This Is A Love Song In My Own Way
Part One.
<i>"I really don't want to be an asshole about this, but you're not getting it, Pete. Not one part of this, whatever fantasy world you're living in, is going to work out. I'm not quitting and neither is Joe or Andy. We just aren't on the same page right now. I don't know, in a couple years we can try it again."</i>
He hung on that last sentence daily for over two years and after a while he stopped calling and texting as much.
The lights weren't off and sunrise was creeping back up again. His eyelids were a lot heavier than normal, but they never remained closed for more than ten minutes. It wasn't the music blasting in his already damaged ears that kept him awake. It wasn't the distraction of the images he found in the texture of his ceiling that kept him from resting; and actually this was his rest. Even if his mind didn't shut down for hours on end, this was enough to keep him alive.
Wentz wasn't giving up. Yeah, the nights of talking himself out of calling just to yell at Patrick or the guys at first was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. The days of conjuring up the perfect words, the best speeches to give them to reconsider eased up a bit through the months of separation. The only time his phone lit up was when he pressed whatever button was closest to him, checking again if one of them had responded. Pete hated this; but he knew as well as the guys did that the only way to break him, the only way to lessen the hope he had for a surprise reunion was to ignore everything sent from him to them regarding the subject. Even talk of memories were forbidden if he was looking to talk to them. The memories kept him up long enough to watch the sunrise multiple times a week. Sleep never came easy before, but this only caused the matter to be worse.
He began hating the idea of the sun rising. There was too much hope in the thought of a 'new' day. 24 more hours to feel sick every time he looked at his phone. Another routine of pretending they all started the hiatus on good terms. A good chunk of the time Pete was conscious he kept his phone face down on tables or in his pocket on silent. This never failed to make him late or miss calls he almost couldn't afford to miss. But, it was worth not feeling nauseous at every 'ring' and 'beep' the device made.
Only one person, out of the near hundred contacts he had enlisted on the expensive phone had a working ringtone set for the number; Patrick. Before the 'break', Pete had a specific song set for every person. Whether it was a song from their band, or just a song that reminded him of the person, every contact had their own. The song he set for his best friend, 'Saturday' wasn't changed until Infinity On High. From then on, the chorus to 'Bang the Doldrums' seemed fit. The past few months he had considered changing it to something Patrick had done recently with his solo career, but he reminded himself that he wouldn't hear it enough to actually change it.
Something about the latest wave of cold air the ceiling fan provided to his legs threw his state back to the last time he heard the alert from his phone. His eyes did not close, but began focusing on the most solid point of his roof.
It had been months. The second after seeing 'send' pop up on the message, "Tell me you're in town. I found my copy of Lost Boys and I've got way too much pizza for one dude." Pete hounded over his phone. The screen turned black for the equivalent of three songs before it lit up again, playing a song of its own. A song Pete knew he'd never get tired of hearing. There it was again; nausea. To his surprise, his fingers picked the phone up firmly.
His stomach was the only thing shaking in hysterics. "<i>Extra cheese?</i>" Pete imagined him saying it with a laugh. "I requested five extra pounds of cheese. Half of it's yours." The shaking stopped by this time. The next response came quicker than the first. "<i>Give me a sec.</i>" Pete knew the difference between his own 'sec' and Patrick's. Which meant, he had a lot less time than he needed to prepare. He sat the phone down on the coffee table next to the couch he was sinking into; face up. His eyes darted around the dark living room, making a mental note to appreciate his mother's cleaning more. His legs straightened to bring himself up. A hand forced the front of his hair down in a somewhat decent fashion. Pete didn't even need a mirror to know it was in the right position for his liking. But, how did Patrick prefer it? The possible answers to his own question died prematurely with the noise from the device he hated to cling to. "<i>Here and ready to indulge in cheese and movie quotations</i>."
Pete had forgot how tight the inside of his stomach could become
He hung on that last sentence daily for over two years and after a while he stopped calling and texting as much.
The lights weren't off and sunrise was creeping back up again. His eyelids were a lot heavier than normal, but they never remained closed for more than ten minutes. It wasn't the music blasting in his already damaged ears that kept him awake. It wasn't the distraction of the images he found in the texture of his ceiling that kept him from resting; and actually this was his rest. Even if his mind didn't shut down for hours on end, this was enough to keep him alive.
Wentz wasn't giving up. Yeah, the nights of talking himself out of calling just to yell at Patrick or the guys at first was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. The days of conjuring up the perfect words, the best speeches to give them to reconsider eased up a bit through the months of separation. The only time his phone lit up was when he pressed whatever button was closest to him, checking again if one of them had responded. Pete hated this; but he knew as well as the guys did that the only way to break him, the only way to lessen the hope he had for a surprise reunion was to ignore everything sent from him to them regarding the subject. Even talk of memories were forbidden if he was looking to talk to them. The memories kept him up long enough to watch the sunrise multiple times a week. Sleep never came easy before, but this only caused the matter to be worse.
He began hating the idea of the sun rising. There was too much hope in the thought of a 'new' day. 24 more hours to feel sick every time he looked at his phone. Another routine of pretending they all started the hiatus on good terms. A good chunk of the time Pete was conscious he kept his phone face down on tables or in his pocket on silent. This never failed to make him late or miss calls he almost couldn't afford to miss. But, it was worth not feeling nauseous at every 'ring' and 'beep' the device made.
Only one person, out of the near hundred contacts he had enlisted on the expensive phone had a working ringtone set for the number; Patrick. Before the 'break', Pete had a specific song set for every person. Whether it was a song from their band, or just a song that reminded him of the person, every contact had their own. The song he set for his best friend, 'Saturday' wasn't changed until Infinity On High. From then on, the chorus to 'Bang the Doldrums' seemed fit. The past few months he had considered changing it to something Patrick had done recently with his solo career, but he reminded himself that he wouldn't hear it enough to actually change it.
Something about the latest wave of cold air the ceiling fan provided to his legs threw his state back to the last time he heard the alert from his phone. His eyes did not close, but began focusing on the most solid point of his roof.
It had been months. The second after seeing 'send' pop up on the message, "Tell me you're in town. I found my copy of Lost Boys and I've got way too much pizza for one dude." Pete hounded over his phone. The screen turned black for the equivalent of three songs before it lit up again, playing a song of its own. A song Pete knew he'd never get tired of hearing. There it was again; nausea. To his surprise, his fingers picked the phone up firmly.
His stomach was the only thing shaking in hysterics. "<i>Extra cheese?</i>" Pete imagined him saying it with a laugh. "I requested five extra pounds of cheese. Half of it's yours." The shaking stopped by this time. The next response came quicker than the first. "<i>Give me a sec.</i>" Pete knew the difference between his own 'sec' and Patrick's. Which meant, he had a lot less time than he needed to prepare. He sat the phone down on the coffee table next to the couch he was sinking into; face up. His eyes darted around the dark living room, making a mental note to appreciate his mother's cleaning more. His legs straightened to bring himself up. A hand forced the front of his hair down in a somewhat decent fashion. Pete didn't even need a mirror to know it was in the right position for his liking. But, how did Patrick prefer it? The possible answers to his own question died prematurely with the noise from the device he hated to cling to. "<i>Here and ready to indulge in cheese and movie quotations</i>."
Pete had forgot how tight the inside of his stomach could become