Clandestine (Pete Wentz / Fall Out Boy Fanfic)

Chapter 8 - I'm a Stitch Away

Ariel Raven

For the next week, Pete is busy in the studio every day. He seemed more and more tired as the week progresses, but he hides it well beneath his seemingly endless supply of Starbucks and energy drinks. I didn't even see him at all on Thursday, because he had gone straight to Patrick's house after recording all day to work on some new songs together. It was that particular night that I decided to stay in, instead of going out to the city to earn some money. I was growing more and more comfortable with staying in Pete's house, and I had stopped trying to convince him that I didn't need a place to stay; He was never going to buy that anyways.

My tattoo was healing very well, and the more I looked at it, the more curious I became about the band. Pete always mentioned Joe and Andy, the two members I had yet to meet, and they seemed like very interesting people, just like Patrick. I wanted to meet them, but I was still anxious about anyone knowing that I was living with Pete. I didn't want them to assume anything, and I didn't want Patrick to know that his twenty dollars had bought me dinner on a night that I didn't expect to get any. I didn't want their pity, mostly. Unfortunately, I already had Pete's.

While I sat at home that night, I brought my guitar into the front room, along with a notepad and a pen. All week, I had been jotting down lyrics to a song that I imagined, and I wanted to put them together in some kind of logical order. I wrote for a while, my guitar next to me on the couch, and kept rearranging lines. I realized that the song was both about my hopes for a music career, as well as my ruination of my own life. It was dark, but the tune in my head was rather upbeat. I hummed a soft melody that fit the opening lines, and then I paused for a moment to think, before quickly picking up my guitar. I strummed a few chords until I found a rhythm, and then I sang my lyrics.

"I'm a stitch away from making it, and a scar away from falling apart...apart. Blood cells pixelate and eyes dilate, and the full moon pills got me out on the street at night." I stopped for a moment, another verse already making its way into my head. I wrote it down, then played the same rhythm and sang along again. I continued this for a long time, and I was still playing and singing when the front door opened. I hadn't heard it, and I still didn't notice right away when Pete walked into the room and stood in the doorway, listening as I sang the opening lines again. When I finished, I moved to write more notes on my notepad.

"That was beautiful," Pete said softly, making my head shoot up to meet his gaze. He was leaning on the doorframe, his hands in the pockets of the hoodie he was wearing. It was a black hoodie, with a turquoise blue Clandestine bat on the front of it. The hood was pulled up over his head, and I noticed that it seemed damp. I hadn't noticed the soft thrumming of the rain outside until then. He was watching me with glazed over eyes, as if his mind were somewhere else completely, and I could see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed nervously at my silence.

"Thank you," I finally said, glancing back at my paper. I could still feel his eyes on me, and as much as I hated to admit it, I liked the way he was staring. He didn't respond to that, so I continued my writing, and he walked further into the room to sit next to me. I glanced at him carefully, seeing that he was eyeing up my notes. "How was your meeting with Patrick?" I asked, trying to change the subject. I closed the notebook and shoved it aside, setting my guitar beside me as well, and turned to look at Pete fully. He glanced at the guitar, then looked back at me.

"Not bad," he said, "We got a lot of work done." He sighed as he spoke, looking away from me as if he wasn't telling me something.

"That doesn't sound convincing," I noted, curling my legs beneath me as I sat sideways on the cushion to talk to him. He glanced at me again, frowning.