Tink & Simon || dealer verse
with @memoriies / @neverbcy
beginning: on the blog
continued on discord and compiled here, PART I
And then she was kissing back, pulling him in and he knew that he'd made the right choice. Some times he really need to listen to his instincts - his impulses.
So he allowed himself this luxury, the luxury of deluding himself into believing this was anything more than a fling between two people who pined for a love they would never get. It hurt to see Bell every time Peter rejected her, turning to his obsession with Wendy instead, but it hurt more to know deep down that he was doing exactly the same thing to himself, just with her.
Forcing himself to push those persistent thoughts down, Simon decided to just relish the moment. Never turn down the one thing that made it all bearable - the main reason he was still there. He could lie to everyone and say it was simply loyalty and fear that kept him in line, but he didn't have to share who he was loyal to. Who's life he feared for...
Hands sliding into her hair to hold her closer, pretending in that moment that she was all his and nothing was about Peter, he deepened the kiss - harsher, but the gentleness was still ever present. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
So he would just hurt himself to make her happy.
If Bell understood the consequences of partaking of the forbidden fruit, she might not have been so hasty to touch, to get her lips on Simon. Then again, if she were a pious woman to begin with she wouldn't have done any of the things in her life that had brought her here, to this moment. And as anyone--god-fearing or god-forsaken alike--knew, the problem with forbidden fruit was that it tasted so...
Good God. He made Peter seem like a boy.
Comparisons kept her grounded. Allowed her to remember who she was and pull herself back when she threatened to get lost in the feeling. What was that? The feeling that she was the ONLY thing in Slightly's world right now. He wasn't halfway to somewhere else, with someone else. She didn't get exclusive rights to Peter's thoughts even when she gave him every part of her.
This was new. Being kissed like she was the only one. For today, damn, she was lucky he wasn't in love.
He felt as though he were in a dream - surely none of this would be happening in real life... Life wasn't fair to Simon, never had been, so why start now? Then he remembered how unfair his life still was, because life liked to dangle happiness in front of him before ripping it away.
He'd been holding her close, letting Bell pick the pace, the intensity, not wanting to overstep. Losing himself in a false world where everything was kind to them both, and allowed the pair a happy ending.
Then a phone started to ring.
Her phone.
One glance at the screen told him who was calling.
Peter.
Of course there was an interruption now, when things were finally getting interesting around here. Right when she was in the middle of something good, a catch just had to pull her away. Bell only hoped Simon wouldn't take such an interruption as a sign that they shouldn't be doing...whatever this strange, wonderful thing was that they were doing.
Breaking away from their embrace was like coming up for air--resisting the temptation to dive back in almost impossible. She managed it with a flash of annoyance at their fun being disrupted, but that melted away like snow in spring as she checked the phone and saw who was calling.
Sitting up and adjusting herself mentally for a moment, she cleared her throat and picked up the call with a chirpy, “Hello.”
Simon moved further down the sofa from her as she answered, the fantasy world fading away into the bleak reality that he was in. He should have known this would happen - he never got to have too much happiness.
Something would always come along and snatch it up, telling him he'd had his time.
__
“Where are you?” He didn't bother greeting her, his goal was not to chat.
Peter glared around his room, eyes red and damp, body shaking with a mixture of anger, sadness, and craving.
She'd done it again. Floated into his life, told him this time it would be permanent, if he cleaned up. He'd been sober for a week before Wendy claimed he was too negative and upsetting to be around any more.
It should have been expected, they had a pattern now. She came, he tried to quit his 'nasty habits', she left, he went to Bell, repeat.
That tone was too easily recognizable. Bell was sure she couldn't keep her face from falling as she realized what state Peter was likely in, and exactly who had caused it. Wendy had reentered his life recently, pushing her to the sidelines; next step was pre-written. They'd been through the cycle plenty enough times before, and yet she had been swept up in it every time.
She still was. With her happiness so attached to, dependent on his, Peter's heartbreak was her own. And perhaps for selfish reasons, too, because she knew these times were the ones where he seemed to need her the most. It wasn't the same as wanting, appreciating, loving, but being needed was at least something.
Signaling to her guest with an apologetic expression and a motion that suggested she needed to handle this, she put their situation on the back-burner for Peter's without second thought. “I'm home. What do you need?”
Relief swam through his body and he stood from his bed, grabbing a jacket as he made his way to the front door.
"I'm coming over."
No questions, no asking if he could come over - it would be pointless to ask even if he had thought to, the answer was always yes. Peter simply grabbed his keys, tugged on some shoes, and was out of the door headed to Bell's home.
__
That signal was all he needed, to know it was that time of the month. Wendy had finally given up on Peter again, and he was building himself back up by using Bell as a way to feel better. It had taken longer than in the past, usually lasting only a few days before she left...
Simon knew that Wendy wasn't exactly good news, but he couldn't help but love when she was around. Perhaps it was because she made Peter slightly more bearable in those periods of time, or perhaps it was because it gave him the freedom to see Bell if he wanted.
Rising from the sofa, Simon didn't even glance back in Bell's direction before walking out.
Not two minutes after leaving was he suddenly slammed into a wall by a violent (and clearly experiencing withdrawals) Peter. He immediately regretted not leaving the instant he saw the caller ID.
__
Peter didn't live far from Bell, and when he was like this he really stopped giving a shit about road laws, speeding through the streets on his motorcycle. He'd not left the apartment long after telling her he'd be over, and it had taken him even less time than usual to make it there.
Which is how he saw Simon leaving the building. No one Simon knew, other than Bell, lived in that building.
Rage rolled over him, and he tackled the other man into the nearby wall. Not waiting for a response, he grabbed Simon by his collar and dragged him back inside, angrily knocking on the door. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”
His blunt answer sent her heart into a dizzying spiral. He could be over in a matter of minutes if he was leaving from where he lived--the click of the call ending told her she didn't have time to explain to him that she wasn't alone or tell Simon to get lost. Luckily her fox boy was clever enough to clue in before she could say anything and had already walked, leaving her to head to the window and watch his exit. Was that twinge of regret she felt because she would have been happy to continue their tryst a little longer, or because she may have put him in a dangerous spot?
If Peter were to catch Bell with any of the guys--the closest things after her that he had to “friends”--the chaos that would follow was...was unfolding before her eyes. Flinching at the sight of the collisions, Peter into Simon, Simon into the wall, imagining the felt them in her own gut, she tore her gaze away. No, oh no no no. What could she do? Would her presence ease Peter's fury or agitate it further?
She didn't need to answer that. Bell found herself at the door moments later without knowing how she got there, ready to rush down and intervene, but something overwhelming and oppressive as a dark cloud stopped her from turning the knob. Visceral fear. She must have stood there long enough for them to enter the building and march upstairs, which she hardly realized until the banging and shouts of Peter's demand shocked her back into action.
Shaking, she turned the knob and let the door swing open. Took two steps back to allow Peter and his anger to fit through.
“What is this?” she asked, using her flushed face to her advantage as she improvised an ignorant reaction. For all she knew, one of her dealers had just left her apartment from a quick chat about business only to be accosted by Peter on the way out.
Simon was practically thrown into the apartment, stumbling into an end table, almost knocking objects off of it. His heart was racing, life flashing before his eyes. It was a shit one...
Full of fear, addiction, lies and pain. He only wished Bell wasn't also going to have to deal with this.
His one regret was not being fast enough to save Bell from Peter.
__
After unceremoniously throwing the taller man into the apartment, Peter slammed the door shut behind himself. He was like a thunder storm, ready to strike at these traitors with lightning.
“Don't try to bullshit your way out of this, Bell! What was he doing here?!”
An accusatory finger was pointed at Simon, who was trying desperately to make himself seem small and invisible whilst glancing at the woman between them. Those glances only served to make Peter angrier. He recognised that look - he'd seen it in himself, and he'd seen it in Bell. The fear of losing someone you wanted.
A small, unexpected noise escaped her throat as she saw Simon shoved into a table...She had messed up and Peter was taking it out on him. Punishing him for nothing but the transgressions SHE had pushed him into, because SHE had strayed. But despite the violence in his voice, Peter hadn't laid a finger on her yet; if he was lashing out at the other man because he couldn't hurt her...Well, it didn't make it okay, but maybe it was because he cared about her. Actually cared, enough to get jealous.
Hating herself for even wanting this sort of vicious, possessive attention, she felt the speed of her heartbeat increase to a hummingbird pace. Nevertheless, she didn't want to see anyone hurt, so she approached Peter with what she hoped was a calming demeanor as she tried to soothe his concerns. Bullshit excuses or not, her love was genuine. Couldn't that alone give him some peace of mind?
“He was here to talk pixie dust; that's all. I told him to go when you called because I thought you wanted to...have a private conversation.” They all knew what that meant. It was a believable enough reason for the situation he'd caught them in--all he'd seen was Simon leaving. Peter must have known that if Bell ever expected anything from him, she wouldn't hesitate to kick her own grandmother out.
The fire in his eyes was suddenly directed straight at Bell, no longer concerned with Simon. She was lying to his face, and being so fucking calm about it.
“How stupid do you think I am?” The volume had lowered considerably, to the point where Peter would have seemed calm if not for the fierce tone and the burning anger in his face.
“Do you honestly think I've not seen the way he looks at you? But I left it alone, because I believed that you were smart enough to not want anything to do with him. That he was smart enough to not even try.”
Peter then glanced back over at Simon, who was breathing heavily, eyes clenched shut. Regret painted across his face, it only proved Peter right. And then he was moving, towards Bell. She would either step back, until he trapped her, or stand her ground and get forcibly moved into the nearest wall. That was her choice.
His voice dropped to an almost whisper, dripping with a poison that threatened to burn her from the inside.
“I guess you're both talented at lying. I'd say you deserved each other if it wasn't for one thing.” A hand suddenly reached out and grabbed Bell's upper arm in a vice like grip - adrenaline overpowering the weakness that came from withdrawal.
“You both forget that I don't share my toys.”
“I don't know what you mean--” she began, looking for the right combination of words that would stop his anger, stop him in his tracks as he backed her against the wall. True ones or false, warm ones or bitter. Were there any words of any language to placate that hell-born passion? She could fight to be believed, but when Peter got something into his head, he was stubborn as a bull. Even if she had been telling the truth, he probably wouldn't have believed her anyway.
She had been lying, though. It was her fault they were in this mess. She couldn't meet his eyes even as he grabbed her in a bruising hold and whispered words that sounded like threats. Her own fell on Simon and she could have laughed at the irony if she weren't so distressed. Not half an hour ago he'd also been pressing her to the wall, yet with none of the force and ferocity of Peter's grasp. She'd been the one making teasing remarks about Peter's property. It was like he was now unwittingly giving her what she'd asked for.
But she wouldn't admit to betraying Peter if it killed her.
“You're the only one I want,” she said, looking back at him. Her voice rose in intensity as she continued, “You know you are. I've always been here for you!”
You're the only one I want. Those words sliced through Simon like a knife, unable to hide the slight flinch that came with the pain. He was just a placeholder - a way for Bell to entertain herself until the main attraction decided she was worth his time again.
And yet some small part of him still wanted to protect her.
“I was just giving her the money I owed her, that's all. She's already made it clear that you're the only guy she'll ever be interested in.”
He was staring intensely at Peter, refusing to give Bell the satisfaction of seeing him acknowledge anything they'd had before this moment. Only bitterness.
___
Simon's voice had his head whipping around to glare at him, taking in everything he said. That bitterness... He wasn't a good actor, and it amused Peter to know that Simon was so hurt by Bell's disinterest. There was no way that could be faked.
But he didn't quite believe the reason for Simon's visit. Letting go of her, as if she was a burning piece of metal, Peter marched over to Simon and punched him - the man reeling back with a hand flying to his now bleeding nose. Then there were more punches, and it pleased him greatly to know that even when experiencing withdrawals, he still had the upper hand.
Simon was on the ground, shaking and bleeding as Peter crouched down, forcing the injured man to look up at him.
“If I ever see you on the same fucking street as Bell or her apartment, I'll have your heart removed and I will give it to her as a gift, just to watch her reject it again.” He was grinning, the anger still in his eyes was now mingling with a sick amusement.
“Now get out.”
__
Almost immediately, Simon was scrambling to his feet and wrenching the front door open, the slam of it closing followed him down the stairs as he tried to stop the bleeding, any of the bleeding. He was done. Moving, gone. A ghost.
He'd sell the last of his supply, keep the money for himself (how could he pay his supplier anyway? It was Bell), sell his crappy apartment and find somewhere new to live. Audition for the band and hope more than anything that they'd take him.
Relieved of his painful grasp on her arm, she was actually thinking for the tiniest sliver of a second that her words had reached some small sensitive part of Peter deep down, that he'd leave off them knowing he had no reason to think Simon was a threat. How silly of her. Her delusion of peace--why should she ever have expected it--was shattered instantaneously, as was possibly Simon's nose.
“PETER!” Her shriek was so high and breathless it wouldn't have done any good even if Peter was inclined to listen to her protests. The rest of her screams to stop, don't take it out on him, he did nothing, stop, went similarly unanswered. She attempted to hold his arm, only to be thrown back with his next swing. Giving up quickly on fruitless efforts--it never helped--she defaulted to the other option: she scooted away and shut her mouth. That was all she could do in the face of the bloody mess being made of her dear friend right in front of her eyes. Too small, too weak, too useless to stop it.
And then he was gone, gone for good and she was to blame. He didn't have the kind of money for hospital bills, and who was there at home to treat an injury if it was serious? If she had just kept her big mouth shut to begin with, hadn't let her arrogance get the better of her in thinking she could slip something past Peter and drawn Simon into all of this...Did she dare to hope it was over with him now out of sight?
Her voice was hardly audible in the wake of the storm that had just come through as she said, questioningly, “Peter?”
The aftermath had him drained of all the energy his adrenaline had provided. Peter tentatively rubbed his split knuckles, shaking and sweating once more with need. Turning to face her, his chest rapidly rising and falling, Peter looked so vulnerable, as if he could break at any moment.
“Pixie dust...” He managed to mutter, before making his way into the living room, to collapse on the sofa as nausea rolled through him like an ocean wave. She would have some, she always did, and he could rely on that. He needed it, he felt like he was staring at death and unable to move away.
The anger eventually subsided into a sadness that clung to his heart, like brambles that stuck to clothes as you desperately tried to get out, tugging painfully. It was only due to his heightened emotional state, and lack of drugs in his system, that Peter started to cry.
His lack of an answer, the visible weakness in his physical and mental state were enough proof that his outburst was over. In the ebb she melted, and immediately metamorphosed from plaything to caretaker. No one else would pick up the pieces. Deciding to clean up the mess in her apartment later, check up on Simon after Peter had been handled, she moved to bring him a fresh packet of dust and a glass of water.
Kneeling beside his spot on the couch, she almost offered over the drugs, but paused. Times when Peter needed something from her were the only ones when he didn't speak over her. Whether he was addled with withdrawal or not, she had a duty to herself to at least try to make him understand what effect his actions had on those around him. Let alone the physical injury to one of her best friends and dealers, but the emotional distress he put on anyone and everyone who associated with him.
“Peter, you can't DO shit like this anymore. I know it's because of that...bitch, Wendy...but you can't just take it out on everyone else!” His tears were enough to push hers over the edge as well, and they trailed down her face undisturbed as she reached out to wipe Peter's away with a finger.
He seemed unresponsive to her words, just continuously shaking with tears rolling down his cheeks. Sure, there'd be a brief time when he'd listen - when his sadness over Wendy leaving turned to a bitter want of revenge, and he would self destruct instead. Attack the very thing that she'd tried to make 'perfect'.
That also wouldn't last long, because Bell would try to stop him and then it would affect how much money they were making.
The second her finger touched his face, his hand snapped up to hold her wrist. It took a couple of seconds before he then tugged her closer and buried his head in her shoulder, arms tightly wrapped around her as he cried into her. Muffled ‘sorry’s and ‘I'm sorry’s were spoken into her shoulder through the tears.
He was well and truly vulnerable in this kind of state. It was almost sad that it took so much to make him even remotely decent, even if it was just for a few moments...
No answer but his delayed embrace and the quiet apologies that poured out with his tears. No way to know if he understood her or was just so broken that he would say anything to earn a fraction of forgiveness in the aftermath of his outburst. But he had never had to beg for scraps with her. She was a goner by the time he pulled her in close and tied her up in his shaking arms.
Bell crawled the rest of her body onto the couch alongside him so she could make a better cushion for him to wrap around--cry into. She tried to soak up his sadness, but it didn't matter how much she took from him; it was an endless spring from within Peter. Nothing would EVER be enough to quell it. No amount of surrogate motherly affection from half-present girlfriends, mind-numbing hallucinogens or support from a silly girl who thought she could mean something to him. She would never be enough.
It was a masochistic game to be a player in. Give her heart away to a reckless boy who dropped it each time. Pick up the pieces and hand them right back. Watch him tear himself apart every day in the name of self-medication. Pick up the pieces. Watch him break his own heart every other week. Pick up the pieces. Watch as he brutalized one of the only people in her life who might genuinely like her. Pick up the pieces. Over and over.
The new position only had him holding her tighter, whispers subsided back into quiet sobs that echoed slightly through the room. He hated to cry, especially in front of anyone, but his heart hurt too much for him to give a damn any more.
Eventually, after about half an hour, Peter's head rose from her shoulder, tear stained and incredibly pale.
“I'm done with her, Bell. This is the last time I let her in.”
Lies.
“She doesn't care about me - not like you do. I'm sorry I push you away,” a soft kiss was then pressed to the corner of her mouth. “I'll never do that again...”
More lies.
How long would it last this time? He acted as if there was a real choice between her and Wendy. Like he would actually stay by her side next time the perfect, polished primadonna came waltzing into his life and tried to change him. Bell had never been his first choice before--why would she start to be one now? She told herself not to believe it, not to fall for those pretty words that fell from tender lips. She told herself not to be drawn in by those eyes that promised peace but delivered poison.
But it had been really bad this time...Worse than ever before, and though it was record-breaking every time, it had been so bad he might truly refuse to go through it again. Bloody and tragic, and yet here she was, holding onto him despite it all. Had he finally learned who was always here by his side no matter the circumstances or the cost? She made herself sick by smiling into his kiss, but the slimmest possibility was worth the risk. If he wanted to feed her lies, she would make excuses to eat them up.
And so she picked up the pieces. And handed them back to the boy.
Her smile had him smiling softly, and this was perhaps the softest he's ever been. Moving in for another kiss, Peter closed his eyes and willed for his heart to heal once more. Let her put it back together again, and he wouldn't hurt so much.
Though a small thought in the back of his mind piped up, reminding him that he'd leave her again as soon as he was whole once more.
He probably should have cared, but he didn't.
Enjoying the small part of Peter's heart Bell could touch, the attention she so craved which he rarely allowed her, she allowed time to slip away as they held one another. After a while she noticed a fresh wave of his swetaing and tremors hitting him hard, effects she couldn't cure with all the affection in her arsenal, and gave him a fix of his favorite medicine. Poison in a pretty package. Eventually they moved to her bed and the rest of the night swirled by in a sweet blur, but as always he was gone by morning's light.
It took her longer than usual to get ready that day, head feeling full of cotton and eyes bleary but filled with a sense of strange calm and peace. Even numbness as she cleaned the dried blood from Peter's jealous attack on Simon the previous night and showered away the remnants of his scent on herself. She chose a top that covered the bruise blooming on her upper arm and set off to meet her sister.
Peri's apartment was in a much nicer area as opposed to the seedy neighborhoods Bell frequented, and she felt a small sense of relief at ringing the bell and not feeling the pressing need to look over her shoulder.