Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Cobwebs On My Zipper

I've Got A Dark Alley and A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth

by ZippersOverYou 2 reviews

Wittle bit of explanation

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG - Genres: Humor, Parody, Romance - Published: 2007-02-19 - Updated: 2007-02-19 - 1149 words

Earlier that evening...


The carpal tunnel ran through my fingers as I turned the key in the ignition. Work had been absolute murder and had already let itself loose on my brain stem.

Since ten, I'd been editing pictures that were supposed to already have been edited by Jason but he'd had 'pictures to take' so he couldn't. So, thanks to Captain Obvious, I'd had to do a weeks worth of magic in one day.

Feeling desperately confined, I unzipped my hoodie and threw it in the back of the car along with everything expensive I owned and threw myself into 'drive'.

Even with all the windows closed, barred and locked I could smell the rain. Rain always had such a beautifully natural smell that I inhaled greedily. It hadn't started to pour yet but it was close to it...

When my mom sat by the bed and tucked me in, she'd tell me how whenever it rains it meant something bad for someone. When I got a couple of years older, it would start raining and I'd call everyone I knew and see if something bad had happened. It was such a cute habit but I guess I grew out of it...

I didn't even notice it start drizzling but when I finally came back into reality, it was dripping all over the car.

Sliding a piece of cheaply flavored gum under my tounge, I pulled into the Fall Out Boy driveway and couldn't wait to see my Patrick.

Annoyingly enough, my key decided to be fickle and not fit in the door. Eventually, it pitied me enough to let me in.

I stood dripping right behind the door and situating my things as Patrick sat on the couch watching TV and looking tense.

Cleaning myself up a bit, I walked into the living room with the intentions to kiss him.

He sat, unmoving on the couch watching a woman on the MTV news spout like a tea kettle,

"Might this smoking hot bassist have a new girlfriend? On more than one account, he was photographed walking into restaurants and other places with a smiling, blonde woman. Of course, Pete has been rumored to be enchanting celebrities like Ashlee Simpson and Lindsay Lohan so is a famous Chicago photographer his type--"

With my heart pounding, I reached over to the remote and turned off the pictures of me and Pete.


I tested his look of thin ice. For a minute of silence, I declined steadily into pessimism.

"Patrick...I'm not going out with Pete."

"Are you sure?"

His tone could've been a stunt double for a glacier.

"Patrick! I would never do that to you."

Sitting down next to him, I tried to meet his eyes but he successfully avoided.

"You know, that's what all of my girlfriends say."

"What's gotten into you?? I would never cheat on you with anyone."

He stood and started to pace.

"Sure you wouldn't, until Pete takes off his shirt and then it's 'sorry, Patrick, we can't date anymore'."

"W-Why are you saying this?"

"Because it's fucking true!! I'm just the filler 'til Pete gets back."

"Patrick, I don't love Pete. I love you."

"I know it sounds selfish but to the rest of the world, this band is just Pete Wentz and Fall Out Boy."


"They don't really care about Joe or me or even Andy. All they care about is the fucking sexy bassist who can do no wrong!"

I could just see that Patrick felt neglected behind Pete...he was jealous.

"Patrick, what would this band be without you?"

"A band with a much better lead singer."

That was the last straw. I forced him to look at me,

"Patrick Stump, you are Pete's best friend no matter how jealous of him you are and, you know what? He loves you. If tomorrow, you left this band, there'd be no more Fall Out Boy. And that's if you, or Joe, or Andy left. Above a band, you guys are friends, best friends."

He stood silently, brooding, calming down,

"Here's something else, Patrick, Pete is jealous of you."

That definitely caught his attention, he stared at me with eyes like a ship overturned in the ocean,


"Yeah, that's right. Pete looks up to you all the time. He's always talking about how stable you are and how you're so much better than he is at everything."


"And you're voice! God, don't get him started on your voice. You wouldn't believe all the metaphors he used to try and describe you're voice. He thinks that you and your voice are the most amazing things on this planet."

"Seriously? Pete Wentz is jealous of me?"

"You know what? He's right, Patrick."

"How so?"

"You are the most amazing thing on this planet and you're voice is beautiful."

"...It's not that good."

"Patrick, you're voice could put the moon to sleep." I did NOT seriously just say that out loud...Idiot.


I took his soft face between my hands and stared into his eyes,

"Patrick, I'm in love with you, not Pete. There is no one on this planet quite like you and I don't know what I'd do without you."

He broke down the walls he'd been building with one choke of his voice,

"It's just so annoying when I have to stand behind Pete 'cause that's what my life's become: standing behind Pete. Most of my girlfriends go out with me because they can't get Pete and it's just so frustrating."


His eyes clenched as he stopped me.

"He's my best friend and I love him, but can we not say his name for the rest of the night or talk about him? I just want to be with you."

It took me by surprise but I nodded,

"Anything for you."

Leaning in, he kissed my cheek and whispered into my ear,

"I love you."

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him closer,

"I love you, too, Patrick."

"You know...there's no one here."

"Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"If you think we should make a sandwich."

I leaned in closer to his lips,

"Only if I get to put on the mustard."


I lay under the sheet next to Patrick, hugging his perfect self and just letting my head rest on his chest. I could tell he was still awake and just staring up at the ceiling.

Across the room a small light went on and a crappy quality version of 'I've got a dark alley' echoed through Patrick's ego.

We both knew it was Pete calling. We both knew that there'd be hell to pay if I left Patrick to go pick it up.

Silently, I whispered 'I'm sorry' to Pete.

For the rest of the night, my concious battered me like the rain on the window.

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