Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > 'Master of the Game'.

I Walk The Line

by ClandestineUnited 3 reviews

A broken heart. No one wants one. Everyone loves to read about one. We're introduced the person who loves to cause them. Stay tuned, I know it's moving slow...

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: G - Genres: Drama, Humor - Published: 2007-05-21 - Updated: 2007-05-22 - 1375 words

After a long day sitting in his hotel room, absorbing himself in his GarageBand to help pass the time, Patrick sat at the counter of the bar in one of the restaurants. His head rested in his hands, and he couldn't help but pay attention to the conversations of a group of girls behind him in a booth, having a meal. They were screeching with laughter, high pitched cackles that made Patrick's ears tremble. He winced under his hat.
"So what did you do then?" One of them asked.
"What do you think I did? I threw all his stuff out the front lawn and told him where to put it! Then I told him to go suck himself instead of me." One of the others replied.
This remark was greeted with more laughter and Patrick motioned the bar tender to bring a refill over. He didn't drink, he never handled it the few times he had, so he opted for diet coke instead. He was much safer drinking that than doing something stupid like, letting a girl take advantage of him, or waking up with a throbbing headache. He rolled his eyes as the girls decided to go into detail about things in a relationship that should be private. Shaking his head at the lack of respect some people had for others, he took a drink, and jumped when his cell phone rang in his pocket. He cursed and turned red as his drink dripped down his shirt. He became paranoid the girls' shrieks of laughter behind him were aimed at him, but maybe they were telling more stories. He ignored them anyway, and answered his still ringing phone.
"What?" He snapped, not in the mood to talk.
"Whoah. Bad time?" Pete laughed down the phone. Patrick threw down two bucks on the counter and hopped off the stool he was sitting on.
"Well, you made me spill my drink down myself like a three year old, and I'm going deaf in here. So yeah, I'd say it was a bad time." Patrick said, walking across the lobby of the hotel to go outside.
"You have my sympathy. And apologies for making you spill." Pete replied. "Look, why don't you come over here? The guys are with me."
"I dunno..." Patrick wavered, he wanted to be around people. He had been cooped up all day in his room, but part of him wanted to be alone too.
"Aww, come on, Patrick. It's better than staying in that room of yours all night. Or drinking yourself into a stupor."
"I don't drink." Patrick said, sharply, leaning against the cold stone of the building outside. He quickly decided he didn't want to be around Pete tonight. They were both in one of their moods, Patrick in his bad, 'leave-me-alone' mood, and Pete in his hyper, 'I-can-get-away-with-anything' mood.
"Relax, Patrick. I know you don't. Come on. We can rent a movie or something, and if you're really not in the mood, you can just lie on the couch and take it easy."
Patrick weakened. True, there was only so much GarageBand and Room Service he could take.
"All right." He said, with a sigh. "But I get to chose the movie."
"Fair enough," Pete said with a laugh, "Oh, but if it's Fox and the Hound, again, you can watch that alone."
Patrick shook his head and hung up the phone. Turning around to go inside, he suddenly felt bad for snapping at Pete. Yeah, at times he was an immature, pain in the ass who could care less about topics people cared about, but he was also extremely supportive, and sometimes just had to look at you to know he was always there for you, despite what mood he might be in.
Upstairs, Patrick grabbed his car keys and a jacket and again made his way back downstairs. The route up to his room and back down again had become very familiar within the past 24 hours.

"How come we always end up eating what Patrick wants?" Joe moaned, grabbing another slice of pizza. Patrick smirked and lay back on the couch at Pete's house.
"Because I'm cooler than you, Joe, face it." He replied.
"Feet." Pete said, tapping Patrick's shoulder as he came back into the living room. Patrick slid back to a sitting position, taking his feet off the couch and looking bashful.
"So... now you've broken up with Christina, I say we go to a strip club." Joe said, with a grin. Patrick rolled his eyes.
"OK, for the record, Christina broke up with me. And strip clubs are lousy places. They're disrespectful, have no regard for the feelings of the girls... and..."
"And the women get naked." Pete said, shaking Patrick's shoulder.
"I don't care! I don't do strip clubs. Sorry, but I have respect for women, not women like that."
"You're so 1950s." Joe teased.
"No, I'm not." Patrick argued.
"Yes, you are." Joe replied.
"No, it just means I prefer intimacy with a girl, rather than drooling over some girl who doesn't care squat about self respect, and flaunting her cheap body for sad losers like you." Patrick said, and sat back with a satisfied smile at Joe, who glared at him.
"Jeez. You're such a virgin."
Pete grabbed the cushion away from Patrick as he went to throw it at Joe.
"Watch the TV, man!"

"Uh, Pete?" Patrick wavered in between the kitchen door and the hallway as Pete cleared up the remainders of their dinner an hour later.
"Yeah?" He looked up, stuffing cartons into the bin.
"Um, well, you know last night you asked me if... if I wanted to stay here with you?" Patrick stuttered, blushing and feeling rude.
"Yeah." Pete said nonchalantly, looking away and continuing to clear up.
"Well, um, I was wondering if..."
"If... if the offer was still there."
"Why do you ask?" Pete asked, standing up. "Finally realizing you could have a room without paying a hundred dollars a night for it?"
Patrick looked at his feet and shrugged.
"You know, I just... could use a few nights staying up with a friend watching movies and eating junk food."
Pete smiled and nodded.
"The best part of a break up. But, yeah. What are best friends for?"
Patrick looked up and a grin spread across his face.
"No," Pete said, a serious look on his face. Patrick's own face dropped and he cleared his throat and shifted his feet.
"Oh, OK. Yeah, no, that's cool." He said, turning away.
"I'm kidding, Patrick. Of course you can stay here. Take as much time as you need, and until you feel better, we can stay up late and eat ourselves into a diabetic coma." Pete grinned. Patrick mirrored it.
"Thank you, so much, Pete. OK, I'll be back in an hour, I'm gonna go get my stuff from the hotel."
"All right." Pete laughed at how much of a favor he had done Patrick just by agreeing. He followed Patrick to the front door and watched as he put his coat on.
"You want me to come?"
"No thanks, I have my car." Patrick replied, walking to the street. "Thanks, anyway."
"OK, but be home by 11." Pete called to him, leaning against the door frame. Patrick looked round, his eyebrow raised. Pete shrugged and laughed.
"My roof, my rules, boy. 11 pm or no privileges." He said. Patrick pretended to laugh and got in the car. Pete waved as he drove down the street, and shook his head when he was back inside.
Pete flopped down onto the couch and watched Andy and Joe battling each other on video games.
"I'm bored." He said, to which he got no reply.
"Anyone else bored?" He asked, raising his voice louder. They ignored him again. Pete sighed and picked up his book from the coffee table. A while after he began to feel uncomfortable and looked up to find Joe and Andy watching him.
"There's someone at your door." Andy said.
Pete frowned, thinking he was going deaf, and got up.
"If you guys are having a laugh, you'd better start running." Pete called back to them as he opened the door.
"Oh, Christina."
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