Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Worst Kind of Weapon

Worst Kind of Weapon

by napkin 0 Reviews

Boy chases girl; girl notices boy. Things begin to twist as Anna finds that a certain someone is reaching uncanny heights for her full attention. This is something much larger than your average s...

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst, Drama, Humor, Romance, Sci-fi - Characters:  - Published: 2007/07/25 - Updated: 2007/07/26 - 424 words

I saw him for the first time in a Starbucks parking lot. It was in Elgin, Illinois, and a late-night DJ on Q101 had long since announced midnight as I sat. My eyes more vacant than the lot in which my car was parked, and only in retrospect could I realize that my BMW ragtop convertible was a standing target for anyone looking for a thrill at one in the morning.

I'm not the same person I was two years ago. The words settled in my head like syrup, the voice low and honest like I'd known it to be since freshman year of high school. It surrounded me and I breathed it in like the oxygen that I'd been so short of since I'd first heard that sentence. The boy to which the voice belonged had left, as had I.

Even through both our headlights, one could easily see that his gaze was as blank as mine must have been. My subconscious failed to alert me that there hadn't been another vehicle within a hundred feet of mine for several hours, and that there was something wrong when a beat-down car with a beat-down kid in the driver's seat had parked in front of me. His hair was deep and his skin was inked; he was unfamiliar. I caught his stare in the periphery of my eye, but my mind was either working overtime or not working at all, and I could have just as easily been staring at the cupholder adjacent to my seat.

See.

For the first time in hours, the words were fogged out by another. This voice had no sound, but rather took on the voice of my conscience, as though I'd simply thought of it myself.

I concentrated. The single-syllabled word stuck, its meaning attached but not deciphered. I was startled; nothing had broken my train of thoughts since I'd been let down earlier that day, and I wasn't prepared to stop feeling sorry for myself anytime soon.

Before I could realize it, the streetlights flickered off. I vaguely remembered as a child when I'd lay in my bedroom at night and think that it couldn't possibly get any darker, but would be proven wrong when a cloud would cover the moon and my vision would be completely dead. As I sat in the now-empty parking lot, it was clear to me that it was now much darker than it had been before, both literally and figuratively.

The boy was gone.

your remorse hasn't fallen on deaf ears*
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