|Decaffeinate It, Please
Author: JaySilverHeels PM
Pete Wentz had it rough for the last few months since the break up with his band. It was a Wednesday when he decided to re-live an old tradition and go get some noon-time coffee. ** This is just a little fic thought up by me. It's my first one with Pete in it, so be nice. :P Also, this is set in a world where he didn't marry Ashlee or have Bronx. ** Enjoy! c:Rated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Romance - Words: 1,298 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 11-19-12 - id: 8717998
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Authors Note: Please keep in mind that this stupid little fic is set in a world where Pete is famous, but he didn't meet or marry Ashlee Simpson, and Bronx isn't born. He's just a normal guy who is extremely sexy. Thanks ;) ~
Long time no see, huh?
I guess by now you're expecting me to finish some of my older stories. Sorry to say, that's something I really haven't gotten around to lately. Maybe this weekend, when I get some time. Maybe...
So, I decided that I need to mix it up a little. If you guys don't know who Pete Wentz is, that's cool. But it's better if you do know what he looks like, heh. Needless to say, he's absolutely f*cking gorgeous - partly the reason why i'm using him in this little, crappy, crappy crap crap piece of crap.
Enjoy.. I guess?
Sometimes, he wondered why he bothered. Sometimes he just thought it was all pointless. Maybe this was all just something that he'd made up in his head. Maybe it was something that he'd just learned to live with.
As the male got up that morning, sometime late in the autumn, he found it almost impossible to tear his head from the pillow. Never before had that pillow felt so damn good- but hey, you've got to get up some time, right? Instead of laying there in that king-size bed like some lifeless corpse, the black haired male finally managed to pry himself from the groove he'd created. With his legs over the side of the bed, he brought his hands up to his face, and rubbed vigorously. For a few moments he just sat there, with his hands in his lap, as he let his deep brown eyes focus into the world around him. This 'world' was essentially his bedroom. The room was of a pretty large size, what you'd expect from an ex-rock star. The floor was made from a lovely, creamy coloured wood, and the walls were a complimenting cream colour. That, was something you wouldn't expect from an ex-rock star.
The floor was littered with clothes. Skinny jeans thrown here, the occasional hoodie over there, a few pairs of boxers in the corner, clean, of course. Among the clothes were a few stray shoes, all either converse or high-top sneakers, along with some scarves and hats. Now that was something that you would expect from an ex-rock star, something you would expect from someone like Pete.
Pete stayed sat on his bed for a little while longer. His head was throbbing from dehydration and the light hitting his eyes from the half-closed curtains. His hair was all messy; it stuck up in random directions and looked like he'd been running his hands over his hair for about two and a half hours non-stop. The black mop strangely suited him, especially in the morning. His eyes were heavy, sleepy, yet he was wide awake. The eyeliner from the night before had smudged across his cheeks and left stains on his pillows. He wasn't wearing a shirt, or jeans for that matter. He was only wearing his dark purple boxers, and a pair of black socks.
Yep, this was how Pete spent his mornings. He wasted no time in slowly getting up, picking up some half-dirty black skinny jeans from his bedroom floor and then shuffling his way into the bathroom to change and have a little wash. He never liked moving in the mornings. It was so... irksome. Pete sighed as he entered his miraculously white, bright bathroom. With tiles as shiny as that, you'd hate to be in there with your eyes sore as f*ck and a headache that bad. But hey, Pete didn't feel like stumbling over his clothes that morning and risking falling over in his own bedroom, over his own clothes, and end up breaking his nose or chipping his tooth. No way. This was a bathroom job.
With the jeans slung over his bare shoulder, he leaned into the basin as he yawned loudly. His mouth was huge when he yawned. It looked like you could fir a truck into that thing. When he was done yawning, Pete set down the jeans on the toilet lid and began filling up the sink with warm water. As the sink started to slowly fill with crystal clear, sparkling liquid, Pete quietly hummed a little tune to himself. Every now and then he'd sing some quiet lyrics, along the lines of "I don't blame you, for being you..." but then he'd trail off into an awkward, alone silence. It wasn't long before the basin was mostly full. 'Good enough...' he thought, turning the tap off. Pete plunged both of his hands into the water, and then leaned close to the sink. He splashed the water onto his face and neck, and then washed his hands. He then pulled out the plug and looked up into the mirror in front of him.
What he saw was something that he very much disliked. He was looking into his own deep, brown eyes, pondering on what the hell had happened. Pete didn't feel good at all. Ever since the split with the band, he'd been going downhill. Things gradually went from 'Top Of The World' to 'Bottom Of The Gutter' in a matter of months. He went from spending his nights with his three best friends, to nights alone in his home, drinking himself to sleep every other weekend. It made him ache a little more inside with every passing day.
He wiped away the water with a towel that was beside the sink. With the water, he wiped off the smudged eyeliner and other unknown smudges. After a few moments, he was looking plain. His skin was a flawless tan colour, and his eyes were a perfect brown that matched amazingly. His hair was a very, very dark colour, pretty much black. He had a little stubble on his cheeks and chin, but that was very, very unnoticeable. He only noticed it because he knew he hadn't shaved in a few days. Stupid insecurities. Even the tiniest ones bugged you: they bugged him.
Pete turned his head to the side to inspect his neck and shoulders for a moment. 'Nothing wrong there.' he thought, turning back to his previous position. It was a Wednesday morning, almost noon. It was an old tradition of his to go out on a Wednesday with the band and get some coffee, then sit around and pass time until they reached the later hours in the evening. An overwhelming feeling of nostalgia washed over Pete as he blinked at his own reflection, torn between two things. Should he stay home and watch crappy day time t.v. until he fell asleep later on? Or should he pop out for a cup of coffee?
Before long, he had decided. It was nice to relive the old things, he supposed. With a slight half-smile, (a thing he hadn't seen himself do in a long time,) the black haired male began patting down his frantic hair. Back in the days of the band, he would have his hair spiked up and looking totally unreal. But when it was just a normal day, he'd have his hair flat, with the fringe swooping to the side. Nothing special. Today was starting to feel like a 'normal day': besides the oh-so faint feeling of nausea and fatigue.
After he'd sorted his hair into a reasonable state, he reached over to the toilet and grabbed the pair of black skinny jeans. He stepped into them slowly, before pulling them up his slender legs, and feeling them tighten around his hips and butt-cheeks snugly. He was always one for skinny-skinny jeans. If you go skinny, you go skinny. He zipped up the fly and then clipped the buttons together without any struggle. He cleaned his teeth viciously, almost like routine, and then he was off. With one last glance in the mirror, he looked at his few tattoos before exiting the bathroom with haste.
Pete already had a pair of half dirty jeans on, so he at least needed to look... presentable, right? He searched through a chest of drawers for a shirt of some sort. It wasn't very long before he found one. It was blue, and had a large print of a Volkswagen Camper Van on the front. It wasn't the usual thing, but hey, it was only for coffee. He pulled the shirt on over his head, and then over his torso and stomach. However, a pair of jeans and a top wasn't going to do. He needed a hoodie. Almost without thought, Pete turned and walked to his clothes rack, dodging the clothes and shoes scattered on his bedroom floor with caution. He searched through the hoodies, thinking strategically. When it came to hoodies, Pete was a master. He knew exactly what ones to wear in the spring, in the summer, even when it was scorching hot, and then the autumn and winter. However, today, he was just going out for some coffee. Nothing special. He reached for a dark blue hoodie with the simple Clandestine logo on the front. He unzipped it and pulled it over his arms, not bothering to zip the clothing up again. Almost ready.
Pete exited his bedroom, leaving the door half open as he did so. The room which he came into was a hallway and then the landing, to which he quickly crossed and descended into the living room/kitchen. This area of his home was relatively clean. Pete loved to eat, therefore, his kitchen was almost always immaculate. His living room was not at up-kept as the kitchen, but not as poorly kept as the bedroom. There was a blanket on one of the sofas, a half-eaten bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, a few magazines here and there, and the empty bottle of Pepsi laying on the floor next to the blanket. There were also a few dvd's on he coffee table. Among them were the likes of Sherlock Holmes, Sin City, Spiderman 1 & 2, and Fright Night. Quite the selection, eh?
Pete reached across the kitchen counter top and grasped at his wallet. He opened the piece of leather to search for whatever money may lie inside. What luck, 20 bucks and a coupon for one half priced bowling session at the local alley. Maybe this wouldn't be such a bad day. He folded the wallet back up and slipped it into his back pocket. He also grabbed his keys and his phone, which was half full of charge. He unlocked the screen to check for notifications and such. Nothing. He supposed it was a good thing. No one was worried about him or anything. (AW! POOR PETE!)
With all of the necessities needed for an hour or two into town, he left his house, locking the front door and then turning to unlock his car. He drove a land rover, black in colour. Nothing too special. He was inside of the car in no time. The key was in the ignition, the radio was on, the engine was rumbling quietly. Pete looked once more at his house before backing up out of his drive way. He hoped that today was just going to be a normal day, where he'd go and get some normal coffee, like a normal person.
Pete felt slightly better about himself as he drove down the street, paying close attention to what was going on in the roads around him. He turned up the radio slightly, and began singing out loud to a song playing on the station selected.
"Because ya had a bad day, you've taken one down, you sing a sad song just to turn it around..."
I hope you liked it. The end was kinda cheesy with the song, but LOL. Yay for Daniel Powter! :D
If you want you can drop a review or something. Let me know what you think of my Little Petey and stuff.
Going to get some coffee isn't exciting, I know, but I'll switch it up soon enough.
TO THE COFFEE SHOP!
To be continued...