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One-Shot's

|Pulling The Trigger All Wrong|Peter Wentz|One-Shot.

She sighed softly as she sat down the bottle of pills. Valium, to calm her nerves. She swallowed the pills dry, her hands shaking too much to hold a glass of water. Was she afraid? Yes. Anyone in her situation would be. But she was through with it, and she was ready for it to be over. She wanted the lying to stop, she wanted the screaming, the pleading, the empty apologies, she wanted them gone.

She wanted him gone.

"Amy, please-"
"Just stop it, Pete. You can't make me stay this time."
"Why are you even leaving?"
She stopped throwing clothes haphazardly into her duffel bag. "Pete, I can't do this anymore. I just can't."
"But why? Why now?"
"Oh, it's so nice to know that I can leave any other time as long as it's at your convenience," She shot at him, every word hurting him more than a knife through the heart.
"You know that's not what I meant," He said, desperate to make things better, for "I'm sorry" to work again.
"Then what did you mean? Because I sure as hell don't know."
"Amy-"
"No, Pete. What do you mean? What do you mean by going away every other week and coming back like nothings happened? What do you mean by having your friends having to tell me that you won't be home that night? What do you mean by people pitying me when I walk down the street, because they've seen you with some other girl at a club? What the hell do you mean?"
He was not expecting this outburst. He wasn't expecting her to know everything. That was always his weakness; underestimating her, not giving her enough credit.
"Amy, please don't leave. I love you." 'No, you don't,' She thought, 'You love always having someone's shoulder to cry on. You love being safe.' But she never said this out loud. She didn't pull away when he embraced her. She didn't leave.



She walked quietly down the street. She was never really one for causing a commotion. She liked things quiet. She liked things normal.
Well, as normal as they could be.
No one walked with her. No one really noticed. That was okay with her; she didn't want anyone to know she was out here. She didn't want anyone to know what she was about to do.
Was Amy Falcone planning on taking her life that night? No. She wanted a piece of her gone forever. The little piece of her heart that he would always have, no matter how many times she tried to take it back, and give it to someone else, he'd always have it.
That drove her insane.



"Amy, this is it. This is what we've been waiting for. Fall Out Boy got signed."
"Pete, that's fantastic!" Her smile lit up her eyes. He was glad to see her smile. It had been so long since she had been truly happy. She hugged him tightly, and for a moment, he was happy, too. For a moment he thought things would turn out okay. That the fighting would stop, and they'd go back to how they were in high school. Then her hold loosened, and she pulled away from him. The smile was gone.
"But that means you're going to go on tour. You're going to leave again, Pete."
"Don't you see? I do have to go away again, but you can come with me."
But even as he said this, he knew it wasn't true. He didn't want his girlfriend on tour with him. He didn't want her watching over him, at the parties and with the different girls. For, you see, Pete hadn't gotten better. He'd simply been more secretive. It was the obscure bars he visited, away from the part of town where Amy's good citizen crowd stayed. He'd still been leaving.
"Pete, maybe-maybe we should just stop trying. This isn't working. This hasn't been working, not since we were kids."
"Amy, no. Things were just starting to get better-"
"How do we know that, Pete?"
"Amy, no. You can't leave me. I need you."
"Don't talk to me like that, Pete," She said. Her voice was getting louder, and she didn't realize.
"I can change, really-"
"Maybe it's not you."
Now this he couldn't stand. People harassing him, blaming him; he was used to that. He did it himself. But he wouldn't take Amy beating herself up for his screw-ups. He would be the one to make things better, even if it made him miserable.
"No, Amy. It's not you. And it's not going to be you leaving the time. Good-bye. And I won't be coming back."
And out the door went her boyfriend. Her love, if you will. Because she did love him. She didn't always show it, and she sometimes denied it, but she did.
And it was her left alone. Not Peter, as any outsider would expect from previous episodes. And it was her who collapsed to the floor, it was her who sobbed to herself in the dark.
"What have I done," She cried. What had she done? Simple. She had wanted perfection. She had wanted everything to be like a storybook. She wanted a knight in shining armor, she didn't want to have to be one.
But she loved it. And she lost it.



The streetlights shone down on her. If you looked hard enough, you could see how they highlighted the tears on her face.
The noise of bar brawls and hypnotic music no longer interested Pete. Only her, only Amy, only the one he'd ever left, was all that haunted his thoughts. He knew he should make things right. He knew that she must feel as awful as he did. So, for the first time, he left the bar, perfectly sober, without a foreign girl on his arm, and he felt good about himself for the first time in a long time. He felt like he was doing the right thing.
She walked, still. She was oblivious to the boys revelation, to his sudden want need to make things right. She walked, only knowing the grave task that she had condemned herself to. And so opportunity arrived, outside the noisy building on the far side of town. The opportunity was him.
"Amy," He breathed. He could make things okay. He knew he could. If he could just get her to listen.
And then something happened that neither of them expected, most of all Amy. Sure, she knew of that awful piece of metal in her pocket, and of course she knew what she intended to do with it. She just hadn't trusted herself to go through with it.
He was scared. He had never been scared of anyone else before. It was always himself that scared him the most.
She summoned every ounce of emotion, of humanity, of goodness in her. But it wasn't enough to give him a chance. She closed her eyes, and took blind aim. And the last words he ever heard her say were belted out, quickly and clearly. "Pete, I love you. But I can't let you leave me. I know it's not worth it to try and change your mind. I love you Petey; remember that."
And the gun shot echoed throughout the city, the real shot heard 'round the world and in every heart. For this shot was fired to end a war. It was fired to end a suffering that wouldn't have existed. It was to bring peace to this intercity battle against the good girls, and the bad boys. It was to integrate and separate them all by grief.
Loves and lives were ended as the doves flew over head.



Sirens and police radios blasted through the sacred spot. Medics and coroners fingered the self-sacrificial bodies. A detective stood aside from it all, and when he wanted to get his say in things, he ushered them all away, and he knelt by the lovers' still warm bodies.
"They were only kids, Trohman," He said to the officer behind him.
"I know, Andy, I know," Said Trohman, shaking his head, and preparing to turn away.
"Wait," The detective said, causing Trohman to pause, "What did they say the cause of death was?"
Trohman looked up a bit, as if he were deep in thought. "You know, it's really odd. The girl fired the gun, no doubt about that, but when she fired it, something went wrong."
"What do you mean, something went wrong?"
"You see, Andy, the girl never meant to kill herself. She shot at the guy, and when she fired the gun, the bullet split. One piece hit the guy in the head, one piece hit the girl square in the chest."

It's true romance is dead.

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