Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Press Play

new heart for xmas

by killxsmile 4 reviews

Another perspective.

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama - Published: 2008-12-26 - Updated: 2008-12-26 - 1409 words

Author's Note: Much gratitude, strawberry sour punch straws, and a fuzzy puppy go out to doyleangel for reviewing.

Hope you guys like this chapter.

TWO: new heart for xmas


As I walked to the bus stop, my thoughts couldn’t help but drift back to Jules. She was probably still cooped up in the apartment, waiting for a phone call from her bastard boyfriend. Just like yesterday. And the day before that. And the day before that.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cell phone, tempted to call and see if she had gotten out of bed. Or at least called in a sick day. But it would always play out one of 2 ways:
I call the house phone. It would ring 5 times, then I’d be greeted by the answering machine.
I call her cell phone. Juliet would groggily pick up with the hopes of hearing Cameron’s voice. I’d ask if she was doing something productive, and she’d swear that she was, then tell me to stop making a fuss over nothing. Then she’d hang up, and continue moping around the house, drowning herself in depressing music.

As bad as it is now, there was a time when Cameron and Juliet were good for each other. They weren’t just a couple. They were the couple. You know. The ones that finished each other’s sentences and held hands all the time. The ones that made public displays of affection, but looked so goddamn adorable that you wouldn’t say anything. The ones that made even the most cynical pessimists believe that fairy tales can happen…

Now the faded Polaroids taped to Juliet’s dresser are the only evidence of what used to be.

Icy winds picked up and I hurried to the corner of Central and Belmont as my bus approached its designated stop. I fed my CTA card into the metal slot and it quickly popped back up, signaling a $2 transaction. After grabbing the small plastic card, I took a seat. Four other people did the same before we pulled into traffic.

Passing a billboard for Absolut Vodka, I couldn’t help but sigh. Alcohol was the reason Juliet was so emotionally fucked. And the sad part is, she wasn’t even the one drinking it. It was Cameron. He was the one consuming the vodka. And beer. And wine coolers. And whiskey.

Witnessing his downward spiral has royally screwed with Juliet’s personality. My once energetic best friend has become a lethargic wreck, staying in bed all day only to wake up at noon and wonder if her boyfriend had gotten home alright. It’s gotten to the point that it’s all normal to her—the drunken phone calls, the yelling, the fighting— and that scares me.

For the past few months she’s been pretending that life’s just swell and her boyfriend doesn’t have an alcohol problem. But keeping up the unremitting façade has taken it’s toll on Juliet. Underneath the fake smiles and forced cheerfulness, I could see a girl that was on the brink of a breakdown.

Eventually BELMONT flashed across the LED screen at the front of the bus, indicating my stop. I pulled on the line and we pulled over to the curb. I stepped off. People stepped on. Then down the street it went.

As cold winds continued to blow, I walked over to my next bus stop and took out a pack of cigarettes and my lighter. I needed to get my mind off of things.


I turned around and saw a familiar face. Bundled up in a black pea coat, striped hoodie, thick red scarf and a newsboy cap, the small blonde looked like she was heading off to Iceland.

“Hey Ducky. Ready for work?”
“Oh you know it,” she replied, sarcastically.
“We’re still on for the Say Anything show next week, right?” I asked after lighting my cigarette.
“Yeah,” she replied.

As I took a drag, she lifted her eyebrow. “I thought you quit.”
“Me too,” I said, exhaling.
“How‘s Juliet?”
“As hard as she tries to hide it, she‘s fucking mess…“ I sighed and took another drag, slowly letting the smoke escape from my lips. “…God, I miss my best friend.”
“Have you tried talking to her about it?” The creases in her forehead deepened.
“I was going to this morning, but she already seemed depressed. I didn’t wanna push her over the edge or anything…”
“She’s a smart girl. She’ll drop him sooner or later.”
“That‘s what I‘ve been telling myself for the past 3 months...”

The Belmont bus conveniently pulled up in front of us and we hurried inside. Twenty or so minutes later, we arrived on Clark Street. Ten or so minutes after that, we were putting on aprons at Starbucks.

Yeah. We’re baristas.

“Hi, how may I help you?” I asked as a thirty-something guy stepped up to the counter.
“I’d like a veinte hot chocolate.”
“Is that all for today?”
“Do you think you could throw in your phone number?”

Smirking, I pulled out a Sharpie and scrawled digits onto the side of a cup before handing it to Ducky.

“One veinte hot chocolate.”
“Coming right up,” she said taking the container from me.

“That’ll be $2.78,” I said. He handed me a five and I handed him his change.

With no other customers to wait on, Ducky quickly made the drink and placed it on the counter.

“Thank you,” he said with a wink, then walked out the door.

“Lacey Kalman, I can’t believe you gave that creep your number,” Ducky said.
“Daphne Palmer, I can’t believe that you believe I gave that creep my number.”
“Then what did you write on his drink?” she asked, confused.
“The Illinois rejection hotline number,” I simply replied.

She shook her head and laughed.

“I swear, you are one of the only reasons I still work here.”
“I know.”

As the day went on, people bustled in and out of the door. Most bought actual drinks while some were just looking for refuge from the blustering Chicago winds.

Hours passed, and before I knew it, the end of my shift had rolled around. Just as I was about to take my apron off, a guy stepped up to the counter. His labret piercing caught my attention.

“Can I have a tall caramel frappuccino, no whip?”
“Sure thing. That‘ll be $3.74.”

He gave me exact change, then drummed his fingers against the counter while I placed the money in the register.

“…Hey, I know this may sound really weird, but were you at New Heart for Christmas the other day?”
“Yeah. Kill Hannah is one of my favorite bands,” I said, pouring various liquids into the blender. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I remember seeing you in the pit.”

At this, I stopped what I was doing and turned around.

Green eyes. Side-swept bangs. Cute smile. Now that I thought about it, he did seem awfully familiar. I searched my memory banks for him, and hoped to god that he wasn’t one of the people I’d elbowed in the face.

“Wait, you pulled me onto the barricade when Mat leaned out into the crowd.”

He nodded and smiled.

“So you do remember me.” Now it was my turn to nod and smile.

“What’s your name?” I asked as I poured his drink into a clear plastic cup.
“Parker. Yours?”
“Lacey,” I said setting his frappuccino onto the counter.
“Well it’s nice to meet you again, Lacey.”
“You, too. Especially without the sweaty masses of people squished against us.”

Laughter escaped from his lips as he picked his drink off the counter.

“…Listen, I know we just learned each other’s names but do you think we could hang out some time?” he asked. Very gutsy.

I like gutsy.

“Yeah, that’d be great. My shift is actually ending right now, so if you’re not busy—”
“I’m not busy at all.”

I took off my apron and followed him to one of the couches.

Maybe today won’t be so bad after all…

Now you know that the douchebag's name is Cameron.

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