Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Long Live The Car Crash Hearts
He swerved through the darkness, driving recklessly down the busy highway. He just wanted to end it. He didn't care about anything else. He veered off accross the highway into the opposite lane. He was going the wrong way. He found himself staring directly into a set of headlights, the light blinding him. There was a loud crash as the cars met head on.
Sirens blared as the many police cars and ambulances flew down the highway making their way to the crash site. Two bodies were pulled from the rubble. One dead and the other barely clinging to life.
"Ma'am? Are you there?" the mightclerk from the hospital asked. She couldn't hear him. The words rung in her ears Dead on arrival...
"Ms.Wilson?" he repeated.
"Oh, uhm, what?" she snapped back to reality.
"We need to see you down here at the hospital. So you can get your husband's affairs in order," he told her.
"Fiancé," she corrected, feeling warm tears beginning to form in her eyes.
"Fiancé, my mistake. But you will be here right? We need to see you as soon as possible. Preferably tonight," he told her.
"I guess I don't have a choice..." her voice trailed off, "One last thing though."
"What's that?"
"You never told me what happened exactly." she stated as a tear slid down her cheek.
"Well, it appears to have been a suicidal kind of thing. The other driver wasn't driving under any influences. We have several witnesses who say the car suddenly just swerved into the opposite lane, and one witness who is a personal friend of the driver saying the driver was having some personal problems," the clerk rambled.
"Who was the driver?" she asked, no longer sad, but enraged at the idea of someone being so selfish.
"I really don't know if I can disclose that kind of information."
"He killed my fiancé, I have the right to know," she said coldly.
The clerk thought for a moment before she heard the sound of papers be ruffled through the receiver.
"The driver was a Mr.Peter Wentz, he survived but is in a coma at the moment." the clerk affirmed.
"Thank you," she was even more enraged at the fact that the driver had survived, but her fiancé, who had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, had not. She hung up the phone and grabbed her keys. She walked out of the coffee shop where she worked and got in her car. She sped off towards the hospital, blasting the radio and singing along, trying to get the thought of losing Adam out of her head.
She pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. Even at midnight this place is packed she thought as she searched the parking lot for a space. She found one and got out of her car. She walked toward the hospital but she felt like she was walking towards her own hanging. She dreaded this. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. She and Adam were supposed to get married, have kids, and grow old together. There was supposed to be a happy ending. Not some psycho, selfish idiot crashing into Adam's car killing him instantly. She opened the heavy glass door and instantly smelling the unmistakable aroma of disinfectant and latex that filled the hospital. She walked into the hospital and up to the front desk.
"Um, excuse me," she said, trying to get the nightclerk's attention.
"Yes ma'am?" the male said, turning around to face her.
"I'm here to um, take care of my fiancé's affairs," she said, again fighting back tears.
"Oh you must be Ms.Wilson," the clerk observed, "I'm so sorry for the loss," he said kindly.
"Thank you," she faked a smile. The clerk handed her a stack of papers and she sat down to fill them out. She stood up and handed the papers back to the clerk.
"Thank you Ms.Wilson," he said looking them over, "You'll get a call from someone up here tomorrow, you know, so funeral arrangements can be made."
She nodded, "Can you tell me what room Mr.Wentz is in?" she asked, filling with anger just having to speak his name.
"Um... 274A. Two floors up, take the elavator. Then go down the hall and take a left. Third door to your right. Get all that?" the doctor said, looking at a current patient list.
"I think so," she thanked him and walked towards the elevator. She pressed the up button and the doors opened. She stepped inside and the doors shut, she watched the indicator near the ceiling of the elevator showing the number of the floor as it passed, the only sound was the torturous music that came from the small speaker on the opposite wall. After what seemed like hours, she heard a pinging that indicated she had arrived at the second floor. She stepped out of the elevator and, remembering the clerk's instructions, wove her way through the maze of hallways towards room 274A. She followed his directions and found the room. Outside stood three men, one wearing a trucker hat, the other sporting a 'fro and a Star Wars t-shirt, the third had longer hair and a small silver stud adorning his bottom lip. They looked very rugged and tired. She marched towards the door bravely. In a coma or not this guy was gonna get an earful and then some. She stopped when she was met face to face with a pair of green eyes, "Who are you?" he asked. He looked familiar, "I think I've seen you before."
"Um, Lyric. Lyric Wilson," she said pointing to her Skyline Coffee nametag.
"Oh you work at Skyline! We used to play there!" the man gushed.
"Yeah I remember you guys, how come you stopped?" Lyric asked.
"Got signed," the guy in the Star Wars shirt said, walking over.
"Oh. And you would be?" she asked.
"Joe," the one with the 'fro said.
"Patrick. And the guy over there who looks like Jesus is Andy," he said gesturing a man a few feet away.
"Oh! Now I know you! Fall Out Boy, right?" she asked.
"Yeah that's us." Andy said.
"What are you all doing here?" Lyric asked, knitting her brow in confusion.
"Pete. He was trying to kill himself. Suicide driving," Patrick replied like it was nothing. It was almost like this was normal.
"Oh," she felt tears threatening yet again, "He killed my fiancé," she said, looking down at the worn out pair of Converse on her feet.
"Oh... I'm sorry. Pete does stupid shit like this sometimes, but usually the only one he hurts is himself," Joe said, looking almost embarrassed. Andy was staring at his shoes, while Patrick sat on the floor, blushing, "God he screwed up..." he almost whispered. Minutes later a nurse came out of the room.
"He's awake, you can go see him now," she said, walking away.
Joe walked into the room, followed by Andy and Lyric. Patrick stayed in his place on the floor.
"Hey, how ya feeling?" Joe asked.
"Stupid," Pete replied. Patrick stood up and barged into the room.
"You should! Pete you fucking killed a guy!" Patrick shouted. The room fell into stunned silence, Patrick wasn't the most confrontational guy.
Pete looked stricken. He stared down at his hands and didn't say a word.
"You killed my fiancé," Lyric spoke up.
Pete looked up from his hands and looked at her. He looked truly sorry but she didn't care. He had taken the first good thing that had ever happened to her away from her. He didn't deserve forgiveness. Not now.
"I am so sorry, I was being stupid, selfish," he apologized.
"Yeah. You were. And you should be," she said, now letting tears flow.
"I didn't mean to -" she cut him off.
"I hope you choke! Peter fucking Wentz!" she said, storming out of the room. Patrick followed her.
"I have to get out! I - I have no where to go!" she bawled, collapsing to the floor in tears.
"What? You don't have a home?" Patrick asked, kneeling down to her level.
"No, I lived with Adam. I can't go home, it's to much," she wept.
Patrick felt for her, he understood why she couldn't go home. Pete had screwed this kid's whole life up. He wanted to help her.
"You can stay with me?" It came out more like a question than an offer. She looked at him like he was a total alien.
"I just met you," she said.
"But you've got nowhere to go, you can stay with me. Consider it us making up for Pete's dumbass actions," he smiled at her.
"Are you sure?" she asked, she wasn't to sure about this. She had just met him, but he seemed nice enough.
"Positive, it's fine." Patrick said, wiping a tear from her cheek.
"Um, I guess, I don't really have another choice," she said.
Patrick smiled at her. He stood up and offered his hand to help Lyric up as well. Just then a doctor strode out of Pete's room and towards them.
"Patrick?" the doctor questioned.
"That's me." Patrick nodded.
"I understand you're of relation to Mr.Wentz? A brother, I believe he said," the doctor asked. Patrick furrowed his brow in confusion, but nodded his head. He knew what Pete was doing.
"And does he live with you?" the doctor continued.
"No, he lives on his own." Patrick informed him. Lyric stood next to him, watching intently though not understanding a bit of it.
"Well, apparently this is his..." the doctor glanced down at a clipboard, "fourth suicide attempt?" his eyes widened.
"Yeah that sounds right," Patrick said.
"He's not stable, I'm subscribing some heavy therapy. And it's quite obvious he cannot handle living on his own. Is it at all possible for him to move in with you?"
Patrick looked shocked, but he couldn't turn his best friend away, "Um, yeah I guess it's fine." He winced as he remembered that Lyric was moving in as well. This is not going to end well he thought to himself.
"We can go ahead and discharge him now, no major injuries, just a couple cuts and bruises. He should be fine." the doctor informed him. Patrick nodded and walked away. It was then that Joe and Andy walked out of the room, Pete in tow.
Pete's eyes remained plastered to the floor, for fear of receiving a death glare from Lyric.
"You're moving in with Lyric and I," Patrick said coldly.
Pete looked up, shocked.
"Lyric?" he asked.
"You know, you killed her fiancé, she didn't have anywhere else to go, and I felt like we owe it to her. So she's staying with us." Patrick said, glaring at Pete.
"Homeless?" Pete asked, looking at Lyric. She rolled her eyes.
"No, I lived with Adam, I can't handle going back. I just need to get some of my stuff," She said, glaring at him as well.
"We'll follow you there," Patrick said, referring to the apartment that Lyric and Adam had shared. Lyric turned and walked down the hall.
Lyric parked infront of the all to familiar apartment complex and was met at the door by Patrick and a rather reluctant Pete. They followed her into the building and up the stairs. They came to a stop infront of a door and she pulled out a key and opened it. Pictures of Lyric and what appeared to be Adam clung to the walls. There were tons of them. Pete was overcome with yet another intense wave of guilt as he watched a grief-stricken Lyric walk through the apartment flipping picture frames down as she passed them, not daring to look at the many photos on the walls. She walked into a bedroom and pulled a duffel bag out from under the bed. She emptied the contents of two drawers into the bag and zipped the bag up. She stood up and walked over to a nightstand. She picked up the picture frame that sat there. It held a photograph of Lyric and Adam, the night they had moved in. They sat in an otherwise empty apartment among cardboard box after cardboard box, wearing pajamas and smiling as if all was well in the world. Lyric smiled, remembering that day fondly before placing the frame carefully in the bag and following Patrick and Pete out the door.
Sirens blared as the many police cars and ambulances flew down the highway making their way to the crash site. Two bodies were pulled from the rubble. One dead and the other barely clinging to life.
"Ma'am? Are you there?" the mightclerk from the hospital asked. She couldn't hear him. The words rung in her ears Dead on arrival...
"Ms.Wilson?" he repeated.
"Oh, uhm, what?" she snapped back to reality.
"We need to see you down here at the hospital. So you can get your husband's affairs in order," he told her.
"Fiancé," she corrected, feeling warm tears beginning to form in her eyes.
"Fiancé, my mistake. But you will be here right? We need to see you as soon as possible. Preferably tonight," he told her.
"I guess I don't have a choice..." her voice trailed off, "One last thing though."
"What's that?"
"You never told me what happened exactly." she stated as a tear slid down her cheek.
"Well, it appears to have been a suicidal kind of thing. The other driver wasn't driving under any influences. We have several witnesses who say the car suddenly just swerved into the opposite lane, and one witness who is a personal friend of the driver saying the driver was having some personal problems," the clerk rambled.
"Who was the driver?" she asked, no longer sad, but enraged at the idea of someone being so selfish.
"I really don't know if I can disclose that kind of information."
"He killed my fiancé, I have the right to know," she said coldly.
The clerk thought for a moment before she heard the sound of papers be ruffled through the receiver.
"The driver was a Mr.Peter Wentz, he survived but is in a coma at the moment." the clerk affirmed.
"Thank you," she was even more enraged at the fact that the driver had survived, but her fiancé, who had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, had not. She hung up the phone and grabbed her keys. She walked out of the coffee shop where she worked and got in her car. She sped off towards the hospital, blasting the radio and singing along, trying to get the thought of losing Adam out of her head.
She pulled into the parking lot of the hospital. Even at midnight this place is packed she thought as she searched the parking lot for a space. She found one and got out of her car. She walked toward the hospital but she felt like she was walking towards her own hanging. She dreaded this. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. She and Adam were supposed to get married, have kids, and grow old together. There was supposed to be a happy ending. Not some psycho, selfish idiot crashing into Adam's car killing him instantly. She opened the heavy glass door and instantly smelling the unmistakable aroma of disinfectant and latex that filled the hospital. She walked into the hospital and up to the front desk.
"Um, excuse me," she said, trying to get the nightclerk's attention.
"Yes ma'am?" the male said, turning around to face her.
"I'm here to um, take care of my fiancé's affairs," she said, again fighting back tears.
"Oh you must be Ms.Wilson," the clerk observed, "I'm so sorry for the loss," he said kindly.
"Thank you," she faked a smile. The clerk handed her a stack of papers and she sat down to fill them out. She stood up and handed the papers back to the clerk.
"Thank you Ms.Wilson," he said looking them over, "You'll get a call from someone up here tomorrow, you know, so funeral arrangements can be made."
She nodded, "Can you tell me what room Mr.Wentz is in?" she asked, filling with anger just having to speak his name.
"Um... 274A. Two floors up, take the elavator. Then go down the hall and take a left. Third door to your right. Get all that?" the doctor said, looking at a current patient list.
"I think so," she thanked him and walked towards the elevator. She pressed the up button and the doors opened. She stepped inside and the doors shut, she watched the indicator near the ceiling of the elevator showing the number of the floor as it passed, the only sound was the torturous music that came from the small speaker on the opposite wall. After what seemed like hours, she heard a pinging that indicated she had arrived at the second floor. She stepped out of the elevator and, remembering the clerk's instructions, wove her way through the maze of hallways towards room 274A. She followed his directions and found the room. Outside stood three men, one wearing a trucker hat, the other sporting a 'fro and a Star Wars t-shirt, the third had longer hair and a small silver stud adorning his bottom lip. They looked very rugged and tired. She marched towards the door bravely. In a coma or not this guy was gonna get an earful and then some. She stopped when she was met face to face with a pair of green eyes, "Who are you?" he asked. He looked familiar, "I think I've seen you before."
"Um, Lyric. Lyric Wilson," she said pointing to her Skyline Coffee nametag.
"Oh you work at Skyline! We used to play there!" the man gushed.
"Yeah I remember you guys, how come you stopped?" Lyric asked.
"Got signed," the guy in the Star Wars shirt said, walking over.
"Oh. And you would be?" she asked.
"Joe," the one with the 'fro said.
"Patrick. And the guy over there who looks like Jesus is Andy," he said gesturing a man a few feet away.
"Oh! Now I know you! Fall Out Boy, right?" she asked.
"Yeah that's us." Andy said.
"What are you all doing here?" Lyric asked, knitting her brow in confusion.
"Pete. He was trying to kill himself. Suicide driving," Patrick replied like it was nothing. It was almost like this was normal.
"Oh," she felt tears threatening yet again, "He killed my fiancé," she said, looking down at the worn out pair of Converse on her feet.
"Oh... I'm sorry. Pete does stupid shit like this sometimes, but usually the only one he hurts is himself," Joe said, looking almost embarrassed. Andy was staring at his shoes, while Patrick sat on the floor, blushing, "God he screwed up..." he almost whispered. Minutes later a nurse came out of the room.
"He's awake, you can go see him now," she said, walking away.
Joe walked into the room, followed by Andy and Lyric. Patrick stayed in his place on the floor.
"Hey, how ya feeling?" Joe asked.
"Stupid," Pete replied. Patrick stood up and barged into the room.
"You should! Pete you fucking killed a guy!" Patrick shouted. The room fell into stunned silence, Patrick wasn't the most confrontational guy.
Pete looked stricken. He stared down at his hands and didn't say a word.
"You killed my fiancé," Lyric spoke up.
Pete looked up from his hands and looked at her. He looked truly sorry but she didn't care. He had taken the first good thing that had ever happened to her away from her. He didn't deserve forgiveness. Not now.
"I am so sorry, I was being stupid, selfish," he apologized.
"Yeah. You were. And you should be," she said, now letting tears flow.
"I didn't mean to -" she cut him off.
"I hope you choke! Peter fucking Wentz!" she said, storming out of the room. Patrick followed her.
"I have to get out! I - I have no where to go!" she bawled, collapsing to the floor in tears.
"What? You don't have a home?" Patrick asked, kneeling down to her level.
"No, I lived with Adam. I can't go home, it's to much," she wept.
Patrick felt for her, he understood why she couldn't go home. Pete had screwed this kid's whole life up. He wanted to help her.
"You can stay with me?" It came out more like a question than an offer. She looked at him like he was a total alien.
"I just met you," she said.
"But you've got nowhere to go, you can stay with me. Consider it us making up for Pete's dumbass actions," he smiled at her.
"Are you sure?" she asked, she wasn't to sure about this. She had just met him, but he seemed nice enough.
"Positive, it's fine." Patrick said, wiping a tear from her cheek.
"Um, I guess, I don't really have another choice," she said.
Patrick smiled at her. He stood up and offered his hand to help Lyric up as well. Just then a doctor strode out of Pete's room and towards them.
"Patrick?" the doctor questioned.
"That's me." Patrick nodded.
"I understand you're of relation to Mr.Wentz? A brother, I believe he said," the doctor asked. Patrick furrowed his brow in confusion, but nodded his head. He knew what Pete was doing.
"And does he live with you?" the doctor continued.
"No, he lives on his own." Patrick informed him. Lyric stood next to him, watching intently though not understanding a bit of it.
"Well, apparently this is his..." the doctor glanced down at a clipboard, "fourth suicide attempt?" his eyes widened.
"Yeah that sounds right," Patrick said.
"He's not stable, I'm subscribing some heavy therapy. And it's quite obvious he cannot handle living on his own. Is it at all possible for him to move in with you?"
Patrick looked shocked, but he couldn't turn his best friend away, "Um, yeah I guess it's fine." He winced as he remembered that Lyric was moving in as well. This is not going to end well he thought to himself.
"We can go ahead and discharge him now, no major injuries, just a couple cuts and bruises. He should be fine." the doctor informed him. Patrick nodded and walked away. It was then that Joe and Andy walked out of the room, Pete in tow.
Pete's eyes remained plastered to the floor, for fear of receiving a death glare from Lyric.
"You're moving in with Lyric and I," Patrick said coldly.
Pete looked up, shocked.
"Lyric?" he asked.
"You know, you killed her fiancé, she didn't have anywhere else to go, and I felt like we owe it to her. So she's staying with us." Patrick said, glaring at Pete.
"Homeless?" Pete asked, looking at Lyric. She rolled her eyes.
"No, I lived with Adam, I can't handle going back. I just need to get some of my stuff," She said, glaring at him as well.
"We'll follow you there," Patrick said, referring to the apartment that Lyric and Adam had shared. Lyric turned and walked down the hall.
Lyric parked infront of the all to familiar apartment complex and was met at the door by Patrick and a rather reluctant Pete. They followed her into the building and up the stairs. They came to a stop infront of a door and she pulled out a key and opened it. Pictures of Lyric and what appeared to be Adam clung to the walls. There were tons of them. Pete was overcome with yet another intense wave of guilt as he watched a grief-stricken Lyric walk through the apartment flipping picture frames down as she passed them, not daring to look at the many photos on the walls. She walked into a bedroom and pulled a duffel bag out from under the bed. She emptied the contents of two drawers into the bag and zipped the bag up. She stood up and walked over to a nightstand. She picked up the picture frame that sat there. It held a photograph of Lyric and Adam, the night they had moved in. They sat in an otherwise empty apartment among cardboard box after cardboard box, wearing pajamas and smiling as if all was well in the world. Lyric smiled, remembering that day fondly before placing the frame carefully in the bag and following Patrick and Pete out the door.
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