Categories > Original > Romance
The Break-Up
0 reviewsSomething I wrote when sick and not in the best of moods. Rated for swearing and strong hints of drug abuse
0Unrated
“Pete... We need to talk.” Pete looked up from his sketchpad at these words, and smiled at Trick.
“Sure, babe, what’s up?” Trick sighed, and looked at the floor, scuffing the toe of his boots on the worn wood. He tried to start his sentence several times, not managing to get it out, to find the right phrasing for what he had to say. The two of them had been arguing a lot of late, and things had escalated to the stage where Pete had thrown an empty beer bottle at him, and it had smashed on his arm, leaving glass embedded. What was almost worse was that Pete had been so drunk he had no memory of the even the next day. They’d been through so much, but he couldn't deal with this. He knew he was worth more than this, he knew he deserved a better relationship, Shaana and Leia had shown him that. He needed to get out now, before things got worse.
“I... I can’t do this. I don’t love you. Not any more”
“No, please, we can work this out, I know we can...” His voice cut out when the reality of his words set in. This was it. This was the end. The end of everything, after all they’d been through. He didn't love him. Pete pulled Trick into one last kiss, trying to see if he could salvage anything, but it was no use. Trick stood, an emotionless look on his face, staring into Pete’s desperate, watery eyes, and at that moment, Pete knew he had lost his love forever.
“Did you ever love me, Trick? Did you love me or not? Come on, Answer me!!!” Pete yelled, and Trick said nothing, the same cold expression clear on his face.
“You know what? I gave you everything I had. I loved you in a way I've never loved anyone before. But I guess that means fuck all to you. So fuck you, Trick!” and with that, he snatched the coat off of the back of the chair, and shoved past Trick, storming out the door, and right into the path of one of the Order ,his golden mask gleaming in the light.
“Mr Lane, isn't it? You are needed in front of the Order; we wish to discuss something with you.” Pete cursed under his breath, and followed the man out towards the centre of the city, where they entered a large gilded hall, with a domed glass roof. This did not look good. Pete was lead inside, and made to stand in front of the Order, who were sat on raised chairs above the floor he was on. One of them stood up, addressing Pete with a look of contempt
“Ah, Mr Lane, you have arrived. We have brought you here to discuss your latest... lifestyle choice.” Pete raised an eyebrow, with a defiant look on his face, and lit up a cigarette to smoke.
“And which one would that be? I've got many vices; take your pick which one you want to lecture me about. I don’t care, I won’t be listening anyway.” And with that he blew smoke towards the man who was speaking, causing him to splutter, and attempt to wave the smoke away.
“It is not something you are doing; it is something you have stopped. You made a deal with us to keep supplying the city folk with... medication. You have not been doing this.”
“Yeah, because I've got clean. Not the best idea for someone who’s recovering to be around that stuff, is it?” Pete, for once, was speaking the truth. He hadn't slipped up once since they got home, he’d promised that he wouldn't, and he always tried his best to keep his promises to his friends. The man snorted with laughter, and looked down at him.
“You? Recover? That will last all of two minutes. You need it, to forget. We all know that” A look of shock crossed Petey’s face, and before he could say anything, the man sneered again.
“Oh yes, we know all about your... upbringing. We know everything about you. In fact, there is someone here who knows more than anyone else... Sebastian, why don’t you stand up and show yourself?” A look of horror crossed Pete’s face as the figure of his nightmares stood up, and removed his mask. His brother was here, right in front of his eyes, and he remembered. He knew every single thing that he had inflicted on his little brother, and he didn’t even care. His brain struggled with what to do, part of him screaming to run, the other part rooting him to the spot.
“Hello, brother. I knew it was only a matter of time until I saw you again...” a predatory smile crossed his features as he descended the stairs, and walked towards his brother. He placed an arm on Pete’s shoulder, and whispered in his ear
“Are you going to be a good boy now, or am I going to have to make you?” Those words made Pete’s insides shrink, as he stared at the ground. Sebastian walked away, and announced to the rest of the Order that Mr Lane had decided to see reason, and was to be given medication to calm him before he was to be allowed home. Pete knew exactly what this meant, they were going to get him back onto drugs, if it was the last thing they did. Two large men took both of his arms and led him away to a small back room, where a nurse was waiting.
After they were done with him, Pete part stumbled, part dragged himself back to his apartment, collapsing on his bed, and looking over at the picture next to his bed. It was a sketch he had done of himself and Trick from his favourite picture of them. Their arms were over each other’s shoulders as they looked into their eyes, wide grins on their faces. The picture sickened him to look at now, knowing he would never get Trick back. He lazily shoved the frame to the floor, not caring as the glass shattered, and let the comforting blackness overtake him again.
“Sure, babe, what’s up?” Trick sighed, and looked at the floor, scuffing the toe of his boots on the worn wood. He tried to start his sentence several times, not managing to get it out, to find the right phrasing for what he had to say. The two of them had been arguing a lot of late, and things had escalated to the stage where Pete had thrown an empty beer bottle at him, and it had smashed on his arm, leaving glass embedded. What was almost worse was that Pete had been so drunk he had no memory of the even the next day. They’d been through so much, but he couldn't deal with this. He knew he was worth more than this, he knew he deserved a better relationship, Shaana and Leia had shown him that. He needed to get out now, before things got worse.
“I... I can’t do this. I don’t love you. Not any more”
“No, please, we can work this out, I know we can...” His voice cut out when the reality of his words set in. This was it. This was the end. The end of everything, after all they’d been through. He didn't love him. Pete pulled Trick into one last kiss, trying to see if he could salvage anything, but it was no use. Trick stood, an emotionless look on his face, staring into Pete’s desperate, watery eyes, and at that moment, Pete knew he had lost his love forever.
“Did you ever love me, Trick? Did you love me or not? Come on, Answer me!!!” Pete yelled, and Trick said nothing, the same cold expression clear on his face.
“You know what? I gave you everything I had. I loved you in a way I've never loved anyone before. But I guess that means fuck all to you. So fuck you, Trick!” and with that, he snatched the coat off of the back of the chair, and shoved past Trick, storming out the door, and right into the path of one of the Order ,his golden mask gleaming in the light.
“Mr Lane, isn't it? You are needed in front of the Order; we wish to discuss something with you.” Pete cursed under his breath, and followed the man out towards the centre of the city, where they entered a large gilded hall, with a domed glass roof. This did not look good. Pete was lead inside, and made to stand in front of the Order, who were sat on raised chairs above the floor he was on. One of them stood up, addressing Pete with a look of contempt
“Ah, Mr Lane, you have arrived. We have brought you here to discuss your latest... lifestyle choice.” Pete raised an eyebrow, with a defiant look on his face, and lit up a cigarette to smoke.
“And which one would that be? I've got many vices; take your pick which one you want to lecture me about. I don’t care, I won’t be listening anyway.” And with that he blew smoke towards the man who was speaking, causing him to splutter, and attempt to wave the smoke away.
“It is not something you are doing; it is something you have stopped. You made a deal with us to keep supplying the city folk with... medication. You have not been doing this.”
“Yeah, because I've got clean. Not the best idea for someone who’s recovering to be around that stuff, is it?” Pete, for once, was speaking the truth. He hadn't slipped up once since they got home, he’d promised that he wouldn't, and he always tried his best to keep his promises to his friends. The man snorted with laughter, and looked down at him.
“You? Recover? That will last all of two minutes. You need it, to forget. We all know that” A look of shock crossed Petey’s face, and before he could say anything, the man sneered again.
“Oh yes, we know all about your... upbringing. We know everything about you. In fact, there is someone here who knows more than anyone else... Sebastian, why don’t you stand up and show yourself?” A look of horror crossed Pete’s face as the figure of his nightmares stood up, and removed his mask. His brother was here, right in front of his eyes, and he remembered. He knew every single thing that he had inflicted on his little brother, and he didn’t even care. His brain struggled with what to do, part of him screaming to run, the other part rooting him to the spot.
“Hello, brother. I knew it was only a matter of time until I saw you again...” a predatory smile crossed his features as he descended the stairs, and walked towards his brother. He placed an arm on Pete’s shoulder, and whispered in his ear
“Are you going to be a good boy now, or am I going to have to make you?” Those words made Pete’s insides shrink, as he stared at the ground. Sebastian walked away, and announced to the rest of the Order that Mr Lane had decided to see reason, and was to be given medication to calm him before he was to be allowed home. Pete knew exactly what this meant, they were going to get him back onto drugs, if it was the last thing they did. Two large men took both of his arms and led him away to a small back room, where a nurse was waiting.
After they were done with him, Pete part stumbled, part dragged himself back to his apartment, collapsing on his bed, and looking over at the picture next to his bed. It was a sketch he had done of himself and Trick from his favourite picture of them. Their arms were over each other’s shoulders as they looked into their eyes, wide grins on their faces. The picture sickened him to look at now, knowing he would never get Trick back. He lazily shoved the frame to the floor, not caring as the glass shattered, and let the comforting blackness overtake him again.
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