2013: Carmen meets Pete Wentz on a rainy evening. His kindness and mystery draw her in, and she begins to fall for him. He comes with a dark past and secrets but she's willing to stay by his side and fight them. Even if it could cost her life.
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"You're second hand smoke, second hand smoke I breathe you in, but, honey, I don't know what you're doing to me,"
2013
THE light peaked through the corner of the pale green curtains and it dawned on her too suddenly that another day had begun. The girl curled up in her bed, groaned and slowly sat up. She placed the tips of her toes on the floor and instantly cringed at how cold the air felt. In one fluid motion, she whipped the duvet away and fled to the shower. It was the same every morning, wake up, throw music on, and shower; her playlist was so old and so muddled that hitting shuffle could mean anything. The warmth of the water flooded through her as Fall Out Boy's music played and she smiled to herself and the memories that came back with the song. She felt old now, and everything had changed since then.
Once she had scrubbed every inch of her skin and washed her hair, she wrapped a towel around herself and took a deep breath of the misty bathroom air. There was something odd about mornings, everyone was so awake and busy with their hectic lives, but she liked to sit for a brief minute. She shook herself from her thoughts and brushed her teeth in a hurry before towelling her brunette hair. Once the mirror had defogged, she glanced in the mirror at herself. Tanned skin crept out from the beneath the towel, and eyes of warm honey met in the mirror. She knew they were different and beautiful, but they were always sad. She was always in a rush, and so there was no time for makeup; instead, she slipped into the bedroom to find some clothes. The sky looked grey and dreary and so she opted for a denim skirt with tights, and a yellow top, and an old pair of vans. At least if the sky were grey, the yellow could brighten up the world ever so slightly.
The playlist ended up somewhere random and she drifted into thought as she was leaving, Fall Out Boy were touring and currently in the same city, but she was so caught up in work that she never got chance to buy tickets. She sighed and left the house, no point torturing herself with that thought.
By the time the sky had turned dark and the evening had arrived, the rain began to drizzle down as she was walking home. She was walking back through the city and past the stadium that was booming with life and noise. It wasn't her usual route home, but she was intrigued by the FOB's concert. The street, however, was dead of any people, the rain had kept everyone away this evening. She knew it was late and that people started leaving the stadium and so she wanted to get home quickly, to avoid the buzzing teenagers who had just seen their idol. She adored them too but that was a long time ago, she had hit her mid-twenties and life went on.
Turning at the corner of the street, a door flew open and four guys walked out. They were all buzzing with excitement as they gushed between themselves, she kept her head down, hoping they wouldn't notice her coming past. She was small and weak and knew she couldn't fend off all four of them if they attacked. However, as she came closer to the door she haltered as she heard their voices, she knew at least one of their voices. Hurriedly, she looked up but kept her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, tripping over the edge of the curb as she did so and landing heavily on the ground, cutting up her palms.
"Ow fuck," she mumbled, and she stayed on her knees for a few seconds before one of the guys noticed and swept over.
"I'm fine, thanks," she mumbled quickly to avoid them all rushing over, and she looked up at the man and smiled in reassurance.
Her mind wasn't thinking straight through the pain and anxiety, she just hoped that he would leave her be.
"Hey, are you okay? You hit the ground pretty hard," he replied, edging slightly away upon noticing her nervousness.
"Fuck," she mumbled again, slightly louder, her hazy memory came back to her as she realised who had come to help her.
It was the drummer. Two other guys had decided it was safe enough to come over and she swore silently as the realisation crept over her. It was them, like actually them. The other guy remained leaning against the wall, blowing smoke up into the black sky. Her eyes remained on his cigarette smoke that was dancing in the streetlights.
"I'm okay," she mumbled again, continuing to watch the man smoke.
The three guys backed off slightly, sensing her anxiety, and started to walk back to the pavement once they knew she was okay. The man against the wall remained smoking the entire time, just watching her. He flicked away the cigarette and started to walk over and she remained frozen in place on her knees, hands going numb from the pain and the chill of the night.
"Hey, let me look at that," but before she could protest, he had taken her hands in his and rubbed away the grit and blood with his sleeve.
She remained silent, watching him carefully as he cleaned up her hands, dark hair and dark eyes with tattoos creeping out of the corners of his clothes. He was the bassist of the band, but his name had disappeared from her brain. He caught her eye and smiled slightly before turning to his friends and waving a hand on, "I'm going to make sure she gets home safe okay? I'll catch up with you."
His friends shrugged and walked on, whispering and joking between themselves. She suddenly tried to pull her hands away and shake her head but a finger rose to his lips and he spoke softly, "You can trust me, I promise," and then took two steps away from her with his hands up by his chest.
"Just let me get you home safe and cleaned up. No need to thank me, just a good deed," he continued, a small smile appearing on his face.
She slowly got up from the damp and cold floor and watched and remained still as he took off his jumper and passing it over. She tried to look away as his shirt crept up slightly, revealing a tattoo above the waistband of his trousers. She whispered a thank you and they walked together silently. He had lit up another cigarette and was smoking casually as he followed her. When they had arrived at her doorstep, the automatic light flickered on and she got to see his face in the light for the first time. She struggled to find the words for the beautiful and mysterious man who stood in front of her.
"Thank you, you really didn't need to do that," she spoke finally.
"Pleasure," he spoke softly, a small smirk toying on his lips, as his dark brown eyes searched her face.
"I'm Carmen," she replied, she didn't know why she told him that but something inside her stirred.
"I'm-," he began, but Carmen interjected quietly, "I know who you are."
The man smirked again, raising an eyebrow at her sudden outburst. He just nodded and turned around and took one step away before hesitating and turning back around. He couldn't understand why he couldn't just walk away, he was just doing something nice to ease his conscious of just leaving her on the street. He took a deep breath and came closer to her slowly, waiting for her to slap him away, Instead, she remained perfectly still, and he continued to lean in and with his mouth inches away from her ear, he whispered, "Good night Carmen," his breath tickling her neck.
Carmen remained frozen with her eyes shut tightly, and finally breathed out. She watched him leave, numb with the cold and speechless of anything to say in response. She turned around and closed the door. To the world, he was a huge celebrity but to Carmen, he seemed to be a mysterious stranger. He held so much confidence and it was terrifying. As Carmen headed into the bathroom, she washed her hands, her mind racing. She then stripped down and climbed into bed, closing her eyes, mind racing. She certainly lacked something mysterious in her life. His name flickered across her mind, the thought of his lips inches away from her neck, he was enticing.
Pete Wentz. She didn't just want him to be a stranger.
