Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Summer Song
I bit down on my lip, eyes wandering anywhere, trying hard not to land on Pete. I heard Pete sigh and the weight on the couch moved. “Patrick, come on, you’re acting really distant from me now,” Pete pleaded. My blue eyes reached Pete’s brown inviting ones, glaring into them. “There’s a reason for that,” I muttered. I stood up from the couch and stared down at his best friend. I wasn’t even sure if he was my best friend anymore. Everything had gotten so fucking complicated. “Can we not talk about anything right now?” I asked, taking off my hat, fixing my hair and putting it on correctly out of nervousness.
“We’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later. 'Tricks, why won’t you just talk to me?” I stared into Pete’s eyes again and found them filled with concern, and not with the mischief they were filled with most of the time. “Because everything is going wrong, that’s why,” I whined, I could hear my tears in my voice and I was sure that Pete could hear it too. Pete stood and lightly grabbed him by the arms so he could stop pacing and face him. “Patrick, tell me. Is it your parents' arguing? Are- are they hitting you?” Pete whispered the last question as I sighed heavily. “No. They’re too busy yelling and complaining about me to actually notice me. The thought of hitting me wouldn’t cross their narrow minded heads,” on top of feeling sorry for myself the hatred for my parents rose.
“Patrick, are you sure?” Pete pushed. “YES PETE!” I snapped, his voice echoing around the wide room. Pete flinched at the sudden scream and he let go of my arms. We spent a minute staring at each other, my chest heaving with anger, when the front door opened. “Hello, Patrick!” “Hi, Mrs Wentz,” I greeted the older woman as she walked through the sitting room. “Hey mom, we’re going upstairs, okay?” Pete never took his gaze off of me. “'Mmkay honey,” she didn’t look up from her papers to see Pete drag me up the marble staircase and into his room. “What is your problem?” he asked closing his bedroom door. “You are! My stupid annoying arguing parents are! My whole life is a problem, don’t you get it?! I never had anything that was good in my life and when I thought something good was happening to me, I go and push it to fuck myself over!”
I dropped down to Pete’s bed, tears streaming down his rosy cheeks and the heavy sobs that I didn’t dare let out was caught in my throat. Pete neared him, taking cautious steps toward his bed. Staring at the floor, I clutched onto Pete’s blue bed sheets trying to steady my breathing. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked straight into Pete’s eyes. Those brown pools made me close my own and turn my head so I wouldn’t have the urge to cry harder. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
My vision was blurred by his tears when Pete’s voice reached his ears. “Perfect boys with perfect lives don’t want to hear me sing about tragedy,” I muttered bitterly, a mocking tone entering my voice; sobs at the tip of my tongue. I felt long, familiar fingers wrap around my wet chin and I was pulled to face the tan boy that could have been sculpted by God himself. “If you actually think I’m perfect then you are sadly mistaken,” I started to roll my eyes, turning his head in the process but Pete held a tight grip on my chin. “And I told you,” Pete’s thumbs brushed away the fresh tears that I spilled. “I hate to see you cry,” I sniffled and the corners of my mouth slightly twitched upwards.
Pete’s grin was wider then anything I'd seen and that was seemingly impossible. “Aw! Did I make 'Tricky smile?” Pete’s contagious grin had caught on and I sported one of my own. “That’s what I thought,” Pete threw his arms around me, hugging me tight then pulling away when I winced violently. I grabbed his side protectively as Pete murmured something worriedly. “It’s fine,” I lied. Pete lifted up my shirt and examined the big forming bruise. His fingers traveled around my bare skin and I was trying hard to suppress the moan from the contact. Jesus, how pathetic am I? Just a simple touch makes me want him. Pete heavily sighed and muttered a string of curses. “Pete?”
Pete was taken out of his concentration and saw me staring at him. “Sorry, just thinking,” he pulled his legs up to his chest and stared at me before he remembered something.
“Oh, do you think you could sleepover on Friday?” he asked, his brown eyes hopeful. I nodded. “My parents made it clear that they want me out of their house, so they’ll go for it. Just us two?” Pete shook his head and rested his chin on his knees. “No, I’m inviting other people. I’m inviting Andy, Joe, Ryan, and-” he paused for a second, a huge grin taking up his face and he started to twirl the corners of the blue bed spread with his now fidgety fingers. “Brendon.”
“Brendon?” I repeated, seeing the grin on Pete’s face grow wider. He nodded. “Hopefully. I’ve been trying to invite him over for weeks.“ Pete played with his bed sheets as I unsuccessfully tried to steady my heart. “You like Brendon?” I asked, voice surprisingly steady.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Unfortunately.”
“We’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later. 'Tricks, why won’t you just talk to me?” I stared into Pete’s eyes again and found them filled with concern, and not with the mischief they were filled with most of the time. “Because everything is going wrong, that’s why,” I whined, I could hear my tears in my voice and I was sure that Pete could hear it too. Pete stood and lightly grabbed him by the arms so he could stop pacing and face him. “Patrick, tell me. Is it your parents' arguing? Are- are they hitting you?” Pete whispered the last question as I sighed heavily. “No. They’re too busy yelling and complaining about me to actually notice me. The thought of hitting me wouldn’t cross their narrow minded heads,” on top of feeling sorry for myself the hatred for my parents rose.
“Patrick, are you sure?” Pete pushed. “YES PETE!” I snapped, his voice echoing around the wide room. Pete flinched at the sudden scream and he let go of my arms. We spent a minute staring at each other, my chest heaving with anger, when the front door opened. “Hello, Patrick!” “Hi, Mrs Wentz,” I greeted the older woman as she walked through the sitting room. “Hey mom, we’re going upstairs, okay?” Pete never took his gaze off of me. “'Mmkay honey,” she didn’t look up from her papers to see Pete drag me up the marble staircase and into his room. “What is your problem?” he asked closing his bedroom door. “You are! My stupid annoying arguing parents are! My whole life is a problem, don’t you get it?! I never had anything that was good in my life and when I thought something good was happening to me, I go and push it to fuck myself over!”
I dropped down to Pete’s bed, tears streaming down his rosy cheeks and the heavy sobs that I didn’t dare let out was caught in my throat. Pete neared him, taking cautious steps toward his bed. Staring at the floor, I clutched onto Pete’s blue bed sheets trying to steady my breathing. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked straight into Pete’s eyes. Those brown pools made me close my own and turn my head so I wouldn’t have the urge to cry harder. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
My vision was blurred by his tears when Pete’s voice reached his ears. “Perfect boys with perfect lives don’t want to hear me sing about tragedy,” I muttered bitterly, a mocking tone entering my voice; sobs at the tip of my tongue. I felt long, familiar fingers wrap around my wet chin and I was pulled to face the tan boy that could have been sculpted by God himself. “If you actually think I’m perfect then you are sadly mistaken,” I started to roll my eyes, turning his head in the process but Pete held a tight grip on my chin. “And I told you,” Pete’s thumbs brushed away the fresh tears that I spilled. “I hate to see you cry,” I sniffled and the corners of my mouth slightly twitched upwards.
Pete’s grin was wider then anything I'd seen and that was seemingly impossible. “Aw! Did I make 'Tricky smile?” Pete’s contagious grin had caught on and I sported one of my own. “That’s what I thought,” Pete threw his arms around me, hugging me tight then pulling away when I winced violently. I grabbed his side protectively as Pete murmured something worriedly. “It’s fine,” I lied. Pete lifted up my shirt and examined the big forming bruise. His fingers traveled around my bare skin and I was trying hard to suppress the moan from the contact. Jesus, how pathetic am I? Just a simple touch makes me want him. Pete heavily sighed and muttered a string of curses. “Pete?”
Pete was taken out of his concentration and saw me staring at him. “Sorry, just thinking,” he pulled his legs up to his chest and stared at me before he remembered something.
“Oh, do you think you could sleepover on Friday?” he asked, his brown eyes hopeful. I nodded. “My parents made it clear that they want me out of their house, so they’ll go for it. Just us two?” Pete shook his head and rested his chin on his knees. “No, I’m inviting other people. I’m inviting Andy, Joe, Ryan, and-” he paused for a second, a huge grin taking up his face and he started to twirl the corners of the blue bed spread with his now fidgety fingers. “Brendon.”
“Brendon?” I repeated, seeing the grin on Pete’s face grow wider. He nodded. “Hopefully. I’ve been trying to invite him over for weeks.“ Pete played with his bed sheets as I unsuccessfully tried to steady my heart. “You like Brendon?” I asked, voice surprisingly steady.
“Is it that obvious?”
“Unfortunately.”
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