Peter Criss #10

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Tonight was one of those nights. You were going to have some me time, meaning the night was going to be all about you.

The moment of relaxation you decided upon was a little self-care routine. You had all the necessary items to do it, and now all you had to do was actually start it.

However, you were unable to. Why? Because the telephone rang.

And even though you didn't like it, you went to the kitchen to answer the phone anyway. "Hello?"

"Y/N, we've tried everything." It was Ace. "But nothing worked. Can you come over here?"

You furrowed your brow, confused. What Ace said didn't make any sense. "What?"

There was a moment of silence, then whispering. Finally someone spoke up and this time it was Paul. "Hey, Y/N. Can you come to the studio?"

"Now?" You glanced at the clock on the wall. "It's nearly nine."

"Yeah, it's going to be a long night here."

"Why do you want me to come?" you inquired. "Is something wrong?"

"We're supposed to be working on our album but Peter doesn't want to participate."

"You're kidding."

"Y/N, if I was kidding, I wouldn't be talking to you right now." He paused. "Can you please come?"

"Why me?" you questioned.

"Well like Ace said, we've tried everything but Peter keeps refusing to do anything. He's just sitting down, staring at his drumsticks. We figured that maybe you could come and talk to him. He's not talking to us at all."

You frowned, not liking Paul's explanation. You didn't like the fact that Peter was in a bad mood or whatever it was. Plus, you couldn't spend some me time either, which was disappointing.

"Just when I was about to have some me time," you mumbled.

"Your what time?" Paul asked.

"Nothing. Do you want me to come now or . . ."

"Yes," he answered. "Please."

"Okay," you said with a sigh. "I'll be there soon."

After saying goodbye, you hung up. Then you went to your room to get dressed.

On the way to the studio, you thought about what could possibly be wrong with Peter. There were probably a lot of reasons but which was the correct one, you didn't know. You figured that maybe he was just having a bad day or something. That could be it.

Finally you reached the studio and parked your car. Then you got out before making way to the building.

The band was, indeed, there when you arrived. Paul was sitting down, tapping his foot and looking tired. Ace was tuning his guitar but looked up and smiled when you came in. As for Gene, he was standing nearby with a irritated expression, though it changed once you arrived.

"All right, where is he?" you asked.

Gene gestured toward the left, where Peter was sitting down and staring at his drumsticks, just like Paul had said.

You walked toward him. "Peter?"

He looked up at the sound of your voice. His eyes gleamed but held a look of tiredness.

"What's wrong?" You sat down next to him.

"Everything," he murmured, resting his head against yours. He then proceeded to talk about his day. "Something was wrong with my car so I had to take it to the shop this morning. Then I had to go somewhere for something but there was a mix-up and I had to stay there for about an hour. There's more to it but that's nothing."

You stayed silent.

"I didn't have to go to the studio until later so when I got home, I received two phone calls. Neither of them had any good news." He sighed. "One of them came from a restaurant to inform me about a reservation problem, which didn't make any sense but it happened. The other one came from a store saying that they couldn't hold something for me, which also didn't make sense but . . ."

Silence.

"Yeah. That's it. There's a whole lot more that happened, but I can't tell you more than what I've said." Peter sighed again. "And to make things worse, I just broke one of my drumsticks."

You glanced downward to find a drumstick broken in two. This caused you to frown. "Aw, Peter, I'm sorry. Today wasn't a good day for you, was it?"

"No."

You moved your head to kiss his temple. "I'm sorry."

"And now everyone expects me to participate," he said. "But I can't do this, Y/N. Not tonight. My future plans had been ruined."

Those specific words made you curious. "What kind of future plans?"

Peter hesitated, then shook his head. "I can't tell you. But now I have to do it another time. So knowing this, I can't . . . I can't focus."

He was having it bad, you realized. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Do you think you could do this tomorrow?"

The drummer shrugged. "I might. But we need to complete this album and time is ticking."

You thought for a second. Then you got up and walked to the other three, who were standing and talking to each other quietly. "Hey."

They looked at you.

"Hey," Paul greeted. "What did he say?"

"I don't think he's going to participate," you replied. "He's not in a good mood."

"Well if he's not going to do it," Gene started, "then I don't see the point in doing anything. I think it's best if we all go home and work on the album tomorrow."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Ace said. "For some reason I'm having trouble tuning my guitar."

You raised your eyebrows at him, and he smiled. Shaking your head, you went back to Peter to inform him what the others decided to do.

"You're working on the album tomorrow, though," you said.

"That's fine with me." He stood up and sighed. "Can you drive me home?"

"Sure."

But while driving him home, curiosity got the best of you. The fact that Peter had been planning something stayed in your mind. "What exactly was your future plans?"

"I can't tell you," Peter said. "Remember?"

"You can't give me a hint?"

"No."

You hummed a bit, making a right turn. "Is it really that important?"

"Very important," he murmured. And without your knowledge, he took out a small black box from his pocket. It was the only good thing that came out of his day, but he couldn't do anything with it. Not yet. The day had to be special.

So with that in mind, he opened the box to take a peek.

It was a diamond ring.

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