Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Lasting Impressions
Author's Note: I should be getting ready for Battle of the Bamboo (a Filipino dance competition my group is in) since I need to be at UIC in 2 hours, but I wanted to get this posted before I left. It's true. I love you guys that much.
Tissamy: Yep. Eric was a douche, and the break up was inevitable. How else would the lovely Mr. Gaskarth get into the picture?
somethingorother: He asked Chloe to pick him up because of his car situation, then in a pot-induced haze, forgot that he had a date. Whoops.
AllTimeJack96: Lol. "Numnut." I'm gonna have to use that sometime. Anyways, thanks for the review!
lovetah: I've also been suffering from ficwad's faulty alert system. I have to manually check the review pages for new feedback. Tis a pain. And yes. The non-clingy, concert-going, cute boy is very appealing. But sadly, some things are just too good to be true.
I hope you guys enjoy this one.
Damage done.
“Fuck…” I groaned, shielding my eyes from the sun’s painful rays.
After my eyes adjusted, I looked around. Instead of the usual pale blue walls, I was faced with posters of bands and half naked girls. My brother’s bedroom.
I reluctantly pulled myself into sitting position as memories of the previous night flooded through my mind.
Eric and the redhead. Almost running over him. The bar. The drinks. The tears. The call to my brother.
“Hey, breakfast is ready,” Jack quietly said, standing in the doorway.
I slowly got up and followed him toward the kitchen. Next to my bowl of cereal was a bottle of aspirin. After taking a seat I quickly downed two of the capsules dry.
“Thanks for picking me up last night,” I said, noting how raspy my voice sounded. “Sorry for taking your bed.”
“No problem. Don’t worry about it.”
I slowly ate, occasionally stirring the Froot Loops and watching as they floated around in the milk. Red bumped into blue bumped into green.
“…Go ahead and say it,” I softly said, looking down at my food.
“What?”
“‘I told you so.’ I know you want to.”
“Chloe…”
At this point, tears were threatening to spill from the corners of my eyes. I tried blinking them back, but my efforts were pointless. They slipped down my cheeks faster than I could wipe them away. I heard Jack’s chair move across the floor and before I knew it, he wrapped me in a hug.
“Shhh. It’ll be okay,” he said, reassuringly. “…God, if I ever bump into this guy, I’m gonna kick his ass.”
“Thanks,” I sniffled, pulling away.
“Hey, you can hang out here as long as you want. Just tell me when you want a lift to your place.”
“Sure you don’t mind?”
“Positive.”
“Oh crap,” I said, putting my face in my hands. “I just remembered my car is still in the parking lot…”
“I’ll take care of it. You just eat breakfast and watch some cartoons, okay?”
He pulled me into a tight hug and kissed my forehead. This was one of the rare occasions I didn’t mind being treated like a little kid.
“Okay…” I took a seat at the table once again and worked on finishing my cereal.
He quickly took out his cell and walked into the living room. “Hey, it’s Jack… Yeah… Could you do me a favor?”
I continued stirring my cereal, no longer hungry. Red bumped into blue, bumped into green. Anger bumped into sadness, bumped into jealousy.
I was angry that Eric cheated.
I was sad because I had really cared about him.
I was jealous because, unlike me, he had someone to move on with.
God. You know things are fucked up when you find can meaning in soggy cereal.
“It’s set. Me and Alex are gonna pick up your car,” he said, walking back into the kitchen. “Keys?”
“I’ll get them,” I said, standing up.
I may have been depressed and hungover, but my brother was not going anywhere near my purse. Purse = my stash = the realization that I still smoke weed. Though he probably wouldn’t start anything over it, the last thing I wanted to do was look like more of an idiot in my Jack’s eyes.
A minute or so later, I reemerged from his room, car keys in hand. He took them and grabbed his purple Valencia hoody.
“I’ll be back in about an hour.”
“Alright.”
After flashing a half-hearted smile, Jack walked out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I tried taking my mind off the situation by watching TV. It worked right up until I stumbled across High Fidelity. For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s a dramatic comedy about Rob Gordon’s introspective journey of tracing through all his past relationships in hopes of figuring out why his love life was a disaster.
It seemed appropriate that I did the same.
As I said earlier, my love life didn’t really get anywhere until after I graduated from high school, so I guess I’ll start from there.
First up is Kyle Myers. Long story short, he was the first person to ask me out after Jack left. Freshly liberated from my older brother’s watchful eye, I felt compelled to date. He was cute. Things were fun. But after about 3 weeks, I realized that there wasn’t really anything there. I’m not gonna lie-- I dated him for the sake of dating.
Next was Tyler Brandt. He was a really sweet guy. A bit too sweet for my taste. He was the hopeless romantic type that seems irresistible in the movies. You know, the ones that write odes about their girlfriends and buy them flowers just because. I know it sounds great, but I felt like I was being suffocated. A short poem once in a while was cute, but almost every day, Tyler was writing me corny sonnets about “eternal love” and it freaked me out a bit. I mean, I was only 18 and I couldn’t imagine being in a relationship that lasted a year, nonetheless “a multitude of lifetimes.” And in addition to his overly-passionate compositions, he was a virgin. Don’t get me wrong, though. I don’t have anything against virgins. It was the fact that he wanted to keep it that way until after marriage that was offsetting. But the straw that broke the camel’s back was when he got me a promise ring. I bolted like a stallion at the racetrack.
After being with Tyler, I was in search of a guy with a healthy libido. That’s when I found Nick Weiss. His sense of humor and nonchalance were what first attracted me to him… And his skills in the bedroom are what kept me from leaving. He was an asshole at times, but it was sort of convenient because I didn’t have to worry about hurting his feelings. Funny and low maintenance. He was my kind of guy. Things were smooth sailing for about 4 months, but I eventually broke it off because I got tired of being his piece of arm candy.
Then of course there was Bryce Ullman. He was your typical artsy boy-- vegetarian, wore striped cardigans, liked quoting dead poets, etc. He was sweet, but not a pansy; funny but not obnoxious; intelligent but not nerdy. It seemed that he was the total package. But like many other artsy boys, he was a bit dramatic at times. He’d get on my case for “not appreciating” his paintings and he’d get upset when I didn’t understand his avant garde films. But that aside, he made me happy. Though I don’t believe in true love, Bryce and I had something special. Four months into the relationship, he could still stir up butterflies in my stomach. Then of course, he asked me to move in with him. I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. Rather than giving me some time, he turned it into an ultimatum: either I move in with him or leave. So I left.
Last but not least, there was Eric Hastings, and I don’t think I need to explain how that went down.
There was only one common thread between the five: I was the one who called things off. At first I brushed it off as a weird coincidence, but the more I thought about it, it was actually a pattern. I guess it was my way of beating them to the punch-- if I was the one to break up, I would never become that pathetic girl who got left behind.
It seemed foolproof. If I didn’t let anyone in, they wouldn’t be able to hurt me. Opening up meant vulnerability, so I figured that building walls around myself would mean strength. But with Eric, I waited too long. I got too involved. I cared too much. He slipped in through the cracks and broke my heart from the inside out.
So here I am. The epitome of exactly what I was trying to avoid.
“God, I need a drink…”
+++++
Reviews = Updates.
Tissamy: Yep. Eric was a douche, and the break up was inevitable. How else would the lovely Mr. Gaskarth get into the picture?
somethingorother: He asked Chloe to pick him up because of his car situation, then in a pot-induced haze, forgot that he had a date. Whoops.
AllTimeJack96: Lol. "Numnut." I'm gonna have to use that sometime. Anyways, thanks for the review!
lovetah: I've also been suffering from ficwad's faulty alert system. I have to manually check the review pages for new feedback. Tis a pain. And yes. The non-clingy, concert-going, cute boy is very appealing. But sadly, some things are just too good to be true.
I hope you guys enjoy this one.
Damage done.
“Fuck…” I groaned, shielding my eyes from the sun’s painful rays.
After my eyes adjusted, I looked around. Instead of the usual pale blue walls, I was faced with posters of bands and half naked girls. My brother’s bedroom.
I reluctantly pulled myself into sitting position as memories of the previous night flooded through my mind.
Eric and the redhead. Almost running over him. The bar. The drinks. The tears. The call to my brother.
“Hey, breakfast is ready,” Jack quietly said, standing in the doorway.
I slowly got up and followed him toward the kitchen. Next to my bowl of cereal was a bottle of aspirin. After taking a seat I quickly downed two of the capsules dry.
“Thanks for picking me up last night,” I said, noting how raspy my voice sounded. “Sorry for taking your bed.”
“No problem. Don’t worry about it.”
I slowly ate, occasionally stirring the Froot Loops and watching as they floated around in the milk. Red bumped into blue bumped into green.
“…Go ahead and say it,” I softly said, looking down at my food.
“What?”
“‘I told you so.’ I know you want to.”
“Chloe…”
At this point, tears were threatening to spill from the corners of my eyes. I tried blinking them back, but my efforts were pointless. They slipped down my cheeks faster than I could wipe them away. I heard Jack’s chair move across the floor and before I knew it, he wrapped me in a hug.
“Shhh. It’ll be okay,” he said, reassuringly. “…God, if I ever bump into this guy, I’m gonna kick his ass.”
“Thanks,” I sniffled, pulling away.
“Hey, you can hang out here as long as you want. Just tell me when you want a lift to your place.”
“Sure you don’t mind?”
“Positive.”
“Oh crap,” I said, putting my face in my hands. “I just remembered my car is still in the parking lot…”
“I’ll take care of it. You just eat breakfast and watch some cartoons, okay?”
He pulled me into a tight hug and kissed my forehead. This was one of the rare occasions I didn’t mind being treated like a little kid.
“Okay…” I took a seat at the table once again and worked on finishing my cereal.
He quickly took out his cell and walked into the living room. “Hey, it’s Jack… Yeah… Could you do me a favor?”
I continued stirring my cereal, no longer hungry. Red bumped into blue, bumped into green. Anger bumped into sadness, bumped into jealousy.
I was angry that Eric cheated.
I was sad because I had really cared about him.
I was jealous because, unlike me, he had someone to move on with.
God. You know things are fucked up when you find can meaning in soggy cereal.
“It’s set. Me and Alex are gonna pick up your car,” he said, walking back into the kitchen. “Keys?”
“I’ll get them,” I said, standing up.
I may have been depressed and hungover, but my brother was not going anywhere near my purse. Purse = my stash = the realization that I still smoke weed. Though he probably wouldn’t start anything over it, the last thing I wanted to do was look like more of an idiot in my Jack’s eyes.
A minute or so later, I reemerged from his room, car keys in hand. He took them and grabbed his purple Valencia hoody.
“I’ll be back in about an hour.”
“Alright.”
After flashing a half-hearted smile, Jack walked out the door, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I tried taking my mind off the situation by watching TV. It worked right up until I stumbled across High Fidelity. For those of you who haven’t seen it, it’s a dramatic comedy about Rob Gordon’s introspective journey of tracing through all his past relationships in hopes of figuring out why his love life was a disaster.
It seemed appropriate that I did the same.
As I said earlier, my love life didn’t really get anywhere until after I graduated from high school, so I guess I’ll start from there.
First up is Kyle Myers. Long story short, he was the first person to ask me out after Jack left. Freshly liberated from my older brother’s watchful eye, I felt compelled to date. He was cute. Things were fun. But after about 3 weeks, I realized that there wasn’t really anything there. I’m not gonna lie-- I dated him for the sake of dating.
Next was Tyler Brandt. He was a really sweet guy. A bit too sweet for my taste. He was the hopeless romantic type that seems irresistible in the movies. You know, the ones that write odes about their girlfriends and buy them flowers just because. I know it sounds great, but I felt like I was being suffocated. A short poem once in a while was cute, but almost every day, Tyler was writing me corny sonnets about “eternal love” and it freaked me out a bit. I mean, I was only 18 and I couldn’t imagine being in a relationship that lasted a year, nonetheless “a multitude of lifetimes.” And in addition to his overly-passionate compositions, he was a virgin. Don’t get me wrong, though. I don’t have anything against virgins. It was the fact that he wanted to keep it that way until after marriage that was offsetting. But the straw that broke the camel’s back was when he got me a promise ring. I bolted like a stallion at the racetrack.
After being with Tyler, I was in search of a guy with a healthy libido. That’s when I found Nick Weiss. His sense of humor and nonchalance were what first attracted me to him… And his skills in the bedroom are what kept me from leaving. He was an asshole at times, but it was sort of convenient because I didn’t have to worry about hurting his feelings. Funny and low maintenance. He was my kind of guy. Things were smooth sailing for about 4 months, but I eventually broke it off because I got tired of being his piece of arm candy.
Then of course there was Bryce Ullman. He was your typical artsy boy-- vegetarian, wore striped cardigans, liked quoting dead poets, etc. He was sweet, but not a pansy; funny but not obnoxious; intelligent but not nerdy. It seemed that he was the total package. But like many other artsy boys, he was a bit dramatic at times. He’d get on my case for “not appreciating” his paintings and he’d get upset when I didn’t understand his avant garde films. But that aside, he made me happy. Though I don’t believe in true love, Bryce and I had something special. Four months into the relationship, he could still stir up butterflies in my stomach. Then of course, he asked me to move in with him. I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. Rather than giving me some time, he turned it into an ultimatum: either I move in with him or leave. So I left.
Last but not least, there was Eric Hastings, and I don’t think I need to explain how that went down.
There was only one common thread between the five: I was the one who called things off. At first I brushed it off as a weird coincidence, but the more I thought about it, it was actually a pattern. I guess it was my way of beating them to the punch-- if I was the one to break up, I would never become that pathetic girl who got left behind.
It seemed foolproof. If I didn’t let anyone in, they wouldn’t be able to hurt me. Opening up meant vulnerability, so I figured that building walls around myself would mean strength. But with Eric, I waited too long. I got too involved. I cared too much. He slipped in through the cracks and broke my heart from the inside out.
So here I am. The epitome of exactly what I was trying to avoid.
“God, I need a drink…”
+++++
Reviews = Updates.
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