Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Put Your Ear to the Speaker
Choose Awe or Sympathy
1 reviewNice shot! Shoot his lights out! I guess ditching him means hanging with them. We should do this more often.
0Unrated
"C'MERE, YOU!" Your boyfriend of two months, Jeffrey Amos, yelled in your ear-how else were you going to hear him with all this noise?-and you move closer to him as you're pulled by his hand, which is touching your hip, left-side. He kisses you on your cheek, and a shiver goes up your spine again.
The two of you were at your all-time favorite band, Fall Out Boy's, last concert of the current tour. You smile to yourself as you remember the hassle of getting these tickets. True, they were general admission, but they had been within a microsecond of selling out before Jeffrey had gotten them for you. It wasn't any day a girl turned seventeen, now, was it?
It was the last song, "Dance, Dance," not really one of your favorites, but one of Jeffrey's, anyway, and he started break dancing. Worrying for his safety, you smack his arm, trying to get him to stop dancing.
"Come back up here with me," you coax him. He smiles and stands back up, kissing you face-first. As you pull away for air, the final chorus go-round is sung by Patrick Stump's beautiful voice. You jump up and down with the rest of the crowd and look around to find Jeffrey.
"Where the heck..." you wonder out loud as you look around. You finally spy him in the middle of the mosh pit, throwing a few moves. You laugh to yourself and turn back to the stage, where your eyes become fixated on Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III and his red bass. An image comes and goes through your mind and you toss it as Jeffrey comes back to your side.
"Where have you been?" you asked, putting on the whole "OMG I DIDN'T KNOW WHERE YOU WERE" act, as fire shot out from behind Andy Hurley. You wince and wonder how he went through a whole tour without passing out from heat.
"Moshing," he said with a laugh. You notice the sweat running down the side of his face and find yourself wishing you had something to rub his face with.
"Do you remember Jessica Albert? From middle school?" Jeffrey asked. Before you could respond with a solid "Oh yeah, that slut who you went out with?", he continued on.
"She pulled me in over there..." He laughed, and you frowned. You hadn't seen him so happy since the day he asked you to go with him to the junior prom and you'd said yes. This bothered you extremely.
"And?..." you pressed on. This wasn't how you expected the perfect night to end. The music had stopped, you realized, and the curtains or sheets or whatever they were had covered the stage. People were starting to file out of the arena. You felt like bawling. You'd missed Pete's goodbye speech. And another cuss word.
"She asked me out," he said. He neither smiled, which would have extremely bothered her, or frowned, which would have made her heart soar. He shook his head as he looked at me.
"What did you say?" you demanded, searching his face.
"Kathleen, babe-"
"WHAT did you SAY, Jeffrey?"
"I don't think this is going to work out." His words hit your ears like a sixteen-wheel semi. Just going along and then CRASH came the impact.
Like your fist to his face, the face that had been the one filling your dreams for the past two months (and a bit longer).
A strangled cry came from his mouth as he stepped backwards, running into a rather bald, important looking guy. Blood started spilling from his nose. You gasp. You'd broken his picture-perfect nose.
"YOU LITTLE-"
"Excuse me, sir," the man said, picking up Jeffrey from the ground. You stare at the scene, feeling like it's in a movie and you're in the audience, eating candy and popcorn and slurping on a Diet Coke. The man moves toward you.
"Ma'am? Did you just punch this...thing?" he asked, a smile crossing his face.
Jeffrey looked at him in shock, his mouth hanging open. The man handed him a tissue, which he stepped on with his Etnies. He glares at you and stalks off, almost tripping over electrical cords, and almost into a busty blond's arms. You glare at his back, then turn to the bald man.
"Yes, sir," you say, hardly believing the words are coming out of your mouth. "Please don't arrest me." You hold out your wrists, wincing.
He laughed. "I'm not going to arrest you for punching the guy's lights out! That was brilliant!" He stared at you in amazement. You were starting to freak out a little.
He noticed. "Oh. My name's Charlie, by the way," he said, extending his hand. You gape at him. "Oh my God," you breathe, "you're Charlie."
He blinks at you. "Yes, I believe I just said that," he said with a small smile, probably thinking you were mental.
"No. You're Charlie...Fall Out Boy's security guard." You exhale. "Oh my God. Hi. I'm Kathleen. Kathleen Sanderson."
"Well, Ms. Sanderson, do you have a ride home?"
You curse under your breath. No, of course. Jeffrey had been your ultimate ride there and back. "Why did I have to go and punch him," you mutter under your breath.
"It wouldn't have done you any good anyway, he was breaking up with you." Charlie stared at you.
You smile sadly at him. He was right, of course. "No, I don't, then," you reply. You took out your cell phone. Oh, God. It was 11:12. Just in time to forget 11:11.
"Want to make an 11:12 wish?" Charlie asked you.
You nod.
"YOUR WISH IS GRANTED!"
You turn around to become face-to-face with Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump, Andy Hurley, and Joe Trohman. Fall Out Boy.
The two of you were at your all-time favorite band, Fall Out Boy's, last concert of the current tour. You smile to yourself as you remember the hassle of getting these tickets. True, they were general admission, but they had been within a microsecond of selling out before Jeffrey had gotten them for you. It wasn't any day a girl turned seventeen, now, was it?
It was the last song, "Dance, Dance," not really one of your favorites, but one of Jeffrey's, anyway, and he started break dancing. Worrying for his safety, you smack his arm, trying to get him to stop dancing.
"Come back up here with me," you coax him. He smiles and stands back up, kissing you face-first. As you pull away for air, the final chorus go-round is sung by Patrick Stump's beautiful voice. You jump up and down with the rest of the crowd and look around to find Jeffrey.
"Where the heck..." you wonder out loud as you look around. You finally spy him in the middle of the mosh pit, throwing a few moves. You laugh to yourself and turn back to the stage, where your eyes become fixated on Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III and his red bass. An image comes and goes through your mind and you toss it as Jeffrey comes back to your side.
"Where have you been?" you asked, putting on the whole "OMG I DIDN'T KNOW WHERE YOU WERE" act, as fire shot out from behind Andy Hurley. You wince and wonder how he went through a whole tour without passing out from heat.
"Moshing," he said with a laugh. You notice the sweat running down the side of his face and find yourself wishing you had something to rub his face with.
"Do you remember Jessica Albert? From middle school?" Jeffrey asked. Before you could respond with a solid "Oh yeah, that slut who you went out with?", he continued on.
"She pulled me in over there..." He laughed, and you frowned. You hadn't seen him so happy since the day he asked you to go with him to the junior prom and you'd said yes. This bothered you extremely.
"And?..." you pressed on. This wasn't how you expected the perfect night to end. The music had stopped, you realized, and the curtains or sheets or whatever they were had covered the stage. People were starting to file out of the arena. You felt like bawling. You'd missed Pete's goodbye speech. And another cuss word.
"She asked me out," he said. He neither smiled, which would have extremely bothered her, or frowned, which would have made her heart soar. He shook his head as he looked at me.
"What did you say?" you demanded, searching his face.
"Kathleen, babe-"
"WHAT did you SAY, Jeffrey?"
"I don't think this is going to work out." His words hit your ears like a sixteen-wheel semi. Just going along and then CRASH came the impact.
Like your fist to his face, the face that had been the one filling your dreams for the past two months (and a bit longer).
A strangled cry came from his mouth as he stepped backwards, running into a rather bald, important looking guy. Blood started spilling from his nose. You gasp. You'd broken his picture-perfect nose.
"YOU LITTLE-"
"Excuse me, sir," the man said, picking up Jeffrey from the ground. You stare at the scene, feeling like it's in a movie and you're in the audience, eating candy and popcorn and slurping on a Diet Coke. The man moves toward you.
"Ma'am? Did you just punch this...thing?" he asked, a smile crossing his face.
Jeffrey looked at him in shock, his mouth hanging open. The man handed him a tissue, which he stepped on with his Etnies. He glares at you and stalks off, almost tripping over electrical cords, and almost into a busty blond's arms. You glare at his back, then turn to the bald man.
"Yes, sir," you say, hardly believing the words are coming out of your mouth. "Please don't arrest me." You hold out your wrists, wincing.
He laughed. "I'm not going to arrest you for punching the guy's lights out! That was brilliant!" He stared at you in amazement. You were starting to freak out a little.
He noticed. "Oh. My name's Charlie, by the way," he said, extending his hand. You gape at him. "Oh my God," you breathe, "you're Charlie."
He blinks at you. "Yes, I believe I just said that," he said with a small smile, probably thinking you were mental.
"No. You're Charlie...Fall Out Boy's security guard." You exhale. "Oh my God. Hi. I'm Kathleen. Kathleen Sanderson."
"Well, Ms. Sanderson, do you have a ride home?"
You curse under your breath. No, of course. Jeffrey had been your ultimate ride there and back. "Why did I have to go and punch him," you mutter under your breath.
"It wouldn't have done you any good anyway, he was breaking up with you." Charlie stared at you.
You smile sadly at him. He was right, of course. "No, I don't, then," you reply. You took out your cell phone. Oh, God. It was 11:12. Just in time to forget 11:11.
"Want to make an 11:12 wish?" Charlie asked you.
You nod.
"YOUR WISH IS GRANTED!"
You turn around to become face-to-face with Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump, Andy Hurley, and Joe Trohman. Fall Out Boy.
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