Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy
EGOISTIC
a one shot.
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His body shook violently, feeling the void. It was painful but he couldn’t escape this absent feeling. It was something that no one could escape really, any one looking at the gaunt boy could tell he was unhealthy and would eventually start feeling that void too. And it wasn’t his fault, or so he kept telling himself over and over again. He knew the truth though, and he knew telling the truth would ultimately end this emptiness but he couldn’t do it.
He was slowly withering down to nothing; sitting in that dark corner, rocking back and forth. He just wanted to feel that high again, because this sobriety was definitely taking a toll on him. His eyes closed and then he was flood in memories, memories he only wished he could escape. When he tried to escape though, he felt as if he was being pulled down. No, being held down, chained down by some unknown force that wanted him to feel even worse about what he would not admit. When his body finally let him open his eyes, he made a vow to not close them again because if he did that was sure to happen again.
This couldn’t be heartache, because then his heart would have to be broken and it wasn’t. It was more like something was blocking his heart, and the blood just stopped. Feeling like something wasn’t trying to jab his heart, but instead was hitting the veins around it just to cause a pain that was ten times as dreadful. No. It couldn’t be just heartache.
It could have been classified as regret, that feeling in the pit of your stomach that just won’t go away. The billboards that constantly remind you of the pain that you pretend isn’t there. It felt like being in a car that was rushing at a wall at one hundred miles per hour, knowing damn well that the brakes don’t work. It was something that you could try to hide, but it would sooner then later be written across your forehead like the fool you are. Yeah. That’s what it was.
Regret.
If he admitted this guilt and regret it would all be over with. Sorry was forbidden to him though. He didn’t know what apologizes were. So he was stuck in that dark corner, wishing and hoping and dreaming of the day when this pain would finally subside and he’d have him right there with him. He messed up. Can’t he forgive him?
“Pete. Come on, answer your phone. It’s been two weeks, and I’m really worried about you.” The phone played another message. He had been ignoring the phone for so long that now it didn’t even sound like it was ever ringing, but it was always ringing. Someone was always calling, but not the person that he wanted to talk to. Maybe if he had called he’d bring himself to answer the phone. Maybe if he had come to the door, he’d drag himself to answer that too. But he never called, never visit, never emailed, didn’t send a postcard. That would’ve been nice, a little postcard, even if it was telling him how much of a jerk he was. He would’ve appreciated him opening up to him because it seemed he had never done that.
“I can’t do this.” He told himself discouragingly. He was never one to actually believe in himself. That’s what he was there for. He was the one that made him believe he could. He tried not to tear up, but in the past few days it was kind of hard to do that. He was losing, losing everything and there was nothing he could do about it because his body wouldn’t move from that spot until he heard his voice.
“Pete, it’s your mother. Won’t you please pick up?” Another message played; just another unimportant message. He didn’t want to talk to his mother though, sure he loved her, but she would just tell him all the wrong he’s done. How he should repent his sins because what he had caught himself up in was the ultimate sin.
Another sigh escaped his lips as he grabbed his knees, bringing them up to his chest. He sat like that for a while until he realized he needed to use the washroom. So he pulled himself up and walked through his dark bedroom and then down the hall of the small apartment that now seemed huge without him.
When he was done doing his business he washed his hands and looked in the mirror. His usually olive tanned skin was now pale from not taking his medicine, and barely eating. He looked physically sick, and maybe he was. His long black hair was all over the place, making him look like a mad man. Then there was that look in his eyes, that deficiency. It made him realize he was sick.
Sick and tired. Sick and tired of hiding.
“I can do it.” He told himself for the first time in longer then he could remember. A surge of hope rushed through him as he practically ran to the phone. He had tripped over an old hat, his old hat. That had fueled the want to call even more. He didn’t know where all this was coming from, but he wasn’t trying to fight it. Not this time.
“Hello?” A scratchy and raspy voice came in through the other line. A smile immediately was etched across his face. There weren’t words to even begin to describe how good the voice on the line made him feel. He had wanted this whole two weeks just to hear that voice again, even if it was to curse him out.
“Hello?” The rough voice asked again in confusion and irritation.
Come on. Now is your time to talk. He told himself. Why was he choking now? This is what he wanted.
“H-hi.” That was all he could manage to get out. A stuttered hi. Pathetic.
“Pete?” Then there was silence. He took a deep breath. Come on, you can do it. He told himself mentally.
“Yeah, hi.” Yet another pathetic reply.
“Oh, my. Your okay? I’ve been worried sick about you.” The voice asked frantically. The already huge smile had stretched out even bigger now. He cares, he actually cares. He thought to himself.
“You didn’t phone. You didn’t come to check on me.” He shot back, he wasn’t really mad but it was a natural reaction to be defensive. That’s how their first fight started.
“Come on Pete. I’m sorry, but you really expect me to come by after everything you said to me? You have to be willing to make sacrifices if we’re going to make this work. Apparently I’m not that important in your life though now am I?” Those words shot a billion knives into his heart. It was true. This was the regret he was trying to hide. Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve cant save him now.
“If you weren’t that important to me do you think I would’ve been a vegetable for two weeks Patrick?” He asked and there was another moment of silence. He heard Patrick sigh and breath heavy, but still there was no answer for a few minutes. He could feel his heart beating faster and faster with every second that passed, impatiently waiting for Patrick to reply.
“Pete; it is four o’clock in the damn morning. Call me back when you have a bit more sense.” He couldn’t accept a reply like that. If he listened and let Patrick hang up then he knew he wouldn’t be able to get the courage to call again.
“No. Listen `Tricky. I’m sorry okay. I just didn’t know what to do–“ He got cut short by Patrick.
“You didn’t know what to do Pete? You were supposed to say you loved me.” Now it was Pete’s turn to sigh.
“I know, and I can’t take back what I didn’t do dude. But I can do this.” He smiled again now, plotting something in his head.
“Do what?” Patrick asked confused.
“This, give me a few minutes and then go on my blog okay?” Still confused, Patrick agreed anyway and waited. He could hear Pete on the other line clicking away on a computer and that puzzled him just a little bit more. After almost ten minutes Pete finally stopped clicking and typing away.
“There, go on the blog now.” He answered happily.
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SAT
oct 24th
I've realized I've made some pretty stupid mistakes this past month. If I could take them back, I definitely would. But I can't. So I'm going to fix them as much as possible. To put the rumors to an end, yes I am in love. And yes, it is with Patrick. And yes we had something. But I guess I'm the fck up right? Yes, I'm the reason the band decided to stop making music, because I let my ego get in the way of what truely matters. So fans, I guess you can hate me too.
Patrick I can't say I blame you for leaving me. But if anything, please lets just be friends. I refuse to let my stupidity to continue this bullshit.
- Peterpanda. xo
-----------------------------------------------------------
There was more silence, but it wasn't an awkward one. Pete knew Patrick was thinking everything over. He hoped that Patrick would see the sincerity in his words, and would take him back. He needed him back.
"Pete, I don't know what to say." Patrick was the one that had a way with words now a days. Pete then smirked though.
"I do."
"What's that?"
"I love you." There was another pause.
"Pete, I love you too man."
a one shot.
------
His body shook violently, feeling the void. It was painful but he couldn’t escape this absent feeling. It was something that no one could escape really, any one looking at the gaunt boy could tell he was unhealthy and would eventually start feeling that void too. And it wasn’t his fault, or so he kept telling himself over and over again. He knew the truth though, and he knew telling the truth would ultimately end this emptiness but he couldn’t do it.
He was slowly withering down to nothing; sitting in that dark corner, rocking back and forth. He just wanted to feel that high again, because this sobriety was definitely taking a toll on him. His eyes closed and then he was flood in memories, memories he only wished he could escape. When he tried to escape though, he felt as if he was being pulled down. No, being held down, chained down by some unknown force that wanted him to feel even worse about what he would not admit. When his body finally let him open his eyes, he made a vow to not close them again because if he did that was sure to happen again.
This couldn’t be heartache, because then his heart would have to be broken and it wasn’t. It was more like something was blocking his heart, and the blood just stopped. Feeling like something wasn’t trying to jab his heart, but instead was hitting the veins around it just to cause a pain that was ten times as dreadful. No. It couldn’t be just heartache.
It could have been classified as regret, that feeling in the pit of your stomach that just won’t go away. The billboards that constantly remind you of the pain that you pretend isn’t there. It felt like being in a car that was rushing at a wall at one hundred miles per hour, knowing damn well that the brakes don’t work. It was something that you could try to hide, but it would sooner then later be written across your forehead like the fool you are. Yeah. That’s what it was.
Regret.
If he admitted this guilt and regret it would all be over with. Sorry was forbidden to him though. He didn’t know what apologizes were. So he was stuck in that dark corner, wishing and hoping and dreaming of the day when this pain would finally subside and he’d have him right there with him. He messed up. Can’t he forgive him?
“Pete. Come on, answer your phone. It’s been two weeks, and I’m really worried about you.” The phone played another message. He had been ignoring the phone for so long that now it didn’t even sound like it was ever ringing, but it was always ringing. Someone was always calling, but not the person that he wanted to talk to. Maybe if he had called he’d bring himself to answer the phone. Maybe if he had come to the door, he’d drag himself to answer that too. But he never called, never visit, never emailed, didn’t send a postcard. That would’ve been nice, a little postcard, even if it was telling him how much of a jerk he was. He would’ve appreciated him opening up to him because it seemed he had never done that.
“I can’t do this.” He told himself discouragingly. He was never one to actually believe in himself. That’s what he was there for. He was the one that made him believe he could. He tried not to tear up, but in the past few days it was kind of hard to do that. He was losing, losing everything and there was nothing he could do about it because his body wouldn’t move from that spot until he heard his voice.
“Pete, it’s your mother. Won’t you please pick up?” Another message played; just another unimportant message. He didn’t want to talk to his mother though, sure he loved her, but she would just tell him all the wrong he’s done. How he should repent his sins because what he had caught himself up in was the ultimate sin.
Another sigh escaped his lips as he grabbed his knees, bringing them up to his chest. He sat like that for a while until he realized he needed to use the washroom. So he pulled himself up and walked through his dark bedroom and then down the hall of the small apartment that now seemed huge without him.
When he was done doing his business he washed his hands and looked in the mirror. His usually olive tanned skin was now pale from not taking his medicine, and barely eating. He looked physically sick, and maybe he was. His long black hair was all over the place, making him look like a mad man. Then there was that look in his eyes, that deficiency. It made him realize he was sick.
Sick and tired. Sick and tired of hiding.
“I can do it.” He told himself for the first time in longer then he could remember. A surge of hope rushed through him as he practically ran to the phone. He had tripped over an old hat, his old hat. That had fueled the want to call even more. He didn’t know where all this was coming from, but he wasn’t trying to fight it. Not this time.
“Hello?” A scratchy and raspy voice came in through the other line. A smile immediately was etched across his face. There weren’t words to even begin to describe how good the voice on the line made him feel. He had wanted this whole two weeks just to hear that voice again, even if it was to curse him out.
“Hello?” The rough voice asked again in confusion and irritation.
Come on. Now is your time to talk. He told himself. Why was he choking now? This is what he wanted.
“H-hi.” That was all he could manage to get out. A stuttered hi. Pathetic.
“Pete?” Then there was silence. He took a deep breath. Come on, you can do it. He told himself mentally.
“Yeah, hi.” Yet another pathetic reply.
“Oh, my. Your okay? I’ve been worried sick about you.” The voice asked frantically. The already huge smile had stretched out even bigger now. He cares, he actually cares. He thought to himself.
“You didn’t phone. You didn’t come to check on me.” He shot back, he wasn’t really mad but it was a natural reaction to be defensive. That’s how their first fight started.
“Come on Pete. I’m sorry, but you really expect me to come by after everything you said to me? You have to be willing to make sacrifices if we’re going to make this work. Apparently I’m not that important in your life though now am I?” Those words shot a billion knives into his heart. It was true. This was the regret he was trying to hide. Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve cant save him now.
“If you weren’t that important to me do you think I would’ve been a vegetable for two weeks Patrick?” He asked and there was another moment of silence. He heard Patrick sigh and breath heavy, but still there was no answer for a few minutes. He could feel his heart beating faster and faster with every second that passed, impatiently waiting for Patrick to reply.
“Pete; it is four o’clock in the damn morning. Call me back when you have a bit more sense.” He couldn’t accept a reply like that. If he listened and let Patrick hang up then he knew he wouldn’t be able to get the courage to call again.
“No. Listen `Tricky. I’m sorry okay. I just didn’t know what to do–“ He got cut short by Patrick.
“You didn’t know what to do Pete? You were supposed to say you loved me.” Now it was Pete’s turn to sigh.
“I know, and I can’t take back what I didn’t do dude. But I can do this.” He smiled again now, plotting something in his head.
“Do what?” Patrick asked confused.
“This, give me a few minutes and then go on my blog okay?” Still confused, Patrick agreed anyway and waited. He could hear Pete on the other line clicking away on a computer and that puzzled him just a little bit more. After almost ten minutes Pete finally stopped clicking and typing away.
“There, go on the blog now.” He answered happily.
-----------------------------------------------------------
SAT
oct 24th
I've realized I've made some pretty stupid mistakes this past month. If I could take them back, I definitely would. But I can't. So I'm going to fix them as much as possible. To put the rumors to an end, yes I am in love. And yes, it is with Patrick. And yes we had something. But I guess I'm the fck up right? Yes, I'm the reason the band decided to stop making music, because I let my ego get in the way of what truely matters. So fans, I guess you can hate me too.
Patrick I can't say I blame you for leaving me. But if anything, please lets just be friends. I refuse to let my stupidity to continue this bullshit.
- Peterpanda. xo
-----------------------------------------------------------
There was more silence, but it wasn't an awkward one. Pete knew Patrick was thinking everything over. He hoped that Patrick would see the sincerity in his words, and would take him back. He needed him back.
"Pete, I don't know what to say." Patrick was the one that had a way with words now a days. Pete then smirked though.
"I do."
"What's that?"
"I love you." There was another pause.
"Pete, I love you too man."
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