They were the best of friends, and nothing could come between them. Exept a major record deal, missed phone calls and lost letters. Emily moved on with her life, not realizing her old friends were ...
"What's up?" Joe asked cautiously.
"Remember I said I had an idea for another song on our record?"
"That 'Hey, Chris' one?" Patrick replied, frowing.
"No, not that one. I have another idea."
The three others watched as Pete crossed the room and knelt down to the coffee table, pen and paper in hand.
"Homesick at space camp." He said simply.
Andy, Joe and Patrick blinked.
"What?" Andy finally wondered.
"It's the title of the song. I just haven't written it." Pete said matter-of-factly, scribbling his title across the top of the page.
"Hey, that's...that's pretty clever, actually." Patrick said enthusiastically, scooting forward on the edge of the couch.
"I have a few ideas..."
And so Pete began to scribble;
Landing on a runway in Chicago and I'm grounding all my dreams of ever really seeing California, because I know what's in between is something sensual in such non-conventional ways.
"Hey..." Patrick muttered, grabbing the paper, and adding his own lyrics;
Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't say
Tonight I'm writing you a million miles away.
Tonight is all about "We miss you."
"That's pretty good! Lookit this..." Joe muttered, stealing the paper away;
And I can't forget your style and your cynicism, some how it was like you were the first to listen to everything we said.
Andy smiled sadly and took his turn with the pen;
My smile's an open wound without you...and my hands are tied to pages inked to bring you back.
"That's it!" cried Pete, "That's our song!"
But Patrick gently pulled the paper away, tears welling in his eyes, and wrote;
These friends are, new friends are golden.
"For Emily." He whispered.
Pete looked at it, half-smiling, half-frowning.
"'New friends'?" he inquired
"Partially for Evie and Chris."
Pete smiled and nodded.
"We miss you, Em." He muttered down to the paper.
Emily thought that after Pete's last letter, they'd forgotten about her. But nearly ten months later, a small, square package arrived at her appartment. She reconized the return address, and instantly froze up. She never wanted to see that name again...but none-the-less, she gingerly opened the crisp brown paper and pulled out a blue-covered CD. She gasped and read the title: FALL OUT BOY; TAKE THIS TO YOUR GRAVE. She looked back at the paper, then turned the CD over and over, looking; but there was no note. Not one single word. Her first instict was to smash the CD, but she stopped; curiosity got the best of her. She put the disc into the stereo and pressed play, not really paying attention. She opened the lyrics section, and something caught her eye;
'Calm before the storm'
"Hey, I said that!!"
Panic boiled up inside of her.
"No...no!" she muttered, reading the lyrics now. Everywhere on the pages, there were those awful things Pete had written to her, intricately weaved into each song;
To my favorite liar, to my favorite scar:
"I could have died with you"
I said I loved you but I lied
Let's play this game called "when you catch fire"
I wouldn't piss to put you out
Stop burning bridges and drive off of them
So I can forget about you
I pulled myself out of the day we ever had to meet.
Are you through with me?
And when it all goes to hell
Will you be able to tell me
You're sorry with a straight face?
I still know the way to make your makeup run
Conversation got me here:
Another night alone in the city,
So make my bed the grave,
And shovel dirt onto my sheets.
Every friend we ever had in common;
I will sever the tie, sever the tie with you.
You can thank your lucky stars,
That everything I wish for,
Will never come true.
Turn this up, I'll tune you out.
Another night alone in the city.
Fake it like you matter,
Thats a lie we can both keep.
When you go I will forget everything about you.
And I read about the afterlife,
But I never really lived more than an hour
So now you're waiting up for him.
You're wasting time yeah, everytime
I can't do it by myself...
Can't wake up to these reminders,
Of who I am;
A failure of everything.
18 going on extinct.
I know my place is nowhere,
You should roam.
A rivalry goes so deep between me,
And this loss of sleep over you.
Emily read on; and anger boiled inside of her.
"Hey /Chris/?!" she snapped at the CD case, "He gets a whole frikin' /song/?
And then something fluttered from the booklet, neatly into her lap; she picked it up, and gasped. Memories of past months floated through her mind; it was dÃ©ja-vu and Emily hated it. It was a little yellow post it note.
This is side one
flip me over
I know i'm not your favorite record
the songs you grow to like never stick at first
so I'm writing you a chorus
and here is your verse
Emily shook her head, her eyes wide. Tear welled up in her eyes, and she stopped the stereo. What were all these emotions? Anger, sadness, hurt, horror...a million emotions were mixing to create one heart break. She flung the CD across the room. Emily collapsed onto the floor, sobbing. How could they do this? They wrote awful things about her and a nice song about Chris. So what if no one could tell it was specifically about her, people would notice and wonder. They'd figure it out, somehow. She didn't even get a thanks, after all those years of friendship! So what if they didn't speak anymore? She was always there for them.
"I am so stupid! I'm not there for them /now/." She said out loud.
Emily couldn't take it anymore.
"Fuck you, Peter Wentz!" she cried into the empty, darkening room.
The CD case lay forgotten across the room on a floor cushion, 'Homesick at space camp' unread.