Peter Criss #8

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You sat down at a table on the balcony of your hotel room, eating a late meal you received from ordering room service.

The air was cool outside. A gentle breeze greeted you, blowing your (h/c) hair. You smiled.

It was nice to have some time by yourself. For the past couple of days, the boys requested your assistance nonstop. Sometimes you wondered if they were just doing that to get your attention. Other times they actually did needed help, although earlier today Ace said only to suggest he and you take pictures of sights and all.

Leave it to Ace to do that.

You took a sip of your favorite drink, then looked up in time to see someone step out into the balcony next to yours. It was Peter, whose room was next door. You watched him lean against the railing and stare off into the distance. That's when you decided to speak. "Hey, Peter. I thought you went to bed."

Startled, he looked over at you only to shake his head afterwards. "No. I couldn't sleep."

"Oh," you said. "I guess the Catman couldn't take a catnap, huh?"

"Very funny, Y/N," he said. But he was smiling or at least that's what you thought. It was hard to tell in the darkness from his balcony.

"Come join me." The words came right out of your mouth. Nonetheless you wanted him to join you. Out of all the four, you liked Peter's company the most, though you love the others equally. There was just something about the drummer. You didn't know what it was.

Maybe it was because of his soothing presence. Or perhaps it was because he's always there when you needed him. He offered a shoulder for you to cry on, lifted your spirits, gave you encouragement whenever you needed it. Peter was the best. You couldn't ask for anyone better because he was better.

So that's why you wanted to be around him tonight.

After a minute or two passed, there was a knock on your hotel door.

"It's open!" you yelled, remembering you forgot to lock it. Peter walked in, closing it behind him before meeting you on the balcony a few seconds later. "Hi."

"Hi." He took a seat across from you. "Late dinner?"

"Yeah. I got hungry." You shrugged. "Do you want anything?"

"No, I'm good. But thanks." Peter smiled.

You returned to your food. "It's nice out here. I can be out here all day and night."

"But we both know you can't do that, Y/N," the drummer said, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

"I know. All of you want my attention, it seems. Especially Paul."

"Honestly I think he does it because he likes you."

You hummed a bit. "I like him, too, but as a friend. And it's going to stay that way . . . because I like someone else."

"Yeah? Who's that?"

Peter's question caught you off guard. You looked up at him, then hesitated. "Just someone," you said finally.

"Now you're making me curious."

"Oh, forget what I said, Peter." You leaned back in your chair. "It's weird."

"What is?"

"The way I ended up. I mean, first I had a boring job for a couple of years and then somehow I . . . transferred to being a wardrobe assistant for a famous rock band. It's just crazy. I can't believe I work for you guys."

You paused, then shook your head. "I go from a normal life to a wild life that requires a lot of traveling. Now don't get me wrong, I love all the sights and everything but it's just different than what I was used to. You know?"

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