Take This to Your Grave

I went back to the apartment to find that it was unoccupied. There wasn't any friends and no mess; it was completely quiet. "Pete?"

"I'm in the room." He called out to me.

I set my backpack and keys down, "I thought the band was here?" I asked as I went towards the bedroom.

I pushed opened the door and found him lighting a cigarette as he sat on the bed. Pete shook his head, inhaling, "I told them to leave."

"Oh." I pulled my shoes off, "What for? I thought you had a show tonight."

"We do." He beckoned me over with a wave of his hand. "But, I'd rather be with you for a little while."

I smiled and went over to the bed, sitting beside him, "How come?"

He smiled back at him, exhaling the smoke from the corner of his mouth, "Do I need a reason?"

I shrugged, "Kind of."

Pete stood up and sucked in his cigarette deeply and then snubbed it out in the ashtray on the dresser, "I wanted to apologize for yesterday."

"You don't have to apologize, Pete."

He sat back on the bed with me, "I wasn't thinking, Naomi," he mumbled, "And I said a lot of dumb shit yesterday...I thought about it, ya'know, if we did have a kid..."

"Yeah?"

"We'd be fucked. I'm too fuckin' dumb to care enough about you, in a...uh..." He paused, "I'm selfish, and I didn't mean to say what I said. I really am sorry, Navy."

I knew he meant it all sincerely and I felt tremendously better. I smiled and leaned over to kiss him on the lips, "You're forgiven Pete."

He shook his head, "No, you don't have to forgive me, I just want you to know that I'm sorry. You," he sighed and kissed me quickly, "I love you so much."

Without any response from me, we quickly began to kiss and tug at each other's clothes. It was like a pressure cooker; things heated up and I felt like my heart was going to implode. His mouth moved from mine, down my jaw and then my neck; my heart was racing, eyes shut and my arms wrapping around his neck.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled against my skin.

"I know." I replied, "I know you're sorry. It's okay."

Pete looked up, our eyes meeting, "Don't leave me anymore...I don't do too well on my own."

I nodded slowly, "I never will...I promise." I cupped his jaw, "I just need your help...I'm kind of desperate."

He kissed me once, "You're not the desperate type, baby. You don't need me, I need you."

I couldn't find any words to counteract what he was saying. I didn't know how to respond; all that I felt was all the love in the world for him. I only wanted him, and him only; "I do need you," I finally managed to say, "So bad."

Pete kissed me again, keeping his lips on mine; together our lips moved in sync. His hands ran up my t-shirt and rubbed my sides, his fingers brushing and counting the bones of my ribcage. My own were tugging at the ends of his shaggy hair.

Our lips parted and we looked at each other again; Pete licked over his bottom lip, "I'll try harder...my head is just all over the fucking place."

My hand swept through his hair, "I know, I'll try and be easier on you."

He smiled softly, "If this band works out better than Arma Angelus then I'll repay you for the deposit, Naomi."

I laughed softly, tossing my head back, "Great."

"I'm serious," he said, pushing me onto my back on the bed, "We recorded a split with Project Rocket and..." He trailed, "There's something special about this, Naomi."

"I know there is, but I thought you just wanted free pizza." I joked.

He smiled, "That and the fact I feel something more with this band. That kid Patrick, he's great...Joe, he's got some great fuckin' riffs. I'm still not sure about TJ."

"I'm happy you're excited about this band, Pete." I told him this honestly.

He smiled, almost grinning at me, "You think this'll go somewhere?"

"If you believe it will, I do too."

Pete kissed me again, small pecks that eventually built; he was straddling me and his hands were rubbing my sides again. Once more, he pulled back and looked at me, "I love you."

"I love you, too, Pete."


Things slowly started to get a but better; Pete wasn't acting as irresponsible or idiotic as before, but there was days were he was severely depressed and barely left the apartment. It was getting to the point where I had to beg him to take a shower or to eat, or to even go to classes. I would help him with his school work and wash his clothes, and beg him to eat too.

He spent a lot of time in bed and wrote, or he would stay up while I would sleep, and do God knows what. It took so much patience to keep from exploding at him, but I felt more sorry for Pete than anything, so it was easy not to tell at him. He looked so sad most of the day, with the deep dark bags beneath his eyes and the taunt, heavy shoulders; when I would get home from my classes or doing the photo shoots with Babette, I would lie with him and rub his back.

It was a roller coaster of sorts with his emotions. I wished I could make all the bad go away, but he never talked to me about it. He stayed medicated, and it didn't even work. He'd take a fist full of pills, lie down and stare at the ceiling. No one but me noticed this about him, because he put on a mask with he would -rarely- go out with his friends.

After my first year of college ended, I had gone all over looking for jobs. I needed extra cash, and Pete was still in his slump; for summer, though, he was starting to come out more. I think it was the shows and gigs the band did, and the music they were starting to record; I was so happy to see how things were turning for the better for him.

I finally got a job at this pizza place called Pina's as a waitress; Kate had got in, she was a manager there, having gotten the job over a year ago. It was an alright job, the tips were great, and Pete and I could finally afford to eat something other than ramen noodles and we didn't have to go to our parents for dinner. It worked out pretty well, until I started getting trouble from one of the waiters.

His name was Jeff and he was very flirtatious. He always kept asking me out, and he gave me this look as if he was god's gift to the world. He knew that Pete was my boyfriend, he had met him a few times when Pete would come in with Andy (Andy loved Pina's and usually came when I was working).

It was a slow night, and Fall Out Boy were scheduled a show at this small venue just down the street, and the guys came in just before the place opened. Jeff seated them, smirking slightly as he waited on them and met me as I was busing up a table across the room.

"Navy!" I heard Pete call.

I smiled, shaking off Jeff's taunting smirk, and looked over, "Hey."

Pete smiled a bit as I went over; it was him, Patrick, Joe, TJ, Ben, Andy and Tim; "Are you coming to the show?"

"Uh, maybe, I get off at 9."

"We play at 9:30." Patrick added.

"Oh, yeah, I should be able to get there. I want to get home and change though."

Pete grabbed my hand and pulled me into his lap, "You look perfect like this."

I rolled my eyes and stood, "Yeah, especially in my black uniform with pizza sauce on my pants."

Pete squeezed my hand, "Don't keep me waiting, I'd like to see you before I get on stage."

I hummed, "Is that suppose to be cute?"

He smiled, "Maybe."

I smirked at him, "Okay, cutie, let me go back to work."

"Gimme a kiss first."

I rolled my eyes at him and kissed his cheek, "I've gotta get back to work, Pete. I'll see you guys."

The guys all said a share of "see ya's" as I left the table to clean up the table I had been waiting on. I took the dishes to the back, where Jeff was waiting for the guys' order to be filled; he stood by me as I put the dishes in the sink to be washed; "I guess I can't spit in your boyfriend's food now, can I?"

I grimaced, "Thats fuckin' gross."

"I was kiddin', honey."

I started to walk off when I felt his hand on my wrist, "Oh, c'mon, Naomi, I was messin' around. I don't really spit in anyone's food."

I yanked my arm away, "Never said you did."

"You're so touchy," he smiled, all teeth, at me.

I shook my head; he would be so attractive if he wasn't such a scumbag.

"I'm just gonna go, now." I muttered as I went off.

"I was kidding!" He called to me with a laugh.

I rolled my eyes as I stood at the counter, watching the guys talk. I could see Pete looking over at me, his head maneuvering around Tim's to see me; I waved at him. He got up suddenly, making his way over with narrowed eyes; I raised a brow, "What's up?"

He looked behind me and then at me, "That asshole giving you trouble?"

I sighed, "Jeff is just a jerk, Pete."

"He keeps looking at you like you're half naked or something."

I patted his cheek, "Pete, don't worry."

His eyes stayed slit, "I don't like him."

"Join the club." I muttered. "I get off in an hour, so don't make a big deal."

Pete gave me a hard look, "What, do you like the way that asshole looks at you?"

I frowned, "No, but this is my job and it's paying our bills. If it means dealing with a jerk for a few hours--"

"You like him, don't you?"

"What the--"

He cut me off again, "Are you fucking him?"

My eyes widened, "God, no! What the hell?"

Pete waved his hand off at me, "I bet you are. Is that why you like this fuckin' place so much? You get to come here and see your little boyfriend."

"Pete, what the fuck are you talking about?!" I hissed at him, "This is my job, I don't like Jeff--"

"Whatever," he spat at me, "I see the way you and him look at each other. Fuck you if you think you can just do it in front of me."

That felt like a slap, "Fuck you." I spat back. "Get the hell out of here, you're a son of a bitch, you know that? I work my ass off, being fuckin' harassed by that asshole and you have the goddamn nerve to accuse me of sleeping with him? Fuck you, Pete!"

His friends looked over at us, the room eerily quiet.

Pete just looked at me, that skeptical look on his mug; "You can stay with him tonight," he muttered, "He seems to like the way you're talkin' to me."

"You're such a jerk." I growled.

"You're a whore."

I raised my hand and slapped him across the face. The place was still silent, the slap echoed and Pete's head was turned to the left, eyes shut over.

"Don't you ever call me a whore," I told him with a shaky voice. "You have no right to accuse me of being anything that I'm not! I take care of us and this is the thanks I get?"

He finally looked at me, speechless. I was brewing now, ready to yell at him. Without anything to retort, he left the counter and out the restaurant.

My bottom lip trembled and I left the front counter. I pushed passed Jeff and into the kitchen, and then out the back. I was holding it all in; I was pissed and the tears just built and spilled over; I didn't sob, I held it in my body for as long as I could.

"That asshole." I sobbed angrily and kicked a garbage can.

I steamed a little longer and then returned inside. I surpassed Jeff and stood by, praying that closing would hurry and come.

"Your little crew left," Jeff snickered as he came over, "They took the pizza and fluttered after your boy."

"Fuck off." I grunted.

"Guys like yours think too lowly of themselves, you know."

"I said fuck off, Jeff."

"I'm just saying," he smiled at me, "You need a real man."

"What I need is for you to go jump off a bridge."

Jeff put his hands up, "Excuse me, I'm just trying to help."

"You've done enough with your constant staring."

Jeff laughed again and waltz off back to the kitchen. I was happy not to hear from him until it was closing time. I hurriedly got my things, clocked out and left the restaurant.

I got home, nearly throwing my bag and keys out of anger. I was still ticked off at Pete and hoped he wouldn't come home. I decided I shower and lock the bedroom door so he couldn't get in; I was that pissed at him.

By midnight, I was already in bed, asleep, having forgotten about Pete and the whole mess. It was around 12:30 when I heard banging on the bedroom door; "What the hell?!"

I sat up and rubbed my tired eyes, looking around in the darkened room. I saw the hall light filtering under the door; "Open the door!"

I squinted, and turned on my side, remembering his allegations of words from earlier, "Piss off."

"Naomi, open the goddamn door, I'm tired!" He banged his fist against the door.

"Sleep on the couch." I spat out.

He growled and then, after a few moments of quiet, thinking he had gone to the couch, he kicked the door open. I heard the frame and door crack and the dry wall crush from the door knob going through it.

I jolted up right; "What the hell is your problem?!" I screamed at him.

I saw Pete come in, angry, with that look of insanity in his eyes, "I told you to open the fucking door!"

I just looked at him, unsure of what to say.

"You're such a stubborn bitch!" He screamed at me.

"Get out of here!" Was my only retort.

"That's it?!" He yelled more, "You fuckin' embarrass me and lock me out of my own bedroom and you tell me to get out?!"

I could see that Pete was drunk; you could smell the alcohol on him.

"Pete, leave me alone." I muttered.

"Leave you alone?" His eyes narrowed, that look of anger and disgust swept across his features, "You want me to leave you alone? Where were you tonight?"

"I was here."

"Here? By yourself?"

"No shit."

His fists balled, "I knew you were fucking him."

I groaned, "Oh, whatever Pete. Get the fuck outta here."

"I don't even know why I put up with you," his voice slurred, "I can't stand you."

"Good! Get out! Leave!"

He stood there for a minute before turning and leaving the bedroom. I cursed under my breath and fell back against the pillows. I shut my eyes, once again feeling tears; I hated him, the jerk. I had fallen right back to sleep, thanks to my crying. It was hard not to cry and sob, I was so mad at Pete.

During the middle of the night, he came into the room and crawled into the bed with me. I felt him moving around, crawling towards me, his hands grabbing a hold of my waist, turning me onto my back. I whined, "Leave me alone. I hate you."

He hushed me with a kiss; he breathed in deeply, pulling back, "I'm an idiot."

I opened my eyes, blinking rapidly at the darkened room, "Of course you are."

He kissed me once more, "I'm sorry, Navy."

"You're always sorry." I mumbled and rolled onto my side, "Leave me alone."

"I don't want to." He flipped me back onto my back. "I want to make it up to you."

"I'm sleeping." I grumbled, "Later."

He sucked his teeth, "No."

I was ready to reject him again when I felt his mouth hot against my neck. My body flooded with need and a tiny bit of power. I smiled to myself and yawned, "You're such a jerk. You're so mean to me."

He continued to kiss my neck, "I know. I never mean it. I'm sorry."

"Such an asshole."

His hands skimmed over my stomach, "I know I am."

Within minutes we were both stark naked and our hands were all over each other. Sweat covered our bodies, our pants of swears filled the air; our fingernails crawled at skin, grunting angrily. I wanted to hurt him for the things he said and did; for the accusations.

When it was over, I didn't feel satisfied, because he felt satisfied, lying there beside me. This was the first time I didn't want him to hold me after sex. I rolled onto my side and fell asleep, still angry.