I Hope They Taste of Me Forever

I wouldn’t talk to anyone after my brief breakdown. I was so full of emotions, and I couldn’t speak to anyone. I didn’t want to speak to anyone. I got back to the warehouse and headed straight for the training room. I flung stakes at targets and decoys with clumsy precision, drawing all my focus to aim well enough. Anything to get my mind off Travis McCoy.

What a traitor. Sure, we’d specifically called ourselves in-betweens, non-friends, but who the fuck did we think we were kidding? Well, he was obviously kidding me, but who the fuck did I think I was fooling? We were friends, no matter how much I wanted to deny it.

But at the same time, we never were. He’d been working with the Dandies all along, and I was stupid enough to fall into the trap. I had told myself. I told myself from the beginning that I couldn’t trust him, couldn’t feel anything other than anger and annoyance towards him. But I ignored my own fucking warnings, and now I’m stuck with this whole fucking mess and string of curses.

Friendship was a mistake. It never leads to anything but trouble. Surely, that’s what my friendship with the guys will end up like too. It’s already trouble, for them at least. I am trouble. I seem to attract it everywhere I go. I’m troubling them now.

I know they’re worried about me. They don’t seem to have any idea what’s going on. I don’t know why Pete wouldn’t have told them though. Maybe he just needs to chug a smoothie to stop himself from killing me first.

God, I’m so fucking mad.

I’m mad at Travis, mad at Hayley for that stupid fucking smirk, mad at Brendon Urie for affiliating me with his long dead fiancée or whatever, mad at William Beckett for existing, mad at the guys for sending all these goddamn worry vibes through the air and mad at Pete for confusing me with his not telling the guys what’s going on.

But what makes me madder than all of that is that I have no right to be mad at any of them over this. It’s my fault and my fault entirely. I knew that getting to know and trust a vampire was completely idiotic, but I did it anyway. And now it’s come back to bite me. Ha. Or I can only assume, eventually.

Training is my only way right now to forget about this. Actually, that’s a lie. I can’t forget this at the moment. But training keeps me relatively preoccupied and allows me to take out my anger on something other than my roommates.

“Elle?”

I had no idea what time it was or how long I’d been furiously training when Pete dared to open the door and speak to me. I ignored him and threw some more heavy punches at a punching bag. I heard him sigh slightly, and heard the door close behind him as his footsteps drew closer. Still, I ignored him.

“Elle?”

God, can’t this guy take a hint? I continued to ignore him, but that option was snatched from me when after a few moments he swiftly grabbed the red punching bag and held it out of my reach. I let out a very angry sigh, making sure he could hear the anger in it, and spun around to face him.

“What?” I spat.

Gingerly, he took my hand and slipped the boxing glove off, tossing it across the room before I even had a chance to protest.

“What happened back there?” he asked, unusually softly. It was such a contrast to his usual rough voice that it took me a moment to adjust.

“What, haven’t read my mind yet?” I sneered. Sure, I’m being a bitch, but in case you haven’t noticed I’m not in the greatest mood at the moment.

“I’m trying to restrain myself,” he replied, still softly but with a little more edge.

“Why?”

“Because a certain frustrating girl made me see that it was a harsh invasion of privacy, and some of the images you create in your mind are quite horrific.”

My mind flitted back to that dream I’d had, and the way Pete had come to save me from it. I tried not to think of that, though. I didn’t want to be all nice to him all of a sudden.

“Well I’m not telling you what happened then. It’s none of your business.”

“What do you mean, ‘none of my business?’” he growled. Much more in character. “We’re a team. Everything is everyone’s business.”

He was closer to me now, glaring at me critically.

“Piss off,” I mumbled, placing my hands on his chest and shoving him away from me.

He narrowed his eyes at me and brushed off his blue t-shirt.

“Fine,” he said. “When you’re done PMSing and acting like a twelve year old, come and talk.”

He stomped out of the room, and even more infuriated than before, I picked up the boxing glove and threw it forcefully at the door he’d slammed behind him. Out of sight, I crouched down, broke down, and let loose all the tears of emotions unknown.

***

No matter what I did, my anger and frustration wouldn’t fade. I had thought that after my little tear-fest that it’d be over, but it wasn’t. And it made me an entirely unpleasant person.

It had been a week… over a week… honestly, I’d lost track of the days and nights, since they hadn’t allowed me out of the warehouse. I could tell it was getting on the guys’ nerves. I barely spoke to them at all, and when I did it was some bitchy or sarcastic remark. Pete just got bitchy back, whereas the others just looked at me with piteous eyes. I couldn’t tell which was worse.

Unaware, in my senseless-of-time state, that it had been ten days since our run-in with… them, I was sitting in my room. Joe was in the training room, and I had no desire to break my rule of refusing to be in the same room as someone else without it being absolutely necessary. I was thinking, once again, about everything. I hate how much I think. Thinking means finding something to worry about, and I don’t usually have to search far into my mind to find something to worry about. Even if I didn’t have this whole Travis ordeal plaguing my head, I always had my list of other dwell-in-misery subjects;

1. My parents’ death, which inevitably led to thinking about vampires.
2. My brother abandoning me, which inevitably led to thinking about vampires.
3. My complicated self, which inevitably led to thinking about vampires.
4. Pete… topic was already a vampire.

My life has so much variation… not.

Then I started thinking about the Dandies. About Beckett, about Hayley, about Brendon. Brendon… why did I have to look so much like his lost love? Maybe if I didn’t, there wouldn’t be a price tag above my head. And maybe I never would have had to talk to him, find out about how real he is behind his cocky exterior… find out how good his lips taste…

And maybe if William Beckett didn’t find me so intriguing for this reason, then he never would have had any need to fool me with Travis, therefore not putting me in this awfully bitter situation right now.

But apparently this world likes seeing me bitter. It must be into atrophy and/or masochism.

I was startled out of my thoughts by my door flying open and slamming harshly against the concrete wall to make room for a very pissed off Pete.

“What the fuck?” I swore, clearly talking about the now-splintered door, but Pete didn’t listen to me.

“You were friends with a vampire?” he thundered, almost shaking with rage. I hoped he’d had his disgusting concoction recently.

“So you finally gave in. Just like I thought you would. You gave in and read my mind.”

“Yeah I read your mind; it’s been over a week and you’re still acting like you should be in anger management classes. And what do I find out; the fact that you used to have a fucking Dandy as a best friend!”

I didn’t speak. I just let him go on. It was pretty much just repeating what I’d already yelled at myself so many times in my own head, only I could never be as scary as Pete in my wildest dreams.

“And it’s not like it was all that long ago, either. It was only just before you met us. But the thing that confuses me the most is that you didn’t find this a useful piece of information to tell us! Where the hell is your brain, Elle?”

Hearing him say it like that, I decided that I really didn’t like my name. It was so proper, beautiful even. Not very fitting for someone like me.

“This obviously explains how the Dandies knew where you lived with Matt…”

It explained a lot of things, actually. The reason Travis could never say too much, and the reason Beckett knew random information about me.

“I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you!”

Pete ended his rant breathing heavy, fast, unnecessary breaths. A range of crude expressions, explanations and denials formed at the back of my tongue, but before they could crawl to my lips I had let out a far simpler response.

“I’m sorry.”

I watched as his fists unclenched and his glare softened, his composure returning. As he visibly became less tense, I felt my harbored anger and frustration begin to seep away too. I didn’t like the idea of being in synch with him.

“I just… I can’t believe you kept something so serious from us.”

Well, he obviously hadn’t delved very deep into my mind. This wasn’t a big deal for me. I’d forgotten about it, for the most part, and I never knew Travis was a Dandy.

“You really need to get your story straight,” I mumbled coldly, before asking through gritted teeth; “Please get out of my room.”

His anger was back in a flash.

“Fine. I can’t stand it in here anymore anyway.”

He turned on his heel and walked out of my room, and for dramatic effect I slammed my door closed behind him.

If I’ve been lacking on my comments about how much I despise him, let me make up for it:

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

I hate Pete Wentz.