FicWad

Pete wasn't sure about the decisions of his mind, nor could he easily understand the decisions of his heart. As he watched their interaction, the little things she did, he knew that now as no exception. He knew, that no part of him was interested in Mal.


But how the hell was he supposed to send this bit of catastrophic information into the atmosphere after so many weeks of allowing her, and everyone else, to think otherwise. Sure, their relationship provided sex to be had, but was it anything beyond that for either of them? Was it more than lust? He looked over at the nauseatingly happy couple as they kissed, something him and Mal had never shared outside of the bedroom. Pete decided then, that if it was anything beyond lust, Mal had an incredibly odd way of showing it.


Meg, on the other hand, was focusing only on Patrick, trying to shake the dream from her head. There he was, the boy whose lips were supposed to stay as far away from hers as possible, and all she could think about was how close they'd been...in her dream of course. She was interrupted by Mal's hand connecting with her face. Meg looked up, feeling the heat and sting linger on her cheek.


"Good morning to you, too." Meg signed bitterly. Mal looked pissed.


"Why didn't you tell me?" Meg made a face.


"I'm sorry...?" Mal rolled her eyes.


"You know what I'm talking about, Meg. Stop playing." Meg just stared. "Your parents called earlier. You were asleep. They wanted to know if I knew anything about your decision regarding electric ear. I looked like a dumbass, because I didn't know what the fuck they were talking about." She put her hands down, face revealing slight hurt. "This is a big deal, Meg. Why didn't you tell me?" Her last question had been spoken aloud, leaving Meg to follow her moving lips. Pete looked over at Patrick, questioning, but Patrick just shook his head. It seemed that whatever was going on had been kept secret from everyone.



"Tell me what's going on, Mal." Patrick pleaded. Meg was his....well...he really liked spending time with her, and the iciness turned hurt being emitted from Mal was slightly disconcerting. She looked down at Meg, the up at Patrick.


"Hungry?" He looked at her.


"I'm sorry?"


"I meant for that to be a lunch invitation. Accept?" Why not?


Patrick nodded and Mal looked at Meg.


"We're going to run and get food. Do you want anything while we're out?" Meg, without looking at Mal, shook her head, and stood, heading down the hallway to her room. She closed the door.


"What's wrong?" Pete asked, joining Patrick and Mal in the center of the living room, leaving his place on the couch. Mal only looked at the floor, and shook her head.


"Meg's really personal, and I just basically asked her not to be. She's probably pissed. Or embarrassed. Maybe both. Anyway," She grabbed her keys. "Patrick, let's go. Pete, will you stay here and make sure she's alright? Maybe try and talk to her?" He nodded and Patrick followed Mal out the door, leaving Pete. Great. The girl he couldn't keep his brain from thinking about was only plywood and plaster away from him. Fantastic.


She felt the creaking of the floor outside the walls of her bedroom. Who the footsteps belonged to, she didn't know, but she knew Mal's. Light, precise. Patrick sort of shuffled, dragging his feet and allowing a certain rhythm to exist as he fell into step...well, shuffle.


These feet seemed imprecise, like they weren't sure of their destination. She felt as the foot rose and then fell, wondering if it was going to go or stay, leave or go. Pete. The only person in the world who radiated the indecisiveness like these feet, was Pete Wentz, and she knew it.

Wow. Only walls away from her. The options were endless. She could leave, try and communicate with him, and push the questions that the dream had induced out of her mind, or she could ignore him, allow the mystery to grow every time she shut her eyes, every time she inhaled. It didn't seem like a very wise decision, or even a very average decision...

But who really wants to be average? Not Meg. So far in her life, she'd managed to be the girl that every viewed as "different", but against her own will. Maybe this time she could be the girl that was capable of surprising her peers without the help of a sense removed. Maybe this time, she could make a name for herself for herself.

After going back and forth as to whether or not she should stay or go, she finally made up her mind. Go. Pete was out there. He was conversations to be had, and considering that she'd had a pretty intimate dream with him has the star, she wanted to know the workings of his seemingly complicated mind, and ins and the outs.


She slowly opened the door, looking the short distance into the living room. He was seated on the couch, his demeanor screaming "what next?". She walked slowly, and he lifted his head, hearing her feet on the plush carpet.


The narrorator's foot just fell asleep, and is now having a horrible time focusing on this story...because it tickles. Son of a bitch.


She smiled cautiously as he stood, putting his hands in his back pockets.


"That's the way girls stand." His ears perked. She used words, not her hands. Was this real?


"Yeah, well. Everyone tells me I'm pretty..." Oh. This was going to be one of those times. The times were wit and charm punched him in the face and said, "take that, you cocky son of a bitch."

Well, that's karma.


Meg looked at him, acknowledging the level of awkwardness that was held in each moment that passed silently. Wow. What was really the problem here? She decided to chase whatever it was away.


"Hungry?" He looked up, and smiled.


"If you want me to be." Meg frowned.


"That was weird. Find a different way to answer questions like that. You might lose friends if you don't." He smiled. She was being so open about speech. Usually, she was timid about having a conversation with him that was conducted by her hands, but now, it was so free and regular and she was using her voice. It was refreshing to find someone who trusted him so unabashedly.


She went into the kitchen, grabbing bread and peanut butter. She noted that there was a significant amount of fluff left over from The Battle of MichigaMetro, so she grabbed it, adding it to her sandwiches. She looked over at Pete, who was leaving against the kitchen table.

"Need some help?" He asked, watching her stand on her tippiest tip toes to reach the lunch ingredients. She shook her head, setting all of her supplies down on the counter, and beginning the preparation of their more-than-modest meal.


"I used to eat peanut butter-fluff sandwiches when I was a kid. It's funny to me to be indulging once again. I loved them." She laughed, and set the completed sandwiches onto the table.



"Meg, if you don't want to tell me what Mal slapped you for, that's fine, but I'd really like it if you told me..." She looked down at the sandwich then back up at the lips of Pete. "Please. I want you to fell like I'm a friend you can go to when all of your other friends are people you're angry with." She smiled, and looked away, wiping peanut butter from the corners of her smile.

No sense in not telling him.


"Over the summer, my parents volunteered me for some testing on a new technological advancement known as "the electric ear". It's kind of like a mechanical eardrum, and I found out that I'm a prime candidate for it. My parents really want me to do it, and everything, but they're saying that it's ultimately, my choice. I haven't made up my mind, since I think my deafness really contributes to and explains the person I am, but then again, hearing after 22 years of...not hearing would be incredible. I've dreamed of it since before I can remember, and now, here's my chance. Anyway, I didn't tell Mal about any of it. It was my fault, really, but I couldn't tell her. She would have flipped and practically forced me into it. No one needs pressure when it comes to such a big decision. Anyway, try and keep that to yourself for now..." She hadn't spoken all of this, of course. She'd written it, and Pete read it.



Once again, the narrarator is suffering from a sleeping foot. Dammit.



"You think Mal's not telling Patrick right now?" Meg shrugged.


"It would be stupid since I'm already mad at her for the sweet bitch-slapping. She's not my pimp." Pete laughed at her words. She was clever.


"Well, I think that's why they went to lunch, but that's just a guess. You interested in watching a movie?" Her eyes lit up. She loved things that kept her attention span in tact without causing her to perform any physical motion.


"V for Vendetta? It's sort of my favorite right now. I'm a word person." He nodded. That didn't surprise him at all. She watched him as his eyes scanned the floor. "What makes you so sad?" She was speaking again, and he was moderately taken back by her question.


"What do you mean?"


"I can see it. I can feel it when I'm around you. You're sad. It's written all over your face...your eyes scream it. Tell me. We trade secrets here in the Bradbury estate." Pete smiled. She was perceptive. Good grief


"I'm just stuck inside my own head, I guess. Everyone expects this and this and this and if I fail to provide, I'm sure some fucking magazine will have some senseless rumor printed for the world to see, leaving me, the poor victim of a seemingly overpowering ego..." She pursed her lips, trying to convey sympathy. "It's stupid. I've got everything except a real reason to be sad, which I guess is what isolates me so much. I'm a fucking human, you know? I don't bleed rock n' roll, I just bleed normal crimson like you. I get my heart broken and I get in pissy moods. Sometimes I worry about my family, and sometimes I just want to goof off with my friends. Unfortunately, pressure's always on, and any wrong move will turn into, "Pete's a jackass." I don't know of anyone that knows me except for my parents, and the three guys I call my best friends..." He paused. "But you don't want to listen to me. You want to watch V for Vendetta." She stared at him. The things he'd revealed to her were so personal, and all things she never would have guessed. He furrowed his dark brows. "What?"

Meg smiled.


"I think this is the beginning of something pretty rad." He looked at her.


"Did you just say rad?" She made a gagging face, and scribbled on her pen and paper.


"I think so. Ew. I'm gross." He nodded.

"If you put in this sweet movie, maybe it'll make up for it." She laughed.


"Really?" He shook his head.

"No, but do it anyway."

She did.