Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > The Mixed Tape
Two months had gone by. The funeral came and went. It was the most miserable experience, other than the passing over her mother, of course, and to finally have it over with, was one of the best feelings Cassandra had ever known.
To say things had returned to normal would be completely false. Her bookstore was struggling more than ever, and Peter had gone with the rest of the guys to promote the new album. After the day her father died, she'd short of shut him out. How could she not? There were so many things that she was going to have to look after now, that she could hardly imagine worrying about relationships, as sad as it sounds.
Cassandra's father had left her a considerable amount of money, and a house, which she sold. Why would she want to go there? What would persuade her to move into the home she had grown up in, and the home where every sad, happy, or embarrassing memory of her and her late parents existed?
Instead, she invested the money from her father into savings, which was wise, bought a new house with the money from her childhood home, and started worrying about the bookstore once more. Keeping herself on her feet had been the only options as of late. The more she slowed down, the more she realized how alone she had been.
It made her angry.
The day of her father's funeral, she had cried to Peter, telling him that the only thing she was afraid of now was being lonely. It was a feeling that every one claims to know at least once in their life, but now that loneliness was knocking at the door of Cassandra's universe, she wasn't sure it was something she was actually familiar with. Peter had told her, point blank, that he wasn't going anywhere, at least, not without her, or knowing she would at least be okay in his absence.
Well, he was absent, once again, and she wasn't doing okay. Cassandra was honestly wondering whether it even mattered to him or not, because by now, he'd barely spoken to her in a month.
She was surprised, but wasn't, simultaneously.
The morning of December 21st left her feeling as un-cheery as any nearly-Christmas morning shouldn't. The bookstores last day of the season was this day, and she really wasn't sure she was going to make it through the tedious task of ordering next years books while simultaneously dealing with customers and whoever else wandered into her store. Usually the only "whoever else" was a collection of homeless men looking for coffee. She usually tossed them a couple bucks and went back to work.
She had that feeling again. Things today were going to be significantly different.
It couldn't get any worse than it already had though, she reasoned, because both of her parents were already gone. Whatever was going to come against her today, was not going to give her problems as far as annihilating it went. She was infinite; invincible.
Just fucking kidding.
She was weaker and more vulnerable than she'd ever been in her life, to say the least, so whatever wanted to come fuck up her day, could wait until she just didn't give a shit.
The day went by, steadily and busily, without interruptions from the grim reaper of unhappiness that Cassandra had been so sure was going to visit. Fine by her. She just didn't need it.
As she went to the Wooden door to turn around the sign that would let the world know that there was no going beyond those doors anymore for the day, she saw the face she had been dying to not see.
"Cassandra." She flipped the sign around and locked it as quickly as possible, leaving Peter there, defeated and helpless.
He nodded, looked at the ground, and pulled an envelope out of the pocket of his coat. Slowly, he slid it under the door, and walked away, not looking back.
Cassandra made sure he was a considerable distance away before opening the door and removing Peter's envelope from the step. She quickly shut the oak door to keep the cold air out instead of in, and opened the envelope.
There, in her hands, was a CD. The first contact she was going to have with Peter since a month ago was in the form of a compact disc that could only hold 80 minutes worth of music, or speaking.
She was sure the conversation they needed to have would take a little longer than 80 minutes, so the CD couldn't have been that big of a deal.
She bid Anna goodbye as the store closed for good, and began the cold walk home. When she finally arrived at her new apartment, she took her coat off, and went to her computer, putting Peter's CD in the drive, waiting for the words he needed to say, and the music he needed her to hear.
This better be good.
His voice surrounded her. She missed that voice.
"Hello, beautiful. Where have you been hiding. I've been hiding on a bus with 3 other boys almost my age who bathe about as often as dogs...stray dogs. The key word, and the most important thing to be addressed, is the said hiding we've been doing. Emotionally and physically, we've separated our selves from each other. We're fucking stupid. I know I'm supposed to be where you are. In fact, I told you that's the only place I ever planned on being again, but here I am, a good distance away from you, telling you I love you even though you really don't want to hear from me. I'm like Gatsby. He loved daisy so much that his moral ambiguities shone through. I'm morally ambiguous, as we know, and I love you as Gatsby loved daisy. Only, Gatsby loved Daisy because he wanted in her pants. I love you because you make me forget what a fuck up I am, chronically. Please listen to this song. It's my last shot. I just want to be where you are."
She was furious. Every word of that speech had been sincere, yet the only emotion her body could process was pure, raw, fury, she pushed pause and put her hands on her forehead. If he had really mean all of the things he said, why was he there and not here? Why hadn't he helped her move and paint her new home, or helped her when she was selling her Dad's stuff, and the home she grew up in? If he really mean all of those things, why would he abandon her in the time where she needed to avoid abandonment the most? What the hell was his fucking problem? What the hell was hers?
She pushed the next button. It had taken two tracks to make this one. Wasn't he impressive and well-worth her 4 and a half minutes?
She opened up the small piece of paper that had been placed in the sleeve along with the CD, and read.
1. Sad, Pathetic Intro-Peter Fucking Wentz
2. Turnpike Gates
We would drag oursevles to bed
And sleep took everything I had
I kept it up till he would call
You made me feel like a criminal
And then there's you
You kept a smile
Though I would always walk the wire
You gave it all
I gave you reason to have doubt
I had to get out of here
I took the stairs
I don't wanna fight with you if I can't be the one to have you
You sat that chair like a queen in the kitchen
I memorized the lines your eyes made
At every squint you shot my way
But you're miserable
And I'm useless
Always making up excuses
I made you cry too many times
So I'm hanging up that line
I'm throwing rocks at your floor
I'm knocking down your front door
I'm desperate tonight
And I just wanna fight
It's my confusion that lets me act so cold
So now I'll go
And you wanna be just left alone
Put down that phone
'Cuz if you want me, just call out "hey boy."
She stared at the CD player, as it once again read the amount of songs the CD contained and the amount of time it took to hear them.
She didn't notice her front door opening. She didn't hear the footsteps coming down the hall way. She didn't notice the creak of her bedroom door as it opened, revealing a tired disheveled Peter. She didn't notice any of it.
The only things she noticed, were her lips on his, as he kissed her. I guess you could say she noticed the way she didn't pull away. After the kiss, the discarding of clothes, and his entry into her, you can probably assume she'd stated noticing things...
Even the "I love you" she muttered as they drifted off to sleep.
To say things had returned to normal would be completely false. Her bookstore was struggling more than ever, and Peter had gone with the rest of the guys to promote the new album. After the day her father died, she'd short of shut him out. How could she not? There were so many things that she was going to have to look after now, that she could hardly imagine worrying about relationships, as sad as it sounds.
Cassandra's father had left her a considerable amount of money, and a house, which she sold. Why would she want to go there? What would persuade her to move into the home she had grown up in, and the home where every sad, happy, or embarrassing memory of her and her late parents existed?
Instead, she invested the money from her father into savings, which was wise, bought a new house with the money from her childhood home, and started worrying about the bookstore once more. Keeping herself on her feet had been the only options as of late. The more she slowed down, the more she realized how alone she had been.
It made her angry.
The day of her father's funeral, she had cried to Peter, telling him that the only thing she was afraid of now was being lonely. It was a feeling that every one claims to know at least once in their life, but now that loneliness was knocking at the door of Cassandra's universe, she wasn't sure it was something she was actually familiar with. Peter had told her, point blank, that he wasn't going anywhere, at least, not without her, or knowing she would at least be okay in his absence.
Well, he was absent, once again, and she wasn't doing okay. Cassandra was honestly wondering whether it even mattered to him or not, because by now, he'd barely spoken to her in a month.
She was surprised, but wasn't, simultaneously.
The morning of December 21st left her feeling as un-cheery as any nearly-Christmas morning shouldn't. The bookstores last day of the season was this day, and she really wasn't sure she was going to make it through the tedious task of ordering next years books while simultaneously dealing with customers and whoever else wandered into her store. Usually the only "whoever else" was a collection of homeless men looking for coffee. She usually tossed them a couple bucks and went back to work.
She had that feeling again. Things today were going to be significantly different.
It couldn't get any worse than it already had though, she reasoned, because both of her parents were already gone. Whatever was going to come against her today, was not going to give her problems as far as annihilating it went. She was infinite; invincible.
Just fucking kidding.
She was weaker and more vulnerable than she'd ever been in her life, to say the least, so whatever wanted to come fuck up her day, could wait until she just didn't give a shit.
The day went by, steadily and busily, without interruptions from the grim reaper of unhappiness that Cassandra had been so sure was going to visit. Fine by her. She just didn't need it.
As she went to the Wooden door to turn around the sign that would let the world know that there was no going beyond those doors anymore for the day, she saw the face she had been dying to not see.
"Cassandra." She flipped the sign around and locked it as quickly as possible, leaving Peter there, defeated and helpless.
He nodded, looked at the ground, and pulled an envelope out of the pocket of his coat. Slowly, he slid it under the door, and walked away, not looking back.
Cassandra made sure he was a considerable distance away before opening the door and removing Peter's envelope from the step. She quickly shut the oak door to keep the cold air out instead of in, and opened the envelope.
There, in her hands, was a CD. The first contact she was going to have with Peter since a month ago was in the form of a compact disc that could only hold 80 minutes worth of music, or speaking.
She was sure the conversation they needed to have would take a little longer than 80 minutes, so the CD couldn't have been that big of a deal.
She bid Anna goodbye as the store closed for good, and began the cold walk home. When she finally arrived at her new apartment, she took her coat off, and went to her computer, putting Peter's CD in the drive, waiting for the words he needed to say, and the music he needed her to hear.
This better be good.
His voice surrounded her. She missed that voice.
"Hello, beautiful. Where have you been hiding. I've been hiding on a bus with 3 other boys almost my age who bathe about as often as dogs...stray dogs. The key word, and the most important thing to be addressed, is the said hiding we've been doing. Emotionally and physically, we've separated our selves from each other. We're fucking stupid. I know I'm supposed to be where you are. In fact, I told you that's the only place I ever planned on being again, but here I am, a good distance away from you, telling you I love you even though you really don't want to hear from me. I'm like Gatsby. He loved daisy so much that his moral ambiguities shone through. I'm morally ambiguous, as we know, and I love you as Gatsby loved daisy. Only, Gatsby loved Daisy because he wanted in her pants. I love you because you make me forget what a fuck up I am, chronically. Please listen to this song. It's my last shot. I just want to be where you are."
She was furious. Every word of that speech had been sincere, yet the only emotion her body could process was pure, raw, fury, she pushed pause and put her hands on her forehead. If he had really mean all of the things he said, why was he there and not here? Why hadn't he helped her move and paint her new home, or helped her when she was selling her Dad's stuff, and the home she grew up in? If he really mean all of those things, why would he abandon her in the time where she needed to avoid abandonment the most? What the hell was his fucking problem? What the hell was hers?
She pushed the next button. It had taken two tracks to make this one. Wasn't he impressive and well-worth her 4 and a half minutes?
She opened up the small piece of paper that had been placed in the sleeve along with the CD, and read.
1. Sad, Pathetic Intro-Peter Fucking Wentz
2. Turnpike Gates
We would drag oursevles to bed
And sleep took everything I had
I kept it up till he would call
You made me feel like a criminal
And then there's you
You kept a smile
Though I would always walk the wire
You gave it all
I gave you reason to have doubt
I had to get out of here
I took the stairs
I don't wanna fight with you if I can't be the one to have you
You sat that chair like a queen in the kitchen
I memorized the lines your eyes made
At every squint you shot my way
But you're miserable
And I'm useless
Always making up excuses
I made you cry too many times
So I'm hanging up that line
I'm throwing rocks at your floor
I'm knocking down your front door
I'm desperate tonight
And I just wanna fight
It's my confusion that lets me act so cold
So now I'll go
And you wanna be just left alone
Put down that phone
'Cuz if you want me, just call out "hey boy."
She stared at the CD player, as it once again read the amount of songs the CD contained and the amount of time it took to hear them.
She didn't notice her front door opening. She didn't hear the footsteps coming down the hall way. She didn't notice the creak of her bedroom door as it opened, revealing a tired disheveled Peter. She didn't notice any of it.
The only things she noticed, were her lips on his, as he kissed her. I guess you could say she noticed the way she didn't pull away. After the kiss, the discarding of clothes, and his entry into her, you can probably assume she'd stated noticing things...
Even the "I love you" she muttered as they drifted off to sleep.
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