Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > I'm Not One For Love Songs

I'm Not One For Love Songs (Part 22)

by ohsotay23 5 Reviews

What happens after the 'shag'? I can guarantee that you guys were not expecting this! Review & Rate!

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Humor - Characters:  - Published: 2010/01/03 - Updated: 2010/01/04 - 1837 words - Complete

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Author's Note: I did promise more speedy updates! So, here you go my lovely readers!
P.S. Does antbody have any sites like Ficwad that they recommend for posting fics? Thanks!


chocolatechortle22- Yes! the tension there was getting to be even too much for me!, and i'm the write! hehhehe. ;D
ixamxnotxaxnugget- yess! gaby is such a sweetie! a sweetie pie asshole, he is the biggest oxymoron that i know! i think you will especially love the twist in this chapter! :D

Song Recommendation- Sister Golden Hair- Midtown


I'm Not One For Love Songs

I laid there a few hours later staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.

“We just had sex,” I said dazedly.

I felt Gabe shift to turn from his laying position on the bed to face me, “Yes, we did, multiple times.”

“We just fucked. Your penis was in my vagina,” I said, still not completely able to comprehend what I was saying.

“...And other places... And we did not fuck, we made love,” I could feel his smirk from here.

I finally turned my head from its position of blankly staring at the ceiling to look at him, “Was what we just did a good thing? Do you think maybe it was a mistake?” I asked him unsure.

That's when his cocky, teasing demeanor left. He turned me so that I was pulled up against him, not even worrying about his bruises or injuries. Still, I couldn't help but try to be gentle while he was holding me tightly to him.

“Do not even try going down that path. I do not need you freaking out on me and calling this a mistake, alright? This was not a mistake. This will not be a problem. And this sure as hell didn't mean nothing to me; it meant everything. So don't even get on that thought wave. I love you, and I'm more than sure that I'm in love with you,” he declared as I stayed frozen in his arms at this proclamation of his. What was I supposed to do? What I could I possibly say. I know I have these intense, powerful feelings for him, but I'm not so sure that I'm ready to categorize them as love, or at least verbalize them as that.

He must have sensed my inner panic and tried to sooth me, “And don't think that because I'm making these confessions that I expect you to return them, yet. When you're ready to tell me what you're feeling, then I'll be ready to hear it. No pressure. I'm just glad that I can get what I'm feeling off my chest. You know us musicians, sensitive men we are,” he ended with a smile, trying to lighten the atmosphere a bit.

I looked directly into his eyes, with a small, but still genuine, smile, “I'm sorry I kind of freaked. And I care about you so much, I just don't think I'm ready to say those three humongous words just yet. And believe me, I don't actually regret any of this. I'm happy, I really am genuinely happy. I'm happiest when I'm with you,” I said simply and I pecked him quickly trying not to get too into the kiss and ruin the moment.

“That's all I need to hear you say. I just want to make you happy. I want us to be happy together,” he nuzzled into my neck.

So there we were, cuddling, sharing a really sweet moment, and what happens? Oh, you know, someone starts knocking on my door. No big deal. Not. I'm annoyed.

We both sigh in frustration, hoping that the knocker will just give up on trying to reach either of us and just go away. After a few more knocks, I can't stand it anymore. I sit up and get out of the bed, dressing as Gabe lays there watching me try to rush to the door to see whoever it is so that I can tell them off.

As I leave the room, I see him trying to collect his clothes and look presentable as best as he can while hobbling around with a broken leg.

As I reach the door I don't even look through the peep hole to see who it is. It doesn't matter who's at the door. Whoever it is, they're going to get a real earful about interrupting people at bad times.

As I open the door the thought of saying anything at all is completely wiped from my mind, I stand in shock, totally speechless.

It's my father.

The piece of shit who ruined my childhood, ruined my teen years, ruined parts of me that can never be repaired. The piece of shit that I haven't seen in 5 years when I left him without a word. When I left him, I refused to let myself think of him or anything pertaining to him ever again. It's like my past has literally come back to haunt me.

He still scared me. I was fighting between staying strong and facing this problem or slamming the door in his face and curling up in the corner. I knew what option I had to put into action.

“What do you want?” I could barely recognize myself as the cold person who had just spoken those words.

“What? No 'hello' to your good ole dad?” he asked with a big fake smile plastered on his face.

I just stared at him blankly, “I left you without a word for a reason. I did not want you to come find me. I honestly don't care about your well being at all. You're just going to cause problems, I can tell. Now tell me why you're here or leave. I do not need you in my life,” I told him directly. I was not putting up with him or his bullshit.

I could feel Gabe's gaze on me as he hobbled into the room on his crutches. I felt him come up behind me, wrapping his arm around me as if he was trying to protect me from the tense atmosphere in the room at the moment, having no idea who was standing in front of us, still outside the doorway and in the hallway.

“Who's this love?” he asked me, though he looked intimidatingly at our visitor, well as intimidatingly as someone on crutches can look. It's not like he had to try real hard though. My dad is who I assume I got my short 5' 4” stature from, because he himself is only about 5' 8”. On the other hand Gabe stood at about 6' 4”, easily towering menacingly over him.

“No one important. Now what do you want?” I asked my father again, so that I could get rid of him as soon as possible.

“Actually, I'm her father,” he stated with a loud gruff, put off that I had someone here to back me up, “And who are you? Some boyfriend or something?” he questioned mockingly, obviously not taking Gabe serious.

I could feel Gabe's glare on my father. He remembered what I told him about my past home life apparently. Or at least that's what it seemed from the way that he had visibly stiffened. I could tell he was restraining himself.

“I'm her boyfriend, and roommate. And now you've got me wondering, what the fuck are you doing here asshole?” he said in a very contained voice. I could tell he was restraining from using a much more colorful vocabulary.

“That's none of your damn business boy. Now run along, let us two talk alone,” he said trying to brush Gabe off.

“See, now that's not gonna happen, so I suggest that you tell her why you're here or leave. Either way, you'll be gone soon, and I'm sure that's what she's hoping for,” he said bitingly to my father.

“Oh really? And you think you know her better than me boy?” my father asked, annoyed.

“Oh, I know that, for a fact. Better than you ever did,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Watch your mouth there boy, blood is thicker than water,” he glared.

Gabe just chuckled without humor, “Nice saying there old man, too bad you've never exactly backed it up. Now, I'm asking this for the last time- why are you here?”

“So you're gonna let this boy speak for you, huh?” he asked turning to me.

Okay, now I was really fed up with this bullshit, “Yes! As a matter of fact, I am! He's saying everything I'm thinking! Now spit it out! I know you're here for something, and I wanna know what, right now.”

He just looked at me hardly, “I need some money,” after those words were said, I slammed the door in his face, or at least tried too. His freaking foot halted that from being completed.

“No! Wait! You don't understand!” he tried to explain, “I got into some trouble! The IRS is out for me! I need to pay a lot of debt back! If you don't help me I'll be going to jail, forever! Would you really let your own father go to jail?!” he tried to get my sympathy.

I stood there in surprise, not exactly expecting that. If I didn't give him the money, he would go to jail, for the rest of his life. He would be stuck behind bars until he died. I didn't know what to do, or think. While I'm not exactly rich, I still have been saving and I am definitely financially stable. Could I really just slam this door and let my father go to jail for the rest of his life? Could I really let him die in a cold prison with no one there with him? Did I really hate him that much?

I looked behind me at Gabe who just looked curiously at me.

I knew what I had to do.

“Fuck you. You're good at ruining people's lives in order to make yours easier; I'm sure you'll find another way out of this little situation you've put yourself into,” and with that stuck my nose up and slammed the door in his shocked and infuriated face.

He yelled on last thing through the door, “You stupid fucking cunt! You're not even mine anyways! You're whore of a mother was lucky I even took her back after her little fuck with that pretty boy. She sure did get a beating for that one!” And with that, he stalked down the hall and that, I was sure, was the last that I would ever hear from Randall Nichols, who I had always thought was my father. But I guess I as wrong about that.

I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me as I leaned against the wall for support, with Gabe standing there looking just as shocked as me. I slid down the wall into a sitting position, pulling my knees to my chest.

Why is my life so fucked up?
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