Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Sincerity's In, So Don't You Sound Like You Mean It

Your Smile Reminds Me of Switchblades and Infidelity

by pixied_secrets 9 reviews

me: it's basically showing how the people around her treat her like a child because they're used to it me: she doesn't want that anymore. she fiends for independence. KatyDidThat: hey this is...

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: R - Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance - Warnings: [!] - Published: 2006-11-26 - Updated: 2006-11-26 - 3281 words

Chapter Twenty - Your Smile Reminds Me of Switchblades and Infidelity

What right did he have to tell her to slow down?


So he didn't.

He observed as she began to down the last of her (what he assumed to be) fifth drink, watching as she no longer made a sour face when the liquid flowed down her esophagus.

She laughed at a joke made by a stranger who was seated across from them; her perfect lips forming into that contagious smile. He couldn't help but let the corners of his lips form into a grin when he heard her laugh.

"Christian, are you hearing this?" Belle asked, turning her head to question him with a drunken smirk on her face. Her words were slurred as they reached his ears, but he leaned into the conversation nonetheless. He grabbed the bottom of his chair to pull it closer to the table, grabbing for his drink to take a sip before letting his hands rest in his lap again.

He jumped slightly when he felt her hand play on the back of his, her fingers clumsily moving to rub the soft skin there. He knew she was drunk, and had she been sober this form of affection wouldn't exist.

He took advantage of the situation by grabbing her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers.

She turned her head to make eye contact with him and smiled, that same infectious smile that he memorized earlier this year. His eyes searched hers, but he came up empty handed. She had already had too much to drink, and the feeling wasn't there.

He exhaled sharply and sat back in his chair, pulling up his long sleeve to check his watch.


He stood up from his chair and pushed it in politely, reaching over to whisper in her ear. "They're about to close up for the night. I'm gonna head out," He whispered with his lips positioned right below her ear.

"Yea, I should head out too," She replied, grabbing for her drink to finish it and reach for her cell phone.

"Don't be such a party pooper! These two..." Allison said,wrapping her arm around one of the men to her side, "are having a party and they invited us... Christian, you have to be our designed driver!" She finished.

Belle smiled and tried to dial Patricks number, blinking to clear her eyes and focus on the task at hand. The first ring sounded through her ear, and the second. After the forth his voicemail picked up.

"You have reached the voicemail of phone number six two two-"

She closed the phone again and re-dialed in vain. He again didn't answer. She pushed herself from the table, reaching for her distinct messenger bag that she fumbled with, trying to adjust it on her shoulder.

"Can you give me a ride home?" She asked Christian, cueing Allison to cry out "No! He's our designed driver!" She said, stumbling from the chair to make her way over to Belle. "I need you to come to this party!" Allison said, leaning on Belle for support. Belle stumbled with her, finding it hard enough to keep her own two feet steady without the help of another drunk body.

"Alright, ladies. I guess we're off," He said, throwing a couple of bills on the table before leading them both through the club.

"Hey, where did your other friend go?" Christian asked Allison, who pulled her head back and raised her eyebrows with a smile on her face. "Elise? I dunno. I think she left," Allison replied, dismissing the thought with a wave of her arm.

Belle laughed and turned around, Christian grabbing her hand and leading the girls towards the back door.

He pushed the heavy door open forcefully, emitting an "Uumph," noise from the person on the other side of it.

Belle quickly walked around the door to peak at the unsuspecting victim, but slightly frowned when she was met with a familiar face.

"Fancy seeing you here," She said as Christian took a stand beside her and put a hand protectively on her hip.

Pete brushed his hair back at regained his composure before standing up straighter than previously and glaring at Christian, but ultimately turning his attention to Belle.

"I came to get you. Patrick would flip if he woke up and you weren't home," Pete explained as he looked around nervously, noticing the lack of paparazzi. He calmed himself when he realized it was "bar thirty" and most of them were at the front entrance waiting for a drunk Paris Hilton (or equivalent) to walk out.

"Well, if he was so worried he would have answered his damn phone," Belle said, moving her foot to step around him. He let his eyes travel to her, the way her cheeks were flushed, the way her tongue unadeptly darted out to lick her lips.

He rolled his eyes and instantaneously felt suspicious. He looked over to Christian. "How much has she had to drink?" He asked while simultaneously reaching for Belle's arm. She slapped his hand away and stumbled over herself, causing both men to lunge after her staggering frame, Pete grabbing her first.

"Noneya," She replied, turning back to Christian who stood there with a nervous smile on his face. She could see Pete boiling from the corner of her eye, and in her drunken stupor she chose to ignore it.

"I thought you were staying with Allison and Elise tonight?" Pete had meant to form it as a question, but it came out better as a statement. A statement that affirmed she was a liar.

Belle stood there,opening her mouth to say something but closing it, repeating the action a couple more times before she looked at Christian and Allison for help.

"I was going to give her a ride home," Christian said, coming to her defense. It sounded like a nervous fabrication when it escaped his lips, however.

"Yea, I'm sure you were," Pete said, again grabbing for Belle's arm and latching onto it. Her reaction speed was less than mediocre, and by the time she tried to pull away he had already begun to pull her towards his SUV.

Pete looked back to Christian for a second, noticing Allison pulling him by the arm in the other direction.

"You can't manhandle me!" Belle protested, as he opened the door and guided her forcefully in. "If you get out, so help me God, Belle," He warned, slamming the door shut and jogging to the driver's side to leave.

She reached for his radio and settled on the first station she found, not being as interested in the music as she was avoiding conversation. She rested her cheek against the chilled window, letting her warm breath fog it up every time she exhaled.

"Were you going to go home with him?" Pete asked, taking his eyes off of the road to sneak a glance at her.

Her eyes were open as she stared at the road in front of her. "Why do you care? It's none of your business."

"So you're going to sit there and pretend you didn't expect me to show up and save your ass?" She snapped her head in his direction, narrowing her eyes at him as he focused his attention back on the road.

"This may come as a surprise to you, asshole, but I can take care of myself," She contended ferociously. He opened his mouth to reply, but instead let out a laugh.

"Stop the car," She blurted, reaching for the handle. He looked over at her, the smile leaving his face quickly when she reached for the handle.

"Are you fucking nuts? You can hardly walk-"

"I said stop the fucking car!" She screamed again, causing him to fumble with the steering wheel. He looked to his left, and pushed a button on his door, the clicking sound from the locks confirming his movement.

She leaned back into her seat, admitting defeat as she kicked the dashboard. He bit his tongue to keep himself from screaming at her. He didn't bother, figuring that with the state of mind she was in she probably wouldn't remember what he said anyway.

The rest of the ride was fairly uneventful and he breathed a sigh of relief when he pulled into his driveway and cut the ignition. He opened his door and slammed it shut behind him.

"This is fucking ridiculous..." Pete grumbled loudly as he walked to the passenger side. He noticed Greta's car was no longer in the driveway, and he briefly wondered if Patrick was home.

Pete felt the temptation to let her stubborn self stay in the car, but nonetheless found himself making haste towards the right side of the vehicle to hoist her out. He opened the passenger side door and reached for her arm but she jerked back quickly.

"I can walk by myself, thank you," Belle slurred sarcastically, turning in the seat as she threw Pete her bag. He caught it in one hand, and shook his head at her as he watched her try to climb down, her foot missing and causing her to stumble forward. He caught her by her waist and held her there while she regained her balance. Once she felt okay she brushed his hands off her and made an attempt to walk towards the door.

He shook his head again and followed her closely, grabbing her waist again once she made it to the steps leading to the front door.

"I don't feel good," She muttered, as Pete had his left arm around her stomach, clutching her limp body like a bag of groceries while reaching for the keys in his pocket.

"Are you going to throw up?" He asked with a sneer, trying to jiggle the key into the lock.

"No. I just want to sleep," She said, the tone in her voice and the sudden lifelessness in her posture confirming that. He sighed as he pushed the door open, putting his hand on the small of her back to guide her inside.

He threw his keys on the table and shushed Hemingway, who had barked to announce their arrival and followed them both up the stairs. Her small frame drifted back and forth, as if she were trying to zig-zag through the hallway. He placed a hand on her waist to guide her but she slapped it away, causing her to once again loose balance. He caught her by the arm and jerked her back into a standing position.

"Don't touch me!" She groaned, grabbing his hands to remove them from her body, walking towards his room with Hemingway dutifully following her.

He stood there, throwing his head back to look up at the ceiling. He closed his eyes to regain his composure, trying to take deep breaths. He silently hoped she would just fall and pass out.

Maybe I should have let her go with Christian...

He was quickly snapped out of his trance when he heard the familiar sounds of regurgitation.

He dashed towards his room, following the noise to his bathroom. He flipped the light on to see Belle, hovered over the toilet in her bra and underwear, heaving roughly into the toilet. He silently thanked god for giving him a strong stomach, and he moved closer to her. He reached over to place a hand on her back, but pulled away before he met her bare skin. He furrowed his eyebrows, finding himself confused at why the contact had caused him to be temporarily uncomfortable.

The noise of her spewing broke his thoughts once again and he sat himself down on the cold tile, Hemingway stumbling around her to place himself on Pete's lap.

The liquid from her stomach splashed against the water in the toilet, informing him that she hadn't had anything solid to eat. The tears were streaming down her face, escaping through the corner of her eyes which were closed tightly.

She cried and mumbled incoherently as she rested her head against the seat on the cool porcelain, trying to regulate her breathing back to normal.

"Feel better?" His voice was meek as he spoke.

She didn't reply as she reached for the nearest thing to wipe her mouth with, which happened to be her shirt.

Pete extended his arm up to flush to toilet, but moved it as she crawled on her knees and bent her body over the toilet, her back arching as she began to get nauseous again. Her sobs could be heard in between her vomiting and Pete could see her stomach muscles contract. He pushed Hemingway off of him and got up to get a washcloth as she began to calm down, and looked over to see her resting against the porcelain again.

He ran the washcloth under cold water and walked over to her and sat down next to the toilet, placing it on her forehead. She opened her eyes for a minute and angrily grabbed for it.

"I'm just trying to help," He said between clenched teeth.

"Well, don't... I don't need your help," She spat, rubbing the washcloth clumsily over her mouth. He sat there for a minute, running his hand over Hemingway's fur, before looking up at her to make sure she was still breathing.

"You want me to fucking hate you, don't you?" He asked, barely above a whisper.

"Yes," She replied, her voice full of exhaustion. He clenched his jaw in anger as he watched her eyelids flutter to a close.

He moved Hemingway out of his lap and walked over to her, grabbing her under the arms and dragging her, rousing her just enough to get her into bed. He laid her down and threw a blanket over her still half-naked frame before taking a seat at the desk across the room, flipping open his laptop and turning it on.

"Pete?" He heard her slurred words cut through the silence.

He chose not to acknowledge it, but she continued anyway.

"We weren't suppose to end up like this," She mumbled, followed by a brief shuffling of the bed and silence.

We weren't suppose to end up like this,

He knew he wouldn't be sleeping.

Not tonight.

He could feel the stinging in his eyes, knowing full well they were bloodshot from the hours he spent with her. Neither of them were able to sleep the night before; both of them were trying too hard to make time stop. He spent that time memorizing her, much like he was doing in that moment as he stared at her profile.

He was trying to take in this look, her imperfect half smile, the way the shirt she wore hung half off her shoulder, like most of the tops she chose to wear, it was not her size. The light from the newly awoken sun was shining off of her hair, making a few of the strands seem translucent when the breeze picked up to shuffle them around her face.

"I really have to go now, Patrick." She whispered, taking a step closer to him so she could wrap her arms around his waist and lay her head on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arms lazily around her upper back. "I know," He replied shakily, turning his head to place a undistinguished kiss on the side of her face.

"I don't wanna be a dick, but we're already behind schedule," He heard Chris say as he threw his last suitcase in the back of the van and stopped to look at the couple.

Patrick didn't acknowledge it as he pulled back from her only to move in again and nuzzle his face into her neck.

"I love you."

She felt a smile erupt on her face as the words breezed through his lips and into her ears. It wasn't forced, it was honest and sincere. It was perfect...far better than any melody that could ever be produced. But it inevitably made her departure harder to handle.

She pulled back to lean her forehead against his, causing his hat to glide up further on his head as she cupped his face in her hands. "I love you." Her lips made contact with his when her mouth moved to produce those words, sending a shiver from his neck to his tailbone and back up again.

The fingers of her left hand traced small circles against the skin on the back of his neck, moving up slightly to twirl strands of his hair between her fingers as her right hand held his hat in place.

"I'll see you later," She whispered, looking straight into his eyes. He nodded his head against her forehead, and brought his hand up to her cheek to run his thumb over it.

He leaned in and put his lips to hers, watching as her eyes fluttered shut at the contact. He kept his open to take one last mental picture, briefly taking a moment to inwardly chastise himself for being so sentimental.

He was slightly disappointed when he felt her head leave his shoulder and her arms leave his waist, letting go of her as she began to walk backwards towards the van.

No words were said as she turned around and continued towards the van, turning her head to watch him until she stopped at the door. She smiled confidently and disappeared inside, with Bob poking his head out not a second later to wave. "See ya later, man!" He screamed, pulling the door shut.

Patrick lifted his hand, flicking his wrist once to wave and grabbed the bill of his hat, pulling it down further onto his head. He trudged slowly towards his car as he heard the sounds of the van becoming less and less clamorous as it drove in the opposite direction.

He opened the door and plopped down into his seat, closing his eyes and resting his head against the steering wheel, bringing his arms up to rest on the dashboard. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and opened his eyes.

It didn't take more than a second for his vision to be consumed by her: the picture of them together, still covering his fuel gauge.

He stared at it for a another second before sitting back and putting the keys into the ignition, his ears being immediately surrounded by the melodies of Sigur Ros coming through the speakers in his car.

He could practically hear her voice. "The title of the song is 'The Heart Pounds', when it's translated into English," /She had informed him enthusiastically when she first pulled the C.D. out. "Now listen to the emotion. Tell me if you can't feel it," /

He closed his eyes and rested his head against his steering wheel to look at her again.

This is going to be a long three months, He thought to himself.

Authors Note: these elephants keep getting bigger. But I'm almost done, so yay. No more birthing.

Again, DoJ shout out to ma'ladies.

Oh, and this video is a huge reason why it took me so long to update:

And if you have time, lurk for Loveline Archives. You'll shit yourself. I promise. (EDIT: okay, just as a warning...Loveline talks about penises and vaginas. now, if you aren't comfortable hearing patrick and pete talk about penises and vaginas please do not lurk for Loveline Archives. if you are, however, and you can't find these "Loveline Archives" please IM me. i will talk about this all day. much like i am right now.
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