Alone Together

Pete couldn’t remember ever having a more peaceful sleep in his life. He had endured years of insomnia that still sometimes bothered him if he didn’t remember to take his medicine. But with Taylor wrapped in his arms, and her floral scent easing his mind, slumber was easy and refreshing. He woke up with a smile on his face and reached over to hold Taylor, his good mood vanishing when he only felt rumpled sheets next to him. He quickly sat up, looking around to see where she could have gone. His fears were alleviated a few moments later when Taylor walked back into the room, closing her phone and smiling at him.

“Good morning,” she grinned, sitting down on the bed and crossing a leg under her.

“Morning.” God, was she gorgeous. Her hair was still disheveled from sleep and she could rock pajamas like no other woman he’d ever met. He suddenly wasn’t sure what to do with his hands and he awkwardly held them in his lap.

Her smile slowly faded as she looked down at the phone still clasped in her hand. “That was my dad,” she explained quietly. Pete nodded, waiting for her to finish what she had planned to say. “He’s been getting on me to go out to New York sometime, see his office and visit them and whatnot.”

“That’s nice. So are you going to visit them soon?”

Taylor bit her lip and stared down at her phone. “Yeah. Kind of. My dad told me about this company he’s been getting off the ground. He wants me to come give my opinion on some stuff.”

Pete’s eyes widened and he grinned, scooting closer to her with his arms wide. “That’s awesome, Tay! He must really respect your opinion.” He pulled her into a hug and she stiffened in his arms. Frowning, Pete pulled back, holding her at arm’s length and looking into her face. “What’s wrong, Taylor?”

She couldn’t find her voice. It felt like her throat had dried and when she opened her mouth to speak she felt a squeak reverberate past her tongue. She cleared her throat and tried again. “He offered me a job, Pete.”

Pete felt his heart sink. It was like he could hear her next words before she said them. “I’m moving to New York next week.”

--

“Damn.”

Patrick sat back in the booth, shock written across his face. “She’s leaving next week? That’s super soon.”

“You think?” Pete had his face in his hands, feeling physically in pain. The coffee he had ordered was long since cold, and he pushed it to the side as he fell further onto the table. “It’s such an incredible opportunity for her. I mean, to work with her dad in a landscaping business? It’s pretty much all she’s ever wanted.”

Patrick felt bad for the lump in front of him. He hadn’t seen Pete this miserable since before he had started medication, and even then, Pete at least had the life anger provided him. Now he was just a shell, overwhelmed by a suffocating grief he couldn’t shake. “What’d she do after she told you?” he asked softly.

Pete sighed and sat up a bit, rubbing his eyes red. “She started crying,” he choked. “She couldn’t even look at me. She just locked herself in her bathroom until I finally said I would leave.”

“Hey, guys! Sorry I’m late.” Rae slid into the booth next to Patrick, giving him a quick peck on his cheek and setting down some folders on the table in front of her. One glance at Pete made her eyebrows furrow. “Woah man, what’s up?”

Patrick leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. “Couple days ago Taylor told Pete she’s moving to New York. Next week.”

Rae’s jaw dropped and she shot a quick glance at Pete. “And he’s this messed up about it?” she whispered. “Fuck.”

“I can hear you fuckers talking, you know.” Pete’s voice lacked all the intimidation his words tried to convey. Rae pouted in sympathy.

“Well, hey, you guys will still see her! I mean it’s not like you’re not rich and famous or anything.” She started rifling through the folders she had brought, apparently searching for something. “Plus when you guys tour you can meet up with her when you’re in the city.” She found what she had been looking for and set down a stack of pictures in front of Pete.

“Hailey and Even got the pictures from their wedding. They printed out a ton and wanted me to give you guys these.”

Patrick glanced at Pete to see if he would move to reach for the pictures. When it became obvious he preferred to wallow in his pity, Patrick reached forward and started sifting through. “Here’s a good one of you and Ash, Pete,” he said as cheerily as he could, waving the picture at his friend’s head. Pete didn’t look up. All the same, thought Patrick, as the picture was actually awful and was just Ashlee virtually raping Pete’s mouth with her own.

“Oh, I like this one,” Rae interjected, pointing happily at a candid of her and Patrick on the dance floor. Patrick grinned at her and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, flipping through some more candids of the band throughout the night. There was one funny one of Joe fake grinding up on an older woman, several of Andy stretching away from Jane to read his comics, and some more cute ones of Rae and Patrick.

When Patrick flipped to pictures that included Taylor, he and Rae shared a quick glance. They both looked back toward Pete, content that he hadn’t caught a glimpse. They looked through the photos: there was one of Taylor with the happy couple and her father and step mother; one with Rae and Taylor laughing and smiling; another with the whole group wedged together. The last one Patrick only vaguely remembered taking, having been pretty far gone, but there he was, one arm wrapped around Rae and the other tugging Joe close. Andy was on the far right, smiling modestly in his seat. And between them were Pete and Taylor, Pete’s arm around her shoulder and huge grins on their faces. It must have been one of the times Ashlee had gone to the bathroom earlier on, when everyone was happy and having fun.

But the worst picture of all was the last one, and Rae and Patrick shared a sad look. It was taken when Pete and Taylor had been dancing, pressed together close, foreheads touching and eyes locked. Rae nudged Patrick and nodded towards Pete, eyebrows raised. Patrick sighed and nodded, holding the picture out towards him.

“Hey man. This one’s pretty…it’s pretty nice.”

Pete groaned and peeked out from behind his fingers, eyes widening when he saw the picture Patrick was holding. He shot up straight and ripped it from his fingers, cradling it in his own like it was something precious and fragile. Rae and Patrick watched his face wearily as he stared at the picture, becoming unnerved as minutes passed and he didn’t say anything.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Pete’s voice was quiet, so quiet that the couple almost didn’t hear him. He shot his head up and stared at them hard. “What the fuck am I doing?” His voice raised considerably louder than he meant it to, and the other customers in the restaurant peeked around and gave their table rude looks. Pete ignored them and looked back at the picture in his hands.

Patrick raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean, what are you doing?”

Pete slammed his fist onto the table and Rae held up her hands, nervously looking at the glares they were receiving. “I mean, what the fuck am I doing? I’m a total ass! Two beautiful girls and I’m fucking everything up. Screwing around with one and close to losing what is possibly the cliché love of my life.”

Rae bit her lip and leaned forward, smoothing out the picture in Pete’s clenched fist. “Which one of those is Taylor?”

Pete’s eyes were wild and they shot down at the rumpled print, softening considerably. When he looked back up at them, he looked like a man close to being defeated. “I need to talk to her,” he spluttered, falling out of the booth and running off. The other customers seemed relieved to have their peaceful evenings resumed, but the look the couple shared implied they knew their peace was far away.

--

Taylor felt tears streaming down her face and she dabbed at her nose with a tissue. This was her favorite part of the movie, and it always got to her. She’d put off packing for a few hours when she’d found it in her DVD collection and popped it into the player, excusing herself from her real life problems and instead getting lost in When Harry Met Sally. A knock on her door interrupted the best scene and she paused it, shuffling over to the door to pay the delivery man for her Chinese food. But the man at her door wasn’t holding any food.

“Pete?” she sniffed. “What are you doing here?”

He shifted his feet uncomfortably. “I needed to talk to you.”

She invited him inside and sat on the couch. “Can you just wait til this scene is over? It’s my favorite.” He bit his lip and nodded, sitting down next to her as she hit play.

I love that after I spend day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it’s not because I’m lonely, and it’s not because it’s New Year’s Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

Taylor glanced at Pete, alarmed at how pale he was. She awkwardly laughed to break the tension. “You know, I always wanted a guy to say something like that to me—something really romantic and heart stopping…I mean, I’d probably laugh in his face if he said it to me in person and said it seriously.” She looked over at the television, smiling softly. “Though I think I’d like it very much if they said it in song. It would make it more special.”

The smile turned into a thoughtful frown. “I guess, some things…you can only say them through song, yeah?”

“I’ll write you a song,” Pete blurted out. Taylor raised an eyebrow in surprise. He grabbed her hands and held them to his chest, and she could feel him shaking. “I’ll write you a hundred songs if it would make you happy.”

Taylor’s smile evaporated and she forced another laugh. “Don’t be a fool, Pete. You don’t need to write me a song. Everything you say to me is as beautiful as your lyrics anyway—what more could I need?”

“You need to stay here with me.” It wasn’t a demand, or a plea, but somewhere in between.

Taylor sighed. “Peter, don’t do this—“

“Taylor, please.” Pete held up a finger to her lips to silence her. “I need to say this.” She closed her eyes and nodded, and he took a deep breath.

“Taylor, I have been hopelessly in love you from pretty much the day we met. I can never stop thinking about you, and the idea of you leaving for New York both excites and terrifies the hell out of me.” She opened her eyes, shock written all over her face. Pete pushed on. “I’ve been wasting my time with another girl these past few months because I was afraid to get rid of what I had grown used to, and the feelings you made me feel scared the piss out of me. I don’t want to waste time anymore, Tay. I want you to stay here and be with me.”

Taylor shook her head, cheeks reddening in anger. “You have no right, Pete,” she snapped, pushing his hands away. “You have absolutely no right to say any of that to me.” Her nostrils flared and she could feel her throat constricting, but the shock on his face gave her the courage to continue. “You and Ashlee have been together for a while, Pete, well before you ever met me. What you’re feeling is just confusion, you’ve become bored. You aren’t really in love with me.”

Pete felt the color drain from his face and he suddenly became angry. “How do you know how I feel or not?” he snapped, jumping to his feet and pacing in front of the coffee table.

“You don’t even know yourself, Pete! You have no clue how you feel, otherwise you wouldn’t be torturing the three of us with your confusion!” Taylor rarely ever raised her voice in anger; in fact, now that he thought about it, he had never seen Taylor ever look like anything other than a demure goddess. But the woman glaring at him from the couch radiated anger and authority, not some girl to be trifled with. Her glare made the words catch in his throat, and he felt himself cower back, unsure of himself as she stood up.

“You need to stop this now, Peter.” Her voice sent chills down his spine. “You are with Ashlee, and you are not going to make me the reason you give up on her.”

“I’m not giving up on her!” he wailed. “By being with her, I’m giving up on myself!”

Taylor froze and stared at the beaten man in front of her. His bangs were sticking up at odd angles the more he ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. The charcoal around his eyes made it look as though he hadn’t slept in weeks, and the fresh tears in his eyes left little trails over his cheeks. “Don’t you understand that, Taylor? You know me better than I know myself, I know you do.” He slumped down in front of her, looking up at her sadly. “You’re right, it’s not right to torture us, but it’s not because I don’t know how I feel. I’ve been out of love with Ashlee for a while now, before I even met you. I just never could find a reason to leave, when all I ever did was convince myself that being with her was how I could be happy.”

She could feel his fingers on her knees and she shook her head, trying to tear her gaze away from his pleading eyes. He sat up on his feet, gripping onto her jeans to balance. “Tell me you don’t love me, and I’ll leave right now.” His voice was the quietest whisper, and if she hadn’t been so attuned to his body, she knew she would’ve missed it. She shook her head harder, choking on the tears that felt like they would smother her. He could feel her breaking, and he trailed his fingers up her body as he stood, letting them rest on her shoulders and tugging to make her look at him. “Tell me you don’t love me, Tay.”

Her eyes burned as she stared into his, and with a quivering chin, she gave her head the tiniest shake, opening her mouth to speak. “I can’t.”

Pete’s hands shot up to her neck, pulling her face close and capturing her lips with his before she could react. She gasped and knew in her heart she needed to pull away, beat at his chest until he released her, but her will had broken. Instead she dug her nails into his shoulders, clinging desperately, begging him to put her back together. They stumbled through the apartment into her room, collapsing onto her bed like a tangle of weeds smothering a beautiful bud. And under his careful touches and the light of his love, Taylor felt herself open into a breathtaking blossom, spreading her legs like petals to let in the sun of his passion. She was lost in him, and knew she was goner.

--

When Pete left Taylor’s apartment the next morning, he couldn’t help but feeling like something was wrong. The night had been amazing, and he knew without a doubt it had to have been one of the best nights in his life, but there had been no mention of New York when they woke up, and Pete felt uneasy on the drive back to his apartment. It had been wrong to sleep with her, but Ashlee would be back in a week, and he was already brainstorming how to break the news to her that he was in love with another woman.

Taylor had been like putty in his hands, beautiful and graceful to the touch, and it still made his breath catch in his throat to remember the look in her eyes as she lay beneath him; she had watched him with pure adoration and passion under lids heavy with the breath of love making. He wanted to hear her whisper his name every day for the rest of his life, and he couldn’t stop the grin that split his face as he turned onto his street. Was it even possible to have this much happiness boiling in his heart? Fall Out Boy was in trouble if it stopped him from thinking up cynical lyrics for their hits.

He spent the rest of the day in a daze, lazily roaming his apartment and smiling like an idiot every time he laid eyes on the pink roses on his desk. His lover’s stupor wasn’t broken until later that night, when a frantic banging on his door shot him back into reality and a disheveled Patrick stood in front of him. Patrick’s face was white as sour cream and his teeth were clenched in fury. “Dude, where the fuck have you been? Why haven’t you answered your phone?”

Pete blinked and closed the door behind him as his best friend walked in, reaching for his phone on the kitchen counter. “What are you talking about? Nobody’s called—“He cut himself off with a glance at his phone, insides squirming when he saw he had numerous missed calls from the band and Rae. He shrugged and pocketed it, looking towards a still livid Patrick. “What’s up, Pattycakes?”

Patrick had never looked more frantic. “You tell me, Pete. Why did I get a call from Taylor saying she was leaving for New York early? How come when I tried calling her back it says the number isn’t right?” Pete’s heart sank and steam practically whistled from Patrick’s ears. “What the fuck happened?”

Pete didn’t hear him; he was frantically pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contacts, holding it up to his ear with a shaky hand and letting fly a colorful curse. We’re sorry, the number you have reached is not in service at this time. Please check the number and dial again. He tried again and again, throwing his phone across the room in a panic. We’re sorry—We’re sorry—We’re sorry—

“She’s not gone,” he gasped, looking to Patrick for confirmation.

Patrick shook his head. “I just came from her place. It’s empty. The Super said she left this afternoon.”

Pete sank to his knees in horror. How could she just be gone like that? Last night had been beautiful, they had finally been honest about their feelings, they had shared something that only existed in love stories…

I can’t.

The words echoed in his ears, making him deaf to whatever Patrick was trying to say. Every unspoken sentence those two words held swam through his head to the point of pain.

I can’t tell you I don’t love you. I can’t do this. I can’t let you leave Ashlee. I can’t let you throw away so much for me. I can’t stay for you. I can’t.

Patrick saw that his friend wasn’t listening, alarmed at the blank look his face held. He gripped Pete’s shoulder, giving him a shake to bring him back into the world. Pete dragged his eyes to Patrick’s, lost. Patrick softened and clung onto Pete, wanting to put him back together. “Pete, you knew she wouldn’t stay. She’s too unselfish to ruin everything. You’re going to move on from this.”

Something in Pete’s eyes dimmed, and Patrick watched sadly as his best friend shook his head. “I can’t.”

--

Taylor’s absence affected everyone. Band practices were tense and awkward, the unaddressed smell of sex and heartache dragging Pete into a world none of them could reach him. Infinity On High was released, and there was no sign of Taylor in New York on the tour. Ashlee became pregnant, and Pete dutifully married her, assigning Patrick as his best man to keep him steady through the ceremony. It was obvious to anyone who knew him that Pete was drowning, flooded by haunted memories and a future he had never wanted. But still he plastered on the same old winning smile, and no one was any the wiser. Ashlee believed in his lies wholeheartedly, believing them to be deeply in love down a road they were too young to travel upon. Bronx was a beautiful blessing, the only thing to snag a genuine smile from his father.

Another album came and went, and the band could sense Pete couldn’t pull himself together to be the same man he had been before his marriage. And so Pete took a step back, and the band parted ways for a time. I think the world needs a little less Pete Wentz…

The façade with Ashlee had been doomed from the start. It wasn’t too long after the band split that the couple did as well, their only remaining bond the child that brought them the only true joy in their lives. And now a year had passed, and it was nearing dusk. Pete sat stoically at his desk, rubbing his thumb over the headache in his forehead as he glared down at the crumpled paper in front of him. The shadow of his marriage had left him, and he could start to feel the sun breathing life back into him. But the words wouldn’t flow. No matter how many times he lifted his pen, the ink wouldn’t make magic on paper.

He glanced at the closed drawer of his desk he had forbidden himself from opening for the past four years. His fingers tingled and he gripped the pen harder. Was it wrong to want some inspiration? What harm could come from pulling out the old paper and lay it out for a bit, just to find some words?

His poor roses wept next to him, littering his failed attempts with ashy petals that had shriveled in neglect. The bud once again caught his eye and he groaned. He hastily tore open the drawer and pulled out the picture that haunted his mind and stared on it full on for the first time since he’d realized she’d left. Even after all this time, his heart still thudded painfully against his chest, and he cursed her for it. But with a stronger curse, he realized that it made no difference. He was still hopelessly hers.

The picture of him and Taylor at Hailey and Evan’s wedding was all he had of her now. Patrick had the other prints with her in them, of course, but this was solely theirs, their private moment. It made his chest hurt to see the look in her eyes, to see that he had once been able to hold her so close when now there was nothing but nightmares to hold onto now. But along with the memories, there was always hope.

The pen started flying against the paper, almost of its own accord. Pete watched, mesmerized, as his fingers scratched out his promise to her; every verse, the chorus, every melody in his head dedicated solely to her. Finally he sat back and reread the mess before him, unable to stop the smile that tugged at his lips. With only a moment of hesitation he reached for his phone, dialing the first number on his mind.

“Patrick!” he grinned. “I’ve got a song. You guys want to hear it?”

“Pete.” The voice on the other end of the phone heaved a long sigh. “I thought you’d never ask.”