Three months ago...
"Pete..." I groaned. He rolled his eyes and flicked me.
"Come on babe..."
"Pete, I'm not in the fucking mood!" I snapped. He jerked back, a hurt expression on his face.
"I'm sorry..." He mumbled.
"No, it's not your fault..." I say up, the bed creaking beneath me.
"No, everything's my fault, you don't understand, you're perfect." He looked at me, his eyes melting, leaking his sadness right out of his body. But I knew even after this, the sadness would be there. Tears can only extract so much.
"I'm not perfect, Pete, no one is. But we're perfect for each other and that's what matters." I said softy. He shook his head and pulled up his sleeve. Cuts, some scars, some new, some scabbed painted his forearm. I choked back a tear.
"You told me you stopped." I cried. He shook his head.
"I can't, Mikey. I just can't." He sobbed.
"Please promise me." I said.
"I can't promise you, I hate breaking promises."
"Then a deal."
"What's your deal?" He asked suspiciously.
"I'll stop drinking if you stop all this." I said. He looked at me, his eyes still bleeding.
"You'll stop?" he asked quietly.
"Only if you do." I whispered. He knew about my problem and I wanted it to get better for both of us.
"Mikey, I don't know..." He began.
"Please I need your help." I begged.
"Okay, fine. I'll try." He sighed.
"Just promise to never leave me."
"I pinky swear, Pete."
Now......
I looked at him walk away, trying to contain myself.
"Don't leave you weak bastard!" I screamed. I was the weak bastard.
He whipped around, flipping me off. "You're the bastard Michael!"
"Don't call me that, you motherfucker." I yelled, my lungs burning. I was enraged, but so sad.
"Leave me alone and don't ever talk to me again, die Michael James Way!" He shouted. I shuddered. Maybe I should die..
"Fine!" I yelled.
"Fine!" He called back.
"Please Pete, we're being childish about this." I cried. He whipped back around and began walking.
"Mikey, just go away and die for all I care."
It was my fault. It always was.
I ran home and opened all my cabinets. I found a bottle of beer in the back of my fridge. I popped the kid off, breathing in the scent. I missed it so much.
Mikey you promised.
Mikey, he broke his promise, you guys just split.
He doesn't care about you anymore.
Maybe you should die.
It wouldn't make a difference, no one would miss you.
Without Pete your life is nothing.
Pete was your everything Michael you threw him away.
I looked at the bottle, my hands shaking. Looking behind my shoulder one last time, hoping to see him there with forgiving eyes, I took a huge swig and sighed.
Pete
I promised, I told him I wouldn't.
I can't do this again.
I don't want to.
I want blood.
I can't fall in love.
We can't be in love.
Help me out of this.
I sing the blues.
Now I swallow them too.
I looked down at my old razors, contemplating my life.
Mikey was everything to me.
Without him, I was nothing but a broken name.
And with him gone... I couldn't stand it.
So I dragged the razors across my skin, muttering to myself.
"You broke my heart...
So I broke our promise."
