Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > My Own Sins
Mr Sandman squinted as the overly-bright daylight streamed into his eyes. The gaudy colours and exaggerated carnival atmosphere hadn’t changed at all. This was The Hills all right and, he noted with a hint of sadness, it had stopped feeling like home centuries ago. As he looked around, everyone he saw was a strange, over-the-top caricature of what they once looked like. Now glamorous and picture-perfect everyone was a celebrity and acted the part with relish. It drew a smile to Sandman’s lips. At first the smile bordered on laughter as he considered how ridiculous everyone looked, dressed so flamboyantly and colourfully. But soon the smile faded into a lop-sided wistful grin as his memory reached back to his boyhood, playing on the fairground rides with his brother, swimming in the lakes and climbing high into the hills themselves.
“Do you miss it?” Patrick asked, quietly observing Mr Sandman’s expression.
“Some things,” he replied, staring into the distance before shaking his head lightly. “Not everything.”
“You knew he liked cheesecake,” Patrick commented. “Best friend?” he asked.
Sandman allowed himself a small laugh, nodding as he turned to face Patrick. He hadn’t credited the singer with the intelligence to see what he had tried so hard to disguise.
“You don’t miss much, do you?”
“Let’s just say, you’re not as unfamiliar to me as I first thought,” Patrick smiled kindly in return.
“He’s my brother,” he admitted with a slight shrug.
“But you want to kill him?” Patrick asked in disbelief, his brow creasing as he spoke.
“He wants to kill me!” Sandman tried to justify the statement.
“Does he?” Patrick asked. “If what you said was true and he kept the world awake, would the Dream World really disappear?”
“Yes, it would,” Sandman replied, at first to Patrick’s surprise.
“And you?”
“No,” Mr Sandman sighed exhaustedly. Lowering his head, he looked over his right shoulder. “I’d live, but my reason for living would be gone.”
“The Dream World is your reason for living? Nothing else?” Patrick pressed.
“It’s what I do, it’s all I know.”
“That’s not healthy,” Patrick shook his head. “And if the Dream World didn’t exist any more, what would you do?”
“I don’t know,” Sandman admitted, rubbing one eye, somehow without smudging his make up.
“No,” Patrick took his arm, “you don’t understand. Where would you go?”
“Oh,” Sandman heaved a sigh, “I don’t know, back here, I guess.”
“So, really, he’s just trying to bring you home.”
Mr Sandman frowned deeply before turning a pair of wide, disbelieving eyes toward Patrick. Could it be true? No, it wasn’t possible! Benzedrine could only have been trying to destroy the Dream World, his home, his beloved home. Why would he want to do anything else but hurt him? But surely he must have known what the outcome would have been? It was too difficult to even contemplate and Mr Sandman dismissed the idea out of hand.
“No, that wasn’t his plan,” Sandman insisted. “You don’t know him like I do!”
“No,” Patrick shrugged. “I don’t, and maybe that’s not what he planned, but it is what he’d get. I just think that on some level, he’d know that.”
“Patrick, we’ve spent all our adult lives at each other’s throats. Nothing’s going to change now. He hates me, he had me banished to the Dream World so he could be with our father and make him forget me.”
“Your father wouldn’t be the guy you’re going to see now, would he?” Patrick asked, certain he knew the answer.
“Yeah,” Sandman nodded. “And there’s your proof – he’s replacing me with your friend.”
Patrick shook his head. “You can’t even convince yourself of that. You know Pete will have been forced to do that.”
“Well?” Sandman asked, reluctant to admit that he could see where Patrick was steering the conversation.
“Your feud, your rivalry, call it what you like. It’s got way out of control and he needs to see you, to sort it out. How can he get to you? He can’t go to the Dream World. On your own territory, you have the upper hand, the power. He wants you on his ground, somewhere he can make you listen. He has to get you here and he has, hasn’t he?”
Mr Sandman pushed his fingers through his hair and allowed his tense shoulders to sag a little.
“Okay, maybe you’re right, but…”
“Did your father really banish you or was it easier to believe that than admit that you missed him?”
“What?” Sandman asked weakly, taken by surprise at the honesty and understanding in Patrick’s words.
“Bottling things up won’t help you. Pretending you can cope when you can’t; that won’t help either.”
“H… how…?”
“Do you have any idea how much like Pete you actually are?” Patrick asked with a sympathetic smile.
Sandman could only stare at first. “Are you like Silas… Dr Benzedrine?”
Patrick chewed his lip for a moment. “Probably,” he admitted. “It can be hard to see yourself in people.”
Sandman flopped down on a grass bank and watched one of the nearby fairground rides turning gracefully with its horses bobbing up and down in a gentle rhythmic wave. The sound of the carnival music filled his ears and brought a weak smile to his lips.
“If you’re right,” he began, “I’m in a lot of trouble with my father.”
“If I am right,” Patrick smiled in reply, “he’ll forgive you.”
Sandman glanced up at Patrick and sighed again. “You are a lot like Silas,” he nodded to emphasise the words. “You know what? I blamed him… for everything. I blamed him because it was easier than telling my father that I didn’t want to leave home.”
“You do miss it, don’t you? But it’s not all you miss.”
Sandman drew his knees up to his chest and lowered his head. Watching as his shoulders shook lightly, Patrick moved away to give him some privacy.
“I don’t do too well on my own,” he finally sobbed.
Patrick sighed silently as he heard the words that summed up his own best friend. Words that Pete himself had written to work out the desperation he had felt on attempting suicide. Mr Sandman was more like him than he could ever have imagined. Lowering himself onto the grass at Mr Sandman’s side, Patrick placed an arm around his shoulder and pulled him comfortingly close in the same way he had done for Pete on dozens of occasions.
“It’s okay,” he murmured softly. “Hardly anyone does.”
“Do you miss it?” Patrick asked, quietly observing Mr Sandman’s expression.
“Some things,” he replied, staring into the distance before shaking his head lightly. “Not everything.”
“You knew he liked cheesecake,” Patrick commented. “Best friend?” he asked.
Sandman allowed himself a small laugh, nodding as he turned to face Patrick. He hadn’t credited the singer with the intelligence to see what he had tried so hard to disguise.
“You don’t miss much, do you?”
“Let’s just say, you’re not as unfamiliar to me as I first thought,” Patrick smiled kindly in return.
“He’s my brother,” he admitted with a slight shrug.
“But you want to kill him?” Patrick asked in disbelief, his brow creasing as he spoke.
“He wants to kill me!” Sandman tried to justify the statement.
“Does he?” Patrick asked. “If what you said was true and he kept the world awake, would the Dream World really disappear?”
“Yes, it would,” Sandman replied, at first to Patrick’s surprise.
“And you?”
“No,” Mr Sandman sighed exhaustedly. Lowering his head, he looked over his right shoulder. “I’d live, but my reason for living would be gone.”
“The Dream World is your reason for living? Nothing else?” Patrick pressed.
“It’s what I do, it’s all I know.”
“That’s not healthy,” Patrick shook his head. “And if the Dream World didn’t exist any more, what would you do?”
“I don’t know,” Sandman admitted, rubbing one eye, somehow without smudging his make up.
“No,” Patrick took his arm, “you don’t understand. Where would you go?”
“Oh,” Sandman heaved a sigh, “I don’t know, back here, I guess.”
“So, really, he’s just trying to bring you home.”
Mr Sandman frowned deeply before turning a pair of wide, disbelieving eyes toward Patrick. Could it be true? No, it wasn’t possible! Benzedrine could only have been trying to destroy the Dream World, his home, his beloved home. Why would he want to do anything else but hurt him? But surely he must have known what the outcome would have been? It was too difficult to even contemplate and Mr Sandman dismissed the idea out of hand.
“No, that wasn’t his plan,” Sandman insisted. “You don’t know him like I do!”
“No,” Patrick shrugged. “I don’t, and maybe that’s not what he planned, but it is what he’d get. I just think that on some level, he’d know that.”
“Patrick, we’ve spent all our adult lives at each other’s throats. Nothing’s going to change now. He hates me, he had me banished to the Dream World so he could be with our father and make him forget me.”
“Your father wouldn’t be the guy you’re going to see now, would he?” Patrick asked, certain he knew the answer.
“Yeah,” Sandman nodded. “And there’s your proof – he’s replacing me with your friend.”
Patrick shook his head. “You can’t even convince yourself of that. You know Pete will have been forced to do that.”
“Well?” Sandman asked, reluctant to admit that he could see where Patrick was steering the conversation.
“Your feud, your rivalry, call it what you like. It’s got way out of control and he needs to see you, to sort it out. How can he get to you? He can’t go to the Dream World. On your own territory, you have the upper hand, the power. He wants you on his ground, somewhere he can make you listen. He has to get you here and he has, hasn’t he?”
Mr Sandman pushed his fingers through his hair and allowed his tense shoulders to sag a little.
“Okay, maybe you’re right, but…”
“Did your father really banish you or was it easier to believe that than admit that you missed him?”
“What?” Sandman asked weakly, taken by surprise at the honesty and understanding in Patrick’s words.
“Bottling things up won’t help you. Pretending you can cope when you can’t; that won’t help either.”
“H… how…?”
“Do you have any idea how much like Pete you actually are?” Patrick asked with a sympathetic smile.
Sandman could only stare at first. “Are you like Silas… Dr Benzedrine?”
Patrick chewed his lip for a moment. “Probably,” he admitted. “It can be hard to see yourself in people.”
Sandman flopped down on a grass bank and watched one of the nearby fairground rides turning gracefully with its horses bobbing up and down in a gentle rhythmic wave. The sound of the carnival music filled his ears and brought a weak smile to his lips.
“If you’re right,” he began, “I’m in a lot of trouble with my father.”
“If I am right,” Patrick smiled in reply, “he’ll forgive you.”
Sandman glanced up at Patrick and sighed again. “You are a lot like Silas,” he nodded to emphasise the words. “You know what? I blamed him… for everything. I blamed him because it was easier than telling my father that I didn’t want to leave home.”
“You do miss it, don’t you? But it’s not all you miss.”
Sandman drew his knees up to his chest and lowered his head. Watching as his shoulders shook lightly, Patrick moved away to give him some privacy.
“I don’t do too well on my own,” he finally sobbed.
Patrick sighed silently as he heard the words that summed up his own best friend. Words that Pete himself had written to work out the desperation he had felt on attempting suicide. Mr Sandman was more like him than he could ever have imagined. Lowering himself onto the grass at Mr Sandman’s side, Patrick placed an arm around his shoulder and pulled him comfortingly close in the same way he had done for Pete on dozens of occasions.
“It’s okay,” he murmured softly. “Hardly anyone does.”
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