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Ballad Of Big Nothing
Part XXXII
Peter's POV
I wasn’t sure what the first thing that hit me was.
I was in a bed.
Not my bed.
I could feel a needle up my arm, and the constant beeping coming from some machine. I opened one of my eyes unwillingly and looked around me.
I was, without a doubt, in a hospital bed- an itchy hospital bed. It drained me, but I turned my head to see what had hold of my hand, and found my mother in a slumber sitting next to me.
My first reaction was to pull my hand out of her grasp, get up and leave, but I didn’t. Not only did I not have the energy, but there was something so- sad about the way she looked that I didn’t want to disturb or wake her up.
If anything, I wanted to try and avoid talking to her. What would I say? What could I say for myself?
She’d probably already gotten the story from Adam, and the gory details as well. I didn’t have an excuse- it all really came down to the fact that I was bored, heartbroken and stupid.
When I first walked into the British Pete’s apartment, I knew what I was getting myself into, I knew what to expect- and what would happen. I didn’t stop, I didn’t care anymore- it didn’t matter. Lying there in the hospital bed with nothing to keep me company but my slumbering mother, made my throat suddenly hurt-and that? That was something that never happened.
Next to me, my mom stirred and opened her eyes to look at me. Her eyes momentarily grew and she smiled, grabbing hold of me and kissing my forehead like when I was eight and she would send me off to school.
“Oh, God, Peter- you’re awake,” she sounded relieved- tired- it was in her voice. Judging from the bags under her eyes, I could tell she hadn’t been sleeping much, “You have no idea how worried I’ve been.”
My eyes closed involuntarily, and I frowned slightly, “How long have I been sleeping for?”
Her hand slowly caressed my hair, it was soothing, but it was completely alien to me. All the comfort and tenderness she was showing- I wasn’t sure how to react to it. It had been years since we’d had an actual conversation, and having her next to me now- it was- I couldn’t even word it, really.
“Three days,” I could hear her voice tremble as she said it. It wasn‘t really like my mom to show any sort of emotion. I was so used to her being detached from me. She‘d always been joined at the hip with Nathan, that having her here, actually fly across the ocean to see me, was difficult to digest, “We were so worried you wouldn’t wake up.”
I stayed quiet, but not because I felt bad. I should have, I knew that, but I also didn’t know how to respond. It was hard to imagine her being concerned over me. So I did the only thing I could think of and sighed, turning my head, “It’s fine, mom, I‘m fine. You shouldn’t have troubled yourself by flying all the way out here.”
My eyes popped open again when I felt her turn my complete body so that it was facing her, effortlessly. I realized, I’d forgotten that it wasn’t a good idea to get my mom angry- it was inconvenient.
“This”, she pointed towards my arms with her eyes, “is most definitely not fine. You nearly killing yourself is not fine. You, Peter, are not fine. Do you have any idea how badly you‘ve damaged your body? You can‘t imagine what it’s done to me- to your family.”
I tried really hard not to laugh- I really did…but it came out anyway. Maybe it was because I was resentful, or because maybe- I was showing my ‘emo’ side- but it was very difficult to imagine my mom or Nathan crying over me ‘harming’ myself.
My mom slapped my arm, “This isn’t funny, Peter. This situation is serious. I’m through sitting at the sidelines and watching you kill yourself. This is going to stop. Non negotiable.”
I closed my eyes so she couldn’t see me rolling them. At the same time, a small, tiny part of me felt different,
not angry, or sad, or even annoyed- but relieved? It was like part of me was waiting for someone to snap me out of it. I wanted it- I wanted out- I needed a reason- or something?
The door to the room suddenly opened, and I turned to see a nurse walking in with a tray- breakfast. My stomach turned and I groaned. The thought of ingesting anything seemed impossible with the way I felt. Just smelling the eggs in the tray made me nauseous and I couldn’t help but turn away in disgust.
My mom sighed, “Try to eat something. You’re painfully skeletal looking-” She paused, “I’ll be back- I need
to speak to someone.”
I heard her stand up and walk away.
Talk to who? I turned my head to look out the window of the room, incredibly curious, but all I could see was my mom with her jaw tight, and her eyes glazed with tears. Part of me wanted to feel guilty- or sad that I was making her cry- but the feelings never came. The empathy that I carried once just wasn’t there anymore. I felt completely detached- in the worst way.
And that- more than anything my mom had told me, or I realized- that was the scariest thing to me- until I saw her walk into the room.
Some part of me should have known to expect her to be here, but I hadn’t wanted to get my hopes up for nothing. Yet, even though I was sublimely happy that Claire stood only a few feet away from me, walking towards me, seeing her with bloodshot eyes and a red nose- made that knot in my throat come back.
I smiled at her, because I was more than happy to see her. She was always like my oxygen, she was my sun, my beating heart- that I had momentarily thought I didn’t have anymore. But when she walked through that door, I felt it all. I could feel my heart beating outrageously in my chest, and my body react to her presence as if I hadn’t seen her in ages.
She set her coat on the plastic chair next to my bed and, as she bent down to kiss my forehead, I swear my heart nearly broke out of my chest from her mere touch.
“You’re awake,” she said softly, trying not to sound too sad, but failing miserably. She couldn’t fool me- I’d always known my Claire.
So I smiled and nodded like an idiot, because she had some type of magical power over me where I couldn’t control myself. I felt all goofy, like a little kid again, but something wandered in the back of my mind, “What are you doing here?”
I hated closing my eyes, but I couldn’t control it. It was already taking me everything in my power to stay awake. I’d never felt so- drained before, and the disgusting smell of the food next to me only made my already terrible current state worsen.
Claire didn’t answer me. I didn’t know why, probably because she was annoyed to be there in the first place.
Then I felt bad, I couldn’t really understand why people were so concerned. I made a mental note to give Adam hell later on for alerting everyone to what had happened to me. I knew it was him, who else could it have been?
“How are you feeling?” she whispered. I had my eyes closed, but I could imagine her lips moving and wording everything. They were pink, so soft, and I missed them so fucking much that it was ridiculous.
But I tried not to think about that. She didn’t want to hear that- especially with the current situation at hand.
I wanted to keep things light for her, so I smiled and laughed- immediately regretting it because it hurt,
“Like shit.”
Claire got closer to me. I could feel her warm, sweet breath hitting my face, and it was wondrous. It was almost too good to be true after everything, and though my eyes were closed, I could feel a smile growing on her face, “Well, you don’t look too good either.”
I smirked and laughed, “Thanks.” But her breath close to my face, her smile and the hint of flirting was too much for me. It was like I was extremely sensitive to her. Which was why I needed to change the subject to something- else. Something that would make her back away from me before I couldn’t help myself and pull her down, “Did Andy come with you?”
I took a moment to hate myself for asking. I was beginning to think more and more that maybe I was some type of masochist. I did nearly enjoy my own depression- that of course, I had to remind her and myself that she was dating him.
“No.” There was something weird in the way she said it- almost annoyance.
I frowned, remembering something else, “He let you come by yourself, in the condition that you’re in?”
Claire moved slightly- tensing up, and I mentally cursed at myself for blabbing so stupidly. I wasn’t supposed to know, “Well- Heidi told me not to say anything, but- you’re pregnant. Right?”
A part of me was positively pissed that I was being such a jerk, giving Heidi up. But the selfish part of me, that didn’t want to talk about the matter at hand, didn’t care. All it really cared about was derailing her from asking anything about what was happening to me. After waking up and having my mom talk, I didn’t need Claire’s thoughts- I wasn’t sure if I could bear it.
“That wasn’t any of her business, and no, I’m not pregnant, but that’s not what’s important right now.”
Fuck. I knew what was coming- dreaded it. Was it really necessary to talk about it? It was done- over with- I didn’t see a need to reflect on it.
“What’s important is that you nearly died, and I don’t know what I would have done if that happened.”
Why did she look like she wanted to cry? And why did she have to say that? It was only teasing me- ripping my insides more with her unfounded declarations. “I can’t lose you, Peter.”
Her voice could be angelic and magnificent, yet still have the ability to make me lose my self control and want to just go back to Pete’s house and maybe never come out again. “We don’t have to talk about this.”
She suddenly snapped and I involuntarily twitched, “But I want to! You don’t understand how much you mean to me- I- I can’t lose you. You don’t know what I felt on the flight over here.”
That’s when I snapped. Not know how she felt? Did she not remember the time where I actually thought she died? Or the fact that I lived with the knowledge that she had amnesia and was content?
“I know more than you think. I had to go on living my life after I thought you died. I know what it’s like, Claire- I could barely function,” I let out the last part in a whisper.
“Then don’t do it to me!” She shrieked angrily.
Did she really not understand?
“It’s not the same for you,” I looked around frantically, trying to explain myself without looking like an idiot and crying, “You have Andy. That’s…you have him, ok? Don’t tell me how much I mean to you when you’re with him.”
It seemed that whatever I was saying only angered her more. Because she rolled her eyes at me and frowned, “Don’t you see? Haven’t you seen at all? I’ve never been remotely interested in him. It was all to get you jealous- all I’ve ever wanted was you and to make you happy. That’s why I let you go that day. I thought that if you being happy meant you being with someone else other than me, then I’d have to let you go. But I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if I sound childish or selfish, or whatever! I won’t do it anymore- I can’t.”
My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment I almost let myself believe that there was hope. That maybe she did want me, or cared for me, and that- I could somehow be with her again, “Can’t what?”
Tears brimmed her eyes, and she looked down at her fingers shyly- mumbling, “Pretend I’m not in love with you anymore. I want you all to myself.”
For a moment I swear my heart stopped, but then I froze, thinking I imagined the words coming out of her mouth. Was it really possible? Could she really, truly, honestly still want me?
I knew my voice was soft and airy, but it was all I could produce, “Really?”
Claire nodded, and I couldn’t help it, I had to smile. Hearing her say it was like being lifted from a horrible nightmare, it was like waking up again. She always had the ability to make me feel better when I thought things would never change.
It was the moment to say it back, because we both needed it. She had to hear that I had never stopped loving her, and that I’d only left her because I had thought it was best for her.
But I couldn’t. She looked at me longingly, expecting for me to say it back, and I wanted to- she deserved to know the truth, but I couldn’t. Not because it wasn’t true, but I think it was to protect her from me. It wasn’t about me anymore- I wanted better for her. I wanted someone for her that wouldn’t hurt her.
At the front of the room, my mom burst through the door with a smile of satisfaction, and we knew the moment had passed.
…
“Peter?” I could hear my name being called softly, and it wasn’t my mom or Claire, but I knew it was a girl’s. It was familiar, and I tried to think of everyone I knew, but I still felt weak and my mind was exhausted.
I felt something nudge me softly, and opened my eyes to see a strand of blonde hair hitting my arm. For a moment, a let the ends of my mouth twitch into a small smile, thinking of Claire, but then I remembered that she didn’t have blonde hair anymore- and it wasn’t long.
Elle stood in front of me with one of her own sad smiles etched on her psychotically pretty face. It would have been a lie if I said she wasn’t pretty, but compared to Claire, she was plain. She held nothing of which I desired, nothing that held my interest for long, not like Claire.
She brought her snake like hand to my bangs and pushed them back, smiling at me, “You should have listened to me, Peter, I told you to stop.” She paused and sighed, turning her head slightly to one side. Her behavior had continued to get weirder as time passed, until it seemed like the crazy Elle that I was used to hardly made appearances anymore.
“And look where all your mischievousness has brought you? But don’t worry, soon you’ll be out of here, and I’ll take you home and take care of you.”
A frown grew on my face, and I was confused as to what she meant. Why would she take care of me? This wasn’t an Elle I knew anymore. She had changed-just like me.
“What are you talking about?”
She giggled, almost in a crazy, Elle-like way and smiled, kissing my lips chastely. I almost thought I was in some kind of dream brought on by all the drugs, or my own vivid imagination that didn’t make sense at times, because truthfully? This couldn’t really be Elle.
This normal like creature before me, so different, so changed and complacent couldn’t possibly be the same person that had shocked me whilst having sex. I had to blink a couple of times before even thinking of a way to respond to her behavior. It was just so foreign to me.
I cocked my eyebrow and frowned, “Are you ok?”
Then something much stranger happened, something that I never really thought would happen- wetness started gathering in her eyes, “Why did you do it? Do you know how worried I’ve been?”
My mouth opened, a little confused as to how I should respond, “I’m-sorry?”
She shook her head and kissed me again, and it would have been a lie if I said I hadn’t kissed her back. It was just an automatic response, I guess.
Elle sighed and smiled, “I think I’m in love with you, Peter.”
Again, for maybe the fifth time while she’d been there, I was speechless. I couldn’t even get my head around the fact that she’d uttered the word ‘love’ to begin with. Then, to say she was in love with me? I felt like I was in the twilight zone to be honest.
Claire’s awkward declaration that she still loved me had brought me joy and relief. This? I didn’t know where to begin.
“Elle- I…I’m not sure I feel the same way.”
She giggled and rolled her eyes, “I know that, silly. But I’m going to fix it.”
I shook my head stubbornly, because I didn’t want to fix it. I would rather be hopelessly in love with Claire and not able to be with her, than feign being in love with Elle. It just wasn’t as appealing to me, “You know how I feel.”
I expected her to get angry, or sad, maybe even cry again, but to laugh was just another thing to add to her crazy list. I was starting to wonder if she was in fact bipolar.
The nurse came in, smiling, with something I wasn’t sure of- a sedative. It didn’t make sense when I was here because I had sedated myself to begin with, but I didn’t oppose. Sleeping sounded great compared to talking to Elle about her new found love for me. And the last words I heard before being pulled into complete darkness was, “…fix it.”
….
I tried thinking over what Elle had said to me the day before, but it was all still foggy and, honestly, I really didn’t care what she had said. Ok, I did care, slightly, but I wasn’t going to lie to her and tell her that I loved her back when I didn’t.
All that was really important at that moment to me was leaving the hospital without being caught by my mom or Claire. I wanted to see them, but I knew that they’d want me to go into some type of treatment center.
I couldn’t. It had been days since I’d taken anything, and I was starting to get anxious. Just thinking about what I had at home actually sent a chill through me. Yes, it was completely fucked up of me to be going back to what had brought me here to begin with, but part of me didn’t care. I just wanted my relief.
I licked my lips, putting my sweater over my head, and winced. My entire body was aching in pain. It was horrible, and I could feel my joints cracking as I stretched my arms. The only hope I could hold on to was that as soon as I got to my apartment, I would feel better.
A cigarette wouldn’t hurt either, I told myself mentally. I sighed, realizing that my pack was safely inside my back pocket.
I turned around, intent on walking out of my hospital room and leaving, but she was there again. She was standing with a bag in one of her hands, and her face turned into a curious frown. I liked her hair. It was short, but it went with her, I just wished it wasn’t brown.
“Where are you going?” She asked, stepping forward and grabbing my arm. Her scent was so potent, I could feel myself getting lightheaded.
Sadness filled me then. I don’t know why, but it did, and I hid it with a smirk, “Home.”
“You mean New York, right?”
I bit my lip and shook my head, kissing her forehead lightly, trying not to linger so long onto her. If I did, I might not be able to let go. She, like the drugs, was addictive, and I couldn’t have both. Actually, I just couldn’t have her, period.
As I turned to leave, she held me back. Her strength actually surprised me, “No! Go home with us, Peter, please?”
“That’s not my home anymore, Claire. It’s here, in London. I have to work.” I stated simply, looking at her beautiful, sad, green eyes.
It only took a few seconds for them to turn angry though, and for her to cross her arms, staring at me with daggers in her eyes, “Because the drugs are here, right?”
I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes, and instead sighed. She was right, and I hated that, but I wasn’t openly going to admit it, “No. My work is here.”
“That’s fucking lie, and you know it. Look at you, Peter, we’ve already been through this! You’re a walking skeleton! You need help, you’re going to kill yourself if you don’t get it. Please just go back home with us, for me.”
As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t argue with her. I didn’t want to go back to New York, not to see her flaunt her relationship with Andy, but I also couldn’t say no to her. And this right here, it was what I had been trying to avoid from the beginning. All I could do was smile and nod.
“Ok.”
…
One month later, sober, and still unknown as to why I felt confused- I sat here.
The room was kind of opaque gray, and the blinds so sheer that the sun was shining right through them. It was almost unbearable, and didn’t help with the dry feeling inside my throat. This was the moment where I had to talk and say what was wrong- but I couldn’t
See, the thing was that I had gone through this many times before. Therapy was not something foreign to me, having not been since I was five and I tried flying for the first time. At that time, I trusted a therapist, who then turned around and told my mom every single thing.
Which was why I knew that if I told her about Claire, my mom would be the next person to find out, and everything would blow up in front of me.
“Peter?” She called my name with a soothing voice. It was a voice I had heard plenty of times, in the same office, each time I had tried to kill myself as a teenager. They were all really feeble ones, not any that had actually put me in any life danger. Sometimes they hadn’t even happened yet, my mom would simply say that
I was planning on hurting myself, and she was always right.
I could remember the first time vividly. I was thirteen, and I had just overhead my dad telling Nathan that he would have to follow in his footsteps, that he was all the family really had and that I would never amount to anything.
Actually, I couldn’t help but giggle, remembering that and imagining Claire whispering “emo” into my ear at that moment. Maybe I had always been? I just hadn’t thought about it.
That night, when I heard my dad telling Nathan that was the first time I drank. I woke up in the hospital with a tube down my throat the next morning.
The next time I was sent to see my therapist was two days before my birthday. I knew, just like every year, that the only people that would be in attendance would be my mom, Nathan, and perhaps my dad. Nobody bothered coming to the Petrelli house for my birthday when they would be attending Christmas two days later.
I remember my mom taking me aside and demanding to see my wrists. I hadn’t done anything to them, they were perfectly intact, and I could see the relief on her face. But I remember that days before, I had been wondering why it was that people cut themselves, and how it felt. The curiosity had been there, but I had never acted upon it.
In high school when I had tried a cigarette, and my mom smelled me when I got home, she had driven me herself to see my therapist. And yet, as many times as I can recall my mom sending me to see her, I never once saw Nathan go, or my mom take him.
I remember one of my aunts gossiping one year over Thanksgiving, saying how it was horrible that my dad was still resentful over the bizarre pregnancy my mom had with me. How I had made her ill, and how since I was born, I had always been fragile.
I guess in some way, she’d always tried protecting me from my dad and myself when I hadn’t realized it. It was always common knowledge that Nathan was the favorite, that he was loved more. But I hadn’t stopped to notice that at least she cared. I just wish it would have been more.
And here I was again, expected to explain why it was that I had been taking drugs, when I wasn’t sure I knew myself. I guess it partly came from Claire, I was hurt that she didn’t love me. That she wanted somebody else when I was to give my life for her- I had given it for her.
But more than anything, it was an excuse to hide what was really underneath...It was to shield anyone from seeing that maybe, Nathan was right and I had been depressed, and that I did have layers of unresolved problems.
I grew up telling myself it was normal, that there was always a favorite, and that my childhood had been fine. I think I said it so many times that I convinced myself that I had, in fact, had a golden childhood, and that nothing had really been wrong.
Without my therapist saying anything, I started sobbing, not because Nathan had been loved more than me, not because of my dad‘s bitterness towards me, or mom declined love towards me, not even because I had ultimately lost Claire- I cried just for myself. Because I could see now that I had always had something to numb me. Whether it was my mom, being a nurse and focusing all my attention on other people, Claire, even the drugs. And now that nothing was left- I felt open, scared, free, vulnerable- light.
I left the session without saying anything, or having her say anything back either. But I felt better than I had in years- it was the most successful visit I think I had ever had.
When I stepped outside into the cool, Manhattan air, I could finally really breathe in and feel everything surrounding me. Things would be ok, never perfect, or ideal- but I would be fine, I knew it.
“How did it go?”
Claire’s tentative voice asked in front of me. She had insisted on coming with me, even though I had refused. She’d ended up waiting in the car instead
I let a hint of a smile creep on to my face, “It went well.”.
She started biting her lip and looking at me, that same scared expression I had seen before. I knew what she was going to say, because both her and Adam had offered it to me- the easy way out.
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Peter. All you need is a few drops of my blood and you wont even have the desire for it anymore.”
Stubbornly, I shook my head and sighed, bending down to kiss her on her forehead before getting inside the car. Once we were both inside, I answered, “Its not supposed to be that easy, and you know it. I need to do this one my own.”
She frowned a little, and I could tell her eyes were getting moist, “I miss you.”
Again, I sighed and tried to give her a small smile, “I’m right here.”
My response didn’t seem to lift her spirits and her pout protruded, “You know what I mean. I miss us.”
The truth was, I missed her too. I missed her kisses, her hair, the smell of her skin and waking up next to her in the morning. I missed her cooking, and her smile, I just missed her. Honestly, I wanted more than anything to take her in my arms then, to show her just how badly I needed her too. But something still stopped me, prevented me from allowing myself to tell her that I wanted her.
I decided to answer honestly, just not the honesty she was looking for, “Maybe we can take things slow?”
The change in her face was almost immediate. There was a sudden glow to it that I had only seen a handful of times. A slow and mischievous grin grew on her face, and she jumped on top of my lap, attacking my lips.
I chuckled, and held her face in response, kissing her back and finally feeling whole. This was what I had really needed all along, and as she continued to kiss me, I spoke between kisses, “So-much-for-taking-things slow.”
............
Beta'd By Ellie!
N/A: thanks you guys for giving me so much feedback! You guys are awesome!