FicWad

Hey guys, here’s the thing. This is pretty much my main project at the moment, so sorry for the lack of updates on my other stories. When I actually have time to update, this is the only one I think of/have time for. I’m focusing on making this a good one, because frankly, I think this is the best story I’ve ever written, and I like all of the ideas I’ve had, and I love the way it’s coming out. It’s like my baby, and I’m actually planning to make a tribute when it ends, some how. Like, a video. Anyway, this is probably the only thing I’m going to update until this is over, or until I get a load of free time. Enjoy!

Pete’s POV-

William and crew are on stage right now. Opening for +44, whose opening for us. Tonight is the first show of the tour.
So here I am, alone in the dressing room, in Colorado, on my laptop.

I sighed, and took a quick glance around the room.

So quite. I can’t imagine where everyone is. Gabe is probably watching TAI from the side, as he told us he would be. Ryland follows him everywhere, so I’d assume he’s there with him.

Patrick and Vicky-T (Whom I dislike) are most likely off someplace hanging out, but I can’t pin point where the others would be.

I opened up a blank word document. I feel like writing. I do this often. Sometimes, I just want to write, so I write.

Sometimes I write poems, sometimes lyrics. If I like them, I show them to Patrick. If they come out either too personal, or shitty, I just simply close without saving.

Sometimes, I just write. Like, in blog form. About my feelings. I always scrap that. It just helps me to feel better.

I glanced around the room again, as I always tend to do when I’m alone.
I looked to my right, and something caught my eye. I reached out, and grabbed a red bandana, that was hanging off the side of the couch, that I was sitting on with my laptop.

I smiled, and looked down at it. William’s, of course. This usually went around his left leg. I can only assume that he hadn’t been able to find it. He’s a last minute kind of person, so he’s always loosing things, or forgetting things.

I smelled it, and took in the wonderful fragrance that is William Beckett. I don’t know what it is about his scent that drives me mad, but it always leaves me wanting more.

Then, I set it down, where I had found it, and turned to the computer. I knew what I wanted to write about. It would help me feel so much better around him. At least for tonight.

My hands hovered over the keys, as I let my brain, and heart, take over.

I’m in love with William Beckett. I’ve never felt this way before about any other human being, let alone one the same sex as me. I can’t even explain the feeling I get when I’m around him. They’re out of this world. My stomach blends up every other feeling I’ve ever had for anyone. I’ve most likely cried them out, because I never have those feelings for anyone anymore.
Patrick knows, and Gabe knows. Those are the only two people that I’m ever going to tell, or trust. I feel like my whole love life is going to waste, because I’m never going to be happy with anyone except William. And I’m never going to have William.
I’m beginning to become a shitty liar, too. I’ve used every one in the book by now, and I’m making it up as I go along. I can’t help but to hug him every time I see him. I can’t help but to feel jealousy towards everyone I see around him. I want him for myself. I’m becoming so selfish because the want for this man is driving me mad. I would be disgusted with myself if I could ever bring myself to type out, or even contemplate for too long, what I want, concerning Beckett.
I want everything. His hair, and the way it just curls around his face, and makes for perfection, his eyes. I swear I’ve melted in those more then ice cream melts in the dessert. The way the color isn’t really just brown, but more of a creamy, chocolate color. I want his cheeks, especially when he blushes, and his perfectly straight teeth, glimmering white. I want his tongue, and his neck, and his perfect chest. I want his stomach, and I really want his hip bones. They stick out just the right amount, so that it’s not too disgustingly far, and I just want them. They’re incredibly hot. I want his long legs, and his large feet, and I want him all the way to the tip of the longest toe.
I want William Beckett. I need William Beckett. I love William Beckett.

As I ended my entry, I re-read it, and sighed. What a screw up I must be, I thought.

“Whatcha writing?” I heard. I quickly exited out of the document, and shut my laptop, turning around. My eyes widened, and my heart dropped.

William stood behind me, laughing.

“Wh-wh..wha…where did you come from?” I asked, the sweat already building on the crease of my forehead. If he read even the first line of that, I’m done.

“I just got off stage, hence the dripping sweat.” he said, acting casual, and wiping his forehead.

“Uh-uh..uh-cool.” I breathed.

“So, lemme ask again. What were you writing? I didn’t have a chance to get close enough to be rude and read it, before my mouth took over, and curiosity killed the cat.” he said.

I sighed. He was acting so causal that it was believeable that he hadn’t seen anything.

“Uh, it was nothing. It was uh-just some stupid poems. I write them when I’m bored.” I said.

“Oh. Did you delete them?” he asked, grabbing for my laptop. I wasn’t sure it was closed correctly, so I whipped the laptop away from him.

“Yeah, they sucked anyway.” I said, turning the laptop off, all the way.

“Aw, don’t degrade yourself so much. You’re an amazing writer. I gotta take a shower. And you have to get ready, your on in one set. See more of you tonight, Wentz.” William said, waving and skipping to the door.

“K, bye William.” I said. Wiping the sweat of my forehead.

Too close, Pete. Too close.