FicWad

Emily was still smiling as she waved goodbye to Patrick, Andy and Joe and closed the door. It was starting to rain, and the house felt slightly chilly. Emily hugged her arms around herself and shivered. Something didn't feel right; it was raining harder and harder by the minutes. Emily sat down in the living room, and stared dreamily at the ceiling. She was bored, and Mitchy wouldn't be home for another two hours. She still had to get something started for dinner...Mitchy had asked her to tidy up the office...
BUZZZZ.
The doorbell rang and Emily jumped out of her skin, nearly falling off the couch, shrieking. She picked herself up and brushed off her clothes, and ran for the door. She opened it, expecting a Jehovah's witness or a paper boy, but instead found Pete, soaking wet, with a pleading look across his face.
"Hey." He greeted her awkwardly.
Emily glared at him, not moving for him to step inside.
"Can...uh, can I come inside, please?" he asked cautiously.
Emily continued to glare.
"Emily, I want to talk to you, please." Pete now sounded frantic.
"Why should I let you?" Emily snapped.
"Because you deserve to hear what I have to say, and I deserve to be heard."
Emily knew he was right; she grudgingly stepped aside to let Pete pass.
"Thank you." He said softly.
Emily showed him into the kitchen, and pointed at a wooden chair.
"Sit." She snapped.
"What, I'm not important enough for the living room?" he asked indignantly, looking hurt.
"I'm hearing you out. Quick and simple, don't get comfortable." Emily hissed.
"Why are you so mad at me?" Pete cried.
"Think, Peter, think!" Emily shouted, "You ignore me for four years then show up on my doorstep!"
"Please don't yell," Pete said softly, looking down at his converse, "That's what started this whole thing."
Emily sighed; right again.
"Fine, then." She said tensely.
Pete took a deep breath; his carefully chosen words were all forgotten; he was on his own.
"I never stopped loving you." He said boldly, looking Emily directly in the eye. She didn't flinch.
"I am getting married in six months."
"That doesn't change anything."
"Anything else, or can I throw you back out in the rain?"
"Wait! I'm...I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything."
This seemed to make Emily sway slightly on the spot.
"I'm sorry, too." She whispered.
"Oh, so THAT makes you dizzy, but the words 'I love you' mean nothing?" Pete snapped.
"You seem to be forgetting that Patrick, Andy and Joe were here this afternoon."
"Oh, yeah. Thanks for the invitation, by the way."
"ANYWAY. They told me everything I needed to hear. Heard from Evie at all lately?"
"Don't you throw that in my face!" Pete cried, looking upset, "I didn't love her like I love you! Patrick loves her, he never stopped!"
Emily turned away; Pete was being sincere. She swallowed hard, choking back tears;
"Pete," she began softly, "It's been too long. A lot had happened in four years, I've changed, you've changed. I'm engaged."
Pete stepped forward, resting his arm on her shoulder.
"No, Emily,/ you've/ changed. I haven't changed; I'm still the asshole emo boy who is madly in love with you."
Emily couldn't help but smile.
"I just wish things never changed." She said slowly.
Pete nodded.
"Things can never go back to the way they were...but can we try and fix them?"
"Pete, I'm enga-"
"No, Emily, I mean be friends again. Can we put the past behind us and be friends, please?"
Emily hesitated; things could never be normal again, but she had missed them so much these past four years...
"Okay. Friends. Just friends." She nodded.
Pete smiled.
"Can I take you out to a show? For old times sake?" he asked.
"Pete, Mitchy's gonna be home in an hour and a half-"
"/Please/, Emily! Just this one little show! Ever heard of Panic! At the Disco? You must've, they're pretty popular."
Emily looked up into Pete's eyes.
"I don't do the music scene anymore, Peter." She said quietly.
This hit Pete with force like a wrecking ball straight into his chest.
"What?" he whispered, "You...you don't go to shows anymore?"
"No. I hardly listen to music at all, just that jazz stuff Mitchy likes..."
Pete pursed his lips and crossed his arms.
"No wonder you're wearing lace and cashmere instead of band shirts and ripped jeans." He replied.
Emily's eyes widened.
"You remember that?!" she cried, memories of lacy red thongs and kisses in the Laundromat floating through her mind.
"I'll never forget it. Our first kiss." Pete smirked, and Emily smacked his arm. This was starting to feel familiar and secure; Emily had her boys back...kind of.
"Well, we'll just have to get you some proper clothes, then!" Pete decided, grabbing Emily's hand and dragging her upstairs as though he knew the way.
"Pete, no! I don't even own any band shirts!"
"Sure, sure." Pete replied, rolling his eyes.
He found Emily's bedroom; Blue flowered wallpaper and a canopy bed. Ugh. He dropped her hand and began digging through the closet, pulling out a pair of neat, perfectly pressed blue jeans. Pete reached into his jacket pocket and pulled a small pocket knife out of his pocket.
"Oh, you wouldn't dare!" Emily cried, rushing forward to save the $150 pair of Abercrombie and Fitch jeans; but it was too late, Pete had already cut a small hole in each knee and was ripping two large holes.
"Peter Wentz, I cannot believe you just did that!" Emily cried, shocked, "You show up after four years and have the nerve to rip my /jeans/?!"
"Yep," Pete replied nonchalantly, throwing the ruined jeans into Emily's arms, "Put these on."
Emily sighed but obeyed none-the-less. After all, this could be fun.
Pete was now rummaging around the far corner of the top shelf, standing on tip-toe.
"What are you looking for?" Emily asked curiously.
Pete didn't answer, but he found what he was looking for; he pulled a dusty box off the top shelf that was marked 'Emily- junk' and set it down on the silk bedspread.
"Hey, how did you-?"
"I just knew, Em. I know you too well, even after 4 years; you never throw out the things that matter."
Pete opened the box flaps; photographs, CDs and assorted junk met his eyes. He turned to Emily and smiled gently, and she smiled timidly back.
"I didn't have the guts to throw it away, you're right." She mumbled.
Pete dug around for a minute and then found Patrick's old Greenday shirt.
"Ha," He said triumphantly, throwing the shirt to Emily, "Put this on and we'll go."
"I cannot believe I am doing this." Emily moaned, but she pulled the shirt on anyway.

What am I doing here? Emily wondered as the crowd cheered wildly when the band walked offstage, They were pretty good. I liked them. But why am I here with Pete? Why are my jeans ripped, and why am I wearing a Greenday shirt? I can't even remember what songs they've done! Wait, I lied. 'Welcome to Paradise', right? Oh, God!
"See?!" Pete yelled over the crowd as the headed for the exit, "They're great, aren't they?"
"They're pretty good, yeah..." Emily admitted.
"Aw, whatever. You loved them!"
Emily grinned.
"Guilty as charged." She replied.
The crowd piled out onto the street, laughing and talking, everyone going their separate ways. Pete and Emily now stood awkwardly on the sidewalk in front of the venue.
"So...do you want to go get a drink, or something?" Pete asked nervously.
Emily looked up at Pete and frowned.
"I already ditched my fiancé to go see a show with an asshole emo boy. Now you want drinks?"
Pete laughed.
"Yep."
Emily sighed.
"Pete, I don't know..."
"Please, Em? Just one drink, and I'll take you home."
"Promise? Nothing else hidden up your sleeve?"
"Promise. One free drink, one free taxi ride."

Mitchy was nipping at Emily's ear playfully...she smiled dreamily and pushed him away, but Mitchy persisted. She giggled quietly, and opened her eyes. But wait...this wasn't right...where was the blue flowered wallpaper, the canopy bed? This room had a high ceiling and everything was made of handsome cherry wood. Wide eyed, she slowly turned her neck. She was staring, not into Mitchy's clear blue eyes, but deep, thoughtful brown ones. Emily screamed and jumped out of the unfamiliar bed.
"Peter!" she yelped.
Pete gasped and turned away, his cheeks reddening; Emily looked down. She was bare-naked. Emily shrieked again and yanked some sheets off the bed, wrapping herself up.
"Why the/fuck/ am I in your hotel room?" she cried, "And where are my clothes?"
Pete looked up at her, a guilty expression giving him the look of a kindergartner who had just taken a cookie.
"Please don't kill me...but I can only answer one of those questions." He mumbled.
"Please let it be the first one!"
Pete now gave her a terrified look, and slowly raised his right hand, pointing.
"Your clothes are on that chair." He whispered.
Emily cried out in frustration.
"One drink! One fucking drink, one fucking taxi ride!" she yelled, grabbing for her clothes and pulling them on with difficulty, seeing as she was trying to hide her bare body under the deep red sheet, "Well, I don't remember a taxi ride, Peter! I remember that drink. Maybe two or three!"
Pete crawled out of bed, wrapped in the comforter.
"Well...obviously we got a bit carried away..."
"Carried away! Ha! Understatement of the goddamn /century/, Peter Wentz!"
"Would you quit using my full name?!" Pete cried, exasperated, "Well, maybe...maybe nothing happened."
Emily wheeled around, fully dressed now.
"I JUST WOKE UP FUCKING NAKED IN YOUR BED, AND YOU'RE TELLING ME NOTHING HAPPENED?!"
Pete shrank back against the wall.
"I'm sorry, Em, I didn't mean for this to happen..." he mumbled sheepishly.
"Oh, God," Emily cried, running her hands through her loose black hair, "I have to go home to Mitchy now...I have a fiancé!"
"Emily..." Pete stepped towards Emily, but she stumbled backwards, grabbing her purse as she went.
"Oh, no! You aren't even gonna touch me!" she yelled, "You know what makes this so fucking screwed up?! You love me, I don't love you! I just /don't/, Pete! I love Mitchy! My /fiance/!"
"Are you sure about that, Em?" Pete asked softly, his eyes glassy, "What if you could remember last night. What if you said it was the most amazing night of your life. Then would you love me?"
Emily stared at Pete, shocked.
"The thing is, I can't remember, Peter!"
"Maybe you do love me."
"I am not having this conversation one more time! I DON'T FUCKING LOVE YOU, OKAY?! THAT WAS FOUR FUCKING YEARS AGO, PETER! THAT WAS BEFORE YOU WENT AND SCREWED UP MY LIFE!"
Pete looked stunned.
"Emily, I screwed up your life?!"
"Where's my song, Peter?" she cried suddenly.
"What?!"
"'Hey Chris, you were our only friend!...we love you back'!"
"Emily, but what about-"
"I don't wanna hear it! Just fucking leave me alone!" and with that, she disappeared through the heavy double French doors, leaving Pete shocked and hurt inside the hotel room.