Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Wake Me Up When The Nightmare Ends
A couple of weeks between tour dates couldn’t have come at a better time for Pete Wentz. He was feeling low, his self-esteem plunging yet again. He was a rock star, he had it all, money, power, women throwing themelves at him. He was attractive and he knew it… no, he was hot, and he knew that. But the success never seemed to matter. Whatever he achieved left him needing more. It had been a basic flaw in his life as long as he could remember. It was as if something was missing; the vital piece of the jigsaw puzzle that would complete the picture. If he was honest with himself, there was nothing missing except self-esteem and he had never quite got a handle on how to keep that. Yes, he was confident. He had confidence by the bucket-load. He knew what he wanted, what he was capable of, and he went for it with passion. But, confidence isn’t the same as self-esteem and it had taken him a long time to realise that. Most people never realised it. So, to most people, he was an attention-seeking jerk. To those who knew him, who understood, he was a high achiever with low self-worth and nothing, literally nothing seemed to change that. But, he had found a good therapist, one with whom he was prepared to be honest, prepared to be himself. It had been scary at first. He thought of it as failure as giving in to his own weakness. Before too long, Doctor Steadman had broken through the very guarded surface to the confused and frightened young man underneath. He was making progress, but a tour always drained Pete. The massive high of a show could only be followed by an equally massive low and he was suffering for it. He needed to regroup. He needed to find a balance again. He needed an appointment.
He couldn’t believe it when Steadman’s assistant had told him there was a slot available on the Saturday of his return. To the best of his knowledge, the doctor never worked Saturdays, but he was relieved to be able to make an appointment rather than wait until the Monday, giving him time to brood.
Entering the building, Pete was surprised to see no one on reception. Perhaps the doctor had made a special exception for him. Pete’s mouth turned up into a brief smile; he had frequently made time for Pete when there really wasn’t any.
Pete knocked on the door to the office. At the muffled call to enter, he turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open. He looked tired; pale, the previous day’s eyeliner smudged around his eyes, his hair uncombed underneath the dark grey soft, fleecy hood. As he stepped into the room, he stared, confused at the man behind the desk.
“Come in, Pete,” the cheerful voice encouraged. Waiting until Pete was fully in the room before continuing. “Doctor Steadman was unable to be here, he’s asked me if I could see you instead.”
Pete frowned. He had been under the care of Doctor Steadman for years. The therapist had become as much a friend as a doctor and it seemed unlikely that he would simply hand him over to a new doctor, even… no, especially just for one appointment.
“Umm… no offense, but, I think I’ll just reschedule,” Pete replied, unwilling to spill his private thoughts and feelings to a stranger, even one recommended by his own doctor.
The doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
Pete frowned; had something happened to Doctor Steadman? But even as the question had occurred to him, there was no more time to think about it as, from behind, a thick-set arm wrapped itself tightly around his neck. He gasped in shock, taking in a deep inhalation of the sweet smelling damp cloth that had simultaneously been placed over his nose and mouth. Curling his fingers around the arm, Pete clawed at it, trying desperately to pull free, but he was already weakening. Muted cries for help went unheard in the empty office. A sudden tingling sensation flooded his body and he could feel his knees give way beneath him. Holding him a few more moments, the man released his grip on the young musician and allowed him to drop to the floor in a crumpled heap.
“Well,” the man smirked as he folded the cloth before placing it in a small plastic bag and pushing it into his jacket pocket. “That was easy enough.”
The man behind the desk smirked as he rose.
“Didn’t I tell you it would be? Now, let’s get him down to the car and out of here.”
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A/N - Y/N?
He couldn’t believe it when Steadman’s assistant had told him there was a slot available on the Saturday of his return. To the best of his knowledge, the doctor never worked Saturdays, but he was relieved to be able to make an appointment rather than wait until the Monday, giving him time to brood.
Entering the building, Pete was surprised to see no one on reception. Perhaps the doctor had made a special exception for him. Pete’s mouth turned up into a brief smile; he had frequently made time for Pete when there really wasn’t any.
Pete knocked on the door to the office. At the muffled call to enter, he turned the handle and slowly pushed the door open. He looked tired; pale, the previous day’s eyeliner smudged around his eyes, his hair uncombed underneath the dark grey soft, fleecy hood. As he stepped into the room, he stared, confused at the man behind the desk.
“Come in, Pete,” the cheerful voice encouraged. Waiting until Pete was fully in the room before continuing. “Doctor Steadman was unable to be here, he’s asked me if I could see you instead.”
Pete frowned. He had been under the care of Doctor Steadman for years. The therapist had become as much a friend as a doctor and it seemed unlikely that he would simply hand him over to a new doctor, even… no, especially just for one appointment.
“Umm… no offense, but, I think I’ll just reschedule,” Pete replied, unwilling to spill his private thoughts and feelings to a stranger, even one recommended by his own doctor.
The doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
Pete frowned; had something happened to Doctor Steadman? But even as the question had occurred to him, there was no more time to think about it as, from behind, a thick-set arm wrapped itself tightly around his neck. He gasped in shock, taking in a deep inhalation of the sweet smelling damp cloth that had simultaneously been placed over his nose and mouth. Curling his fingers around the arm, Pete clawed at it, trying desperately to pull free, but he was already weakening. Muted cries for help went unheard in the empty office. A sudden tingling sensation flooded his body and he could feel his knees give way beneath him. Holding him a few more moments, the man released his grip on the young musician and allowed him to drop to the floor in a crumpled heap.
“Well,” the man smirked as he folded the cloth before placing it in a small plastic bag and pushing it into his jacket pocket. “That was easy enough.”
The man behind the desk smirked as he rose.
“Didn’t I tell you it would be? Now, let’s get him down to the car and out of here.”
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A/N - Y/N?
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