Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Lasting Impressions
Welcome Home
2 reviewsYou can't afford to make another mistake like him. Or so you think. (an All Time Low fic.)
3Funny
Author's Note: Yes, I'm aware that this isn't a Fall Out Boy story, but there isn't an ATL category to post this in.
To those reading DisasteRomance, consider this an early Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Festivus gift.
^________^
Welcome home.
Stepping off the escalator, I could feel chaos floating through the air. Tourists were bustling through gates, nervously referring to boarding passes for further direction. Businessmen were impatiently crowded around luggage carousels, checking their watches every 20 seconds as if their actions would speed up time. Children were weaving through crowds of people as their mothers chased them down with heavy luggage and empty threats. A woman wearing a ridiculously large pair of sunglasses was angrily gesticulating as a man at the x-ray machines explained that her bottle of Chanel No.5 wouldn’t be permitted on the plane due to FAA regulations.
Making my way toward the screen marked ARRIVALS, I saw that my brother’s flight was delayed for another half hour due to severe thunderstorms. A sigh escaped from my lips as I turned around and headed toward a small gift shop. The elderly man behind the counter greeted me with a warm smile and a slight nod. I returned the gesture, then searched for something that would help me pass the time. After a few minutes of browsing through the magazine rack, I grabbed the latest issue of the New York Times.
“Is that all for today?” the cashier cheerfully asked as I set the items on the counter.
“I’ll toss this in, too,” I quietly replied, picking a Snickers bar from the small cardboard display.
“Okay. Your total is $4.25.”
I pulled a five from my pocket and told him to keep the change. He smiled, placing the crumpled bill into the register.
After taking a seat on a sad excuse for a chair, I continued my people watching. In the distance, a middle-aged Asian couple was asking a man at front desk where the nearest hotel was. Due to a passing metalhead and his obnoxiously loud iPod, I missed his reply, but I guessed it was something convenient by the relieved looks on their tired faces. I smiled to myself, then opened the newspaper. Quickly flipping to the crossword, I took a pen out of my pocket.
1 across. Climbers. 9 letters.
‘Climbers is plural, so it probably ends in s…’ I reasoned, filling in the last letter. ‘8-letter word for climber… Climbing. Reaching. Going up. Rising. Ascending. Ascender. A-S-C-E-N-D-E-R-S.’
I filled in the first clue’s boxes then continued down the list.
49 down. Trinket. 6 letters.
‘Bauble?’
Just as I was about to write it in, a familiar voice caught my attention.
“Chloe!”
Looking up at the sound of my name, I saw a lanky brunette running toward me with duffel bags in hand.
“Jack!” I dropped the newspaper and wrapping my brother in a hug. He returned the sentiment tenfold, lifting me off the ground, squeezing me close to his chest and spinning around a few times.
“How was the tour?” I asked, after being released from his grip.
“Fucking amazing,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Most of the shows were sold out and the kids were insane. Not to mention all the groupies.”
“God, you’re such a ho.”
“Hey, what do you expect? The tour was called Manwhores and Open Sores. I had a reputation to fulfill.”
I simply rolled my eyes at his comment and tried not to think about all the girls throwing themselves at my skank of a brother. Laughing, he set his bag down and started searching through it. A few seconds later he pulled out a stuffed moose.
“I saw it in Minnesota and I thought you’d like it,” he said handing it to me.
“Aww, thanks.”
“No problem.”
Smiling, I played with its antlers. Sure, my brother could be a douche at times, but he had a sweet side, too.
“Hey, where’s my hug?” Zack asked, setting his bags on the ground. With a smile, I wrapped my arms around him and he pretty much squeezed the life out of me.
“Weird as it sounds, I really missed your skinny ass,” I said, pulling away.
“The feeling’s mutual,” he said with a smirk.
“Wait, where are Rian and Alex?”
“Probably flirting with flight attendants,” Jack said, shrugging. As if on cue, the two men emerged from the terminal, dragging their bulky carry-ons behind them. They greeted me with handshake hugs, we began our quest to the parking lot, then afterwards we proceeded to the welcome home party of the century.
+++++
Like it? Love it? Wanna burn it to a digital crisp?
RATE, REVIEW, & or AIM me @ Disast3rous with your feedback.
It's much appreciated.
FO REAL.
To those reading DisasteRomance, consider this an early Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Festivus gift.
^________^
Welcome home.
Stepping off the escalator, I could feel chaos floating through the air. Tourists were bustling through gates, nervously referring to boarding passes for further direction. Businessmen were impatiently crowded around luggage carousels, checking their watches every 20 seconds as if their actions would speed up time. Children were weaving through crowds of people as their mothers chased them down with heavy luggage and empty threats. A woman wearing a ridiculously large pair of sunglasses was angrily gesticulating as a man at the x-ray machines explained that her bottle of Chanel No.5 wouldn’t be permitted on the plane due to FAA regulations.
Making my way toward the screen marked ARRIVALS, I saw that my brother’s flight was delayed for another half hour due to severe thunderstorms. A sigh escaped from my lips as I turned around and headed toward a small gift shop. The elderly man behind the counter greeted me with a warm smile and a slight nod. I returned the gesture, then searched for something that would help me pass the time. After a few minutes of browsing through the magazine rack, I grabbed the latest issue of the New York Times.
“Is that all for today?” the cashier cheerfully asked as I set the items on the counter.
“I’ll toss this in, too,” I quietly replied, picking a Snickers bar from the small cardboard display.
“Okay. Your total is $4.25.”
I pulled a five from my pocket and told him to keep the change. He smiled, placing the crumpled bill into the register.
After taking a seat on a sad excuse for a chair, I continued my people watching. In the distance, a middle-aged Asian couple was asking a man at front desk where the nearest hotel was. Due to a passing metalhead and his obnoxiously loud iPod, I missed his reply, but I guessed it was something convenient by the relieved looks on their tired faces. I smiled to myself, then opened the newspaper. Quickly flipping to the crossword, I took a pen out of my pocket.
1 across. Climbers. 9 letters.
‘Climbers is plural, so it probably ends in s…’ I reasoned, filling in the last letter. ‘8-letter word for climber… Climbing. Reaching. Going up. Rising. Ascending. Ascender. A-S-C-E-N-D-E-R-S.’
I filled in the first clue’s boxes then continued down the list.
49 down. Trinket. 6 letters.
‘Bauble?’
Just as I was about to write it in, a familiar voice caught my attention.
“Chloe!”
Looking up at the sound of my name, I saw a lanky brunette running toward me with duffel bags in hand.
“Jack!” I dropped the newspaper and wrapping my brother in a hug. He returned the sentiment tenfold, lifting me off the ground, squeezing me close to his chest and spinning around a few times.
“How was the tour?” I asked, after being released from his grip.
“Fucking amazing,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “Most of the shows were sold out and the kids were insane. Not to mention all the groupies.”
“God, you’re such a ho.”
“Hey, what do you expect? The tour was called Manwhores and Open Sores. I had a reputation to fulfill.”
I simply rolled my eyes at his comment and tried not to think about all the girls throwing themselves at my skank of a brother. Laughing, he set his bag down and started searching through it. A few seconds later he pulled out a stuffed moose.
“I saw it in Minnesota and I thought you’d like it,” he said handing it to me.
“Aww, thanks.”
“No problem.”
Smiling, I played with its antlers. Sure, my brother could be a douche at times, but he had a sweet side, too.
“Hey, where’s my hug?” Zack asked, setting his bags on the ground. With a smile, I wrapped my arms around him and he pretty much squeezed the life out of me.
“Weird as it sounds, I really missed your skinny ass,” I said, pulling away.
“The feeling’s mutual,” he said with a smirk.
“Wait, where are Rian and Alex?”
“Probably flirting with flight attendants,” Jack said, shrugging. As if on cue, the two men emerged from the terminal, dragging their bulky carry-ons behind them. They greeted me with handshake hugs, we began our quest to the parking lot, then afterwards we proceeded to the welcome home party of the century.
+++++
Like it? Love it? Wanna burn it to a digital crisp?
RATE, REVIEW, & or AIM me @ Disast3rous with your feedback.
It's much appreciated.
FO REAL.
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