Oh, on a wire, we were dancing
Two kids no consequences
Pull the trigger, without thinking
There's only one way down this road - All Time Low, Time Bomb.
With a small jog I headed across the street from Patrick's place, forgetting to look as I crossed.
The flat storey building was a red brick, with cracked windows and wooden panels against all the entrances. No one was there, nor had been for a long time. I went to look round the back.
The fence to the backyard had rotted away. It was still there, but with plenty of entrances for you to choose from. I chose the biggest hole by the bushes.
The panel by the back door was missing, and had been discarded on the lawn. I steeped in through the doorway.
It was quiet. No one seemed home. The surfaces were covered in a metre of dust, yet there was a single light on in the hallway.I avoided the lift guessing that it was either broken or about to. Climbing the staircase, I called out.
"Brendon?" No reply.
The door to number 669 was ajar. I wish that i'd noticed when I walked through and accidentally slammed the door behind me that the 9 had fallen down.
Room 666.
I also wish I'd been able to react fast enough to the fist which hurled towards me in the half-light and made contact with my face. Ouch.
YOU ARE READING
The (After) Life Of The Party...
FanfictionFeatures Pete Wentz, Brendon Urie, Tøp Patrick stump and Mikey Way. The party has just ended, and Pete wakes up to a completely trashed house. He has barely any recollection of what he did that night. Everyone has left from the night before... Or h...
