I'm supposed to love you.

The decline had started rapidly. You noticed it more everyday. On the first day of the tour, he wasn't in the best condition but it was okay. The 12th, he was tired and sluggish until for some reason he was up and ready and feeling great again!

And now he crashed. The mania subsiding as he avoided sleep in his bunk, the sniffles of cries or another fix now a blurred line. A line that kept you up for hours. Until you hear the curtain open to his, then to your small bunk, turning around to meet the wide-eyed dilated teary browns. He needed you. Like a baby bird that needed his mother.

You knew it had all been hard for him. The band, getting a girl, the drugs, the parties, the lives of the fast and famous, and the crippling worry that you, and your friends, and everyone will leave him. The problem is, Pete was a ticking time bomb. You knew he was going to implode if he kept living like this. All you had to do was try to halt it, pull the right wire. Oh god no, not the green wire.

You couldn't object to him. Even if he had just told you before the show he hated half the shit you did you couldn't object to him. Even as his hands twitched and his body jolted slightly. He was Pete. It wasn't healthy for either of you.

He shakily whispered, under his breath with a small hiccup.

"I'm so sorry.. I'm so so so sorry.. please don't leave me..."