Sequel: If Only Until Morning

Pictures on Silence

Chapter 2

Our show at Slim’s was Friday, 16 June 2006, and that afternoon I went out with some friends to lunch at The Boulevard Café. Being one of the only ones among us who had my license, I had to drive all over Kingdom come to pick people. Not that I minded; it was more time to hang out.

Admittedly, when my friends get together, we get kind of crazy. And loud. And disruptive of the peace. All in good fun. So it came as no surprise that we sang in the middle of the restaurant… Several times. We’re a portable ruckus.

“~So pardon me!~” Amanda, Andy, Matt, and Summer sang off-key and at the top of their lungs. “~While I burst! Intoooo FLAMES!~” Sean and I looked at each other and cracked up, soon followed by everyone else, but we shut up as our food came.

“How do you eat that shit?” Matt asked, pointing at the veggie burger in my hands.

“It’s good!” I defended, taking a bite. “Don’t hate on the veggie burger.”

“I’ll stick to actual meat, thanks,” Summer laughed, eating her BLT.

We ate our food, making jokes and throwing French fries at each other. I almost choked on my root beer when Matt stuck two fries up his nose and scared the crap out of Andy; Andy screams like a girl. Sean, as always was the quietest, with a close second. However, he observed it first.

“I thought Panic! left after BFD,” he mused quietly.

Everyone looked at him. “What?”

Matt looked around him. “Hey, look!” he whispered loudly, pointing. “Famous people!” The rest of us, not-so-subtly, looked where he was pointing. Around the other patrons’ tables, I could see a table occupied by four guys, three with dark hair and one with a hat. I grinned widely, looking at the face of the younger one facing us.

“Holy shit!” Amanda said, breathlessly. “It’s Pete fucking Wentz!”

I snorted. “Fall Out Boy whore,” I muttered. She nudged my arm and I poked her back, which resulted in a poking fight. And you don’t think a poking fight can be loud and unruly, you haven’t met me. I almost fell out of the over-crowded booth and pulled her with me.

People kept talking about bands they had seen at shows, but my eyes kept wandering over to Wentz and Urie’s table. I caught Urie’s eye and smiled. He smiled and waved, making the rest of his party turn to see at whom he was waving.

I leaned on my fist and listened to Matt talk about the most recent Muse show. Why, hello there, guys, I conversed in my head. Nice to see you. How’s the music career treating you?

“Oh em gee!” Amanda squealed. “They’re looking over here!”

“How about you go say hi?” I suggested slyly, nudging her.

She shook her head frantically, hitting me in the face with her hair. “No way! I’d totally act like a dork!”

“So no worries then,” Andy said, and then dodged the projectile potato. They all went back to being loud and such, and I looked back at the table. From the corner of my eye, I glanced at Sean, who raised in eyebrows in Amanda’s direction and jerked his head at the afore mentioned table. Heart pounding all of a sudden, I got up.


The four of us looked over at the loud table from which Incubus’ “Pardon Me” had just burst. Pat, Pete, and Brendon all laughed. I kind of missed being able to just go eat lunch without being accosted by people. We’d had seven before we even got our food.

Leaning on my fist, I stabbed idly at my fries with a fork. “Come on, Ry,” Brendon said. “You have to forget about her. She wasn’t good for you.”

“Yeah, I know,” I sighed, dully.

“C’mon, Ryan,” Pete cheered. “Tonight’s that local show. I heard the headliners aren’t the greatest, but there’s this other band that sounds awesome.”

I shrugged and took a sip of iced tea. Brendon kept watching that table, who’d been throwing French fries at each other and generally having fun since they came in just after we did. At one point, Brendon waved.

“Who’re you waving at?” Patrick asked, the three of us turning around to look. No one from the table was looking at us. They were all listening to the guy with the black hair tell some story about some band.

I went back to stabbing my fries, making little holes and watching the steam come up from the plate. “Gah! Would you stop with the forking!” Brendon exclaimed, taking my fork and throwing it on the ground. I glared at him with a smile and leaned down to grab it, but when I was down there, a pair of dirty, black, beat-up Converse stopped beside the table.

I looked up from the dark wash jeans to the fitted black hoodie to the flaming red hair. “Hey there,” she said, self-consciously.

“Hi,” Pete greeted. “You want something signed?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Not exactly,” she said. “I, um…” She looked around and crouched beside the table. We all leaned in. “Y’see, my friend over at the table- the one with the purple and orange hair?” I looked over and nodded at her. “Well, she’s completely in love with… all of you, actually, and I was wondering if you’d…” She laughed a little. “This is gonna sound really weird, but you think you could all get her attention and wave?”

Brendon laughed. “That has to be the oddest request we’ve gotten.”

“No, there was that girl who wanted Spencer to sign her sister,” I pointed out. Everyone laughed, including the redhead.

“Sure,” Pete said to her. “What’s her name?”


“Hey, Amanda!” Brendon yelled. Their whole table turned to see us all wave and blow kisses like crazy people. Amanda went red and sunk down in her seat with a nervous smile.

The redhead grinned and drummed her hands on the table before straightening. “Thanks, guys. And now I have to go be murdered.” We laughed as she walked back to her table, where Amanda did indeed attack her, squealing like a million fangirls.

“I love people like that,” I decided with a smile.