Status: Will update in free time.
You're Magic
Seasons Change, But People Don't.
My dreaming isn't really dreaming-- it's more thinking. I'm so happy I'm here and I'm with Pete, but I didn't think we'd get to where we are. I thought if we had sex we'd at least be drunk. But, I know it's better that we weren't. I love Pete. I really do, but it's not a love that I would risk everything I have for. Not yet. It's not like I'm going to quit my job and leave New York because I'm in love. I don't even know if Pete loves me back. And, in the event that he does, we will have to date for a while before anything serious goes down.
I love Pete a lot, and I want him to be happy and I want to take care of his Baby Boy and raise him in a good home, but I need that security hat we'll get along and I won't leave like I did five years ago. And I think there's a very good possibility of this going somewhere, but we just need to make sure it's what we really want at this point in our lives. We're both grown up and old enough to settle down and at the moment I kind of don't see myself with anyone but Pete, even if it's going to take a while to get there. But I'm okay with that, really.
Pete wakes me up at 6:14 asking if I want dinner. He made spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread the way my mother used to make it, he says. I know it's got to be good if he's comparing it to my mother's. I can smell it and it doesn't smell burned, so I figure it's got to be better than what I'm thinking.
evelyn1614: @petewentz makin' spaghetti the way momma used to.
We eat and drink wine and we end up laying in the hammock in the backyard. We just kind of sit out there, not talking, drinking wine and staring at the sky. Pete's arm is wrapped around my shoulders and I'm resting my head against his shoulder. It's warm outside, a nice change from the bitter cold of New York.
"I love you." I tell Pete, looking up at him. His eyes shift down to my face and the skin in the corners crinkles up as he smiles at me.
"I love you too," his voice is quiet, like he's telling a secret.
"I love you for real, Pete."
"I know. I love you for real, too." He kisses my forehead. The next time I check my Twitter feed Pete's the sixth tweet down.
petewentz: I love you for real. you're magic.
I kiss him for a second.
evelyn1614: @petewentz getting italian. wine, food, and kissing italians ;)
"You're such a Twitter whore," he says. I punch his arm playfully.
"You are too!"
"Look. Orion!" Pete points to the stars, distracting me. "You can't usually see the stars in LA. Not like you can at home, anyway."
"I hardly see them anymore either." I sigh. Pete's holding me in his arms and his breathing is getting slow and heavy. "Come on, love. Time for bed." I grunt, pulling him up. By the time we get into bed it's 12:47 A.M. Pete holds me and kisses my face.
"I love you." He whispers, and the smile that's on his face is contagious.
"I love you, too. Good night."
"Good night." Pete can't stop grinning, but he lays back and falls asleep quick.
......
On Friday Pete is at the studio all day, and I take the opportunity to really clean his house, ceiling to floor. He returns home around 8 bearing pizza. As we sit on the counter and devour two pizzas I get even more flashbacks of Chicago, and the nostalgia overtakes me. I tear up and look over at Pete. He notices my eyes brimming with tears and jumps, startled.
"What's the matter, baby?!" He asks, standing in front of me.
"I miss Chicago," I wail, rubbing my eyes. "I just want to go home."
"Baby," Pete coos, "we all miss home. Trust me. I miss the old days, when you and Chris were our only fans and when our band didn't have a name. When nobody even knew who I was. I'd kill to go back to that, Evelyn."
"I just... I don't know. I miss how it used to be."
"I think we all do," Pete sighs, tilting my chin up. "But seasons change. People don't." I smirk because he knows I'll get the reference even though I haven't talked to him in five years. He knows I still listen to Fall Out Boy. And damn him for that.
......
On Saturday Pete cooks me breakfast and I come downstairs in shorts and one of his shirts. He smiles and gives me a plate of chocolate chip pancakes. "This is why I love you," I tease, "because you make me yummy food."
After breakfast we shower and then take the dogs for a walk. We have grilled cheese for lunch and we watch Mob Wives until five o'clock. Pete gets ready for sound check at the club his new band is playing at and says they'll be back around six thirty so we can grab some dinner. After he leaves I clean up the house and get ready, making myself look extra pretty.
Six thirty rolls around and Pete and Bebe, the lead singer of his band, come inside. "Evelyn," Pete calls, walking into his bedroom. "Are you ready t--" He stops when he sees me.
"Yup!" I smile mischievously at him. I'm dressed in black jeans, a red tube top and red high heels.
"You're so fucking gorgeous." He growls, causing me to giggle. I walk away from him to the other side of the room and he follows me like a lovesick puppy. We leave for dinner and Pete can't keep his eyes (or hands) off of me.
evelyn1614: @petewentz Hands to yourself!
petewentz: i'm a maniac for you. can't stay away.
beberexha: @petewentz Play nice!
Dinner isn't very eventful, to be honest. I eat a salad and Pete has grilled cheese again. They're both a little nervous to be playing tonight and they say they're meeting Spencer and Nate there. I like Bebe, she's really nice and she lives in New York, so we share that bond. I ask if Pete wants me to go with him to pick up Bronx tomorrow but he doesn't seem like he wants to talk about it, so I decide to not ask anything else.
The show ends up going fantastically and they're really, really great The energy the crowd gives back is awesome and Pete has so much fun and he's extremely attractive. We bring Bebe to her hotel and get home around half past midnight. Pete pulls me to his bedroom, a trail of clothes in our wake. I finally get to sleep around four with the blankets tangled around me and Pete. His arm is thrown around my waist and his face is buried in my shoulder, my left leg is on top of his right and even though it's sort of awkward, it's pretty comfortable. I'm sleeping pretty well until Pete's awake at seven forty-five cleaning.
"Baby, come back to bed," I whine. He's at the end of the bed folding laundry.
"Busy," he grunts, folding a pair of Bronx's jeans.
"I'll do that later," I tell him, pulling him over to kiss his mouth.
"I want it done now." He grumbles.
"What's eating you?" I ask, laying back in bed. He shakes his head. "I love you," I say. He seems anxious for some reason, but I don't want to prod.
"Love you too," he supplies distractedly.
"Pete, don't ever tell me you love me unless you mean it."
"I do mean it," He murmurs, sitting beside me. His voice is sugary sweet and hearing him say this gives me butterflies. "Now how about you go back to sleep? I'm just going to clean up some downstairs then get the Lil Dude, okay?"
"Fine. Don't bring him in here if I'm not awake. We don't want him seeing anything." I laugh.
Pete smirks. "Right. That's only for me." I can't help but laugh. Pete places a quick kiss on my forehead before he gets up, shutting the door on his way out. He makes me so happy I almost forget to be sad it's my last day here. Almost.
I love Pete a lot, and I want him to be happy and I want to take care of his Baby Boy and raise him in a good home, but I need that security hat we'll get along and I won't leave like I did five years ago. And I think there's a very good possibility of this going somewhere, but we just need to make sure it's what we really want at this point in our lives. We're both grown up and old enough to settle down and at the moment I kind of don't see myself with anyone but Pete, even if it's going to take a while to get there. But I'm okay with that, really.
Pete wakes me up at 6:14 asking if I want dinner. He made spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread the way my mother used to make it, he says. I know it's got to be good if he's comparing it to my mother's. I can smell it and it doesn't smell burned, so I figure it's got to be better than what I'm thinking.
evelyn1614: @petewentz makin' spaghetti the way momma used to.
We eat and drink wine and we end up laying in the hammock in the backyard. We just kind of sit out there, not talking, drinking wine and staring at the sky. Pete's arm is wrapped around my shoulders and I'm resting my head against his shoulder. It's warm outside, a nice change from the bitter cold of New York.
"I love you." I tell Pete, looking up at him. His eyes shift down to my face and the skin in the corners crinkles up as he smiles at me.
"I love you too," his voice is quiet, like he's telling a secret.
"I love you for real, Pete."
"I know. I love you for real, too." He kisses my forehead. The next time I check my Twitter feed Pete's the sixth tweet down.
petewentz: I love you for real. you're magic.
I kiss him for a second.
evelyn1614: @petewentz getting italian. wine, food, and kissing italians ;)
"You're such a Twitter whore," he says. I punch his arm playfully.
"You are too!"
"Look. Orion!" Pete points to the stars, distracting me. "You can't usually see the stars in LA. Not like you can at home, anyway."
"I hardly see them anymore either." I sigh. Pete's holding me in his arms and his breathing is getting slow and heavy. "Come on, love. Time for bed." I grunt, pulling him up. By the time we get into bed it's 12:47 A.M. Pete holds me and kisses my face.
"I love you." He whispers, and the smile that's on his face is contagious.
"I love you, too. Good night."
"Good night." Pete can't stop grinning, but he lays back and falls asleep quick.
......
On Friday Pete is at the studio all day, and I take the opportunity to really clean his house, ceiling to floor. He returns home around 8 bearing pizza. As we sit on the counter and devour two pizzas I get even more flashbacks of Chicago, and the nostalgia overtakes me. I tear up and look over at Pete. He notices my eyes brimming with tears and jumps, startled.
"What's the matter, baby?!" He asks, standing in front of me.
"I miss Chicago," I wail, rubbing my eyes. "I just want to go home."
"Baby," Pete coos, "we all miss home. Trust me. I miss the old days, when you and Chris were our only fans and when our band didn't have a name. When nobody even knew who I was. I'd kill to go back to that, Evelyn."
"I just... I don't know. I miss how it used to be."
"I think we all do," Pete sighs, tilting my chin up. "But seasons change. People don't." I smirk because he knows I'll get the reference even though I haven't talked to him in five years. He knows I still listen to Fall Out Boy. And damn him for that.
......
On Saturday Pete cooks me breakfast and I come downstairs in shorts and one of his shirts. He smiles and gives me a plate of chocolate chip pancakes. "This is why I love you," I tease, "because you make me yummy food."
After breakfast we shower and then take the dogs for a walk. We have grilled cheese for lunch and we watch Mob Wives until five o'clock. Pete gets ready for sound check at the club his new band is playing at and says they'll be back around six thirty so we can grab some dinner. After he leaves I clean up the house and get ready, making myself look extra pretty.
Six thirty rolls around and Pete and Bebe, the lead singer of his band, come inside. "Evelyn," Pete calls, walking into his bedroom. "Are you ready t--" He stops when he sees me.
"Yup!" I smile mischievously at him. I'm dressed in black jeans, a red tube top and red high heels.
"You're so fucking gorgeous." He growls, causing me to giggle. I walk away from him to the other side of the room and he follows me like a lovesick puppy. We leave for dinner and Pete can't keep his eyes (or hands) off of me.
evelyn1614: @petewentz Hands to yourself!
petewentz: i'm a maniac for you. can't stay away.
beberexha: @petewentz Play nice!
Dinner isn't very eventful, to be honest. I eat a salad and Pete has grilled cheese again. They're both a little nervous to be playing tonight and they say they're meeting Spencer and Nate there. I like Bebe, she's really nice and she lives in New York, so we share that bond. I ask if Pete wants me to go with him to pick up Bronx tomorrow but he doesn't seem like he wants to talk about it, so I decide to not ask anything else.
The show ends up going fantastically and they're really, really great The energy the crowd gives back is awesome and Pete has so much fun and he's extremely attractive. We bring Bebe to her hotel and get home around half past midnight. Pete pulls me to his bedroom, a trail of clothes in our wake. I finally get to sleep around four with the blankets tangled around me and Pete. His arm is thrown around my waist and his face is buried in my shoulder, my left leg is on top of his right and even though it's sort of awkward, it's pretty comfortable. I'm sleeping pretty well until Pete's awake at seven forty-five cleaning.
"Baby, come back to bed," I whine. He's at the end of the bed folding laundry.
"Busy," he grunts, folding a pair of Bronx's jeans.
"I'll do that later," I tell him, pulling him over to kiss his mouth.
"I want it done now." He grumbles.
"What's eating you?" I ask, laying back in bed. He shakes his head. "I love you," I say. He seems anxious for some reason, but I don't want to prod.
"Love you too," he supplies distractedly.
"Pete, don't ever tell me you love me unless you mean it."
"I do mean it," He murmurs, sitting beside me. His voice is sugary sweet and hearing him say this gives me butterflies. "Now how about you go back to sleep? I'm just going to clean up some downstairs then get the Lil Dude, okay?"
"Fine. Don't bring him in here if I'm not awake. We don't want him seeing anything." I laugh.
Pete smirks. "Right. That's only for me." I can't help but laugh. Pete places a quick kiss on my forehead before he gets up, shutting the door on his way out. He makes me so happy I almost forget to be sad it's my last day here. Almost.