This Is My Love

I did nothing but lay in Pete and I's bed, sleeping and watching TV, only getting up to use the bathroom and force myself to take a shower every night. I tried and failed to not think about Pete, to not think of him touching someone else the way he touched me. The way he whispered to me. The way he kissed and nibbled at my lips while we made love. This feeling was so new to me. I was never a jealous girl, and I always prided myself on being pretty rational, but now I wanted nothing more than to find the bitch that screwed my fiancé and tear her eyeballs out. I wanted to scream and cry and kick. I wanted to hate Peter, but Phil was right. He was fucked up at the time, and as much as I shouldn't have made excuses for him, I had to believe it was the drugs and depression over the leaking of his past drug use that lead him to give up all values and screw the next girl who got him high enough to successfully throw herself at him.
From the beginning, I knew the dangers of our lifestyle. I knew that women threw themselves at him just as much, if not more, as men threw themselves at me, and until the other day, I had trust that Pete would never cheat on me, but I was blinded by my love for him, and by the love I thought he had for me. I decided not to think of the fact that he cheated on his girlfriend of the time with me when we first reunited. I decided to believe it was because we were meant to be together, and not think of the fact that it didn't matter. It was cheating no matter what, and once a cheater, always a cheater. My chest tightened painfully at that thought, so I decided to try to take my mind off of it. I turned on the TV and began to flick threw channels mindlessly until something caught my attention. One of the channels I passed had a picture of Pete on it, and I quickly flicked back to it. It was Access Hollywood, and they were talking about Pete. The picture on the screen was of his mugshot from a few years ago when he was arrested for possession of cocaine. My heart began to beat wildly as the woman spoke about the leaked news.
"...Bruno Mars was arrested back in 2009 for possession of cocaine. Fans of the singer were very vocal of their feelings, some supported him, others were disappointed. One disappointed fan tweeted their feelings, saying; 'What a waste of talent. My boys looked up to @BrunoMars, and now I must forbid them from listening to him. I'm very disappointed.' Many other fans continue to vocalize their disappointment in the singer when learning of his past cocaine use. Others continue to support him, one fan tweeting; '@BrunoMars is only human, and people shouldn't be so quick to judge. He made a mistake, and got help. The outpouring of harsh judgments is unfair. I still love you, Bruno!' So, is he really recovered? We reached out to his publicity agent for a comment, but they refused. But fans that have attended his concerts on his current tour have been saying that he has been looking beaten down and unhealthy. So, the question is, is Bruno Mars using again? Only time will tell."
I quickly shut off the TV and began to sob. The fucking media... They may have ruined our relationship. They had no right to leak the news, or to judge him. To make him feel so shitty. My heart was breaking.
"Oh, Bruno... Why couldn't you just have talked to me?" I whispered to myself. I burrowed myself under my comforter and cried myself until I finally fell into a restless asleep.

I was woken up abruptly by the slamming of the front door. I sat bold upright in the bed, my heart beating wildly.
"Ano?!" Pete's voice rang through the house. He sounded desperate, and I knew that Phil had told him that I knew. I looked around the room with wild eyes. I didn't want to see him, and I didn't want him to see me. I didn't know what I would do if I saw him. So much anger, so much sadness was coursing through me, but I also had so much love and sympathy for him in the most literal sense of the word. I was suffering with him, but I was also suffering with myself. Suddenly, he was hollering my name again, and I could hear his footsteps as he pounded up the stairs. I decided the only thing I could do was hide, so I quickly jumped out of bed and sprinted across the room and into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind me just as I heard our bedroom door open.
"Ano?!" He yelled, and I could hear his heavy breathing as he stood in the bedroom. After a moment, I heard his footsteps approach the bathroom door. I knew he had found me. I stood with my ear against the door, listening to his heavy breathing on the other side. Suddenly, the doorknob jiggled as he tried to open it. I slapped my hand over my mouth to cover a sob.
"Oh, Ano," I heard him whisper before a quiet thud as he rested his forehead against the other side of the door. "Baby, please come talk to me."
I took my hand away from my mouth.
"Go away, Pete," I whispered in a cracked voice. I heard him sniffle, and I knew he was crying now.
"Please, let me talk to you, baby. I'm on my knees," he pleaded through a sob and I listened as he slid down the door and onto the floor, literally getting on his knees. I placed my hand on the door and closes my eyes before taking in a deep breath.
"I just can't, Peter. You hurt me so bad," I cried quietly. He continued to cry as well.
"I know, baby. I know. But I need to see you, I need to explain. Please, let me explain."
I bit my lip to keep another sob from escaping.
"You don't need to explain. I know enough," I stated, a bit of anger coming out in my voice. "Just leave me be."
Pete's sobs came through the door and pierced straight through my heart.
"I can't lose you, Ano. I just... Can't," he whispered. I practically growled before unlocking the door and quickly swinging it open to find him on his knees in front of me. He looked up at me with surprised eyes as he saw the anger on my face. I began to advance towards him, causing him to scramble up onto his feet. He began to back away, fear and shock taking over his features as I advanced until the back of his knees was against the bed, at which point I shoved at his chest, causing him to fall back onto the bed. My lip was now bleeding from my biting it so hard, and my breathing was harsh and angry.
"You can't lose me?!" I yelled. His eyes widened even more for a moment before softening again. He bowed his head in shame then shook it.
"No, I can't," he croaked. I growled and clenched my fists at my sides.
"Then you shouldn't have fucking done it! You should have talked to me, we could have worked it out together, but instead you decided to carry it on your own and now look where we are! You fucked up! You hurt me! And now I don't think I can trust you again!" I practically screamed. Pete wiped furiously at his tears before standing from the bed.
"Baby..." He whispered, but I stopped him, and my earlier fears came true. I slapped him across the face and began to pound on his chest, tears streaming down my face. Pete just stood with his arms out at his sides and allowed me to continue to hit him on the chest before grabbing my waist and pulling me into him. I pushed against his chest in protest.
"No, no! Don't touch me!" I yelled, but he only held on tighter. Soon, my body went limp with tiredness, tiredness from exertion, and tiredness from being angry towards him. My knees gave out from under me and I sunk into Pete's arms. He lowered us down to the floor and held me against his chest as I cried into his shirt.
"I fucking hate you," I whispered, only half lying. I didn't hate him, I hated what he did. Pete sobbed, the sound rumbling in his chest.
"You don't mean that," he cried. I shook my head.
"No, I don't, but I fucking hate what you did."
"Oh, Ano, I can't stand this. I can't stand that I hurt you. I fucked up, and I should have come to you in the first place, but I was so ashamed, and I didn't want to worry you," he confessed. For the first time, I finally looked up into his face. And I mean actually looked. I didn't glare, I looked, and my chest tightened at what I saw. He looked so tired. His eyes were red and puffy as tears streamed down his sunken cheeks over top of dried ones. He was pale, except for his cheeks, which were a bright, splotchy red.
"God, Pete... You look horrible," I whispered. He lowered his gaze to the floor in shame. "I can't do this, I need time," I stated. He looked back down to me with wide eyes.
"What are you going to do?" He asked in a pained voice. I shook my head and began to remove myself from his arms, which tightened in protest for a moment, until I gave him a look that told him to let me go. His arms went limp and I escaped from his hold on me. I stood up and tried my best to compose myself, but I failed as I watched Pete remain on the floor, his shoulders slumped as he looked up at me with pleading eyes.
"Don't leave me," he begged. I covered my mouth for a moment in shock at how much the pain in his voice and eyes effected me, but then I dropped it down to my side and shook my head.
"I need time, Pete," I repeated myself. More tears fell from his ducts as he shut his eyes for a moment. "Damn it, Pete, you killed something inside of me, and I need time to think."
He opened his eyes and looked back up to me.
"The wedding?" He asked. I closed my eyes now and shook my head.
"I don't know, Pete... Maybe we should post pone it," I whispered.
"Ano, no," he gasped and quickly got up to his feet. I held my hands up in defense.
"I'm going to Hawaii, I'm going to think things through. I don't know what to do, Pete," I stated. Pete grasped at his chest and began to rub restless at it as he shifted back and forth to foot to foot, looking restless. I furrowed my eyebrows.
"Are you on it now?" I asked him, referring to the coke. He brought his eyes up to me and after a moment nodded his head. I choked on a sob, my heart swelling. I didn't know how to handle an addict, I didn't know what to do. What would be best.
"I need to go," I choked and turned to leave, not able to look at him anymore. It hurt too much.
"Wait!" Pete hollered, making me stop at the doorway and listen for him to say whatever it was he needed to say. "Are you leaving me?" He whispered, and I could hear his heart breaking from across the room. I lowered my head and then slowly shook it.
"No, I'm not leaving you, Pete, but until you clean yourself up, you won't be seeing me." I looked over my shoulder at him. "I'm going to go stay with my Dad in Hawaii. Goodbye, Pete." And with that, I got one hard look at his beautiful, broken features, and turned to walk out the door, deciding on tough love, and it was just as tough on me.