Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Her better half

Nocturnal premonition

by ACeDeBbie 6 reviews

Phebe takes her actions to a new level and begins to get to Pete.

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst, Drama, Horror - Warnings: [!] [?] - Published: 2007-06-05 - Updated: 2007-06-05 - 1632 words

Chapter 5: Nocturnal premonition

As Pete's leaving Moranne's apartment complex and walking to his car, he doesn't know the exact time but it has to be past 11 pm. His girlfriend has to fly out to Florida early in the morning for a photo shoot so it's better if he doesn't spend the night. It's never easy to leave her but not becoming too homely at each other's place helps to keep the relationship at its fresh and exciting level.

He looks up to her kitchen window on the fourth floor. Walking backwards he makes out her silhouette, she's waving at him. Pete can't help it but smile to himself, waving back. Then she disappears.

He turns around and walks the last few feet to his car.

Fumbling for the keys in his back pocket, he hears steps behind him. "Peter?" the familiar female voice cooes.

How did she make it down here so fast? Well, despite his workouts on stage, she's definitely in a better shape than him. It's even more vital for her profession than for his.

Two soft hands covering his eyes. He smirks and puts his palms on them, holding them.

"You just can't let me go, can you?"

"How could I?" she whispers sweetly and slowly pulls her hands out of his grasp. "Keep your eyes closed."

Pete takes his own hands down but keeps his eyes shut, he feels her slipping around him, her breath on his lips.

He likes to be teased.

As she kisses him softly his hands find their way to her waist, an adventure in his car comes to mind. He feels her hand on his crotch.

He slowly opens his eyes.

"Who the fuck are you?" he pushes the unfamiliar woman away.

She grins mischeviously, "Are you telling me you don't recognize me, Mr. Wentz?" Her hand rests on her chest in mock consternation.

Within a matter of seconds Pete finds himself able to recall where he's seen this face before: Way up front, always so close to the stage. Blond girl, wearing dark skinny jeans and a tight top.

She reads his thoughts like a book, "Yeah, you do remember me."

Pete stops her from leaning in to assault his lips again.

"Listen, I'm sorry if I've given you the wrong impression but I have a girlfriend and even if I didn't, flings with fans are not my thing." After he's over the first shock he adds jokingly, "You might wanna try Joe. His morals are practically non-existant."

"Don't worry, Pete, this is not about a fling with a fan," the girl pulls up her eye brows.

"Okay... I'm glad we cleared this up. I really need to get going now. Long day tomorrow, ya know. Thanks for coming to all the shows and I'll see you around," the man's gut feeling tells him that it's high time to put a car door between her and himself.

"We're not a fling, Peter. We're meant to be together. Me and you, we complete each other."

The man tries to push her away from his vehicle so he can get past her, "Girl, you can do whatever you want with me in your fantasy. Be my guest and write a story about it if you wanna, but in reality you and I don't even live on the same planet, okay?"

She makes a step aside. Pete extends his hand to unlock the car door.

Where have my keys gone?

He hears a jingle sound and turns to see blond girl holding them in the air.

"I really wish you wouldn't make me do this, Pete, but I'm afraid you leave me no choice."

He wants to say something but is struck dumb as his surroundings are becoming more and more blurred. Feeling dizzy all of a sudden, he squinches for a moment.

As he opens his eyes again he finds that the street, his car, the buildings around them have morphed into his bedroom. Handcuffed to the metal bars, he's lying in his bed.

Blond girl is standing by his side, still jingling the keys in her hand.

"Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" he yells at her and tries to twist his ankles out of the cuffs.

Calmly she sits down at his side and stares at the ceiling. She sighs and replies, "Unfortunately you don't know me that well yet. If you did know me, Pete, you'd KNOW that I HATE it when people call me insane." Upon the last few words she looks him right into the eyes.

Only now does Pete notice the bloody trophy in her other hand. High school soccer tournament.

She gets up from the bed and walks around it to the other side where there's a human-shaped bulge under the covers.

"And I will give you another fact about me, Pete. I also hate it when people underestimate me. There's no obstacle I can't deal with."

With that she pulls off the blanket to reveal the messy corpse of Moranne. Her head is smashed in, the injuries were caused by the trophy crashing against her skull. Her blood has drained the white sheets and pillow around her head, her eyes stare at Pete with vacancy. Her lips slightly parted.

"Don't worry, Pete. She wasn't right for you anyway."

Blond girl points at the open wound on Moe's head. It's covered with a mixture of brain mush and gore.

"As you can see, the two of you simply weren't of the same MIND, Peter. Unlike us."

Pete screams. He can't bring himself to pronounce words, let alone yell for help. He just screams.

The man awakes quickly, as if somebody just slapped him in the face. He bolts up in his bed.
His skin is damp and his breaths are short and fast. His boxers cling to his sweat-soaked body. After his brain has processes that the previous episode was just a nightmare, he lowers his back against the matress again.

He supposes that his own screaming has woken him up. To allow himself a moment to get over the shock and stop his heart from hammering against his ribcage, he closes his eyes.

The last image of his nightly vision is still present on his retina. For a flash of a second he's faced with his blond attacker again. Her features have a warm and adoring look to them but there's something in her eyes, something ghostly, crazy. It sends an icy shiver down Peter's spine, only increasing his sense of being cold due to the sweat.

Automatically he opens his eyes wide to get rid of the horrifying image, with such haste it makes his eye balls hurt.

It was a dream. Only a dream. Of course. No more Tales from the Crypt before he goes to bed.

Having taken a long shower and changed into clean underwear, pants and a shirt, the man decides to call Moe. It's probably silly but he will feel a lot better once he hears her voice telling him everything is okay with her.

Rubbing his wet hair with a towel he walks over to his nightstand and picks up his sidekick. The display shows 3 calls, all of them missed while he was sleeping. Funnily he can't remember having set the phone to mute.

"Hello, sweetie," Moranne's voice greets him cheerfully. "I just had the weirdest feeling so I'm just calling to make sure you're alright... Just call me back, okay?... I miss you. Bye."

Pete sighs relieved. She's alright. How can I let a stupid dream mess me up like that?

He deletes her message and pushes the button to listen to the second one.

For a good five seconds there's silence and then a soft cough. A husky voice croakes, "Hi... Pete..."

A beeping sound incidates that the message is over.

Who the hell was that?

The voice didn't sound familiar at all. No caller ID. He couldn't even deduce the caller's gender from it. It sounded off-key and intentionally disguised.

He stares at the display, one last missed call. It had come in 10 minutes after the second one, about one hour after Moe's.

Feeling uneasy but letting his curiosity get the best of him, Pete listens to the third message. It's the same voice as before, still husky but slightly more stable now:

"Hi, Pete... Sorry for having hung up earlier. I am... a bit nervous as you can probably tell." The caller giggles. "I, ah... I wanted to leave you a voice message. E-mails and letters are not terribly personal, are they?... How are you?... I was so excited when I got your e-mail. Thank you so much, Peter. You have no idea how much that means to me... I really don't know what else to say... My... Well, I will call you back soon, 'kay?... Okay, bye for now... Oh, also wanted to say: I think you're the most amazing person ever!..." More giggling. "Alright, bye for now."

How far would this invasion of his privacy go? This must be the same kid that got ahold of my private e-mail address.

How on earth did she ever get my cell number?

Maybe, if his nerves weren't on edge because of the nightmare, he would think better of it than to open the browser on his sidekick and write her the following e-mail:

Don't call my cell phone again, kid. I am not joking, cut it out. Should you call again, be assured that I will track your ass down. Don't waste my time again.

Then he deletes both messages that he supposes were made by this persistent Phebe. It's high time he call Moranne. He needs to take his mind off of this shit, he doesn't need to waste another second on this freak.
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