Folie à Deux

The front of my loft was darkened, curtains drawn closed, making it impossible to see; I grabbed Pete's hand and led him through, straight to my kitchen, "Just hold my hand."

Pete let out a small laugh, "I feel like you're leading me to a surprise party...or my death."

I held my tongue, wanting to say something witty, something along the lines of "You'll be in for a surprise that might kill ya." I just sat him at the counter, his back to the rest of my home and flipped on the light above the sink. Pete took his hoodie and dress coat off, fixing up his rolled up sleeves.

He looked just like Sammy sitting there, waiting for breakfast or lunch. In my head I saw him kicking his legs like Sam, impatiently asking for apple juice. He rubbed his arms, keeping his eyes on me, "What's up, Angel?"

My thoughts were pulled forward to the present, "It's hard to say..." I swallowed.

He frowned slightly, "Sit with me, then...take your coat off."

I did as he said, taking my coat off, tossing it on the back of my chair before sitting beside him; I also kicked my shoes off. The distraction was needed; it gave me time to think of how to tell him the exact truth. My heart was like a kick drum in my chest, I felt like I was suffocating, like someone was holding my head down in a bathtub full of cold water.

"Why did you leave?" He asked after a moment of silence.

My eyes met his, thoughts back to the present again. I shrugged nonchalantly, "I dunno..."

"Did I piss you off?" He looked just like Sammy when he knew he was in trouble and wondered how he was gonna get out of it. His eyes were downcast, his lips pressed together in a hard line.

I wanted so badly to wrap my arms around his shoulders, kiss his cheek and tell him that he wasn't in trouble and I'll make it all better.

I inhaled and let it out, "A little, Pete, yeah, you did. What you said really fucked me up," I was ready to say it all; I sat up straight and took a moment to think it through and say. "When you said that me 'n you being together wouldn't mean anything at all once it was in the press...it hurt a lot. As if a relationship between us would only matter if the fans or paparazzi didn't know about it or liked it."

Pete frowned deeper and shook his head, "That's not what I meant, Angel, I swear."

"But that's not it," I continued on, "you used me. You fucked me there, 'n then...that was it. And you didn't exactly call me after."

Pete scoffed, his eyes rolling slightly over to me, "You left a fuckin' goodbye note on my arm," he muttered sourly.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," I murmured to myself.

"It was. So," Pete squared his eyes at me, judging me harshly, for what, I wasn't sure, "whose dick did you hop on after mine? Who's the lucky fuck you got with? Still fuckin' him?"

I felt like vomiting again. The heat rose from my feet, all the way up to my head, burning my ears, and then the tears burned the back of my eyes.

"W-what?" I stammered, trying to wrap my head around his words.

"Who'd you fuck after me? Who knocked you up?" He patronized me, taunting me.

His words made my blood boil. The way he spoke made it seem that he was judging Sammy than myself. I wanted to hit him.

"How dare you?" I growled lowly, balling my fist tightly, so tight one of my nails dug hard on the inside of my palm.

"What? The truth too harsh for you?" He muttered shortly. "Women are all the fuckin' same; you love 'em a little 'n then they leave you, they go and fuck someone else behind your back and betray you. You're all the same," he growled. "You, Jenae, Morgan, and Ashlee. You're all the goddamn same--"

"You did this!" I snapped nearly before he could finish his last sentence. Pointing my finger at him, I continued to hiss at him as I stood, "I wanted to be with you, but you-!" I paused briefly, feeling the burning tears falling, (unfortunately for the moment) remembering the day my son was conceived. "You said that our relationship wouldn't matter! The paparazzi would pick us apart, you didn't want me, so, I did what I had to: I left!"

Pete shouted back, standing as well, "I wanted you, Angelus! But you just left me there alone! You didn't even explain! If you woulda stayed 'n explained, I woulda told you what I meant!"

I shook my head, "I know you, Pete--"

He cut me off, "You know me? You don't know shit about me!"

That's when he grabbed his coat and hoodie, and with every swift moment of his I felt my heart beating hard against my ribcage. I couldn't let him just go, not when the evidence was right there, but I couldn't say it! My brain was frozen, but my heart and body were working at a frantic pace.

I found myself grabbing at him, grabbing at his dress shirt so violently that the top two buttons that were done snapped and skipped across the floor. Pete yanked himself back and grabbed my arm, nearly whacking me down.

"The fuck?" He snapped at me.

"You're such a fucking hypocrite and liar!" I cried at him. "You think you're so fucking innocent and we do so wrong?"

Pete glared at me, even in the dim lighting I could see the glow of the anger in his dark eyes. I just couldn't hide it anymore. The anger just set me off and made me want to show him what exactly I did for him. I wanted Pete to see that I kept our flesh and blood son from him so he could have his band, have Ashlee, and -what I knew he wanted more than anything- he could have his freedom when and how he wanted it.

But, when he said that we were all the same, I wanted to smack him across the face and settle his ass into reality. I wanted him to see the truth, whether he would bolt or not, I didn't care. The truth was the only thing that mattered to me.

I grabbed him and shoved him towards the kitchen table and turned on the lights over the dining room. I didn't even let him adjust to the lighting before I yanked my phone from my pocket and unlocked it, going straight to my photos. Pete looked frazzled, almost frightened by my behavior and the sudden burst of light. I all but hit him across the face with my phone before I found the photo I had been looking for. The one photo I knew would make him see that I wasn't being crazy; the one of Sammy I painted and put Sabrina's name on.

"Look at this you ungrateful son of bitch," I spat, shoving my phone in his face, "I would've come back, I would've told you, but I couldn't. I couldn't take your life from you, and you know why?"

Pete didn't answer me, he looked down at my phone, his eyes suddenly interested in the screen as if he was watching something going wrong. Maybe there was. The wheels were turning pretty slowly in his head; he then, slowly, started to slide through the photos.

"You're his father, Pete. Sammy -my little boy Sammy- is your son. I didn't go off and fuck someone else because I wanted to," I spat out, "I left because you're you 'n I wanted you to be happy. I didn't want to hold you back 'n bring you down with Johanna."

Pete didn't speak, for once after being told off, he didn't verbally retaliate. He looked up at me, the color drained from his face; I knew his heart must've fell straight in to his stomach. Aside from the sick look to his face, there was this brewing hate behind eyes; I knew he wanted to say something spiteful, something to hurt me because I had hurt him.

"Why'd you keep him?" He growled under his breath accusingly, tossing my phone at me, barely giving me time to catch it; "Why? So you could throw it back it in my face like now? Go to the fuckin' press--"

"You really think that?" I narrowed my eyes, cutting him off, "How dumb did you get since I last saw you? Did you really forget everything I ever told you about me?"

Pete's anger died down; again, he was speechless. He was almost silently remorseful.

"Just because I didn't think you wanted me didn't mean I was gonna give up a kid we made," I shook my head at him, "I didn't know what was gonna happen, and if I was ever gonna have a slim chance of having another kid, I wasn't gonna end it just because you're an asshole, Pete."

He only gave me a blank stare, the anger completely dissipated.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

My chest tightened from hearing the hard, angry words that he forced out; I knew he didn't know whether or not he wanted to say this. He sounded unsure, and he tried to sound a lot angrier than he looked.

"Because you were getting married. You were happy then 'n I didn't want to fuck it up," I answered as honestly as I could.

Pete looked unpleasantly amused. He shook his head, muttering sarcastically "Happy. I was happy."

"Look, I'm sorry I kept him from you," the words rushed out, "I didn't want to ruin your life, Pete, I swear. All I ever want is to make everyone happy, but either way, I fucked up and I'm tryna fix it--"

"Now?" Pete muttered incredulously.

I swallowed, "All I want to know is whether or not you want to get to know Sammy. No one has to know - and I mean the press, the fans, whoever else you don't want to know. That's all I wanted to ask you, Pete. Sammy's asking about his daddy 'n--"

"Who does he think he is?" Pete inquired with a sharp breath.

"Who else?" I answered with a shrug.

"I don't know, that's why I'm askin'," he rolled his eyes at me.

It took a lot for me not to throw my phone at his head.

"John. Sam thinks John is his dad; he's named after him, he has the last name Holohan, and I thought it would be easier than confusing him--"

"That's hilarious," Pete crossed his arms, speaking in a chastising tone, "you fucked up that kid's life, you know that right?"

I could've taken that stupid remark and just tossed it aside, but I couldn't. The way it hit my ears and shot at my heart made me realize that I had done some damage to Sammy's life. It was life my entire world crashed down around me, you would think I was losing John all over again, or learning I was pregnant with my second child again. History repeating itself, but in the form of emotional torture that was hard on the senses.

But, I didn't cry. I didn't respond to Pete's remark.

"Do you want to get to know Sam or not?" I quietly asked. "I don't want money or your time, only that you try if you do want to be his dad...officially."

Pete looked like he could spit; the anger was back in his eyes, "You're unbelievable, Angelus. Fuck off."

My mind ran blank upon hearing that; it was only when I heard the lift going down and the large door shutting and locking closed behind Pete, that I started to cry. The tears weren't big or elaborate, they burned like you wouldn't believe, but there was only a few. My mind and body worked together on autopilot, taking me from the kitchen to my bedroom where I removed my clothes, brush my teeth, pull on a large shirt, set my phone on its charger and then I climbed into bed.

I had fallen asleep pretty quickly and didn't get up until my alarm went off a few hours later. Surprisingly, I wasn't all that tired; neither was I drained, I was just excited to see Sammy and Johanna. After showering and checking my messages, I got a call from Big Bob, telling me that Sammy couldn't attend school and that he was still sleeping, but he was able to get Johanna to school. I told Big Bob that I'd leave the door unlocked for him while I made breakfast. I was hoping that he, of all people, would be able to help me with this Pete problem, even if it didn't weigh heavily on my mind.

Hanging up, I sat on my bed, thinking over last night, letting the things Pete had said resonate in my head. It didn't take long to leave a sour taste in my mouth and made me want to vomit. The hate I felt for letting him get to me in such a way, and the fact I told him about Sam, made me want to torture myself.

The one thing that stuck was that I agreed with Pete. I agreed that I had fucked up Sammy's (and Pete's) life by not telling the truth sooner. Here I had been thinking I was doing the right thing, that I was letting Pete have it all, because I cared about him. But maybe I didn't, I kept two and a half years of Sam's life from him and I can't give it back. I probably ruined my son's trust and happiness; I shouldn't have done it, no matter if it was for Pete's own happiness, I should've just told him.

"Angelus," Big Bob called from the lift, "we're here."

My mind went straight back to showing my baby boy affection. I went to the lift, smiling genuinely as I saw Sammy rubbing his eyes and yawning in Bob's arms; "Good morning, baby."

Sammy smiled tiredly, "Hi mommy."

I took him into my arms and let him wrap his arms around my neck, then rest his head on my shoulder, "I missed you so much," I told him.

He exhaled softly, "I know. I feel'd it."

Bob and I let out soft laughs, "You did? Wow, that's amazing. You hungry?"

"No, jus' sleepy, mommy."

I kissed his cheek, "Okay, I'll put you in my bed," I then looked up at Big Bob, "uh, could you stay here for a minute, I really needa talk to you."

Big Bob nodded, following behind me to the living room. Since having Sammy, Big Bob and Perry have been more open with me than before. You'd think he and Perry would really dislike and stop talking to me for having a child with someone less than two years after their son's (and my husband's) death, but they didn't. They took me and the kids in, before and after my parents' death as well. Luck was on my side, as fate would have it, and I needed it so much after Sam's birth.

I tucked Sam into my bed, making sure his stitches were turned away from the pillow and then shut the curtains to let him sleep off the medication from the night before. I returned the living room, finding Big Bob looking at his own phone, chuckling to himself.

"What's so funny?" I asked, taking a seat next to him.

Bob showed me his phone, a picture of Sammy in the snow -with that stupid wide Wentz - grin popped up, "I'll send it to ya. The kid was laughing so hard he almost peed himself-- woulda had two accidents then!"

I couldn't help but to laugh either, but then I remembered Pete's stupid fucking laugh, and wondering if Sam would be just like him. Johanna is just like John, she has his goofy laugh, his smile, the way he used to speak sometimes and his little mannerisms, like biting his bottom lip and the way he used to make a disgusted face. It was a safe bet that I had very little in my kids in which their fathers' had.

"What's going on wit'ya?" Big Bob finally questioned, giving me a curious glance.

I sighed, feeling heaviness suddenly stack on my shoulders and neck. Palming the back of my neck, I swallowed before answering, "Bob...uh, I saw Pete last night..."

He hummed, "Ya did? How'd it go?"

"He...he didn't look so good."

"Because he's getting divorced," Bob finished. "Did you tell 'im about Sam?"

I looked down, dropping my palm, "I did. After the gallery, I brought him here, tried to break it to him gently and it came out messy."

"What did he say?"

That's when the waterworks happened. That simple inquiry made me sob like you wouldn't believe. I cried like a child and couldn't even speak! Big Bob was great to me; he held and let me cry while trying to rehash the entire event. Finally, after crying for at least twenty minutes, and blubbering for fifteen more, Bob got the entire story (minus the part about me fucking up Sam's life) and had his large arm around my shoulder, telling me that everything would be okay. I believed him, because he told me the same thing after John, after finding out about my pregnancy with Sammy, and after my parents dying.

Everything would be okay.

"Don't worry if he doesn't want to be in Sam's life or not, Angelus, it's his loss, you know? Sam's got us 'nd we ain't going nowhere. But I don't think you should count him out just yet, he's probably shocked."

"Maybe that's why he said all that hurtful stuff," I said in an exhaled.

Big Bob stiffened, but then relaxed, "What kinda stuff did he say?"

I shook my head, "It's not important, Bob, please. Like you said, Pete was, and probably still is shocked about learning he has another kid."

Big Bob rubbed my side, "Yeah, yeah. You should just wait it out, let him decide. In the mean time, I don't think you should lie to Sam anymore, and I know that's gonna be hard, but if he asks about his daddy, you should tell him the truth..."

"How?" I looked up at him, "How do I tell a two year old that I lied to him and that his dad is someone I never told him about?"

"I dunno," he murmured, then sighed, "but it needs to happen, Angelus. Whether or not Pete comes around, Sammy needs to know the truth."

I licked over my lips, "I know. I know...it's gonna hurt."

"Don't worry 'bout the hurt now, cuz if you don't do it now, it'll hurt like hell later."