Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > My Time Will Come..(Won't It?)

The (After) Life Of The Party.

by XXPoeticTragedyXX 6 reviews

“Yeah…of course,” She replied, smiling the first smile she had in days.

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Angst,Drama,Romance - Published: 2007-12-17 - Updated: 2007-12-18 - 3852 words

“Ugggh!” Troianan groaned throwing the brush in her hand down on her dresser with as force as she could muster. It made a loud clattering sound as it hit the deodorant in its way and knocked it over.

One hour. She had one hour to form a plan of escape from the party she was being forced into. Honestly, she didn’t want to go, she just didn’t. What would be the point? She didn’t have that many friends. The entire morning as she had sat at the table in her favorite pajamas, Pete had practically told her every detail of his intricate plan to have the greatest party. He had rattled off every name of every friend he could think of and called or texted so many people Troiann had lost count, waited until he wasn’t looking and snuck away. Just watching the boy enthuse over this party was making her sick. She didn’t know the majority of the people Pete had invited. What kind of birthday party was it when no one even knew you?

She let herself fall backwards onto her bed and braced herself for the collision. That always gave her a rush, just falling. Maybe because she knew the bed was there so there were no chances of her falling and breaking her neck. The bed, unlike so many others, was reliable…all the time. Her breathing evened back out as she lay there, letting the ceiling fan above her entertain her. I hate this, /she thought blinking absently. /I hate being alone. It fucking sucks. I hate my life, I hate my face, I hate my body, and I hate Patrick…for being Patrick. She frowned, barely shaking her head. No. I don’t hate Patrick; I just hate myself, for falling for him. For being stupid. She let out a heavy sigh. “I hate laying here and being a waste of space.” She muttered, sitting up.

She looked around. There was nothing to do. That little room was like a white walled cell from hell. She wanted to be anywhere but in there but she plainly refused to leave. If she went into the living room, Pete would no doubt be in there, ready to unravel another one of his crazy shenanigans. After breakfast he went around checking things off on a little clipboard that seemed to be permanently attached to his hand. Every few seconds he would tap his chin in an indecisive way, or fiddle with the pencil he kept tucked behind his ear. The image alone had rendered Troiann somewhat frightened. He looked way too into this, and it was kind of strange to see Pete so focused and motivated on something so insignificant. Focused and motivated. The only things Pete ever truly focused on were girls, food, and music and the only things that motivated him were, girls, food, music and sex. From her point of view, it didn’t look too good; in fact, she was terrified of what he might have been planning.

Someone knocked. Strike that—someone tapped the door not even waiting for a reply before letting themselves in.

Pete waltzed in slamming the door behind him. Maybe if she stayed very still and played dead he would go away. She had had enough of him this morning and she just wasn’t in the mood to fake it, right now. She seriously didn't want to go to the party; having to hear Pete tell her to “hurry up” one more time was going to make her blow a fuse.

She hadn’t gotten a full night’s rest, hell, she was ready to invest in some Nyquil because apart from barely sleeping the night before Pete decided it would so funny to give her a birthday wake up call like he had been trained by a ex cheerleader/drill sergeant. It wasn't even that she didn't want to have a party so much that it was that she didn't want to be around people. But of course, people were kind of necessary in order to throw a "great party."

Or maybe it wasn't even people, maybe she was just dreading seeing Patrick. If he came, he was more than likely bound to bring Cindee and there was no way in hell Troiann was going to her spend her birthday wishing Patrick was talking to her instead of lounging across a room with a slut.

The boy tiptoed across the room; doing his best to stay quiet and unnoticed. Troiann rolled her eyes, Pete had already given himself way, she knew he was there. Nevertheless
She was tempted to tell Pete to make Patrick stay away all night, but it wasn't in her nature to be a bitch.
Of course, it also wasn’t in Patrick's nature to be an ass, but well, there was a first time for everything.

"Troiann," Pete called, taking the liberty to poke her in the side. She gave an involuntary squeal and jumped, slapping away the boy's hands.
That wasn't fair, everyone knew her weakness and they all had fun using it to their advantage. Usually it was only Patrick that she let---well, never mind, it didn't matter.
She glared at Pete, narrowing her eyes; her voice low and threatening.

"If you ever poke me again, I will set myself on fire and you will have to explain to my parents why I'm not alive." She raised an eyebrow daring him to make a move, "And that will not be fun."

Pete stared for a moment, slightly confused and slightly amused. His hand twitched, daring him to try once more but instead he took a seat next to her, spreading out on the bed. "Touchy," He commented with a smirk. She huffed in a wordless response and shrugged.

"So, I take it that's it's not your most memorable birthday?"

She shrugged again, afraid to confess that he was starting to see right through her.

"Would it make you feel better if I kicked his ass off a ten story building?"

She smiled, looking over at Pete in amusement. Pete nodded, checking an invisible clipboard.

Note to self: Get rid of Trick."

She smiled a sad smile. Why this hurt so much? It wasn't the first time she had been lead on, nor was it the first time she had been rejected, but it most definitely the worst. This pain seemed to go through her skin straight to whatever was left in the place of her heart. No, Patrick didn't rip it out. That was something she had lost long ago, he just rather rubbed salt on the wound.

Or she thought.

They lay there for a moment, silence filling the space between them. This was an awkward situation. Patrick's best friend and his ex best friend, accompanied by all the time in the world to ponder who the real ass was: Patrick or Troin.

Pete drummed a silent beat on the blankets, looking around the room. "So, umm. Do you maybe want to come help me and Katie decorate? We're almost finished; we're just missing a few...things...." His voice trailed off in awkward manner, and he looked away sheepishly. "Yeah, never mind. Maybe not..."

He took her silence as an adequate agreement and nodded, hopping off of her bed. "I'm just gonna go…something," He told her, feeling quite stupid. What? It wasn't his fault she was in a bad mood. He was trying his hardest to make Patrick stop being an ass but that was easier said that done. Patrick had a right to be happy too--even if it was with some plastic whore.

"Okay, well, yeah," Pete repeated, heading for the door. The non responsive attitude was starting to bring him down and he didn't need that before a party. Being straightedge ruled out beer and sometimes he missed that, so he needed to be somewhat hyper since he couldn't be drunk.

She turned away on her side, she didn't need a play by play; Pete could go if he wanted to. The whole purpose of acting like bitch was so that he would do just that. Not because she was mad at Pete, she wasn't, but because she was tempted beyond measure to have him call Patrick up and tell him she that she was sorry.

And she was not about to apologize for feeling something, she wouldn't.

He might be empty inside, obviously deceived, but she wasn't going to stop feeling the way she did over night.


He walked up the metal stairs, his hand intertwined with Cindee's as he absently hummed a tune by Prince. Every now and then a faint mumbled of "Purple Rain" could heard escaped from his lips. He bobbed his head in tempo with the music in his head and Cindee shot him a look, "Would you cut that out?" She hissed, making a face. "Good God, you always sing the shittiest songs."

Patrick stopped mid lyric and hung his head, nodding meekly. "Sorry, it's stuck in my head..."

"Well, fix it!" Cindee commanded, obviously irritated. Patrick rolled his eyes and sighed. He didn't answer; he just opened the front door, and held it open to let her walk through. The sudden change of atmosphere made him quirk an eyebrow. Cindee shot him a bored look and took a seat at the end of the couch as he walked past her in search of Pete. She immediately pulled out her mirror and makeup. He couldn't help but resume Prince's "Purple Rain," as he stepped away from Cindee making his way to his bedroom. He met up with Pete, who looked heavy forlorn, shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible.


"Hey," Pete answered in a hushed tone that matched his expression. Patrick followed suit as Pete brushed past him to the living room.

"What's with all the plates and cups and stuff?" Patrick muttered, looking around.

“Pat,” someone whined from the living room, breaking his thoughts. God, he hated being called that. Pete walked passed Patrick, a soda in one hand, tape in the other. He flinched at the high nasal voice intruding upon his ears and shook his head in a pitiful notion. “Damn, you must have it bad, because that right there is a fucking punishment. Does she have to talk so high? Actually, does she have to breathe my air?” He made a face and wrinkled his nose. “This is good, quality air,” Pete went on, waving his hand as if to waft it. “I don’t need her amoebas all over my lungs.” He gave Patrick a serious stare, knowing well that it was pissing him and counted, mouthing the numbers, his hand in the air. “Four, three, two, one,” he muttered, pointing in her direction. At precisely one, Cindee’s call evaded the air, making Patrick go stiff.

“PAT!” She called rudely, her sigh an obnoxious call, being made known to everyone in the house. “Come here,” she commanded, not moving an inch. She wouldn’t dare move for him, people came to her.

Pete shrugged, sighed over dramatically. “Better go, your queen bitch awaits you, my squire.”

Patrick’s eyes formed narrow slits. “Don’t call her that.”

“Tell her not to act like one.”

“I’m serious,” Patrick warned, taking a step forward. He wasn’t usually so short tempered but these days he was short on everything, including common sense. His eyes flared and he glared at his best friend.

“Whatever,” Pete replied, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. “I have shit to do, so if you’re going to stay in here, then you’re going to help me.”

“I gotta go,” Patrick informed him, only half mad now.

“I know, ITs been calling you for like the past 20 minutes.”

Patrick opened his mouth to tell off Pete when a seething voice interrupted him.


“Bye.” Patrick muttered, turning around with a heavy sigh.

Pete snorted, before walking off. “Later.”

“Woo-hoo!” Someone yelled, at what seemed like the top of their lungs. They must have because Troiann felt like she was standing next to the person. She cringed at the person’s excitement and sighed. There was no way she was going out there. Her gaze spun around the room, she wanted to be anywhere but here. Her time was up, her cell phone read 6:09 and already she could hear a commotion outside her door, not necessarily directed in her direction, just loud enough to make her hate parties for the rest of her life. “Shut the fuck up!” Someone yelled, following their command with a laugh. It seemed someone people had arrived drunk.

A loud, series of hard knocks echoed in the rock before Pete bounded in again, this time a grin upon his face. “Come on, everyone’s here!”

Troiann’s eyes widened and she took a step back from where she stood, slightly afraid to walk over her room; slightly afraid of Pete’s enthusiasm. “Thanks, but I’m good.” She turned around, randomly pulling out her cell phone.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Pete lunged forward and took a hold of her arm; pulling her back. He squared her to him and put both hands on her shoulders. “Come on, don’t be that way! It’s your birthday, have fun; live a little!” He nodded persuasively, raising his eyebrows in suggestion and grinned.

“Ha, no. I don’t think so.”

“Dude! Quit being an ass, come on!”

Pete pouted, adding a sneer. “Dude, Katie and I threw you this fucking awesome party, and we slaved away all morning decorating and now you’re going to insult us by shutting yourself in your room?”

“I’m sorry!” She cried, feeling the guilt crawl up her neck and over her cheeks; turning a light shade of pink. “I’m just not in the party mood! Really. I’m sorry you guys did all of this, and I appreciate it, I really do, but I’m just not in the mood to go out and deal with stupid drunk people one anyone else.”

“Psh. Bullshit. You’re going,” Pete commanded. Without warning he grasped her arm, pulling her forward, making her stumble in the process.

“Pete!” She protested, trying to wiggle out of his hold.

“No.” Pete shook his head, waving her off. “No, I don’t want to hear it,” Pete interrupted her. He took the liberty of dragging her straight out of her room and pushed her into the hallway. She waited until he started off and spun on one foot to head back to her refuge.

“Uh-uh!” Without looking Pete reached back and tugged her forward. “Don’t. Try. Anything.”

“So then she was alllll like guuuurl, I know you just di’int! And my friends was all, Mhhmm, Ooooh yes, I di-id! And then she…..”

Her blood boiled. Who the fuck invited this girl? Troin had never met her in her life. She swept her eyes over the filthy, wasted chick in front of her and she frowned. Her eyes flashed with annoyance and she exhaled loudly. With every passing second, Troiann found herself hating the nameless drunk girl more and more. Her lips kept moving—at lightning speed—but nothing useful came out. Nothing worth hearing, anyway. And it seemed that the girl was immune to Troiann’s glares of irritation. She was lucky that looks couldn’t kill. She had been standing her, watching her life slip through her hands as she was subjected to this girl’s story. She didn’t care! And this girl didn’t seem to realize that concept, in fact, she wouldn’t stop talking, and every time Troiann made a pass to getaway she pulled her back, and kept going.

“….got all up in my friends face like she was somebody and I pushed her back, and I said “Uh-uh, No. Uh-uh. Then her ass stepped back and Pssssh, yeah, Cause nobody fucks with my friends. Mmm-mm, no. But then later she wa----“

“—Um, I think someone is calling, maybe I should go find the phone…” Troiann stifled the urge to scream and took silent, deep breaths. Just ignore her….

“Oh my Gawd, the girl was like, a total, total, whore!”

“Uh…” Troiann looked around, her lip between her teeth. Her fuse was already extremely slow and this girl was seriously playing with fire right next to it. Oh, what she wouldn’t do to have a handgun magically appear at the moment so she could put herself out of her misery.

“Excuse me,” Someone, possible a saint, tapped her on the shoulder. Troiann turned for the distraction and focused all of her attention on the person in hopes of keeping her sanity.

”Hi, I’m David…I know this will sound weird, but, are you Troin?”
He smiled before giving her a look that meant he was evidently saving her ass. She grinned, sucking in a thankful breath, and stepped forward, eager to make her escape.

“Um, yeah, I’m Troiann.” A nod followed, and she turned to make sure the girl was still, off in her own world.

“Well Troiann, since it’s you’re party and all, will you show me where the sodas are?” David winked, sending an electric shock through and she stared for a moment, completely astounded.

“Yeah…of course,” She replied, smiling the first smile she had in days.
“God, Travie Stand by Joe if you’re going to smoke that shit, I don’t wanna smell like you!”

Andy Hurley covered his nose with one hand and pushed his friend away with annoyance. Why was it then whenever those two started smoking they came around him? Ew.
He was standing in the kitchen, where he though he would actually be safe from drunks and his friends being high, but oh, he was obviously wrong.

Travie turned on his heel to make a face at Andy. He flipped him the bird then grinned, raising his eyebrows. “Aight man, chill you’re vegan as down.” He laughed loudly, his eyes completely glazed over, clouding within themselves. His mouth could move a mile a minute, but his stare was distant and high with a mellow sweetness.

“Why do you keep asking me that? I don’t want to be you’re fucking ‘weed buddy’! Ugh!” Katie ripped away from Joe’s hold and groaned loudly. This was the fourth time Joe had asked her if she was single, if she wanted to go out and play ‘dirty games’ and f she wanted to be his ‘Weed Buddy.’ In that order. And this was the fourth time she had told him no, and quite frankly she was starting to get irritated. Joe was okay—when he was sober from all alcohol and drugs. Other than that she tried to keep her distance, because everyone knew how strange he acted when he got high.

“But look at it!” Joe pouted, holding the plastic baggie up. “It’s so cute!” He stared at her through the bag for a moment before giggling “Haha, you look funny!” His eyes widened in amusement, perhaps one could be too easily amused.

Katie rolled her eyes, “What?”

“Aw….” Joe stroked the bag of weed lovingly. This was getting too weird for her. She patted Joe, shaking her head. She took a step back, raising her eyebrows in confusion. “Can someone get the boy like water…or sleeping pills, or something?” She turned before Joe could protest to her insult and ran straight into someone’s chest.

She squealed, jumping back in surprise and laughed nervously.

“Sorry,” Andy apologized quickly, readjusting his glasses. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey…No, no, it’s okay,” She reassured him, waving it off. “I was just trying to get away, Joe keeps like, hitting on me then asking me to be his ‘Weed Buddy.’ It’s…kinda strange…” She shivered in slight repugnance and laughed nervously.

Andy let his hands rest in his pockets making him look like a school buy. He’d only met with Katie several time, usually, it was when she was with Pete. He found it awkward now, because she wasn’t with him and Andy couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away.

She was pretty. Normally, he wasn’t the kind of person to focus on a girl’s looks, but he was having trouble keeping his eyes from staring at her in a daze. He drank her in, appreciating the contrast of her pale skin and jet black hair and smiled. She was shorter than he was, but not by a lot.

“Huh, sorry, what?” Andy laughed, noting her expression and nodded. “Uh, yeah, he does that a lot...But he’s cool.” Andy laughed and pushed Joe, who had snuck up behind Katie, away. “Chill with it, Joe.”

“Screw you Andy, you didn’t want to be my Weed Buddy!”

Andy let out another nervous laugh, and pushed Joe away, mustering a smile. “Um, ignore him, he’s crazy.” He didn’t need the Jew fucking things up for him, when he was trying to meet this girl.

“Am not.” Joe huffed, stalking off. “I resent that!” He called back and Andy ignored him, his eyes never leaving Katie’s. “So…I’m Andy. Hurley. Hurley Andy—I mean Andy Hurley.” His face turned a faded pink and he looked away, silently cursing himself. “Yeah…”

“Yeah…” Katie repeated playfully. “We’ve met before Andy. You know…when I was with…yeah. I’m Jones Katie, but I don’t want to be Weed Buddies.”

Andy laughed, leaning against the counter behind him. “Oh. Right….So, can I ask you a personal question, Katie?”

Katie shrugged, “Depends.”

“If I asked you to be my Weed Buddy, would you say yes?”

“Maybe if you were fucking awesome…”

“Oh, I am,” He nodded. “But, I don’t condone in such things, I was just wondering…” They laughed for a moment before regaining all seriousness.

Andy cleared his throat. “No, but seriously. I know it’s none of my business…but well, why did you and Pete break up?”

Katie let out a small laugh, and pulled out a chair to sit in front of him. “It wasn’t working out. We both agreed it would be better to stay friends.”

Andy nodded as if waging a war behind his light brown eyes.
“Um. Do you dance?”

Katie shrugged again. “Not really. But I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

“Yeah, I guess there is,” Andy replied, pulling her towards the living room.

A/N: Mmkay, So I’m sorry it’s been SO long. Seriously. Life passed me by and I had to go catch it. Anyways, thank you so much to those who have been reading and reviewing. I really appreciate it! I made this one extra long for you guys!

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