Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > The Afterlife Of The Party
Pete’s POV
I reluctantly handed Paige the vial with a glare. She snatched it out of my hands, smirked a little, and then turned and walked up the basement steps. I heard her cross the pile of splintered wood that was the door and I sighed. If Patrick ever got his memory back he was going to be mad as fuck.
“Sooo.. um, is this were I live?” Patrick asked me uncertainly.
“Yeah. We share the house with Andy and Joe. You don’t remember them, I’m guessing. They’re our best friends.”
Patrick nodded silently.
I walked up the stairs into the living room and flopped onto the couch. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my forehead against my knees. How could this happen? Patrick, my best friend, my boyfriend, didn’t remember me. It might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.
“Um, Pete?”
I looked up. “Yeah?”
“Is it okay if I go look around?”
“Of course. It’s your house too.”
He nodded silently again. He turned and walked down the hallway. With a soft sigh I put my head down on my knees again, wondering why this had to happen to us.
Patrick’s POV
Well, at least that’s why it seems so familiar. It’s my own house. It was weird though. I stood looking at pictures on the wall. Pictures of me and Pete, pictures of what I assumed were Andy and Joe. I don’t remember being with them, or taking those pictures, or anything. It felt like I was looking through someone else’s life rather than my own.
I tore my gaze away from the photos and walked a little farther down the hall. I stopped in front of a room, and something told me to go inside. I walked in and looked around. It was a pretty cool room. The walls were a dark red, and the carpet was black. Against the far wall there was a large wrought iron four poster bed. The comforter was the same shade of red as the walls. There was a mahogany dresser next to one side. On top of the dresser there were various picture frames. On the other side of the room there was a desk with a laptop on it. It was covered in papers and pens, books and multiple pages of notes. I walked farther into the room and ran my hand along the comforter of the bed.
A short memory came back to me when my fingers met the fabric. It was simple and kind of fuzzy. My vision went black and the memory played in front of me, almost like a movie. I was curled up under the red comforter, my arms tight around Pete. His head was buried into my chest, his arms resting loosely around my neck. This was confusing. I didn’t like Pete like that. In the memory I leaned down and brushed my lips against his forehead with a small sigh. A feeling of sadness and regret washed through me suddenly, and I wondered what I had been thinking in the memory that made me feel that way.
I abruptly pulled my hand away from the blanket and my vision came back. That was really… weird. I walked over to the desk and started sifting through the papers. Apparently this was all mine. I read some of the notes. They were observations of… vampires? Wow, I was a nutcase. I felt something hard under the papers and withdrew a small black gun. I wonder why I had a gun? Huh.
Suddenly I heard a loud voice from the doorway.
“Hey, ‘Trick!”
I spun in time to feel myself being tackled by a guy with long wild red-brown hair and glasses. Ow! Fuck! Who was this guy?!
I hit the ground hard, and the hand that was holding the gun was crushed against the stranger’s chest. My hand jerked as more pressure was put on it, and I heard a loud BANG! Someone cried out, and the stranger went limp on top of me.
I reluctantly handed Paige the vial with a glare. She snatched it out of my hands, smirked a little, and then turned and walked up the basement steps. I heard her cross the pile of splintered wood that was the door and I sighed. If Patrick ever got his memory back he was going to be mad as fuck.
“Sooo.. um, is this were I live?” Patrick asked me uncertainly.
“Yeah. We share the house with Andy and Joe. You don’t remember them, I’m guessing. They’re our best friends.”
Patrick nodded silently.
I walked up the stairs into the living room and flopped onto the couch. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my forehead against my knees. How could this happen? Patrick, my best friend, my boyfriend, didn’t remember me. It might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.
“Um, Pete?”
I looked up. “Yeah?”
“Is it okay if I go look around?”
“Of course. It’s your house too.”
He nodded silently again. He turned and walked down the hallway. With a soft sigh I put my head down on my knees again, wondering why this had to happen to us.
Patrick’s POV
Well, at least that’s why it seems so familiar. It’s my own house. It was weird though. I stood looking at pictures on the wall. Pictures of me and Pete, pictures of what I assumed were Andy and Joe. I don’t remember being with them, or taking those pictures, or anything. It felt like I was looking through someone else’s life rather than my own.
I tore my gaze away from the photos and walked a little farther down the hall. I stopped in front of a room, and something told me to go inside. I walked in and looked around. It was a pretty cool room. The walls were a dark red, and the carpet was black. Against the far wall there was a large wrought iron four poster bed. The comforter was the same shade of red as the walls. There was a mahogany dresser next to one side. On top of the dresser there were various picture frames. On the other side of the room there was a desk with a laptop on it. It was covered in papers and pens, books and multiple pages of notes. I walked farther into the room and ran my hand along the comforter of the bed.
A short memory came back to me when my fingers met the fabric. It was simple and kind of fuzzy. My vision went black and the memory played in front of me, almost like a movie. I was curled up under the red comforter, my arms tight around Pete. His head was buried into my chest, his arms resting loosely around my neck. This was confusing. I didn’t like Pete like that. In the memory I leaned down and brushed my lips against his forehead with a small sigh. A feeling of sadness and regret washed through me suddenly, and I wondered what I had been thinking in the memory that made me feel that way.
I abruptly pulled my hand away from the blanket and my vision came back. That was really… weird. I walked over to the desk and started sifting through the papers. Apparently this was all mine. I read some of the notes. They were observations of… vampires? Wow, I was a nutcase. I felt something hard under the papers and withdrew a small black gun. I wonder why I had a gun? Huh.
Suddenly I heard a loud voice from the doorway.
“Hey, ‘Trick!”
I spun in time to feel myself being tackled by a guy with long wild red-brown hair and glasses. Ow! Fuck! Who was this guy?!
I hit the ground hard, and the hand that was holding the gun was crushed against the stranger’s chest. My hand jerked as more pressure was put on it, and I heard a loud BANG! Someone cried out, and the stranger went limp on top of me.
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