Pete x Reader - Goths and Conformists...

Poems of Pain

Hey all you wonderful readers! 

I'm back with another Pete x Reader chapter, though I'm unfortunately still on my vacation; I've aimed to post as much as possible for you guys, please enjoy and don't forget to comment! Thanks everyone! 

Angel, over and out! 

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Reader's P.O.V 

" How does this look to you?" I asked my voice monotone as I slowly turned a circle. I had gone to the mall and brought some Gothic clothing, as well as makeup in order to impress the goths and for them to accept me as a loyal member of their group. Currently wearing a Gothic dress that hugged my upper body, flaring out from my waist to an inch above my knees; lace, finger-less gloves; panther black nail polish; pale white makeup; pitch black lipstick; smokey eye shadow with liquid liner; heavy, leather ,black, buckle cargo boots; a black belt fastened around my waist with multiple chains dangling from it's slightly thick, slender body; skull clips decorating my hair and black and white, striped, thigh high socks, I seemed to have impressed the goths after seeing an amused expression cross their faces. " The chains reflect on how I suffered through torment, held captive within it as I unwillingly tolerated unbearable pain, living the life of a conformist. The skulls reflect on how I died in a dark abyss, my body slowly disintegrating as my wondering soul remained, still bearing the pain and suffering through my recorded memories. I forever drown in my own, sorrow, pain and tears; crying mournfully, with only the echoing sound of my weeping to keep me company." further impressing them with my speech, they let me through the gate, my buckles and chains jingling as I walked past their figures.

" I'm impressed...it seems we have a poet in here..." Henrietta announced, a smirk making its way upon her lips, smothered with black lipstick as well. 

" Thanks..." I thanked my voice, emotionless as I sank into a bed of cushions. 

" Why don't we show the newbie where we write our poem? It seems to be about the perfect weather for a poetic session." Pete suggested as I raised an eyebrow, my lips never moving from the straight line they have been firmly placed themselves into. 

" Where would that be exactly?" I asked, standing up with the help of Pete. 

" Oh you'll see..."

~ Time skip to...~ 

" The cemetery?" I asked, looking around, attempting to familiarize myself with the area standing before me, " Um...wouldn't someone catch us here?" giving a look of slight insecurity and discomfort, I seated myself upon a grave stone, staring up at the goths as I laid my new notebook over my lap, securing it in place with the weight of my hands. 

" It's an abandoned cemetery...no one will notice us here." Henrietta reasoned, getting comfortable within a patch of brown, dying grass. 

" Though...the weather..." I pointed out. It was quite misty and cold, fresh snow elegantly falling from the sky and lading upon anything bellow them, instantly liquefying and dampening it's new found host. 

" Like I said...perfect weather..." Pete repeated as I sighed. 

" Alright, so you write poems here? Nice, I could definitely gather some inspiration." I muttered to myself as Micheal, Pete and Firkle made themselves comfortable, scattering themselves around the wide space, quickly getting to work on their poems. Opening up my notebook, I aimed to create a poem to suit their interest but only ended in failure as the snow sank into the pages of my book, dampening the paper and enabling me in writing anything down with my black Biro. Heaving a heavy sigh of frustration, I thought of the poem at the top of my head, my eyes shut as I breathed in the cool misty air only to smoke warm breath, showing as vapor before my lips. Opening my eyes, I was met with the sight of all the goths before me, staring up at my frame, their faces expressionless; half lidded eyes and straight lines in the form of lips for mouths. 

" We're finished, are you done yet (Y/N)?" Frikle asked as I gave a quick nod, " Then let's recite them...who's first?" Looking around, I found Henrietta's hand lazily point itself to the sky.

" I'll go first." getting off the grave stone I plopped myself down on the floor beside it, catching a snowflake at the palm of my hand as Henrietta stood before us. 

" I drown in a dark and lonely place with pain, immense pain coursing through my body, filling my lungs; contaminating them with poison. I scream for help, reaching out for those who aren't enduring the sufferings I go through...though I couldn't feel as much as a feather touch my fingertips. A fearsome horror engulfed my soul, shrouding my form in darkness as I forever scream in terror of the pain that tortures me." clapping at her poetic poem of pain, everyone had their turn at presenting their literature until it was finally my turn to perform my poem.                        

" I call this poem Life of a Conformist: 

 

You with your painful torment,

You with your hurtful words, 

You with your harshness, piercing my heart like shattered glass upon delicate, porecaline skin, 

You with your hateful emotions; 

torturing me with agonizing pain. 

Pain is my friend now, 

it is all that is with me through my time of loneliness,

it is what allows me to now that I am still alive and though I love it...I hate it,

sometimes I wonder what pain you go through, 

is it good or is it bad? 

I shall never know though can you tell...

how can you live such a life, a life with that delivers such pain to those with weak hearts, 

The life of a Conformist..." 

With a round of applause, I held back a smile. I finally found a place of where I belong, a place where I can share my pain with people that understand and share it with me so as I don't have to deal with the situation on my own. It feels...nice.   

" That was great...we should do more...though it's time to go now before the dark creeps upon us." Micheal stated as I nodded, making my way home but was held back, a hand holding a firm grip around my wrist. Turning around, I found Pete, his beautiful, mysterious eyes boring into my own, staring into my very soul.  

" Pete...what is it?" I asked. 

" I'll walk you home." he declared, flipping his hair as the scent of a robust yet sweet masculine scent tickled my sense of smell, tingling for more of it's addicting aroma. After relishing the sensational fragrance, I found myself free of Pete's hold with Pete himself behind my, leaning against the gate, patiently waiting for my form to follow. Hiding a blush of embarrassment by fixing my gaze to the earth bellow me, I shuffled over to Pete and walked with him back to my house. 

" Thanks for walking me home Pete..." I thanked, breaking the silence that had stood between us. 

" You're welcome..." was his simple response, providing the silence complete access to walk between us all over again. It wasn't that much of an awkward silence, just a slightly uncomfortable one...alright so I guess it was awkward. Though, thankfully my house wasn't too far and I soon found myself exchanging goodbyes with Pete. 

" I'll see you tomorrow...be sure to write more poems tonight...I quite like them.." he complemented as I smiled faintly at his figure walking away. He might be goth and monotone but I can still see a little human in him... 

" See you Pete..." I whispered, entering the house.