I'm Supposed to Love You (Peterick)

Panic!

(So I haven't really mentioned if Panic! or MCR are actually in this story, but you know that the members are. Yeah... they're in here too... (the band's I mean... not just the people.) Just a BTW, they won't be mentioned yet in this update.)

Razzel was off with her friends and that boy who asked her to the dance. In fact, that's where she was right now. I really hope she's having a good time and it stays that way.

My first dance was hell. I got there and met up with my "friends" who decided it would be funny to push me around. I fell a couple times, tearing the suit I had rented. Then they ditched me. Like I said... hell.

"I hope she's having a great time..." I said out loud.

Pete looked at me out of annoyance. "Baby, that's the fiftieth time you said that since she left."

I nodded and looked down. "I'm sorry."

"Its okay, love..." He kissed my forehead and hugged me tightly. "She's fine... Now stop worrying and finish the laundry!" He winked at me before walking into the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes as I folded the laundry. Being famous doesn't mean you don't do house work. You could hire a maid, but... we just haven't really thought about it that much.

I set Razzel's folded clothing in the basket and carried it to her room so she could put it away when she got home.

I set the basket on my hip and opened her bedroom door. The room was quiet and empty except for the furniture and decor she put in it.

All around the room were drawings, pictures of her and her friends, or us as a family, or just her as a young girl. There stood a picture on her nightstand of her biological parents and her. How she had gotten a hold of it, I have not a clue. But, I never looked at it because she always seemed so distant when someone asked about it. Even if they wanted to see it. I never got a proper look. Just a glance verifying three happy people, a dad, a mom, and a little girl. I'm not gonna look now. Not because I'm not interested, but because that's her business, and she'll show us if she really wants to. Pete's been the same way. Careful not to say the wrong things, to push about something.

I remember a conversation Pete and I having a while ago before Bronx was brought into the picture.
-Flashback-
"I want us to be a family." Pete said suddenly through the darkness. The dead of night made it seem as if it were no one.
"We are a family." I said, looking at him. Though I couldn't see him, I could tell he was giving the ceiling a thoughtful look.
"No, I mean an actual family."
I gave him a confused look. "I'm not getting you."
Pete sighed and sat up.
I followed and waited for a reply.
"That picture that Razzel has of her biological parents... That's a real family."
"So we're not a real family because Razzel was adopted?" I asked, cocking and eyebrow.
Good thing Razzel wasn't here to hear him say this. She was staying the night at Joe's.
Pete sighed again. "That's not what I mean and you know that!"
"No, I don't, Pete..."
"Razzel is genuinely happy there. In that picture. Her parents were lively and they were full of love and happiness..."
"So are we!" I said.
"But she's not happy!" Pete snapped his head up to look me in the eyes.
"Y-yes she is!" I said.
"No, she's not, Patrick! She's not genuinely happy! And its cuz we're not them!"
"Pete, you're just tired... go-..." Tears were starting to threaten my eyes when he interrupted me.
"I'm not tired! I've waited all day to talk to you about this!"
"But she smiles! She laughs! There's a twinkle in her eye!" I started crying. I didn't want to believe that my little girl, whether she was biological or not, wasn't truly happy.
"That twinkle is growing dim, Trick!" Pete pulled me to his chest and comforted me.
"But doesn't that happen to everyone?" I sobbed.
Pete gave me a sympathetic smile.
"I don't know what to do! I want her to be happy!"
"As do I, baby..." He kissed the top of my head and rubbed my back soothingly.
"What do we do?" I asked, sniffling and looking up at him.
He shrugged. "Try harder, I guess..."
-End.Of.Flashback-

Then I noticed there were pages with writing on her bed.

Thinking it was homework, I picked it up in a neat pile and went to put it in her backpack by her desk, but then some words caught my attention and soon enough, I realized that this was not some home work, but by the looks of it... poems.

I shouldn't do this, but... I sit down in her desk chair and read a couple... okay, like... four... but who's counting?

They were just poems... about random things... fun, lively things. Worlds where she wants to visit, or want to create, or already have created. They were fun, whimsical places/poems.

When I finished reading them, I open a drawer to set the papers in. But what I see, rips my sanity away.