Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > We're Only Liars But We're The Best
You dash into his bathroom and run back out, carefully avoiding his eyes. Back in your room, you're charged with a new energy and cancel playing the Theory of a Deadman CD and punch in a mix of your favorite Fall Out Boy songs. "The World's Not Waiting (For Five Tired Boys In a Broken Van)" started up, so loud that it quite possibly woke everyone that was still sleeping in the den which was about three floors below and half a mile away in the mansion.
"This might just be a waste of time,
But there's no one I'd rather waste
My time with than, all my best friends,
Start the car up..."
After your shower, you dress and someone knocks on your door. "Come in," you shout over "Sending Postcards From a Plane Crash". You turn from your 80s jukebox to squeal, "Ryan!" when you see your best friend, Ryan Ross, standing in your doorway.
"Hey," he said only loud enough to hear over the music. You turn it down and plop onto your bed, Ryan diving into the bedding next to you. You two laid there for quite some time, just staring at the collage of pictures you were turning your ceiling into. "Oh my God, I remember doing that!" he said. He was pointing to a picture that was on the edge, the one of you two horseback riding on the beach. Sure, it was a tourist attraction, but why not mess with the paparazzi a little and make it look like you guys were a couple? You spent the whole day cuddling where you knew that the cameras were abundant, and it was hysterical when you called up In Touch to chew them out about printing a false article on your and his "relationship".
"Yeah, memories, eh?" You grin and Ryan starts laughing. He stands up an goes over to your naked mannequin, the one that you usually dress every night so it's easier to get dressed before your morning coffee.
"Ok, I'm going to pick out an outfit for you, Pete's not doing a good job anymore," he kidded. "Hold on tight," he said as he waltzed into your large closet. He soon emerged with a pair of tight Clandestine skinny jeans with bats on the back pockets, and black leg warmers. He tossed those at you and disappeared back into the small room. You could hear your hangers clashing together, when another article of clothing swathed your head. You pull it off and mess up your previously stick straight hair to find that it was your white tunic top. You half-turned to throw it on the bed when a pair of black wedges hit your back.
"What the fuck, Ryan! You hate me so much that you throw shoes at me? What kind of a friend are you?" you call to him. He poked his head out of your closet and grinned sheepishly.
"Sorry." He was too cute. You had to forgive him. "Here," he came out and handed you a white zip-up hoodie with a pink stripe at the bottom and the cuffs of the sleeves, and pink stripes in the hood. The rest of it was covered in black music notes. You go into your bathroom and change.
"Damn, Girl, you look fffiiiiiine," Ryan whistled as he admired his own handiwork.
Pete poked his head in when he heard all of the laughing and wall-pulsing bass coming from your room and set the cup of black coffee he had brought for you on the nightstand. With a giggle he threw himself on your king-sized bed and sunk in the weight of the down-filled mattress. He cocked his head.
"Ryan, what are you doing to my Foxy Roxy?" he asked. "And speaking of foxes, where's Cinnamon?" Your pet fox was more of a brown color than orange, and when you opened the box on Christmas the previous year, Pete said that he chose her for you because the color reminded him of your "dazzling cinnamon eyes". You shrugged.
"Prolly in my studio."
"Well, are you guys gonna come downstairs and eat the brekkie that I laboriously slaved away for you, or are you gonna be a skinny bitch today and not eat?"
"Shut up, Peter. Laborious my ass, you phoned in an order to that "home-style restaurant" down the street," you pointed out sarcastically. The doorbell announcing the arrival of the order rang, and you raised a mocking eyebrow. He pouted and gave you his black-rimmed sulky eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry Pete," you cooed. This was all a part of an inside joke you had. You jumped up on the bed next to him and sat there looking at each other like a couple of kids on their first date.
"THAT'S OKAY, ROXY! I CAN'T STAY MAD AT YOOOOUU!" Pete leaped up and tackled you, pinning you under him. "Mwa mwa mwa mwa..." he started kissing you all over your face, and you started laughing again.
"Oh, I see how it is, Roxy, you've replaced me already?" Ryan asked, his voice full of feigned hurt. He started to pout too, and you couldn't take the cuteness. You waved him over and he flashed his teeth at you, then dove in.
As you three wrestled and inadvertently attempted to break your bed frame, the intercom cackled and Joe shouted, "HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME?"
You say into the others, "I'm pretty sure that Joe still doesn't know how to use the intercom."
Despite that, he kept on. "ARE YOU GUYS COMING DOWN OR WHAT? I'M NOT GONNA BE THE ONE TO GO UP AND GET YOU AND WALK IN ON AN ORGY!" you all stopped cold and stared at each other, then started laughing again.
"This might just be a waste of time,
But there's no one I'd rather waste
My time with than, all my best friends,
Start the car up..."
After your shower, you dress and someone knocks on your door. "Come in," you shout over "Sending Postcards From a Plane Crash". You turn from your 80s jukebox to squeal, "Ryan!" when you see your best friend, Ryan Ross, standing in your doorway.
"Hey," he said only loud enough to hear over the music. You turn it down and plop onto your bed, Ryan diving into the bedding next to you. You two laid there for quite some time, just staring at the collage of pictures you were turning your ceiling into. "Oh my God, I remember doing that!" he said. He was pointing to a picture that was on the edge, the one of you two horseback riding on the beach. Sure, it was a tourist attraction, but why not mess with the paparazzi a little and make it look like you guys were a couple? You spent the whole day cuddling where you knew that the cameras were abundant, and it was hysterical when you called up In Touch to chew them out about printing a false article on your and his "relationship".
"Yeah, memories, eh?" You grin and Ryan starts laughing. He stands up an goes over to your naked mannequin, the one that you usually dress every night so it's easier to get dressed before your morning coffee.
"Ok, I'm going to pick out an outfit for you, Pete's not doing a good job anymore," he kidded. "Hold on tight," he said as he waltzed into your large closet. He soon emerged with a pair of tight Clandestine skinny jeans with bats on the back pockets, and black leg warmers. He tossed those at you and disappeared back into the small room. You could hear your hangers clashing together, when another article of clothing swathed your head. You pull it off and mess up your previously stick straight hair to find that it was your white tunic top. You half-turned to throw it on the bed when a pair of black wedges hit your back.
"What the fuck, Ryan! You hate me so much that you throw shoes at me? What kind of a friend are you?" you call to him. He poked his head out of your closet and grinned sheepishly.
"Sorry." He was too cute. You had to forgive him. "Here," he came out and handed you a white zip-up hoodie with a pink stripe at the bottom and the cuffs of the sleeves, and pink stripes in the hood. The rest of it was covered in black music notes. You go into your bathroom and change.
"Damn, Girl, you look fffiiiiiine," Ryan whistled as he admired his own handiwork.
Pete poked his head in when he heard all of the laughing and wall-pulsing bass coming from your room and set the cup of black coffee he had brought for you on the nightstand. With a giggle he threw himself on your king-sized bed and sunk in the weight of the down-filled mattress. He cocked his head.
"Ryan, what are you doing to my Foxy Roxy?" he asked. "And speaking of foxes, where's Cinnamon?" Your pet fox was more of a brown color than orange, and when you opened the box on Christmas the previous year, Pete said that he chose her for you because the color reminded him of your "dazzling cinnamon eyes". You shrugged.
"Prolly in my studio."
"Well, are you guys gonna come downstairs and eat the brekkie that I laboriously slaved away for you, or are you gonna be a skinny bitch today and not eat?"
"Shut up, Peter. Laborious my ass, you phoned in an order to that "home-style restaurant" down the street," you pointed out sarcastically. The doorbell announcing the arrival of the order rang, and you raised a mocking eyebrow. He pouted and gave you his black-rimmed sulky eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry Pete," you cooed. This was all a part of an inside joke you had. You jumped up on the bed next to him and sat there looking at each other like a couple of kids on their first date.
"THAT'S OKAY, ROXY! I CAN'T STAY MAD AT YOOOOUU!" Pete leaped up and tackled you, pinning you under him. "Mwa mwa mwa mwa..." he started kissing you all over your face, and you started laughing again.
"Oh, I see how it is, Roxy, you've replaced me already?" Ryan asked, his voice full of feigned hurt. He started to pout too, and you couldn't take the cuteness. You waved him over and he flashed his teeth at you, then dove in.
As you three wrestled and inadvertently attempted to break your bed frame, the intercom cackled and Joe shouted, "HELLO? HELLO? CAN YOU HEAR ME?"
You say into the others, "I'm pretty sure that Joe still doesn't know how to use the intercom."
Despite that, he kept on. "ARE YOU GUYS COMING DOWN OR WHAT? I'M NOT GONNA BE THE ONE TO GO UP AND GET YOU AND WALK IN ON AN ORGY!" you all stopped cold and stared at each other, then started laughing again.
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