on the event by now, but Pete believed if he worked his allure he could have everyone become putty in his hands by the end of the night. He heard a timid knock on the door, and a maid entered to tell him he was being summoned into the west courtyard. A gentle gust of cool wind blew past Pete whilst he went out into the enclosed area of well-kept greenery and quality marble statues created by the finest artists in the country. One lone figure was positioned with his back toward Pete and his arms crossed behind him, looking out at the roses fresh with droplets of water scattered across their healthy petals.

Pete noticed how the sun's dying rays, drowning from below the horizon, shined in long sharp strips over the flowers that seemed to dance in the dimming light. The person was dressed in his formal tux for the evening. His hair was smoothed back, a blanket of white snow upon his head. He turned around and stared Pete square in the eye in an attempt to intimidate him, but the king could never get through to his son so easily anymore.
"Do I even need to give you the whole 'we're disappointed in you' bit?" he spoke, "You could have been seriously hurt or worse."