The Music Or The Misery (FOB FanFic)

Chapter 2

-Pete's POV-

"Ashlee! Where have you been?" I shouted as I approached my wife who just walked through the front door at eleven in the morning. She'd been gone all night. In my arms was our two year old son, Bronx.

"I was out with friends," She mumbled as she brushed past me in an attempt to avoid this conversation. "No big deal, Pete." She added, her speech slurred as she started to stumble upstairs.

"No big deal?" I repeated angrily, turning around so I was facing her, "Ashlee, you had me worried sick!"

"Well then stop worrying about me!" She screamed at me, stopping on the steps and spinning around so she was facing me, "I didn't ask you to worry about me, did I?"

I set our son down and stormed up the stairs, "You didn't have to ask, Ash! We're married! You're the love of my life and I'm going to worry about you no matter what!"

Ashlee rolled her eyes and twirled around, running up the rest of the stairs and disappearing into the hallway. Shortly after, a door was slammed and a blanket of silence fell over the big house.

I smacked my forehead.

Bronx sniffled a few times before he began to cry. I heaved a sigh, dropping my arm down to my side and going back down to pick him up in attempt to calm him down. I hated when he saw Ashlee and me fight.

Things have been...rough this past year, to say the least.

It was like Ashlee and I were growing farther and farther apart and I didn't understand why. Because I'd dedicated my life to supporting my family and providing everything I can for them since the ban.

I'd invested a lot more time and money into my bar, Angels & Kings. A lot of ex-artists went there to drink themselves under the table. Profit's increased a lot since the ban, since all those musicians, writers, filmmakers, and artists had nothing better to do with their time and alcohol was a way to fill that void in their lives.

Speaking of ex-musicians, I hadn't had contact with Patrick, Andy, and Joe since then either.

Patrick I'd see around here and there, but he never looked my way and I never found the guts to go and talk to him. He looked terrible from what I could see. The usual brightness he brought wherever he went had completely disappeared.

Andy I hadn't seen at all. I'd talked to him a few times over the phone, but the conversations were never long. He always had to go so he could work out. He'd been so busy with CrossFit - it was the only thing he did besides eating and sleeping. He spent his days at the gym and his nights at home, in his personal gym.

Joe...Joe, let's just say he had been doing his own thing. I'd heard he'd been meddling in the underground music scene. And by underground music scene, I mean the music scene that was literally underground. Supposedly that was where all the musicians who refused to submit to the ban retreated so they could continue doing what they love. I won't lie, I considered doing it, but my family was more important to me at the time the opportunity was presented to me.

I've started to wonder if I made the right decision...

As I bounced on the balls of my feet and rubbed Bronx's back comfortingly, there was a knock on the door.

I spun around and approached the door, holding Bronx in one arm while using the hand of the other to open the door. I cocked my eyebrow in suspicion - there was no one standing there.

"Letter," Bronx murmured.

I gave him a confused look before nodding in understanding and looking at the big black W on our door. "Yeah, buddy, that's a W for Wentz. For you and me."

"No, letter," Bronx repeated, pointing to the ground. I glanced down and saw an envelope on my doormat. It had my name handwritten on it and nothing else.

I bent down, Bronx still in my arm, and snatched the letter, walking inside and closing the door with my foot.

I made my way into the kitchen and sat Bronx down in his high chair, walking over to a drawer and pulling out a knife. I slid the blade underneath the seal and cut open the envelope. I pulled the piece of paper out from the envelope and unfolded it.