Peter slowly opened his eyes, his head pounding and ears ringing. He was lying on the bathroom floor, not sure what was happening. Everything was a hazy blur with no memory of the night before.
It all began to come back in bits and pieces: the beer bottle, his mother's rage. He slowly sat up, holding his head in his hands. It felt like a train had crashed through his temples.
As he sat there, his head pounding and thoughts flooding him. Despite all that had happened, his number one thought was Maria. He stood up and hesitated to look at his face. He could feel something was there even before looking in the mirror.
"Maria's gonna be mad." He said as he looked in the mirror at a massive scab on his left cheek. "How am I going to explain this?"
Peter inched the bathroom door open slowly, checking for his mother. As usual, she was passed out on the couch with the T.V. blaring some random show. He wasn't surprised in the slightest.
Peter slipped out the door, gently closing it. He sighed and started walking to Maria's. He knew what she would say, "Peter, you should just move out. You can't keep letting this happen."
Sure enough, when he knocked on the door, and she saw the scab, those famous words were uttered. "I know. I know." He replied to her.
She sighed heavily, shaking her head in annoyance, and hugged him tightly. Mr. Morris walked by and just shook his head disapprovingly. He already knew what had happened. It wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last.
Mr. Morris walked over to Peter. "Peter J. Morgan." He said with a sigh. "Tsk tsk tsk."
Peter looked at Mr. Morris, pain in his eyes that he hid so well. "Michael J. Morris."
The two glared at each other before Mr. Morris slowly reached out to Peter. Peter shook his hand, slightly confused and a bit hesitant. Why was Mr. Morris being friendly to him all of a sudden?
Mr. Morris cleared his throat and spoke up, "You may take my daughter to Homecoming, Peter."
Peter noticed a burn mark on his palm, and Mr. Morris tried to hide it under his sleeve. Peter instantly knew what had happened. Mr. Morris was targeted, meaning he had failed to kill someone for Ventura. Peter looked down at his own palm. He, too, had failed Ventura once.
His target? Mr. Morris. Years ago, he had refused to kill him. Little did he know that would lead him to a life-changing event. Maybe if he had, things would have ended differently.
"Peter?" Mr. Morris said with a sigh. "Treat my girl right, or you'll regret it."
Peter nodded and sat down on the couch with Maria. He didn't even notice Mr. Morris leave. Maria went to her room for a minute to check her phone, which was charging on the bedside table.
Maria sat down on the couch next to Peter. He quickly turned the T.V. off when he noticed Maria's tears. "What's wrong, My Midnight Rose?"
Maria slumped her head into Peter's chest, crying heavily, her makeup running down onto his tattered white shirt.
Peter patted her head, running his hands soothingly through her hair and speaking softly. "It's okay, My Sweet."
"I'm just so stressed, Red. All the things they said are haunting me." Maria sobbed into Peter's shirt. Maria was popular, but she was also the subject of many cruel jokes and rumors.
Peter lifted her chin, making her look him in the eyes. He wasn't a very good emotional talker, but his emerald eyes conveyed all the emotion needed. "You're here now. I know how much you've done."
Maria hugged him, her arms wrapping around his neck, "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."
He was her safety, her calm island in the midst of a raging storm. One touch and she felt safer. Peter rubbed her back soothingly as they hugged. "I may not be the perfect man, but I'll never hurt you, Vee."
Despite being a dominant woman, Maria was a sucker for romance. One solid love line could make her already rosy cheeks bright red. Peter knew exactly how to make her fold, which was also the secret to calming her down.
Maria blushed heavily, tears still staining her face as she avoided Peter's eyes. With only one line, she was easily swayed, giggling and blushing.
Peter held her close, their faces close enough that she could feel his breath on her cheek. "Don't hide those beautiful eyes, Vee."
Maria blushed and gazed into Peter's eyes. "My eyes aren't that beautiful, Pete."
Peter moved a strand of hair from her face. "I get lost in those eyes every day," Peter said. Maria laughing.
"I'd throw away the map if it meant I could spend more time lost in your gorgeous eyes," Peter whispered into Maria's ear. A tingle rang through her body as he spoke.
"I-I... Thank you..." Maria stammered, her face flushed with embarrassment. She blushed and cupped Peter's face in her hands.
"I love you so much, Peter," Maria said, passionately kissing him. The two sat on the couch, their lips locked.
Peter looked into Maria's eyes and wiped tears from her cheek. "Why don't we get that makeup cleaned up?" Maria looked at Peter's shirt and started crying again.
"I'm so sorry for ruining your shirt." Maria sobbed, feeling bad about what her makeup stains had done.
"This old thing was already ruined. It wasn't always sleeveless, you know." Peter reassured her, laughing softly. "I can take it off if it bothers you."
Maria blushed heavily. "N-no... That's okay..." She replied, but Maria's head was screaming for him to remove it, "Yes! Remove your shirt! PLEASE REMOVE IT!!"
Peter glanced over at her, placing a warm towel over her face and dabbing at the makeup streaks. He had no idea how she was feeling about him. That she was secretly hoping he would take his shirt off.
"You really don't need makeup, Vee. A therapist, maybe. But not makeup." Peter laughed reassuringly, still dabbing at the makeup.
Maria chuckled, "Oh ha ha. Real funny, Pete."
She punched his shoulder. "If I need a therapist, you need a damn Messiah!"
She laughed her sweet and goofy laugh, making Peter laugh harder. "Guess we both need a therapist, huh?"
"Yeah."
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