Four Years

Rachel's POV

April 20th, 2009. Los Angeles, California. 9:39PM.

The house was quiet. I was okay with the silence at times. Other times, I missed the loud, busy tour life. The nights were the hardest. I hated sleeping alone. I always wanted someone to cuddle with. Also, any little noise I heard outside scared the shit out of me. I missed Pete.

It was nine at night and I was curled up in bed, stuffing my face with ice cream - so cliche, right? - watching old reruns of Viva La Bam. I would find myself laughing, then stop because it'd remind me of some stupid thing Pete did.

My phone rang and startled me. I dug around in the bed for it. When I found it, I sighed and answered, "Hello?"

"Hi, Rae," Jess' voice replied softly.

"Hey," I smiled weakly even though she couldn't see me. I got out of bed, going down to the kitchen to put my bowl back in the sink and get a soda. I was gonna get so fat. Seriously, all I've eaten the past three days were all super fatty foods. I couldn't help myself. I felt pregnant all over again, minus the morning sickness. "What's up?"

"Rae, please come back," Jess pleaded with me.

I rolled my eyes, "It's been three days. I need a motherfucking break."

"I don't give a flying fuck. Pete has been getting drunk as hell for these past three days. That's all he does - drink!" She yelled practically in my ear. I groaned and put the phone on speaker, setting it down. "He goes on stage drunk, Rachel. Oh! And the minute after you left, he beat the shit out of Jack."

My jaw literally dropped. He beat Jack? What the hell was wrong with him?

"He did what? Is Jack okay?" Why was I asking about my ex? Oh, yeah because I had feelings for him. Right. "Fuck, is Pete okay?"

"I told you he's not fine. He keeps getting drunk. He spends all his time on the bus. He's so depressed. It sucks," Jess sighed. "He's just a shell of a person. You haven't even talked to him. He's convinced you left him."

"But I didn't leave him. Why doesn't he understand I need my fucking space? I swear, I'm being smothered by him and Jack," I groaned, sinking to the cold kitchen floor. I pulled my knees up to my chest and laid my head on my bare knees. "Jess, I don't know what to do. I'm...oh, fuck."

"Rae, Rae...are you okay?" I could hear the panic in Jess' voice. It wasn't worse than the panic and anxiety I felt rushing through my body.

I was having a serious breakdown. I needed someone with me. And some medication.

I shakily reached for my phone. "Je - Jess, I - I gotta g - go," I stuttered out, ending the call.

I curled up into a ball and laid on the floor. I felt my body begin to shake uncontrollably. Fuck. My breaths became broken and shallow. I fucking hated panic attacks. Hated them.

***

Pete's POV

April 21st, 2009. Miami, Florida. 1:43AM.

I threw back another shot, slamming the glass down hard onto the bar. "Another one," I slurred, shoving the glass back to the bartender.

"Pete, man, you've had enough," He said, taking the glass away from me.

I slammed my fists down onto the counter. "No, fuck you. I haven't had fucking enough. I still fucking remember her. She's fucking haunting me. Give me another fucking shot," I seethed, getting in his face. I was practically crawling over the bar.

"Hey! Who came with him tonight!?"

A drunken Gabe stumbled over, draping his arm over my shoulders, "I did."

"And so did I," A much more sober Patrick said, appearing to my left.

"Get him out of here. He's had enough," The bartender said.

"I fucking told you! I haven't had enough! She's still in there! I haven't forgotten her!" I screamed, getting on the bar. I grabbed the bartenders shirt, tugging on it to bring him closer. "Give me another goddamn drink."

Joe pried me off of him and literally dragged my sorry ass out of the club with Patrick's help. They dumped me outside, just letting my pathetic body slump to the pavement. The brick wall of the club held me up, just barely. "Get the fuck up, Pete."

"No, let me stay here," I muttered, slumping even further down the wall. "Let my pathetic self be."

Joe picked me up and carried me over to the buses. He carried me onto the bus and threw my body onto the couch. I grabbed a pillow off the floor and clutched it tightly to my chest. I wished the pillow pressed to my chest was her.

"Pete, what would Rachel say if she saw you like this?" Joe asked, sitting across from me at the table.

I whimpered at the sound of her name and pulled the pillow closer to my chest. She would hate me. She would really, really hate me for drinking so much.

"She'd be upset, wouldn't she?" He pushed.

I slowly nodded, knowing how right he was. "I just miss her so much. She's gone. She's...she left me," I said softly, staring at one spot on the floor, not blinking or moving at all. "It's how I cope with her being gone. I drink so I can forget."

"Pete, have you even talked to her?" Patrick asked, leaning against the counter. He stared at me and folded his arms across his chest as he waited for me to answer. I didn't answer because I hadn't talked to her. "Exactly, Pete. She hasn't broken up with you. She's worried about you. She's tried calling. You don't answer. You're breaking up with her, Pete."

"I am not!" I shouted, sitting up, still holding the pillow to my chest. "I love her to death! I would never fucking break up with her!"

"You practically are, Pete. You're ignoring her like crazy. She still loves you. She still wants to be with you. She just doesn't want to be in the same environment as Jack right now. You'd understand this if you'd just fucking talk to her," He sighed, removing his hat and running his hand through his strawberry blonde hair.

"Yeah, Pete, she thinks you're mad at her," Joe added softly.

I hung my head, completely ashamed of myself. I hated myself. "Where's my phone?" I asked no one in particular, dropping the pillow so I could feel around in my pockets.

I dialed her number and sighed, waiting for her to pick up. She didn't. Brendon did. What the hell was he doing with her? "Hi, Pete," He whispered. I heard the comforter moving as he most likely got out of my bed.

"What the hell are you doing in bed with Rachel?" I asked, feeling rage bubble up inside of me. Why the fuck was he with her!?

"Woah, Pete, chill out. Jess called me and told me to come and check on Rae because she had a breakdown while she was on the phone with her. You know how Rae gets, yeah?" He explained calmly. He still didn't explain why he was in bed with her.

"Why were you in bed with her, Brendon?" I asked again.

"Rae didn't want me leaving. I was gonna go sleep in the guest room when she stopped me. She just needs someone to cuddle, Pete. Remember how you said she was like that when you first met her? She didn't want to be alone. She's been alone the past three days."

"Yeah, I - I guess," I sighed, laying back down on the couch. "Is she asleep?"

"Uh, yeah, she fell asleep while watching The Notebook," He laughed, probably shaking his head.

I couldn't help but to laugh either. She always begged me to watch that with her, but I never wanted to. Can't believe Brendon actually watched it with her. Actually...I could believe it.

"Um, can you tell her I called? I really need to talk to her," I said, looking up at Patrick and Joe. They were both smiling and giving me a thumbs up. They were so dorky.

"Of course, Pete. You know, while we were out getting some McDonalds, because we're fat like that, she said she loved you and missed you," He said softly. "She also said she thought you were mad at her. You're not mad at her, are you?"

"No, no, no, please tell her I'm not mad at her. Tell her I love her and I miss her, too. Fuck, just tell her to call me when she wakes up, alright?"

"Duh. I'll also try to convince her to go back on tour, mmkay?" He said. I could hear the smile in his voice. It put a smile on my face.

"Thanks, Brendon."

"No problem. Night, Pete. No more drinking."

I laughed, shaking my head, "Alright, fine. Night, Bren."