Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Peterick: The Pete and Patrick Chronicles
Patrick's POV:
The tour would come to a close tomorrow night. I still saw Pete, of course. We had to practice and rehearse for the last show.
But we hadn't said a word to each other since. Joe and Andy even looked deely depressed by our silence. Pete never smiled. Never laughed. Except he once in a while laughed really hard at one of Joe's jokes, just so he could rub it in my face and say, "Joe your my best friend EVER!"
Pete was being a kindergardener.
A pre-schooler!
He was acting so childish and it so extremelely irritating.
No. It was cute. This way I knew he cared about me.
But what if he didn't? If it was all just an act?
Yes! To get me to ask him back out and then he'd reject me and make an ass of me!
Oh YES! I understand you too clearly Peter Wentz, too clearly.
NEXT DAY:
The last show. I was pretty upset. Me and Pete would be parting ways today, after the show.
I couldn't bare not talking to him. It was driving me insane. So crazy, that I would sometimes think that Pete had deliberatly set me up.
Pete would never do that!
But Pete still did'nt love me.
Wouldn't have left me, if he had really loved me.
This was my fault!
I wanted to cry until my eyes would bleed, but I couldn't do that here.
Here. Here singing on stage, almost only here physically, not mentally.
I new, Pete's (I swallowed hard) lyrics so well that I could sing them without even thinking about them. After all, what use would they do? Break my heart and burn the pieces?
I sang with no special emotion tonight.
Then the concert was over. Just ended. It seemed so quick, like ripping off a band-aid.
And I watched as Pete strode across the stage flinging his guitar into the rack and walking to his dressing room. He didn't even look back.
My eyes filled with so much water I barely made it to my own dressing room before collapsing on the futon and crying.
Crying like no tomorrow. Of course, tomorrow didn't matter if it came or not, there was no reason for it. Not without Pete.
Joe peaked his head into my room to see if I was okay, which I wasn't. Joe was one of those guys that just knows when the its right to talk and when its not. This was not one of those times and he knew it. He left and I continued sobbing uncontrollably into a throw pillow.
Life without Pete. How does that work?
It'll be like life without heaven. Without heaven to look forward too, or your angel to come home to.
The tour would come to a close tomorrow night. I still saw Pete, of course. We had to practice and rehearse for the last show.
But we hadn't said a word to each other since. Joe and Andy even looked deely depressed by our silence. Pete never smiled. Never laughed. Except he once in a while laughed really hard at one of Joe's jokes, just so he could rub it in my face and say, "Joe your my best friend EVER!"
Pete was being a kindergardener.
A pre-schooler!
He was acting so childish and it so extremelely irritating.
No. It was cute. This way I knew he cared about me.
But what if he didn't? If it was all just an act?
Yes! To get me to ask him back out and then he'd reject me and make an ass of me!
Oh YES! I understand you too clearly Peter Wentz, too clearly.
NEXT DAY:
The last show. I was pretty upset. Me and Pete would be parting ways today, after the show.
I couldn't bare not talking to him. It was driving me insane. So crazy, that I would sometimes think that Pete had deliberatly set me up.
Pete would never do that!
But Pete still did'nt love me.
Wouldn't have left me, if he had really loved me.
This was my fault!
I wanted to cry until my eyes would bleed, but I couldn't do that here.
Here. Here singing on stage, almost only here physically, not mentally.
I new, Pete's (I swallowed hard) lyrics so well that I could sing them without even thinking about them. After all, what use would they do? Break my heart and burn the pieces?
I sang with no special emotion tonight.
Then the concert was over. Just ended. It seemed so quick, like ripping off a band-aid.
And I watched as Pete strode across the stage flinging his guitar into the rack and walking to his dressing room. He didn't even look back.
My eyes filled with so much water I barely made it to my own dressing room before collapsing on the futon and crying.
Crying like no tomorrow. Of course, tomorrow didn't matter if it came or not, there was no reason for it. Not without Pete.
Joe peaked his head into my room to see if I was okay, which I wasn't. Joe was one of those guys that just knows when the its right to talk and when its not. This was not one of those times and he knew it. He left and I continued sobbing uncontrollably into a throw pillow.
Life without Pete. How does that work?
It'll be like life without heaven. Without heaven to look forward too, or your angel to come home to.
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