Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Fall Out Boy Trail
Too Much Green To Feel Blue
3 reviewsSticks and stones could break Pete's bones, but words will also hurt him. :D
2Insightful
The next couple of weeks rolled on in much the same way. Every morning the bands awoke, got ready for the day and hung around waiting for the buses to arrive at the next location. Every afternoon they’d split up: some to explore the area; some to set up equipment and sound-check; some to shower and sleep. Every evening they’d grab some dinner and play their shows to screaming crowds. Every night they’d tumble off stage in great moods, maybe head out for a couple of drinks, and then collapse in their bunks. It was always the same.
Except, of course, for a select few.
The days were pretty similar for everyone; it was just the nights that changed. Whilst most would fall into bed and get to sleep straight away, there were a few who just had to be up, for one reason or another.
Pete was one of these people. Every night he’d sit in the lounge on the bus and play around on the internet, reading blogs and posting various pictures and comments. He’d think about his son. As much as he loved being on tour, being without Bronx was killing him. Even the few visits he got when he was home were better than this. And what if they weren’t enough? What if, with the long tours away from home and the little time the two spent together anyway, what if Bronx would forget him? What if, when he was older, he’d disregard Pete completely?
Pete would slip into this mindset for a while. And, every night, he’d consider phoning his son… just to make sure he was alright… But then he’d pick up his phone, and see the time, and realise it was way past a three year-old’s bedtime, way past anyone’s bedtime, him having chronic insomnia. He’d even said goodnight to Andy and Joe. Then, every night, the obvious would hit him.
Where’s Patrick?
Patrick, surprisingly, wasn’t in any of the places Pete thought he’d be. He wasn’t in the main concert room chatting to the people who worked there; he wasn’t in the venue’s kitchen making a drink; he wasn’t in the back playing around on GarageBand. He wasn’t phoning anyone or doing anything business-like, and Pete could guarantee he hadn’t gone out to any parties or anything with the others (‘the others’ usually being Cobra Starship).
Every night Patrick would head off stage and take a shower, then grab his laptop and rush over to The Academy Is’ bus. He’d greet William, who’d be strumming away on a guitar, laptop open on some lyrics, glass of wine on the table in front of him. And so the pair would write, and play, and write some more, and record little demos, way into the night.
And every night Pete would start to worry. And every night, when Pete was so worried he’d get up to go and search for his missing friend, Patrick would push open the door to the bus and trudge inside.
‘Patrick, dude, where have you been? Don’t you realise what time it is?’
Patrick would stop and cock his head to one side. ‘Were you waiting up for me?’
‘No, not really. It’s just, it’s almost 2am, and you weren’t on the bus… I was starting to get worried, man. And plus you’re gonna tire yourself out.’
‘Sorry. I should have called you or something. But it’s fine, I’m here now.’
Patrick would start to head for his bunk, but Pete would call him back.
‘So what were you up to all this time?’
‘Can’t tell you now, man. Too tired. Maybe in the morning, huh?’
And that would be that. Patrick would manage to escape, and Pete would finally clamber into his own bunk for a few hours’ sleep, feeling confused and somewhat annoyed.
***********************
‘So we’ll make that a G… and… do you think a solo should go in there?’
‘Well… let’s see… what were you thinking?’
William plucked out a soft tune, watching Patrick’s face to see if he’d got it right… and he realised, from the relaxed expression and slight smile, he had. As he continued to play he got into the rhythm of it, enjoying how mellow and calming it sounded, and started to twist the tune even more, making it smoother, more intricate…
THUNK.
William was jolted out of his reverie. Both men looked to the window.
‘What was that?’
There was a pause while they listened again, straining their ears for a sound…
‘Ah, it’s probably nothing. Just the wind or something.’
‘So… back to the solo? Is there room in there?’ William bit his lip.
‘Alright, man, you’ve convinced me. Stick it in. But keep it gentle, OK?’
Another slight pause…
‘…That’s what she said.’
Pete growled at the peals of laughter coming out of the bus. That’s our joke! How dare he share that with anyone but me! He leaned his head against the window to listen back in, being careful not to startle them again. He was just so desperate to find out what was going on. Patrick never kept secrets from him…
‘OK, I’d better start getting back, man. It’s so late!’
‘Yeah, you’re right. We oughta do this earlier in the day!’
‘Hey, we’re burning the midnight oil, as they say.’ Patrick sighed. ‘I guess Pete will be all up in my face again, asking me where I was. He never gives me any privacy these days.’
‘He’s probably just interested in what you’re doing.’
‘I know. But even so, I wish he’d leave me alone. It’s late when I get back and I just wanna sleep, but he’s always harassing me. It’s so… annoying, y’know?’
‘Maybe if you just tell him what you’re up to he’ll drop it, give you some space. It’s worth a try.’
‘I guess so… Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow. Night Bill.’
The two friends gave each other a quick hug (as was their custom, nowadays – they’d been getting very well acquainted), and Patrick headed out of the warm bus into the chilly night. Autumn was starting to set in, and as he kicked his way through crisp leaves his frustration with Pete started to disappear, giving way to reflections on the night. The album was really starting to come along, and he’d brought out a side of Bill people didn’t normally see… a softer, more soulful Bill…
Patrick stopped short as he looked up towards the bus. Just ahead of him, slouching towards the door in a grey hoodie, was a very unhappy-looking Pete. Patrick ran to catch him up.
‘Hey, Pete! Where’ve you been?’
Pete blinked and turned round. ‘Oh… just for a little walk. Just to… to clear my head.’
He smiled weakly and stepped inside the bus, heading straight for the bunks, but Patrick pulled him back.
‘Is everything alright, man? You seem a bit… distracted.’
‘No, it’s fine.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah, I’m OK. Now will you please let go of me?’
Pete pulled away and crawled into his bunk, pulling the curtain across and removing the hoodie and his jeans before slipping under the covers… but Patrick was still following. He clambered in and sat by Pete’s feet, watching his moonlit face (he always left the curtains open a fraction so he could look at the stars).
‘OK, Pete, what have I done?’ Patrick whispered, careful not to wake Joe or Andy.
‘Nothing!’
‘Then why are you being so… hostile?!’
Pete pulled the covers tighter round himself. ‘You want privacy, I’m giving you privacy,’ he hissed. ‘What else do you want from me? Honestly, talk about role reversal…’
And, sure enough, Patrick got it.
‘Wait… it was you outside the bus tonight… What were you doing, Pete? What… That’s so…’
‘So what?’ He sat up and stared Patrick in the face. ‘I’m not even allowed to know what my best friend’s up to these days. It’s no wonder I have to sneak around like this. Now look, if you want me to leave you alone and quit harassing you, you’ve just gotta tell me what you’re doing. But since you don’t want to do that, I guess secrecy and backstabbing is the only option.’
Pete snuggled back down under the covers and sighed, not wanting to say any more… and Patrick knew Pete was feeling hurt. He hated it when Pete went into a sulk. Sometimes he could be brought out of it with a few kind words and hugs. Sometimes it took a few hours of presents and pleading. And sometimes, just sometimes, it took days to win him round.
Patrick crept down the bed slowly.
‘Pete…?’
No reply, except for Pete pulling the covers over his head completely. Patrick sighed.
‘Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been all that friendly recently. But you can understand I’m busy, can’t you?’
No reply.
‘Well, if you’re gonna sulk like this all night, I guess there’s no point arguing any more. Goodnight, Pete.’
Pete felt Patrick pat his shoulder briefly, and then climb out of his bunk. He knew it was immature, this huffiness. But he simply couldn’t help it. He’d always been possessive and controlling, right from when he was little. He wanted to know where everyone important was and what they were doing, every minute of every day. But Pete felt, deep down, that this wasn’t the problem. Was the problem… William?
Was he simply jealous?
********************************
[AN: I fail at updating. Sorry, if there's anyone still reading. :( I have loads written but I just can't seen to get to it. That being said, I give up on the review idea. It's really irritating that no one seems to review. If it's not good, then please, just tell me why! If you enjoyed it even the slightest bit, tell me! But yeah, I'm gonna keep posting regardless of how many people review. Hopefully we'll get to the end somehow! Thanks to anyone that's still reading, you're lovely. :)]
Except, of course, for a select few.
The days were pretty similar for everyone; it was just the nights that changed. Whilst most would fall into bed and get to sleep straight away, there were a few who just had to be up, for one reason or another.
Pete was one of these people. Every night he’d sit in the lounge on the bus and play around on the internet, reading blogs and posting various pictures and comments. He’d think about his son. As much as he loved being on tour, being without Bronx was killing him. Even the few visits he got when he was home were better than this. And what if they weren’t enough? What if, with the long tours away from home and the little time the two spent together anyway, what if Bronx would forget him? What if, when he was older, he’d disregard Pete completely?
Pete would slip into this mindset for a while. And, every night, he’d consider phoning his son… just to make sure he was alright… But then he’d pick up his phone, and see the time, and realise it was way past a three year-old’s bedtime, way past anyone’s bedtime, him having chronic insomnia. He’d even said goodnight to Andy and Joe. Then, every night, the obvious would hit him.
Where’s Patrick?
Patrick, surprisingly, wasn’t in any of the places Pete thought he’d be. He wasn’t in the main concert room chatting to the people who worked there; he wasn’t in the venue’s kitchen making a drink; he wasn’t in the back playing around on GarageBand. He wasn’t phoning anyone or doing anything business-like, and Pete could guarantee he hadn’t gone out to any parties or anything with the others (‘the others’ usually being Cobra Starship).
Every night Patrick would head off stage and take a shower, then grab his laptop and rush over to The Academy Is’ bus. He’d greet William, who’d be strumming away on a guitar, laptop open on some lyrics, glass of wine on the table in front of him. And so the pair would write, and play, and write some more, and record little demos, way into the night.
And every night Pete would start to worry. And every night, when Pete was so worried he’d get up to go and search for his missing friend, Patrick would push open the door to the bus and trudge inside.
‘Patrick, dude, where have you been? Don’t you realise what time it is?’
Patrick would stop and cock his head to one side. ‘Were you waiting up for me?’
‘No, not really. It’s just, it’s almost 2am, and you weren’t on the bus… I was starting to get worried, man. And plus you’re gonna tire yourself out.’
‘Sorry. I should have called you or something. But it’s fine, I’m here now.’
Patrick would start to head for his bunk, but Pete would call him back.
‘So what were you up to all this time?’
‘Can’t tell you now, man. Too tired. Maybe in the morning, huh?’
And that would be that. Patrick would manage to escape, and Pete would finally clamber into his own bunk for a few hours’ sleep, feeling confused and somewhat annoyed.
***********************
‘So we’ll make that a G… and… do you think a solo should go in there?’
‘Well… let’s see… what were you thinking?’
William plucked out a soft tune, watching Patrick’s face to see if he’d got it right… and he realised, from the relaxed expression and slight smile, he had. As he continued to play he got into the rhythm of it, enjoying how mellow and calming it sounded, and started to twist the tune even more, making it smoother, more intricate…
THUNK.
William was jolted out of his reverie. Both men looked to the window.
‘What was that?’
There was a pause while they listened again, straining their ears for a sound…
‘Ah, it’s probably nothing. Just the wind or something.’
‘So… back to the solo? Is there room in there?’ William bit his lip.
‘Alright, man, you’ve convinced me. Stick it in. But keep it gentle, OK?’
Another slight pause…
‘…That’s what she said.’
Pete growled at the peals of laughter coming out of the bus. That’s our joke! How dare he share that with anyone but me! He leaned his head against the window to listen back in, being careful not to startle them again. He was just so desperate to find out what was going on. Patrick never kept secrets from him…
‘OK, I’d better start getting back, man. It’s so late!’
‘Yeah, you’re right. We oughta do this earlier in the day!’
‘Hey, we’re burning the midnight oil, as they say.’ Patrick sighed. ‘I guess Pete will be all up in my face again, asking me where I was. He never gives me any privacy these days.’
‘He’s probably just interested in what you’re doing.’
‘I know. But even so, I wish he’d leave me alone. It’s late when I get back and I just wanna sleep, but he’s always harassing me. It’s so… annoying, y’know?’
‘Maybe if you just tell him what you’re up to he’ll drop it, give you some space. It’s worth a try.’
‘I guess so… Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow. Night Bill.’
The two friends gave each other a quick hug (as was their custom, nowadays – they’d been getting very well acquainted), and Patrick headed out of the warm bus into the chilly night. Autumn was starting to set in, and as he kicked his way through crisp leaves his frustration with Pete started to disappear, giving way to reflections on the night. The album was really starting to come along, and he’d brought out a side of Bill people didn’t normally see… a softer, more soulful Bill…
Patrick stopped short as he looked up towards the bus. Just ahead of him, slouching towards the door in a grey hoodie, was a very unhappy-looking Pete. Patrick ran to catch him up.
‘Hey, Pete! Where’ve you been?’
Pete blinked and turned round. ‘Oh… just for a little walk. Just to… to clear my head.’
He smiled weakly and stepped inside the bus, heading straight for the bunks, but Patrick pulled him back.
‘Is everything alright, man? You seem a bit… distracted.’
‘No, it’s fine.’
‘You sure?’
‘Yeah, I’m OK. Now will you please let go of me?’
Pete pulled away and crawled into his bunk, pulling the curtain across and removing the hoodie and his jeans before slipping under the covers… but Patrick was still following. He clambered in and sat by Pete’s feet, watching his moonlit face (he always left the curtains open a fraction so he could look at the stars).
‘OK, Pete, what have I done?’ Patrick whispered, careful not to wake Joe or Andy.
‘Nothing!’
‘Then why are you being so… hostile?!’
Pete pulled the covers tighter round himself. ‘You want privacy, I’m giving you privacy,’ he hissed. ‘What else do you want from me? Honestly, talk about role reversal…’
And, sure enough, Patrick got it.
‘Wait… it was you outside the bus tonight… What were you doing, Pete? What… That’s so…’
‘So what?’ He sat up and stared Patrick in the face. ‘I’m not even allowed to know what my best friend’s up to these days. It’s no wonder I have to sneak around like this. Now look, if you want me to leave you alone and quit harassing you, you’ve just gotta tell me what you’re doing. But since you don’t want to do that, I guess secrecy and backstabbing is the only option.’
Pete snuggled back down under the covers and sighed, not wanting to say any more… and Patrick knew Pete was feeling hurt. He hated it when Pete went into a sulk. Sometimes he could be brought out of it with a few kind words and hugs. Sometimes it took a few hours of presents and pleading. And sometimes, just sometimes, it took days to win him round.
Patrick crept down the bed slowly.
‘Pete…?’
No reply, except for Pete pulling the covers over his head completely. Patrick sighed.
‘Look, I’m sorry I haven’t been all that friendly recently. But you can understand I’m busy, can’t you?’
No reply.
‘Well, if you’re gonna sulk like this all night, I guess there’s no point arguing any more. Goodnight, Pete.’
Pete felt Patrick pat his shoulder briefly, and then climb out of his bunk. He knew it was immature, this huffiness. But he simply couldn’t help it. He’d always been possessive and controlling, right from when he was little. He wanted to know where everyone important was and what they were doing, every minute of every day. But Pete felt, deep down, that this wasn’t the problem. Was the problem… William?
Was he simply jealous?
********************************
[AN: I fail at updating. Sorry, if there's anyone still reading. :( I have loads written but I just can't seen to get to it. That being said, I give up on the review idea. It's really irritating that no one seems to review. If it's not good, then please, just tell me why! If you enjoyed it even the slightest bit, tell me! But yeah, I'm gonna keep posting regardless of how many people review. Hopefully we'll get to the end somehow! Thanks to anyone that's still reading, you're lovely. :)]
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