Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > It's Not Like It Hurts That Much Anyway
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Same Events, William's POV
Only 6:20. I can't wait much longer. I'm sweating, I'm thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong. I'm pacing, and I'm scared.
It's usually like this when we go out. I always freak. I'm always afraid I might just take his head and kiss it if he comes to close. I'm always afraid he'll find out, one way or another.
I looked at the clock. 6:30. I gulped. Just thirty more minutes till I get to see his stunning face.
Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door. I walked over, and opened it, and Pete was standing there.
"Mr. Wentz. You're 20 minutes early. The clubs don't usually open till seven. Want to come in?" I said.
He looked at me, as if he might have been thinking for a second.
"Sure, I was bored at home, had nothing to do." he said, walking in, as I shut the door behind him.
"So Pete, Mike said he'd definitely to the video." I said, sitting on the couch.
Pete sat next to me. I wished he'd get closer. I wished he'd want to get closer. I wished he wanted me to want him to get closer.
"Good, Brendon and Spencer agreed to it too, so we've got some fun people coming in." he said looking around my house.
I wished he was looking at me. I was looking at him.
He was perfect. His eyebrows, his bone structure, his hair, his chocolate eyes, everything was perfect.
I watched as he stretched his arms above his head, and yawned, but what I saw as his sleeves rode up made my heart sink.
He quickly pulled his arms down.
"What the hell happened to you're left arm?" I asked. I was worried.
"Oh uh..." he said, looking up.
Oh my god, he was hurting himself. He was cutting himself!
"Jesus Pete, are you doing that to yourself?" I asked, concerned as ever.
"I uh...." he said.
"What's wrong? You can tell me, Pete." I said, quietly. I was so scared. So worried.
But on the back of my sick, twisted yet in love mind, I hoped that if he was cutting himself, it was because he loved me, and thought I didn't love him back.
"I...I fell that's all" he said.
That was a lie. I could see right through Pete.
I was worried about him. Really worried.
I gave him a dull look, and he must have caught it, because he soon spoke again.
"I've just been going through some rough patches...that's all." he said.
"Pete, what's the matter?" I asked him.
"I...I don't know. I stopped, I don't do it anymore, they're scars." he said, quickly and uncomfortably.
"What caused them?" I asked, being the extremely nosey yet concerned William that I was.
"Ugh...just love life problems. I...like some....girl who doesn't like me back. It's not like it hurts that much anyway, I'm over it." he said.
I thought for a second. I hope he was really secretly talking about me, although I'm almost certain he was not.
"Oh, I know how you feel." I said, talking about him, secretly of course.
He sighed, and we kind of just waited around for 7:00 to roll around.
When it did, he suggested we leave, and so we did.
We got into the car, he in the drivers, I in the passengers, and we got seated and what not.
"So..." he said, obviously trying to start conversation with me.
"So how's finding props for the music video going?" I asked.
"Oh, good. We've got a set, and all of our weapons, and teeth, and makeup and what not. It's going to be good." he said. His voice was so hot. I wish my voice was hot, or at least hot enough for Pete to notice.
Soon we pulled into the club, and we walked in with help of a bouncer.
One girl said hi to Pete, he waved back. I'm sure he's slept with her. She was beautiful, just like the girls Pete picked up every time.
"Come on Bill, let's go get a table" he said. I nodded.
We walked over to a booth and sat.
"Did you already eat?" he asked.
"No, I don't really eat much." I said. It was because of Pete. I always get sick to my stomach, and loose my appetite when I think about Pete. And I always think about Pete.
"You should, wanna spilt some French fries with me?" he asked.
"Sure." I said.
He called a waitress over to the table, and she smiled.
I kind of spaced out hearing our names come out of her mouth, and something about good music. Maybe she was complementing us?
"Thanks," I said, taking the alleged compliment.
"Can we just get a large fry please?" I added.
"Sure! Will that be it?" she asked.
"Yup, that'll be all. Thanks. Do you want a picture?" Pete asked, being the "in-tact-with-fans" one that he was.
"Oh!" she said, looking down at her camera. I just smiled like an idiot. I love my fans, but always thought the whole idea of them is kind of weird.
"I'd love one!" she said.
Me and Pete let her scoot in between us and put our arms around her as she held up the camera and took a few good pictures.
"Thanks guys!" she said.
"No problem!" I said, smiling, again like a complete idiot.
Then she said something about having our fries done in five minutes, and pranced off.
Pete turned to me.
"So, me and you, are going to score tonight." he said.
That hurt, it hurt so bad.
I nodded. Maybe he just wanted to get to me.
Yeah, that was it.
No, no it wasn't. I need to stop fooling myself. Pete is straight. He'll never be a faggot like me. Ever. I hated that word, but I used it anyway, almost to make my heart feel bad so it wouldn't let me love Peter anymore.
I attempted to swallow the bile in my throat. The first time it wouldn't go down, and I almost chocked.
"Well, we know you will." I said.
He smiled, and looked up, thinking about something.
Soon, "Checkmarks" came on. I mouthed the words, just looking around.
"Want to dance?" Pete asked.
I raised an eyebrow. 'Dance? Of course I want to dance with you, you fucking whore I love you.'
I wanted to say something like that, but instead, all my nerves could come up with as an excuse was "I don't dance, Pete."
"Well, we can just flop around on the dance floor then. It'll be fun. In a not-gay kind of a way." he said.
It kind of felt like an arrow to the heart, the way he said 'not-gay kind of way'. Whatever, suck it up, Beckett.
"Fine. But only for a few minutes, we need to pay for our fries." I said.
We got up, and danced around for a while. It was actually a lot of fun. I could get really close to Pete, and blame it on being pushed around by other dancers.
We laughed hard the whole time.
When "Checkmarks" ended, we went back to the booth, and sat.
"Haha, that was fun." I said.
"Yeah." he said.
Soon the waitress came over and handed us our food.
"Thanks!" Pete said, taking them and setting them on the table. He handed her the money, and winked at her, telling her to keep the change. It made me sick.
"Pete the player." I said, shaking my head.
"I just have that charm, I guess. I have people at hello." he said.
It was true. He had me at hello. All he needed was to bat an eyelash, share a glance, say a word, and he was yours. He had charm to spare.
"That's for sure." I said, truthfully.
He nodded.
I reached for a fry, but didn't notice his hand was reaching for one too, until I felt a spark. It was like, something you can only feel when theres chemistry.
I got butterflies, and a light head.
"Sorry, did I shock you?" he asked.
He felt it too!"
"Oh, you felt it too?" I asked.
"Yeah. I was rubbing my wrists, must have been the friction." he said, blaming what well could have been something, anything, that kept my hope for this man alive, on fucking friction.
Same Events, William's POV
Only 6:20. I can't wait much longer. I'm sweating, I'm thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong. I'm pacing, and I'm scared.
It's usually like this when we go out. I always freak. I'm always afraid I might just take his head and kiss it if he comes to close. I'm always afraid he'll find out, one way or another.
I looked at the clock. 6:30. I gulped. Just thirty more minutes till I get to see his stunning face.
Suddenly, I heard a knock on the door. I walked over, and opened it, and Pete was standing there.
"Mr. Wentz. You're 20 minutes early. The clubs don't usually open till seven. Want to come in?" I said.
He looked at me, as if he might have been thinking for a second.
"Sure, I was bored at home, had nothing to do." he said, walking in, as I shut the door behind him.
"So Pete, Mike said he'd definitely to the video." I said, sitting on the couch.
Pete sat next to me. I wished he'd get closer. I wished he'd want to get closer. I wished he wanted me to want him to get closer.
"Good, Brendon and Spencer agreed to it too, so we've got some fun people coming in." he said looking around my house.
I wished he was looking at me. I was looking at him.
He was perfect. His eyebrows, his bone structure, his hair, his chocolate eyes, everything was perfect.
I watched as he stretched his arms above his head, and yawned, but what I saw as his sleeves rode up made my heart sink.
He quickly pulled his arms down.
"What the hell happened to you're left arm?" I asked. I was worried.
"Oh uh..." he said, looking up.
Oh my god, he was hurting himself. He was cutting himself!
"Jesus Pete, are you doing that to yourself?" I asked, concerned as ever.
"I uh...." he said.
"What's wrong? You can tell me, Pete." I said, quietly. I was so scared. So worried.
But on the back of my sick, twisted yet in love mind, I hoped that if he was cutting himself, it was because he loved me, and thought I didn't love him back.
"I...I fell that's all" he said.
That was a lie. I could see right through Pete.
I was worried about him. Really worried.
I gave him a dull look, and he must have caught it, because he soon spoke again.
"I've just been going through some rough patches...that's all." he said.
"Pete, what's the matter?" I asked him.
"I...I don't know. I stopped, I don't do it anymore, they're scars." he said, quickly and uncomfortably.
"What caused them?" I asked, being the extremely nosey yet concerned William that I was.
"Ugh...just love life problems. I...like some....girl who doesn't like me back. It's not like it hurts that much anyway, I'm over it." he said.
I thought for a second. I hope he was really secretly talking about me, although I'm almost certain he was not.
"Oh, I know how you feel." I said, talking about him, secretly of course.
He sighed, and we kind of just waited around for 7:00 to roll around.
When it did, he suggested we leave, and so we did.
We got into the car, he in the drivers, I in the passengers, and we got seated and what not.
"So..." he said, obviously trying to start conversation with me.
"So how's finding props for the music video going?" I asked.
"Oh, good. We've got a set, and all of our weapons, and teeth, and makeup and what not. It's going to be good." he said. His voice was so hot. I wish my voice was hot, or at least hot enough for Pete to notice.
Soon we pulled into the club, and we walked in with help of a bouncer.
One girl said hi to Pete, he waved back. I'm sure he's slept with her. She was beautiful, just like the girls Pete picked up every time.
"Come on Bill, let's go get a table" he said. I nodded.
We walked over to a booth and sat.
"Did you already eat?" he asked.
"No, I don't really eat much." I said. It was because of Pete. I always get sick to my stomach, and loose my appetite when I think about Pete. And I always think about Pete.
"You should, wanna spilt some French fries with me?" he asked.
"Sure." I said.
He called a waitress over to the table, and she smiled.
I kind of spaced out hearing our names come out of her mouth, and something about good music. Maybe she was complementing us?
"Thanks," I said, taking the alleged compliment.
"Can we just get a large fry please?" I added.
"Sure! Will that be it?" she asked.
"Yup, that'll be all. Thanks. Do you want a picture?" Pete asked, being the "in-tact-with-fans" one that he was.
"Oh!" she said, looking down at her camera. I just smiled like an idiot. I love my fans, but always thought the whole idea of them is kind of weird.
"I'd love one!" she said.
Me and Pete let her scoot in between us and put our arms around her as she held up the camera and took a few good pictures.
"Thanks guys!" she said.
"No problem!" I said, smiling, again like a complete idiot.
Then she said something about having our fries done in five minutes, and pranced off.
Pete turned to me.
"So, me and you, are going to score tonight." he said.
That hurt, it hurt so bad.
I nodded. Maybe he just wanted to get to me.
Yeah, that was it.
No, no it wasn't. I need to stop fooling myself. Pete is straight. He'll never be a faggot like me. Ever. I hated that word, but I used it anyway, almost to make my heart feel bad so it wouldn't let me love Peter anymore.
I attempted to swallow the bile in my throat. The first time it wouldn't go down, and I almost chocked.
"Well, we know you will." I said.
He smiled, and looked up, thinking about something.
Soon, "Checkmarks" came on. I mouthed the words, just looking around.
"Want to dance?" Pete asked.
I raised an eyebrow. 'Dance? Of course I want to dance with you, you fucking whore I love you.'
I wanted to say something like that, but instead, all my nerves could come up with as an excuse was "I don't dance, Pete."
"Well, we can just flop around on the dance floor then. It'll be fun. In a not-gay kind of a way." he said.
It kind of felt like an arrow to the heart, the way he said 'not-gay kind of way'. Whatever, suck it up, Beckett.
"Fine. But only for a few minutes, we need to pay for our fries." I said.
We got up, and danced around for a while. It was actually a lot of fun. I could get really close to Pete, and blame it on being pushed around by other dancers.
We laughed hard the whole time.
When "Checkmarks" ended, we went back to the booth, and sat.
"Haha, that was fun." I said.
"Yeah." he said.
Soon the waitress came over and handed us our food.
"Thanks!" Pete said, taking them and setting them on the table. He handed her the money, and winked at her, telling her to keep the change. It made me sick.
"Pete the player." I said, shaking my head.
"I just have that charm, I guess. I have people at hello." he said.
It was true. He had me at hello. All he needed was to bat an eyelash, share a glance, say a word, and he was yours. He had charm to spare.
"That's for sure." I said, truthfully.
He nodded.
I reached for a fry, but didn't notice his hand was reaching for one too, until I felt a spark. It was like, something you can only feel when theres chemistry.
I got butterflies, and a light head.
"Sorry, did I shock you?" he asked.
He felt it too!"
"Oh, you felt it too?" I asked.
"Yeah. I was rubbing my wrists, must have been the friction." he said, blaming what well could have been something, anything, that kept my hope for this man alive, on fucking friction.
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