Everyone That You Left Behind ➳ Petekey (COMPLETE)

1: The best of things can happen at 2am e.g reading this fanfic

There was someone new in the audience tonight. Someone I didn't recognise.

No one new ever came to watch us perform, we had regular spectators who barely paid attention to us on a nightly basis. We were the background noise to their friendly gatherings, as people sat in small groups, drowning their stress and anxiety of work and overpriced tuition fees with the soothing poison that young adults lived for.

I preferred weed.

The boy sat alone, at an empty round table towards the left side of the bar. He glanced towards us intently, a blank expression on his face as his lips pursed closed. It was as if he was deep in thought, taking every beat we played into consideration under a fair  amount of criticism and examination. I felt rather uneasy. He was the only person in the entire bar who we had gained the full attention of. Really, I should feel proud, someone was actually listening to Fall Out Boy's music without the clouded judgment of a few drinks looming over their nonchalant mind.

The kid was still watching us intently, I say watching us but really I mean just me. He wasn't focused on Patrick, Joe or Andy, he was only focused on me. I continued, to stroke my bass, wondering why the peculiar boy was taking more interest in me than Patrick, I mean Patrick is the star of the show! Well, it's not much of a show... Its just a couple of college guys playing in a bar late in the early hours of the morning in order to scrape the monthly payment of our dreaded tuition fees.

His eyes were a similar colour to mine, hazel, but his were genuinely more fascinating to look at. However they were hidden behind thin spectacles with a white rim.
He had very dark blonde hair, which was slightly over grown and shaggy, I'm not sure not whether to call it curly or not but it fell in a formation that had no central structure. An unevenly cut fringe bobbed ever so slightly over his forehead, extremely shaggy and the longest trufts fell in the exact centre of his forehead concealing the gap between his eyebrows. The thing that fascinated me most was that trufts of hair spiked up in an inward position heading towards the the top centre of his skull.
And finally his face, I could easily say that this kid's jawline was more structured than my life.

We came to a close on our last song, not that anyone noticed. We began to pack up our equipment, each sighing with relief and exhaustion at yet another busy day that had gone by. We all clapped each other on the back as we went our separate ways as usual.

I stepped out into the cool early morning air, it was heavenly compared to the stuffy bar I had been sat in for the past 2 hours. My right hand reached towards the right front pocket of my black skinny jeans, my fingers clasped onto the metallic box immediately, but fumbled as they attempted to get the object out of the enclosed space that was my pocket. After a few seconds of tugging, my hand jolted upwards, exposing the box to the fresh air compared to the smothering pocket it had been in for the past 2 hours which seemed like days to me. God, how I was craving one. I popped open the box with ease, something that many people found difficult due to its complex structure but I was so used to the simple movement due to the extensive amount of times I had opened this box (practically once every hour.)

The smell hit me as soon as the box was slightly ajar. God, every time I even got the slightest scent of the succulent smell my spine would tingle, my pupils would dilate, my tongue would go dry, my hairs would stand on end, my nostrils would flare, but this ceremonious ritual was interrupted.

"H-h-hey" a timid voice stuttered from directly behind me.

I glanced up immediately with slight annoyance that my highly awaited ritual was about to be postponed. It was like a parent telling their children that they couldn't open their Christmas presents until Boxing Day.