Disenchanted

Don't you remember?
The reason you loved me before,
Baby, please remember me once more...

I had to get out of that house. If I stayed, I knew my mind would go wild, thinking of every single possibility that my telling Jack to go with Jo could come back and bite me in the ass. So, before the mental torture began (again), I went to the garage, relieved to find Jack’s black convertible still comfortably parked as they’d apparently taken Jo’s ride instead. I hopped in the car before my senses could talk me out of it, starting the engine with a loud roar. Putting it in reverse, I backed out of the driveway and into the street without a specific destination in mind.

All I knew was I needed a distraction, and I needed it bad. Getting out in the nice fresh air was a good way to start, don’t you think?

As I drove the black convertible into Los Angeles’ congested streets, I tried my best to focus on my surroundings rather than the drama I was seconds away from creating in my head, but it was easier said than done. I couldn’t understand why I was suddenly so suspicious of Jack hanging out with a friend--maybe it was the fact that he had been oddly distant since I’d woken up, but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something huge.

I rolled the car up to a red light in the center of town just as a large group of tourists began to cross the street, camera’s and phones in tow. I glanced to my right and could easily make out the ‘Hollywood’ sign looming over the city with it’s big booming letters. I watched as the group of tourists crossed, the simple task seeming to take forever as person after person stepped into traffic. It was as I was bored out of my mind, willing for the last person to get across the street already so the light could change and we could all get along with our day, that the car next to me rolled down their passenger window. A girl about my age stuck her head out and peered at me in shock thru her dark ray-ban sunglasses. “Did anyone ever tell you that you look like that Christina Lawson chick?”

My face contorted into a confused frown. “Uh, excuse me?”

The girl continued, unfazed as she pressed on cheerily, “Yeah, you know. That one girl from Jo Fischer’s old band; Midnight. She dated the guitarist from All Time Low years ago. I think she died or something, but I swear, you look just like her.”

I paled at her blunt words despite the fact the air-head was probably just trying to give me a compliment, or at least I think she was. I gaped at her, unable to respond as she’d already rolled up her window as the light had once again turned green. The car sped off, leaving me momentarily frozen in my own driver’s seat. I wasn’t sure how long I was actually sitting there, unable to do much else but blink, until an angry honk from the car behind me finally brought me back to reality.

I hastily pressed the gas petal and continued down the road a few more blocks before turning into a large grocery store parking lot. I pulled the car into the first spot I saw, not caring if there were any closer alternatives and put the car into park, letting out a breath I’d likely been holding since freezing up at the stoplight.

How could she say something like that to me? More importantly, how could she think I’d died, especially considering I had such strong ties to the now famous All Time Low, not to mention the apparently just as famous Jo Fischer? I would’ve imagined the likes of AP or Buzznet would’ve kept tabs on me, considering I’d been in Midnight and everything. I mean, I wasn’t expecting to find what had happened to me on the front page news or anything--of course I wasn’t that conceded, but still. Hell, every time a person of at least a little stature gets seriously injured, even if they were on one season of an obscure reality show, at least TMZ could be trusted to report it. Why was my situation any different?

I thought about this as I got out of the car, mindlessly entering the high-end grocery store without a second glance.

I grabbed a green plastic basket and shot to the first isle closest to me. I didn’t actually have any shopping I had to get done--but I didn’t want to look like a weirdo randomly walking the isles, either. I glanced up at the large overhanging sign. It read ‘granola/cereal’. I shrugged. Nothing wrong with looking at some healthy breakfast choices, right?

The grocery store radio’s volume faded from what I’d recognized to be a 90‘s tune, ‘My Sacrifice’ by Creed, to something that I’d recognized in an instant.

‘A Little Less Sixteen Candles’ by Fall Out Boy.

My eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise that the store would play something other than “Sugar, We’re Going Down”. The only place I’d ever heard a wider range of my favorite band’s catalog was Hot Topic since, you know, it’s Hot Topic and they don’t give a flying fuck if it’s ‘radio friendly’ or not. If it’s awesome, it’s played.

I confess, I messed up
Dropping "I'm sorry" like you're still around
And I know you dressed up
"Hey kid you'll never live this down"

I continued to happily half hum, half sing along to the Fall Out Boy tune as I walked down the cereal isle, full of brand names and off brand names alike. I stopped when I found a family-sized box of Frosted Flakes, smiling to myself as I remembered Jack serving it to me after he’d failed making pancakes. He’d tried so hard that morning to impress me, though after how horrible that lump of whatever it was he actually made truly was, I was kind of glad he never went for round two. The only thing he actually could make which was pleasing to my tastebuds was Guacamole. He really wasn’t bragging when he said it was the best ever.

I was so distracted recalling how adorable Jack had been, and how gloriously he’d failed as he’d left the kitchen a complete mess, that I didn’t even notice anyone approach me.
“Still a fan, I see?” A familiar male voice asked me, his voice nothing short of amused.

I whipped around to see of all people, Pete Wentz staring at me with a charming smile. Talk about a coincidence. Though, to be fair, I was in LA so I guess this particular coincidence was a bit more likely in the town full of celebs left and right.

“Pete?” I gasped, barely even remembering to blink as he quickly eloped me in a welcoming, friendly hug. As we parted, I asked, “What are you doing here?” The second I asked him, I of course realized how stupid I must’ve sounded. We were at a grocery store. What else would he be doing?

To Pete’s credit, he chose to humble me rather than ridicule my stupid question. “Just running some errands.” He shrugged. “But what about you? I heard you got out of the hospital but I’ve gotta say, I wasn’t expecting to run into you here of all places.” He paused, eying me carefully as he tepidly added, “Is everything going alright with Jack?”

“I...” I opened my mouth to respond, but quickly shut it once I realized I really didn’t know where to begin. I was sure if I told Pete, he’d think I was paranoid or worse, crazy. “...I mean, we’re fine. We’re great.” I gave him a weak smile to seal the deal, but of course, Pete saw right through the veil.

“Chris,” He raised a knowing brow. “Don’t lie. I know it can’t be all sunshine and rainbows after the shit you’ve been thru...”

My shoulders fell. “It’s just, it’s crazy, you know?” I sighed as I added in exasperation, “I mean, it’s been five fucking years, Pete.”

“And you don’t look a day older.” He smirked, winking at me. It was obvious he was trying to relieve the tension, so I gave him a half smile for effort before I continued.

“How do we even begin to recover?” I muttered, dropping the green basket to my side in exasperation. “I mean, he’ll talk to me, but it’s hardly like it used to be. He barely touches me, he flinched when I tried to cuddle with him and don’t even get me started on the fact that he flipped out when he saw me naked this morning. I just...I can’t help thinking that maybe there’s something he hasn’t told me.”

Pete’s once welcoming smile fell in an instant. “You mean, he hasn’t told you?” He asked, voice dead serious.

Immediately, my heart began thumping wildly in my chest. I stared back at Pete as I numbly responded. “Told me what?”

Pete shook his head as a low, angry growl escaped his lips. “That son of a bitch.” He mumbled, cursing Jack’s name. “When he told me, he swore he’d be upfront with you, but now look at this shit. Leaving me to clean up his dirty work like this...”

“What’s going on?” I demanded, his ramblings shooting my alert level right to Defcon 1.

“I really shouldn’t say anything Chris.” Pete shook his head, his voice still angry despite it not begin geared towards me. “It’s not my place.”

I scowled at him. Like that was going to stop me from getting down to the bottom of it? He’d already opened the can of worms, so he might as well spill it already. Desperately, I tried to reason with him. “Look, you’ve got me freaking the fuck out, Pete, so I’m asking you, as my secret best friend,” I paused, taking a step towards him so I could look him dead in the eye, my voice scarily even as I finished, “...what the hell is going on?”

Pete gulped, eyes wide at my tone. “Fuck it, I’ll tell you.” He sighed, rolling his eyes. “You’re fucking terrifying when you want to be, you know that?” I just stared at him, arms crossed as I silently waited for him to comply with his word. He shook his head again, but this time he grabbed my arm and began leading me back towards the front of the store where the cash registers were.

“What’re you doing?”

“You know, I think it’s better if I just show you.” He replied simply, dragging me by my arm until we were standing in front of the magazines. I frowned as he bobbed his head towards the large wire display rack, about to ask what it had to do with Jack when I saw it.

It was hard to see anything else, really. For on the top row, just above the latest issue of US Weekly with Scarlett Johansson, was the very popular People magazine. On it of all people, was Jack. This alone didn’t completely shock me, considering he was now in a wildly popular band and all. But what did shock me were two very hard to miss things. Firstly, the particular picture they’d chosen to grace their cover had not only Jack, but Jo as well. They were both smiling towards the camera, posing politely in an otherwise nondescript photo.

No, the real thing that sent my heart spiraling into overdrive was the giant headline plastered just below their faces.

WE’RE ENGAGED!
Jo Fischer and Jack Barakat talk about love blooming from tragedy and their plans for Rock’s most anticipated wedding! P. 24

“What the--” My eyes shot over from the magazine to meet Pete’s worried gaze. “Wha--” I breathed, unable to get out much other than that. My worry wasn’t supposed to valid. It was supposed to be nothing. I was a worrier and that’s what worriers do. They freak out over nothing. But this--this was obviously far from nothing. I knew we were never married and nothing was ever written in stone, but was it too much to assume Jack had been faithful? We were in love, or at least, I thought we were. To see Jack be with anyone else seemed wrong, like throwing-the-universe-out-of-balance wrong. Not to sound possessive, but Jack was supposed to be mine, least of all Jo’s. “I--” My voice broke and I could feel my cheeks grow wet from silent tears that I hadn’t even realized had fallen.

Pete sighed, bowing his head as he’d obviously wanted to be the last person to break the news to me. “I’m so sorry, Chris...”

I gulped, his apologetic tone only solidifying the picture proof. I didn't want to believe it, but what else was I supposed to do?

I stayed there in a trance state, standing in front of the magazine for what seemed like ages, staring at Jack and Jo's smiling faces. The more I stared, the more their happy grins seemed to mock me, taunt me. I scowled back at them stubbornly, seconds away from grabbing the stupid tabloid magazine and stomping on their stupid beautiful faces.

But surprisingly I held back, pulling myself free from their grasp as I practically stomped out of the store. Hesitantly, Pete shuffled to catch up to me. "What are you going to do?" He asked me and it was clear he was worried I was going to do something rash. I admit, I was a bit worried of this myself as I honestly couldn’t foresee how I’d react once I actually confronted Jack, but this wasn’t about to stop me.

I barely glanced at him out of the corner of my eye as I replied bluntly, "I'm going to get some goddamn answers."