Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Sincerity's In, So Don't You Sound Like You Mean It

Until We've Got Nothing Left

by pixied_secrets 9 Reviews

not the usual suspects. this chapter reveals... well, it reveals.

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: R - Genres: Angst, Drama, Humor - Characters:  - Warnings: [!!!] [?] - Published: 2006/10/28 - Updated: 2006/10/29 - 2679 words

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Chapter Twelve - Until We've Got Nothing Left



You would expect it to be awkward...

...or at least I did.

When you are in this situation you pretty much have two options. You can avoid each other and try to make things "not as awkward" (thus, making it even more awkward) or you can talk about it like adults and come to the conclusion that, well, some things just aren't meant to be.

But I did say "pretty much"...you always have more than just two options. Duh.

After settling in the car and enjoying the ride to the connivence store, we talked. Not about things that mattered, a.k.a. the fact that we almost just had sex. Really hot, very dirty, and completely spontaneous sex...

Dammit.

In that five minutes the mood went from "hot" to just above "normally contented". I told him the joke about psychiatrist and cellophane and he countered with one about monkeys and the "hershey squirts". The exact dialog is not important, but the fact that we had managed to go from 0 to 60 and then back to 0 in less than an thirty minutes time is, in fact, important.

We picked up the necessities; chocolate, cheap DVD's, and condoms. Although they weren't used, we came to the mutual agreement that it's kind of a "better safe than sorry" scenario. That played out something like "well, you never know. I mean, 'cause someone might, ya know," as he grabbed for the ultra sensitive Lifestyle condoms.

Needless to say the rest of the night passed by fairly uneventfully.

I woke up the next morning to Hemingway's piercing whine. If it weren't for him and my cell phone I would probably hibernate until my thirties.

I pulled my head off of the couch and glanced over at Pete, who was surprisingly still sleeping. He laid flat on his back, with his hands resting peacefully on his chest. It looked kind of creepy, actually.

I looked at the clock, which brightly read 6:43. I looked over at Hemingway, whose facial expression read something like "I'm about to take the biggest piss in the history of big pisses". I grabbed his leash and my cell phone, letting him outside to relieve himself.

I opened my phone and called David. He was sending a car to pick me up in the next hour. He told me to shower, and that's all. "It doesn't matter what you look like when you get there. They're going to re-vamp you anyway," He explained.

After showering and changing I went downstairs to wait for my ride and was happily surprised to see Pete sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal and watching the television. I took a seat next to him and looked at him questioningly.

"Lifetime?" I asked, pointing to the T.V.

"Good band, good network." He replied nonchalantly.

I just shrugged my shoulders. You can't really argue with that.

"How long is this interview thing going to take?" He asked, grabbing the remote to turn the television down.

"I have no idea. It's an interview and photo shoot. Why?"

"Well, Warped is in town today, and I'm having some people over to christen the house. I don't know if I'm doing the party thing today or tomorrow. I haven't really planned," He finished and I nodded my head in understanding.

There was silence as Delta Burke's character relapsed into her gambling problem. I watched half-interested and stole glances at Pete.

"I'm sorry about last night," He said quickly, forcing the words out of his mouth, keeping his eyes on the glowing entertainment screen.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Why?"

"I shouldn't have, well. I mean..." He paused and cleared his throat. I turned to face him and his eyes came in contact with mine.

"I'm not sorry," He said quietly.

"Good," I leaned in to place a soft kiss on his lips. I saw the headlights dancing threw the windows and I got up off of the couch.

"I'll be back," I said, leaning over him to give a small kiss, something in my head telling me to linger.

He pulled back and smiled. "You better get going,"

I nodded and kissed him again quickly before grabbing my bag and heading for the car.



"One critic referred to this movie as "The Notebook" meets "Studio 54". What do you think about that?" A middle-aged man in a suit jacket asked Belle, with a pen and notebook in his lap.

It's not every day you are able to speak with famous journalist. Well, maybe not famous, but she greatly respected the man sitting across from her. At first the process vaguely reminded her of the therapist she visited earlier this year, except this man seemed to be genuinely interested in what she was saying. After being interviewed for a little over an hour, her nerves had settled and she began to feel comfortable.

"If you wanted to generalize it, I'm sure that would be the easiest thing to come up with. But the amazing thing about this movie is that it takes romance, between to opposite characters like Christian's character, Lane, and Claire, and makes it into this life-altering love that is self-destructive but oddly romantic. They hate to love each other, and it's something that everyone can relate to,"

"Do you have anything in common with Claire, your character?"

"There are almost no similarities between the two of us, which has its pros and cons. as a challenge to play a character like Claire. She's a socialite, and has almost no self-control. She's always looking for her next high, whether it be her next sexual conquest, drug... whatever. It was definitely fun to play someone who you can't really relate to, though. That's where the passion for acting comes from, you know, just being able to get lost in something that is not you, something completely outside of yourself. She's so dynamic, but I definitely wouldn't want to be her," Belle told the journalist, crossing her left leg over the other.

"You are definitely not a socialite like Claire," He said, chuckling lightly. "As a matter of fact, you've been hiding from the spotlight and press. Why?"

"It's not so much hiding as not putting myself out there. I'm a pretty private person most of the time, and I'm a huge hermit," She finished with a laugh.

"So, do you have anything in the works? Anything we should be looking out for?"

"Not right now, but I'm definitely planning on looking through more scripts. I might just go back to stage shows if this doesn't turn out right,"

"Oh, I'm sure you will have no problem with this being a box-office hit. Good luck with your career," He said, and scribbled more on the notebook before standing up, placing the notebook in his seat. She stood up and he shook her hand.

"It's refreshing to meet someone like you. It's been a pleasure," He said, shaking her hand with a smile.

"Well, thank you for being easy on me," She replied with a small smile.

The man laughed and ushered her back downstairs and her stomach grumbled, signaling her of it's need for nourishment.

She had done her part of the photoshoot before the interview but Christian and David were just still in a separate room, being photographed. She went into a dressing room to grab her bag and change.

When she changed into her usual attire, she grabbed her phone out of the bag and powered it on.

"3 Missed Calls" it read.

She looked under the list and a small smile reached her featured when she read "Ricky Martin" on that list. She kept her eyes on her phone as she grabbed her bag and walked out of the room. She walked over to David's assistant, who was sitting at a table reading a magazine.

"Hey, will you let David know I left? The clothes I wore are in there," Belle said, pointing to the room she just left. "Thanks," Belle mumbled, before finding her way to the door and out onto the street. She walked a block before grabbing her cell phone back out of her pocket and flipping through her contacts.

"Belle?" She heard her name and jumped as she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned quickly to be met with a familiar face.

She forced a smile.

"Hey Brock, what are you doing?" She asked, confusion written on her face.

"I was actually flying down to be here for your interview, but I, well...obviously, I got here a little late," He mumbled.

"Who told you about the interview?"

"I am your agent, Belle. You should have let me know," He scolded with a playful smile. She smiled back and bit her lip before putting her phone back in her pocket, and as she did her stomach announced it's hunger once again.

"You want to grab a bite?" Brock asked, pulling his keys out of his pocket.

"Um, yea, sure," Belle answered, following him down the street and into a rather tall parking garage.

He unlocked the doors and she quickly got in, buckling her seatbelt and shifting uncomfortably as he pulled out.

She grabbed for her bag and searched threw it. "Dammit, I must have left my water bottle back there and I'm dying of thirst," She moaned, now digging more intently.

"Here," Brock said keeping his eyes on the road, handing her a Gatorade bottle that was missing half of it's contents.

She reached for it and played with the lid for a second.

"I don't have cooties," He laughed, running a hand through his dark hair.

She let out a nervous giggle and took the top off before quickly drinking the remains. He looked over at her as she finished off the bottle, placed the cap on it, and threw it on the floor.

"What are we eating?" She asked, scooting back into the seat to get more comfortable.

"Oh, well, I was thinking Italian, ya know. Celebrate a little," He said, driving slow enough to receive a honk from the car behind him.

She rubbed her belly as the liquid disagreed, obviously feeling lonely. She again picked up her bag and searched threw it, finding a granola bar in a very warn and rugged package. She shrugged and tore open the package to began chewing on the bar, savoring the taste.

He reached for the radio and she soon heard the voice of Elvis Costello in her ears.

Oh I just don't know where to begin
Though he says he'll wait forever
It's now or never
But she keeps him hanging on
The silly champion
She says she can't go home
Without a chaperone

Accidents will happen
We only hit and run
you used to be a victim
Now you're not the only one


Her eyelids felt heavy, and her muscles were beginning to go flaccid. She closed her eyes against her will...



I sat at Pete's house, at his table with my laptop, going threw various sounds and tools that this technology allotted. I hadn't found time to focus on recording, between Belle and now Greta I just can't focus on anything else.

I looked up to see Pete sitting across from me, also on his computer. He was probably posting pictures or answering question. Without Pete we probably wouldn't have a fan base.

I haven't talked to Belle since the "fight", but I actually did call her earlier. I knew she was probably still doing the interview, and I was going to leave her a message apologizing, but that would probably prove to make her even more furious.

I keep picking up my phone, but I'm sure once I actually get threw to her nothing intelligible will come out of my mouth.

This thing with Greta, god, it's just, well...it's amazing. She gets me, and she doesn't pry. I mean, granted, we did get into a bit of an argument regarding the scenario that played out yesterday, but that's to be expected. She was standing up for herself, and I understand that.

But Belle, she's just in a hard spot right now. I'm sure my relationship with Greta isn't helping at all.

I grabbed for my phone again and flipped it open. I went through my "recent calls", and sighed when her name didn't show up under "incoming".

I exited out of that list and brought up my contacts. Her name was highlighted across my screen: "Baby Belle". She had entered it in my phone herself.

As my finger reached towards the "Call" button the phone rang, startling me enough to jump. Pete looked over to me and I bit my bottom lip before answering.

"Kevin" my phone read.

"Hello?" I answered, clearing my throat loudly.

"Hey Patrick,"

"Hey, how's everything?" I asked.

"We don't have anything. I'm beginning to feel let down. I think Belle should come back to Chicago, maybe we could do more with her here. It's just really hard without a suspect, any evidence," He paused and heard him make a strange noise. "How is she doing?"

"I don't know. Ugh, I brought Greta to meet her, and she flipped. I dunno, it ended pretty bad. I haven't really talked to her since, so..."

"You should probably get that straightened out,"

"I was just going to call her,"

"Alright, well I'll let you go then. Keep in touch,"

"You know it,"

I hit the end call button and found Belle's number again, pressing the button with a little more ease this time, although my stomach was in knots.

The ringing continued and I held my head in my hands. The ringing stopped, but the voicemail didn't pick up.

It was silent.

"Belle?"

More silence.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely, figuring she was waiting for it.

More silence.

"Belle? Sweetie, please answer me," I pleaded.

The silence mad me shiver.

"Tell Kevin she's in safe hands. I'll try to take better care of his than he did mine," The steely voice commanded, sending an alarm through my body.

"Who is this?" I asked, my voice cracking. I glared down at my phone which now read "Call Ended". I quickly redialed, this time receiving her voicemail.

Pete looked up at me as I began to panic.

"What's up?" He asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm going to try to call Kevin. Keep calling Belle," I instructed, looking down at my phone. He seemed to understand the urgency and he didn't question while I dialed Kevin hastily.

"Patrick?"

"Some guy, he just answered Belle's phone-"

"What did he say?"

"He said to tell you she's safe. What in the fuck is he talking about, Kevin?"

"Was she there? Did you talk to her?" He asked, the distraught in his voice making my spine shiver.

"He answered the phone, and I started apologizing 'cause I thought it was Belle, and he didn't say anything. I kept talking, and he just said to tell you she's safe, and to tell you he'll take better care of yours than you did his, or something like that. Then he just hung up on me. What's going on? Do you know him?"

I could almost hear the gears in his mind racing. Kevin's not dumb by any means, but this lack of knowledge was driving me insane.

"Pete's trying to call her phone," I informed him, looking over to Pete, who shook his head indicating he didn't get threw.

Kevin sighed before speaking. "He said to tell me he'll keep her safe, and what? He'll take better care of mine than I did-"

Silence. I think he dropped the phone.

"Kevin?!"

"There's no fucking way..."




Authors Note: If you have questions, ask them now. I'll reply, I promise. Oh, you guys have no idea what you got yourselves into with this one. Well, maybe a little idea.

questions, comments, concerns, and complaints are all very much appreciated. I.M. me (pixiedsecrets on AIM) or leave them after the beep. er, I mean click.
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