It's not that sad. Brace yourself though. The story is ending. In like three chapters.
One very long, very tiring, and drawn out week.
Every night my eyes would drift over the small space between the two twin beds to either find Pete missing or his back turned. It was worse the night I found my ring missing from where I had placed it on the night stand. I had assumed he had taken it back. Being that I had really had nowhere else to go, I stayed there, sleeping in and just sitting up in his room, watching TV and the occasional uncrustable that his mom would bring me.
She understood to leave me be.
It was just another day.
The door creaked open slowly, the time being somewhere close to midnight. I never doubted that Pete was up to something, but the later the nights became; the more I felt he really was trying to replace me with some feeble whore. I sighed and rolled over on my side, watching him as he crossed the room and carefully shed his clothes, looking tired as he sat on the edge of his bed, back to me.
Honestly, I really wanted to say something, just to hear the sound of my own voice and to hear what he would say. I closed my eyes and shivered. Without me knowing it, Pete looked over and a soft sigh came from him as more rustling occurred. His hand met my shoulder and I felt the Goosebumps rising, trying to fake my sleep. He ran his hand down my arm slowly, driving me a bit crazy.
"God," he whispered.
I shivered again and his hand moved to my sheets, bringing it up to cover my shoulders. I nearly opened my eyes as I felt his lips on my forehead and then cheek, waiting for him to kiss my lips. Instead Pete left my side and as I opened my eyes, I found him climbing into his own bed, body slow with sleep breaking in. He rolled over to face me, and yet his eyes didn't hold shock when we locked eyes. I offered a faint smile in which he lowered his eyes and rolled over.
My heart sunk.
I had one more week. One more bloody freaking week to try and resolve whatever was happening between Pete and I or else this summer tour would leave us broken by the time he came home. Things wouldn't be able to be fixed by then. Just one week before I lost that emotionally challenged boy and I wasn't letting that happen.
I stood in the bathroom, looking in mirror at my pale disposition. Opening my mouth, I examined my throat, finding it red.
"Fuck," I hissed, glancing down and into my makeup bag, trying to find my cold medicine.
Not finding it, I wandered back into the dark bedroom and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. It read 4am. Pete rolled over on his bed and groaned lightly. I sighed and stepped back over to my bed, sitting on the edge of it and began to cough violently for about a minute. Pete rustled a bit and sat up in bed slowly, his eyes curious as he looked over at me.
"Ev?" his voice sounded concerned.
I didn't know what to think or say, but maybe that was because I was busy hacking up whatever was tickling my throat. Pete pushed back his comforter, crossing the small space and sitting close to me, lightly patting my back in a horrible attempt to help me. I let out a pained groan and tightened my eyes shut.
"Stop," I wheezed. His hand fell to my back and instead rubbed soft circles.
"Do you," he paused. He always talked in broken sentences when it was awkward between us. "Need your inhaler?" I shook my head and opened my eyes to stare at our dangling feet thrown over the edge of the bed.
"No," I whispered and raised my hand to lightly push him away. I was feeling resentful. He frowned and moved his arm away.
"Come on Ev, don't be like this," I turned my head and peered at him in the darkness. He had a pout and I swallowed, it hurting my throat.
"Just," I looked away again, Pete's hand rising to catch my chin. His fingers brought my face back and he tried to catch my eyes. I looked over his shoulder.
"Look at me," I shook my head and pushed him more forcefully away.
"I'm going downstairs," Pete watched me go. I took every step slowly, not wanting to wake his parents. But my coughing did.
Mama Wentz peeked her head out.
"You ok, darling?" I forced a small smile.
"I'm just going to go sleep on the couch," I mumbled, coughing some more. She glanced up towards Pete's room.
"Oh that pest, I swear he doesn't know how to treat a lady," I hushed her.
"It's alright, I'll be fine," my voice started to drift. She frowned.
"You're losing your voice honey," I shook my head.
"Good night," I whispered, walking down the rest of the stairs. Hemingway silently followed me, being the only dog awake still.
Even Pete's dog liked me more than him.
"Hey buddy," I wheezed. I really was losing my voice. The stairs squeaked and I glanced over to see Pete's silhouette at the base of the stairs, trying to stay hidden.
"Yeah, I wish I could marry you too," Hemmingway licked my hand and crawled higher on my lap. "It'd be just like marrying Pete, only better," Pete pulled a face and I forced back a smile. "I'm sure you taste like him, only sweeter," Hemmingway jumped up and licked at my face. I winced. "Maybe not,"
I heard a soft laugh and looked over.
Pete gasped and I slowly looked down before patting Hemmingway's head and standing up and climbing over the fence to the living room. I rubbed my bare arms and shivered as I sat on the couch. It indented and I still saw Pete staring at me from the staircase. I slowly lied down and rolled over onto my back. I shivered some more and hugged my arms, rolling over to face the back of the sofa and brought my knees up slightly. I heard the soft sigh Pete let escape his lips. There were a few moments of silence before his soft hands met my shoulders and a blanket was placed over me.
"Didn't you know that there's an afghan over the couch?" I fluttered my eyes open and slightly turned my head to look at him.
"I guess not," I whispered. Pete smiled and moved me so he could lie next to me on the small space we had. His bare chest met the space of my back that my cami didn't cover. "Pete," I whispered. He hummed into the back of my head.
"You shouldn't stress your throat, Ev," I pursed my lips together.
"Don't you want some blanket?" I asked softly, moving my arms so I could cover him up. He shook his head.
"You need it more than me," I sat up and waited for Pete to do so as well. He pouted and got up to leave. I tugged on his wrist and sat him down.
"Lie down," I whispered, waiting for him to do so, leaned up against the back of the couch. Pete watched with intent eyes as I lied down next to him, my back against his chest. I lifted the blanket over us and cuddled up to him.
"Evie," he mumbled. I hummed and peered to my right to find his arm there. I lightly began tracing the tattoos and sighed as his breathing slowed.
"I don't like to be alone," My voice let it out, but it was softening.
I lost my voice at that point.
Pete's arm wrapped around my waist and my back pressed up against his chest a little harder.
"I muv oo,"
I furrowed my eyebrows for a minute, trying to decipher what he was saying. It hit me and I moved my finger on his arm. I traced the letters and felt his smile on the back of my neck. I yawned deeply and closed my eyes, feeling content with the first day passing by. Maybe I didn't need the rest of the week, but I still had to brace myself for the record release.