CAPTURED BEAUTY (Peter Steele x Reader)

TEN: Cautionary Tale

The date of your father's diagnosis was one that you couldn't forget.

"Daddy is sick.''

Your mother was puffy and teary eyed. She was doubled over on the bathroom floor by the devastating news. At the time, you didn't understand. No eight year old girl does. You hated seeing your mother sad and with the heaviness in the air, it made you feel like you were walking through some invisible fog.

One morning, your father hadn't woken you up for those early photos the two of you would trek out for birds.

"He'll get better, right? Cause when I'm sick, I get better! That means daddy will too.''

You can distinctly remember seeing her glazed eyes remain on the bathroom floor. She swallows another sob and sniffles, trying to explain the news.

"He's doing his best to get better, honey.''

That really was the only response you had ever gotten from her that day.

To cope with your dad's countless back to back hospital visits, you would look through his binders of polaroids while your aunt watched you. It's something that you would get lost in for hours on end. Ever since his sickness, the camera was collecting dust on his bookshelf not ever seeing the outside world.

Many captured birds of all kinds mid-flight. Some sat on snow sprinkled branches while others pinch a bunch of red berries between their beaks. It made you smile on how much your dad loved birds.

With how quiet the house was, smiles grew to be faint masks on anyone you had really talked to. They hadn't seemed genuine in the slightest and your little eight year old self felt lied to, betrayed even. There was one thing that you bet on and it was your dad getting better.

He had to, right?

Peter didn't want to leave.

When the contract was first signed with Road Runner Records, he felt he also signed away a part of his life to some unforeseen force that would take over his easy going path. It all started when Sal had busted into his room in the midst of a Law & Order binge. Chip crumbs littered his chest, lazily lounging on the futon.

Crazy people with crazy money do crazy things.

Peter hadn't imagined himself putting his two week notice in at his beloved job. Now that felt like a breakup within itself.

"Well Pete, sure hope the music business treats you kindly. You be safe out there. If you ever decide to come back, you're welcome to.''

Peter's boss shakes his hand. It's a working man's handshake, he notices. Peter smiles.

"Thank you. I'll be sure to keep that in mind. Ay, while you're at it make sure those angsty teens don't fuck up the petunias, yeah? I know they got a lot of angst, you know?''

Peter walks out of that building right before he's stopped by Mike. The smell of Pot is greatly entangled with his presence alone and Peter's nose scrunches briefly.

"So you're quitting, huh?''

"Not so much quitting as getting kidnapped by some contract.'' Peter snickers a little at the joke but Mike doesn't get it. He shifts in his feet, heavy gaze darting about.