Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Watching from the Closet

Chapter Three: Lie in the grass, next to the mausoleum

by prettypoizon 10 reviews

Read this with 'Running to stand still' by U2 playing, and you'll cry. Or maybe it's just me...

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: R - Genres: Angst, Drama, Humor, Romance - Warnings: [V] - Published: 2007-01-07 - Updated: 2007-01-08 - 1887 words

Hannah was suddenly awake, but she didn't open her eyes. This bed is so soft...I'm not on the hid-a-bed. She rolled over and felt the soft covers against her skin; she was naked. She opened her eyes, and they were met with dazzling sunlight. She looked around the room, and found the other occupant of the bed; Pete. Shit. Not again. She looked to the night stand, groping for her glasses. She fumbled for a moment then put them on her face. Ugh. My head hurts. She glanced over at the still sleeping Pete. Memories of the night before flooded back, but parts were missing., Pete, sex...hey, he was pretty good. She glanced at Pete one last time and shrugged. Meh. What the hell. She taped him gently on the shoulder, and he stirred. Hannah smiled seductively.
"Hey, sexy." she whispered.
Pete sat up, and looked at her as though he had seen a ghost.
"Did...did we..." he gestured helplessly to the bed. Hannah smiled and nodded.
Hannah wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, cutting off anything he'd been planning on saying. Pete kissed back for a moment, then pulled away.
"Mark is going to kill me, you know that?! I did his little sister!"
Hannah shook her head, grinning wider still.
"Not if I can help it."
"So, are...are we, uh...are we a something?"
"If you wanna be a something."
Pete smiled for the first time that morning.

Patrick wandered into the kitchen, wondering who he'd find there. If Hannah is in there with Pete, I'm gonna scream. This is so not right. She's Mark's baby sister! He'll kill Pete. He turned the corner; Mark sat at the table alone, looking content with his coffee and morning paper. Oh, great. Now I have to act like everything is all sunshine and daisies until the lovebirds wake up...
"'Morning, Mark." Patrick mumbled.
Mark looked up, and half smiled.
"'Morning, Patrick. Sleep okay?"
"There's fresh coffee."
It was always like that between him and Mark; Mark was the big, burly blonde mill worker. Patrick was the shy little kid with the lime green Vans. Mark looked down on Patrick. Sighing, Patrick made himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table; awkward silence filled the room. Should I say something to Mark? A bit of a heads up?
"'Morning, guys " Hannah's voice pierced the awkward silence, and Patrick looked up to see Hannah hanging off of Pete's arm. Too late.
"'Morning, Hannah, morning Pe- hey, waitaminute!" Mark spluttered. He starred at his best friend and his baby sister in bewilderment. The paper slipped from his hand, landing on the linoleum floor with a pathetic thwack. Hannah grinned widely, and Pete smiled shiftily.
"What's this?" Mark demanded.
"My new boyfriend." Hannah announced.
Patrick wished desperately that he could become the large potted plant in the corner.
"Your new /what/?" a new voice joined the conversation; Andy stood next to Hannah and Pete now, Joe beside him, looking as sheepish as Patrick.
"Boyfriend." Hannah repeated.
Mark stood up, looking angry; Pete was in his boxers, and Hannah was wearing Pete's blue bathrobe over...well, nothing. It was pretty obvious.
"Pete. Next room. Now." Mark hissed.
Pete opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Hannah.
"No, Mark, that won't be necessary. You'll just have to get used to this. Us."
Mark shut his mouth, and swallowed hard. Joe and Patrick exchanged a look; If he finds out that we knew we're dead.
"Fine. Whatever. But Hannah, I know you. Don't screw this up. I'm going to work." Mark pushed past the crowd in the doorway and stormed down the hall to his bedroom.
Andy let out a low whistle. No one spoke. But Hannah stood there still, straight as ever, looking happy. Patrick studied her face; Don't screw this up? What?

Hannah kissed Pete's cheek and he stood up to leave for work. Patrick and Hannah were once more alone in the house. She sighed, and stood up to go get dressed. She moved her suitcase into Pete's bedroom. I don't know why I'm doing this. This is happening way too fast. Mark is right, I'm gonna screw it up, just like every other guy. But Pete's different; he's sweet. I don't think he uses...he's sweet. Is that all he's got going for him? Ugh. She pulled a black teeshirt over her head and slipped into some skinny jeans. She turned around to stare at herself in the mirror; I need a party. She sighed and sat down on the bed, lacing up her pink Converse. She ran her fingers through her blonde hair, fluffing it up. She turned again to the mirror; oh, god, I am a mess.

Hannah appeared in Patrick's doorway, where she found him playing an acoustic guitar, singing along softly.
Patrick looked up, startled.
"Oh, hi! I was just practicing."
"Yeah, I know, keep going."
Hannah walked into the room and sat opposite Patrick on Joe's bed. Patrick bit his lip and started a song;
"...when the moonlight hits your bright eyes I go blind..." when he finished, he looked up at Hannah, his blue eyes barely visible under the baseball cap he wore, pulled down low. She smiled.
"You're an amazing singer. Did you write that?"
"Nah, Pete did...he's better with lyrics, I just write the music..."
"You're still really talented. I'm not good at anything."
"Don't say that! You must have a talent, or a hobby "
Hannah shook her head sadly, her glasses slipping down her nose.
"I can't sing, act, dance, write, draw...nothing."
"Those aren't the only talents "
Hannah pushed her glasses back up to her eyes and looked Patrick square in the eye.
"I'm not good at anything, okay?"
Patrick bit his lip and said nothing.
"If you keep doing that, you'll make your lips bleed, you know."
Patrick immediately released his teeth's grip on his lower lip and grinned sheepishly.
"You sound like Mackena, she's always saying that..."
Hannah smirked.
"Hey, you wanna go for a walk, or something? It's a nice day."
Patrick nodded, setting his guitar down on the bed and standing up.

"C'mon, I wanna show you something!" Hannah cried, grabbing Patrick's hand and breaking into a run. Patrick laughed and tried to keep up. Together they ran down the side walk, afternoon sunshine beating down on their backs. Hannah skidded to a halt in front of a graveyard. Patrick raised his eyes brows as Hannah let go of his hand.
"Uh...why did you want to take me here?"
"Because it's so pretty! I used to come here when I was a kid. See that mausoleum on top of the hill?"
"That's my spot. That's where I go when I just wanna get away."
Patrick stepped up to the gate and shook it slightly;
"It's locked, though."
"Well, duh, we have to climb." Hannah said, rolling her eyes.
"Um..." Patrick looked down at his lime green Vans, bitting his lip.
"Aw, Tricky, what did I say about bitting your lip?" Hannah coed, cocking her head to one side. Patrick let go of his lip hastily. Hannah smiled and nodded, then turned her back on poor Patrick, beginning to climb. Patrick watched helplessly as she swung her pink Converse over the top, and jumped to the ground on the other side of the fence.
"See? It's easy."
"I don't know about this, Hannah..."
"Come, ON, Tricky!"
"Don't call me that!"
Hannah flashed him a devilish grin.
"Tricky, Tricky, Tricky." she sang.
Patrick lunged forward, trying playfully to grab at her arm through the bars, but she jumped back.
"You have to catch me!"
Patrick laughed, and began to climb. He reached the top of the fence, and looked down;
"Hannah, I don't think I can do this, I'm gonna fucking break my ankle!" he called.
"Tricky, Tricky, Tricky!" Hannah called back.
"Bitch!" Patrick yelled with a smile.
Hannah smiled sweetly back and yelled;
Patrick took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let go of the fence. He prepared for the sickening sensation of his ankles cracking, but all he felt was a dull thump as his Vans met the ground.
"Ha! I'm fine! Now I'm going to get you, Hannah!"
Patrick ran forward, but Hannah's long legs carried her fast away. The two wove around the grave markers, laughing. Patrick chased Hannah to the top of the hill with the stone mausoleum, and Hannah let Patrick wrap his arms around her waist. He laughed softly in her ear as they hugged.
"You caught me...Tricky." Hannah whispered.
Patrick released her and sighed.
"I give up. Call me whatever you want."
Hannah giggled. She then lay down in the grass, and Patrick copied. The two friends stared up at the clear blue sky, watching a puffy white cloud float dreamily across.
"Wow." Hannah said simply.
"Wow what?"
"You called me a bitch."
Patrick's face went chalk white;
"I didn't mean it! I was kidding, I'm sorry, I-"
Hannah rolled over and covered Patrick's mouth with her hand, laughing.
"I'm not offended! I'm just surprised you were brave enough."
Patrick relaxed and sighed.
"I dunno...all the excitement, I guess. I had guts all of a sudden."
"I'll say; at first you looked like you were gonna piss yourself when I said we had to climb the fence!"
The two laughed, just laying in the grass, watching the cloud still. They were silent for a long time, just watching the sky, and then Patrick spoke;
"Why do you like to come here?"
Hannah waved her hand airily over the graveyard.
"There are lots of angels on the markers...even a few real ones. I like angels."
Patrick smiled lightly. He turned and watched as Hannah reached down the collar of her shirt and pulled up at gold chain. She showed Patrick the pendant; it was a small golden oval, and engraved upon it was a beautiful, delicate little angel; her hands folded in prayer, her eyes turned adoringly up to the heavens.
"'s beautiful." breathed Patrick.
Hannah smiled sadly and tucked the necklace back into her shirt.
"My mum gave it to me ages ago," she explained in a hushed voice, "It wasn't my birthday or anything special. She just said it was because I'm her little angel." tears glistened in her pale eyes. Patrick put his arm around her.
"It's really you wear it all the time?" he asked.
"Yeah. I haven't taken it off in years."
The two were silent for a while longer, just thinking. And then Hannah said, a trace of a sob in her voice;
"I am anything but an angel. I am the black roots of my hair."
Patrick was confused; this had something to do with the bruises and cuts on her arm. This had something to do with the beer last night, and the pot in her room. Patrick sighed, and shook his head;
"Don't say that. There's good inside of you, Hannah, there's a talent. You just got mixed up in the wrong world."
Hannah took Patrick's hand, and closed her eyes.
"You are my new best friend, Tricky." she muttered.
Sign up to rate and review this story