Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Sets of Three, They Say...

I Seriously Need to Stop

by howshesews 6 reviews

a prize for whoever finds them all!

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: R - Genres: Humor, Romance - Published: 2006-11-19 - Updated: 2006-11-20 - 1130 words


i don't know if i could be more proud of this chapter.


Look at these people. Meg couldn't believe her eyes, and wanted her ears to be astounded as the four other senses that were bewildered by what they were experiencing.

Faces. As far as the eye could see.

And one mouth. One mouth was all they cared about. The movement of the pink lips. Each strum of the gifted hands.

She found herself caring strictly for that same mouth. How cool was this? The melody, the lyrics. All beyond her, but the musicianship. The passion.

The color.

It hit her very core. Made her ache. Made her so excited she couldn't stand still.

Faces. Millions of them.

And for the first time, she understood the presence of every single one.

He searched for her. The lights, brighter that usual, ironically, restricted his eye's access to the crowd, leaving Meg nowhere to be found. But he felt her. Her energy. It was hitting him. Making him play harder and better than he ever had in his life. Sing louder. Be...better. Why, though? She couldn't hear him. But he knew she could recognize passion. Though one sense was removed, she had enough heart and more than enough soul to make up for it. This girl was changing his ability to focus. His own ears were all the more keen, and his appreciation for them, renewed.

He couldn't wait to walk off stage, have her join him, show her what he did for her.

38 freaking hours since he met her, and he was learning a second language to please her? Incredible. It had to mean something. It had to be more than what the eye can see at first glance. At least he hoped so.

Focus, focus, focus. Seriously. If this was going to be a problem every time she was there, she couldn't come anymore...except for the fact that she made him play better, harder.

Pete noticed the passion reverberating from his friend. It was unusual, but not unexplained. He found himself, even, working harder to impress the crowd, or, more likely, Mal and Meg. The two girls that had come in and changed the way he viewed friendship. Communication. The five senses. Courage. He couldn't even believe it, but he still did, nonetheless.

12 songs. After 12 wonderfully, and skillfully played songs, the boys walked off stage, crowd cheering, hands clapping. Sweat dripping, and hearts pumping. Passion. Energy. Meg wanted to feel this way all the time. She wanted to feel this way, but with sound. She wanted to hear the music that her new friends were making. Feeling it was one thing. It's all she'd ever known. Hearing it, though? She suddenly became jealous of the millions (hundreds) of kids that could. It passed quickly. She had to let it. No sense in sulking. No use crying over spilt milk.

All he could think about was getting to them. Pete and Mal having coffee, leaving him and Meg alone. He couldn't take how excited he was. Communication was going to be a barrier, for sure, but not one so huge that it would obstruct his enjoyment of the evening.

He wasn't sure there was barrier large enough to do that...unless someone, like, died or something.

Please forgive me for being the most brutal narrarator alive. I just can't help it. You all can't be particular though. Without me, this story STOPS.


Pete changed clothes, because he was pretty positive there was nothing appealing about the sweaty disgusting smell absolutely radiating off of him at that moment. Once he smelled semi-normal, he went on his quest for Mal. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to call her, but ever since she'd accepted his invitation for coffee, he'd really been looking forward to that evening.

2 dates in one day. What a pimp.

Not really.

He hadn't really viewed lunch with Meg a s a date at all, more like, a get-to-know-you-over-some-Thai kind of thing. He had enjoyed it, but not like he was sure Patrick would have.

There. Wow. She dressed up nice.

Her red hair was down. And her natural curls, that seemed barely tamable, were around her shoulders, shaping her face, lighting up her eyes. Green. She was tan for a red-head. Not too tan, just...olive-y. She had been born that way. No ultra-violet cancer-inducers required. Just a little sun and a little vitamin C. I'm not sure why. Her 5'7 frame, small, slim, gorgeous.

She was annoyingly perfect.

To women, but not to Pete. Why hadn't he noticed that before?

Maybe it was because she pretty much sat down the whole time he'd ever spent any time with her. She should stand, he thought. She looked entirely different, standing.

But, as normal human beings would be afraid by now, due to all of the staring he was doing, he decided to stop, speak, not scare her.

"Hey. I was looking for you." She shrugged, noticing his discomfort, not being sure where it was coming from.

"Now you're not. Ready to go?" He smiled. She takes charge. Sexy.

"Uh, yeah. Let me..." He looked around, then placed both hands on her shoulders. "Just a second." He ran to find Patrick, leaving her there. Weirdo.

There they were. Together. Meg and Patrick. Good. He ran back to Mal.

"Sorry. Had to make sure my friend and your friend found each other and were....friends." Mal made a face.

"What's up with you." He smiled, calming down, laughing almost, at her straightforwardness.

"Sorry. I'm always weird after shows. My endorphins don't really know what to do now that I've stopped jumping everywhere. They leave my blood, and hang out in my brain. Sort of messes me up."

"Like drugs." Mal was trying to be funny. He looked at her.

"Like drugs." She rolled her eyes. Seriously.

Meg was lost. Mal had gone to find Pete, and she had assured her fiery red friend that she'd be fine. Meg figured she'd eventually fin Patrick. And then she saw him. Looking for her.

How was this going to go? Well? She wasn't sure. Would they be able to communicate? Or would awkwardness ensue, making it a horrible experience for both of thenm. She didn't know. She didn't care. She was all too willing to take her chances.

He found her. Meg. Christ.

He hated how pretty she was.

He hated how much he hated how pretty she was. ( He's almost as Hamlet-like as me!)

They locked eyes. Corny. Cheesy. All of the things I know you're thinking right now. They couldn't have been happier to know the other was looking back. They couldn't have been happier to know they'd be that happy for the rest of the evening.
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