Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Tried To See You Forgetting About Me.
So, I've been home for a few days, and already I can't get her off my mind.
Just like the old days. Bad Pete, very bad. I can't fall in love with her again, remind me.
And for the record, Ashlee is really getting on my nerves, she's just acting like the slut I never saw until now...whatever, I'll learn to see past it.
Anyway, I'm pretty bored, and haven't talked to Gabe or Rachel, so I was thinking I'd just fly down to L.A soon, I mean I have to anyway, I wanna stay at my L.A home, so I was thinking I'd just stop by, see how everyone was, take them by surprise. I need to start hanging out with Rachel, we need to gain back the friendship that was lost.
So, here I am, sitting on the couch in my boxers, just kind of talking to myself, in my head.
"Petey boo." I hear a skimpy voice call.
"Yes?" I ask.
"Hey baby, I'm here." Ashlee says, walking in.
I roll my eyes, and turn on the T.V. She needs to know, im annoyed with her.
"What was that all about?" she asked, putting her anorexic hand on her anorexic hip.
"You're annoying." I muttered.
"Uh, why?" she asked, in a petty, bitchy little tone.
"Okay, first of all, loose the eighth grade "im a whore" tone, second, you're just...not what I need." I told her, still watching the T.V
"Uh, excuse me? What is, that suppose to mean?" she asked, using the tone, again.
"If you're going to use that god damn mother fucking tone with me, go talk to an eight grader, god damn, im twenty seven." I said.
"Pete! What has gotten into you?" she asked, worry in her voice.
"Haha, you. Your just...I don't know. Flirting with my friends, flirting with your friends. You're not a thing like me. We don't combine." I told her.
"Are...are you saying we don't make a cute couple?" she asked.
"Exactly, m'dear." I said, in a random ass British accent.
"So, what does that mean?" she asked.
"It means...I think we should break up. And, before you go off on one of your 'but im Ashlee Simpson' rampages, you should take it into consideration that I was nice enough to do it to your face, instead of cliché'-ing it, and texting you or something. Im a very generous man." I said, making myself laugh.
A pout sprung onto her skinny little face, and she marched out, slamming the door behind her.
"Like taking candy from a baby...which I would never do." I said, turning my head to Hem, who was on the couch behind me. He tilted his head, and whimpered a bit, in confusion, and I laughed.
"All in good time, my son. All in good time." I told him, bringing my head back to the T.V.
After about fifteen minutes of watching the end of the "I love New York reunion show." on VH1 for the millionth time, I stretched over to my coffee table and picked up my laptop, and booked my flight to L.A for tomorrow.
"Me and you, my one and only true lover, are headed for home tomorrow." I told Hem, as he chewed up my fathers recliner.
After posting an entry in my blog, and lurking around in the boards a little, I closed up shop, set my laptop down, packed a few of my things, picked up Hem, and headed off to bed.
In the morning, I woke up when my alarm went off, and quickly got dressed, and scooted Hem into his little flight kennel, took that, my bags, and shoved my sidekick into my tight pockets, and was headed to the airport.
After a long, tiring flight, the plane landed, and I got up, collecting my shit from the cubby above, and boarding off the plane.
"Hey, that's Pete Wentz!" I heard, from every which way. I hurried to the luggage pick up, sliding my hood on the way, and picked up my bags, and Hem.
I bent down, and looked into the crate.
"Hey boy, how was your flight?" I asked.
He panted, and just smiled, that doggy smile.
I smiled back, and carried him to the taxi pick up, where I got a taxi and headed home, first.
After dropping off Hemmy, and my stuff, I got in the car again, and headed off to the Saporta/Hacikyan place.
After a long drive, practicing what I was going to say to her, about causal stuff, and listening to music, I finally pulled up in the drive way, walked up to the door, and knocked.
Soon, Gabe opened the door, in boxers and a wife beater.
"Pete, I wasn't expecting you. It's like, ten am. Whats up, dude?" he asked, showing me in.
"Nothing man, just stopping by, im home in L.A so I was just checking in on my favorite people. Where's Rach?" I asked.
"Oh, she's still in bed I think. You should go wake her up, take her by surprise." he said, snickering.
I laughed.
"Okay." I said, heading for the stairs.
"I'll make pancakes, have you eaten yet?" he asked, heading off towards the kitchen.
"Nope." I said.
"Good." he said, smiling.
I headed up the stairs, on tiptoes, and glanced into Gabe's room. Rustled blankets, but surprisingly no Rachel.
"Hmp." I said, to myself, as I looked for the bathroom, to relieve myself, while I was up here.
I walked towards the bathroom, and couldn't help but notice it was open a crack, and I could hear slight whimpers coming from inside. I opened it a little, and looked in the corner at Rachel, curled up, feet at her chest, crying. She was in a tang top, and plaid pj shorts, and holding something but I couldn't quite make it out.
I opened it more, and stepped in.
She looked up.
"Ga-Pete?" she whimpered.
"Rachel...what's going on here?" I asked.
"Pete...I need to tell you something. I can't tell Gabe." she sobbed.
"Uh, okay." I said, sitting down next to her.
She starting crying again, and I pulled her into a hug, patting her back.
"What's wrong?" I asked, noticing the bruises on her arms.
"Pete...im unhappy." she sobbed.
"Oh...why?" I asked.
"I don't love Gabe...and...and...I have horrible habits. They make me get sick...make me loose weight." she sobbed, hysterically.
"Wh-what are the habits?" I asked, patting her back.
She looked down, at the thing, which was hidden from my view, in her hands, and lifted it up.
I gasped, at the Heroin needle she held in her hand.
"Oh Rachel..." I said, feeling so much pain, as she showed me the drug that had replaced me.
Aw, our poor Rachel's a drug addict. Ha, and you all thought she had an eating disorder. Haha, yeah well...she doesn't. haha, couldn't think of any good comebacks. Anyway, review, and I'll make your life happy.
PETE TO THE RESCUE? OH, I THINK SO.
Just like the old days. Bad Pete, very bad. I can't fall in love with her again, remind me.
And for the record, Ashlee is really getting on my nerves, she's just acting like the slut I never saw until now...whatever, I'll learn to see past it.
Anyway, I'm pretty bored, and haven't talked to Gabe or Rachel, so I was thinking I'd just fly down to L.A soon, I mean I have to anyway, I wanna stay at my L.A home, so I was thinking I'd just stop by, see how everyone was, take them by surprise. I need to start hanging out with Rachel, we need to gain back the friendship that was lost.
So, here I am, sitting on the couch in my boxers, just kind of talking to myself, in my head.
"Petey boo." I hear a skimpy voice call.
"Yes?" I ask.
"Hey baby, I'm here." Ashlee says, walking in.
I roll my eyes, and turn on the T.V. She needs to know, im annoyed with her.
"What was that all about?" she asked, putting her anorexic hand on her anorexic hip.
"You're annoying." I muttered.
"Uh, why?" she asked, in a petty, bitchy little tone.
"Okay, first of all, loose the eighth grade "im a whore" tone, second, you're just...not what I need." I told her, still watching the T.V
"Uh, excuse me? What is, that suppose to mean?" she asked, using the tone, again.
"If you're going to use that god damn mother fucking tone with me, go talk to an eight grader, god damn, im twenty seven." I said.
"Pete! What has gotten into you?" she asked, worry in her voice.
"Haha, you. Your just...I don't know. Flirting with my friends, flirting with your friends. You're not a thing like me. We don't combine." I told her.
"Are...are you saying we don't make a cute couple?" she asked.
"Exactly, m'dear." I said, in a random ass British accent.
"So, what does that mean?" she asked.
"It means...I think we should break up. And, before you go off on one of your 'but im Ashlee Simpson' rampages, you should take it into consideration that I was nice enough to do it to your face, instead of cliché'-ing it, and texting you or something. Im a very generous man." I said, making myself laugh.
A pout sprung onto her skinny little face, and she marched out, slamming the door behind her.
"Like taking candy from a baby...which I would never do." I said, turning my head to Hem, who was on the couch behind me. He tilted his head, and whimpered a bit, in confusion, and I laughed.
"All in good time, my son. All in good time." I told him, bringing my head back to the T.V.
After about fifteen minutes of watching the end of the "I love New York reunion show." on VH1 for the millionth time, I stretched over to my coffee table and picked up my laptop, and booked my flight to L.A for tomorrow.
"Me and you, my one and only true lover, are headed for home tomorrow." I told Hem, as he chewed up my fathers recliner.
After posting an entry in my blog, and lurking around in the boards a little, I closed up shop, set my laptop down, packed a few of my things, picked up Hem, and headed off to bed.
In the morning, I woke up when my alarm went off, and quickly got dressed, and scooted Hem into his little flight kennel, took that, my bags, and shoved my sidekick into my tight pockets, and was headed to the airport.
After a long, tiring flight, the plane landed, and I got up, collecting my shit from the cubby above, and boarding off the plane.
"Hey, that's Pete Wentz!" I heard, from every which way. I hurried to the luggage pick up, sliding my hood on the way, and picked up my bags, and Hem.
I bent down, and looked into the crate.
"Hey boy, how was your flight?" I asked.
He panted, and just smiled, that doggy smile.
I smiled back, and carried him to the taxi pick up, where I got a taxi and headed home, first.
After dropping off Hemmy, and my stuff, I got in the car again, and headed off to the Saporta/Hacikyan place.
After a long drive, practicing what I was going to say to her, about causal stuff, and listening to music, I finally pulled up in the drive way, walked up to the door, and knocked.
Soon, Gabe opened the door, in boxers and a wife beater.
"Pete, I wasn't expecting you. It's like, ten am. Whats up, dude?" he asked, showing me in.
"Nothing man, just stopping by, im home in L.A so I was just checking in on my favorite people. Where's Rach?" I asked.
"Oh, she's still in bed I think. You should go wake her up, take her by surprise." he said, snickering.
I laughed.
"Okay." I said, heading for the stairs.
"I'll make pancakes, have you eaten yet?" he asked, heading off towards the kitchen.
"Nope." I said.
"Good." he said, smiling.
I headed up the stairs, on tiptoes, and glanced into Gabe's room. Rustled blankets, but surprisingly no Rachel.
"Hmp." I said, to myself, as I looked for the bathroom, to relieve myself, while I was up here.
I walked towards the bathroom, and couldn't help but notice it was open a crack, and I could hear slight whimpers coming from inside. I opened it a little, and looked in the corner at Rachel, curled up, feet at her chest, crying. She was in a tang top, and plaid pj shorts, and holding something but I couldn't quite make it out.
I opened it more, and stepped in.
She looked up.
"Ga-Pete?" she whimpered.
"Rachel...what's going on here?" I asked.
"Pete...I need to tell you something. I can't tell Gabe." she sobbed.
"Uh, okay." I said, sitting down next to her.
She starting crying again, and I pulled her into a hug, patting her back.
"What's wrong?" I asked, noticing the bruises on her arms.
"Pete...im unhappy." she sobbed.
"Oh...why?" I asked.
"I don't love Gabe...and...and...I have horrible habits. They make me get sick...make me loose weight." she sobbed, hysterically.
"Wh-what are the habits?" I asked, patting her back.
She looked down, at the thing, which was hidden from my view, in her hands, and lifted it up.
I gasped, at the Heroin needle she held in her hand.
"Oh Rachel..." I said, feeling so much pain, as she showed me the drug that had replaced me.
Aw, our poor Rachel's a drug addict. Ha, and you all thought she had an eating disorder. Haha, yeah well...she doesn't. haha, couldn't think of any good comebacks. Anyway, review, and I'll make your life happy.
PETE TO THE RESCUE? OH, I THINK SO.
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