Hey Stump,

Did you really think I'd wait for you? Did you honestly believe that I want to waste any more of my time on you? You're so stupid.

I know I agreed. I know we said we'd just have a rest, until you were fucking ready or whatever, but I've decided that I don't give a shit about you any more. If you don't love me, that's fine. I don't care. But I'm not gonna love you either. So how about you just fuck off.

You think you're worth waiting for. You think I actually want you to love me. Well, you can stop thinking that. I'm not taking orders from you, you don't own me, I'll do what I like. Give me time, my ass.

That whole thing that happened on April 1st was bullshit. Everything you said was bullshit, everything I said was bullshit. I thought you were the one, or whatever, and I was prepared to do anything for you. To hell with that. Now I'll do anything to keep you away from me. I'm not waiting. You want to fall in love with me, go ahead. I won't catch you.

I'm over you. Finally. After four years chasing after you, it only took six months for me to get tired of you. You weren't as good as my imagination. As always, you were a let down. And you know better than anyone that disappointment is your middle name.

Anyway, I know I'm over you, because I've got a boyfriend. And he is about as far from you as anyone could get.

-

The night after you left me, or we 'took a break' or whatever bullshit phrase you covered it up with, I was reunited with an old friend. The drinks cabinet hadn't been touched for a good few months, so that night, I had a fucking field day. I forgot how good the wine is when it lulls me to sleep, how the whiskey warms me from the inside, how the vodka burns sizzling trails down my throat. How could I have loved you when there's alcohol in the world? You're just another type of drug.

That's all you were. A numbing agent, an anaesthetic. Just something to keep me occupied before I found what I was really looking for. Because the night I ditched you was the night I met the man who changed my world.

So with alcohol in my blood and a smoke in my lungs (oh my god I'd forgotten what cigarettes taste like, you deprived me of so much), I went out. The nightclub a few blocks away was my usual spot, or at least it used to be. I hadn't been in a while.

It was a shit hole, but I'd pretty much lived there for a good portion of my life. I realised I'd missed the faint smell of drugs, the music loud enough to block out your own thoughts, the grimy bathrooms where I'd gotten so many blow jobs. I'd missed the time before you. It was so much better.

I'd already had quite a bit to drink, but when I walked in, I headed straight for the bar. They serve all that colourful shit, with the weird fruit in it, but I didn't care, I wanted everything I could get. All the smells, the tastes, the feel of alcohol had faded from my memory, and it needed refreshing.

Downing drinks every which way, and with lots more money to blow, I got more relaxed. That's when I saw him. The most perfect man I'd ever seen.

I don't remember what he was wearing, or what he was drinking, but I remember the look in his eyes. It was fire, it was excitement, heat, it was something I'd never seen in your boring face before.

He walked over to me, placing a friendly hand on my shoulder. And in that one gesture, there was more energy than there had been in my whole relationship with you.

"Hey." He said. His voice was low and husky, and I nearly fell off the stool right then.

"Hey." I said back, trying not to stare. His face was fucking gorgeous.

"Haven't seen you here before." He mused, looking at me from underneath thick lashes.

"Had a bad night." I shrugged.

"What happened?" He asked gently.

"Boyfriend. Doesn't love me. Says he will if I give him time. I'm not sure if I believe him." I hadn't meant to tell him that much.

"He sounds like a dick."

"He's not." I snapped. Because at that point, I was still in love with you. I'm not any more.

"Oh, okay. What's he like?" The guy shifted closer, so that our shoulders were touching.

"Perfect." I said simply. Glad I know better now.

"But he wants you to wait?"

I nodded, staring into my glass.

"That's bullshit, man. He better be careful, 'cause you could have anyone you wanted in the blink of an eye."

That got my attention. Up 'till now, I hadn't ever considered that anyone else might want me. You'd blinded me to my own potential.

"You don't need him. Why should you wait? What gives him the right to control you?"

I listened to his words, processing them slowly with my drunken brain before finally starting to see that maybe you were in the wrong a bit, too. Maybe you weren't so perfect after all. And he was right, why should I listen to you? "He doesn't control me..." I slurred, thinking all this over.

"Exactly. You could do so much better." He smirked at me, all kinds of feelings flitting in the air between us.

"You think so?" I asked thoughtfully, my viewpoint slowly starting to shift. What if I could get someone better than you? What if I could fall in love with someone who wasn't you? What if that person was sitting on the bar stool beside me?

"I know so." He murmured, his breath ghosting across my face. A tingle shot through me. And I can pinpoint the exact moment I forgot about you.

I turned my head and kissed him, our noses bumping but our tongues not so clumsy. He was new, he was exciting, he was fucking great at kissing. Within moments, the heat began to build up, sizzling between our lips as our hands began to roam roughly up and down one another's bodies. I'd never done this with you. You'd never let me touch you like this. Fucking prude.

The atmosphere got the better of me, and I grabbed at the hem of the man's shirt, sliding my hands across his skin. He moaned into my mouth, groping at my inner thigh and earning a growling response.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against mine and panting profusely. "Shall we go somewhere more private?" he breathed, and I was suddenly aware of the fact that there were hoards of drunk teenagers and a barman within spitting distance of our little make-out session.

"My place, a couple blocks away." I said, brushing aside the thought that perhaps I shouldn't bring a strange man I met in a shitty club back to my house. But he was too pretty to refuse.

He nodded and grabbed my hand, dragging me through the crowds and eventually out into the open air.

I'm amazed we didn't get smeared on the road as we stumbled though the streets in the direction of my house. We didn't talk, we were all over each other the whole way, ignoring the weird looks we got from passers by as we feasted on each other's mouths.

Fumbling with the keys to my front door, I hurried to get this gorgeous creature in my house. He gripped my waist tightly and kissed at my neck as we tumbled inside, kicking the door shut as we scrambled to get more of each other's skin. Suddenly, clothes felt so uncomfortable.

We fell onto the couch, breathing heavily in between deep kisses, tangling our limbs together in order to bathe in our warm bodies. I smashed my lips into his repeatedly, pulling at his hair and clawing at his back. I felt more alive than I had done in five years.

It was never like this with you. You were a feather; one mistimed breath and you were gone. I was so gentle with you, always, your lips rose petals, your skin silk. There was nothing wild about you. No passion, no life. I'd never seen you fully naked, you'd never even let me be in the room when you got changed. Every thing about you was so delicate, so fucking fragile, and I got tired of it. But this...this is what I like.

To share an animalistic passion with another person, to hear them growl at your touch, to be so utterly absorbed in one another that you forget where you are, who you are, is so much better. If you were a fire, he was a firework.

My hands slipped under his shirt, and without missing a beat, he ripped it over his head and reconnected our lips, before his beautifully long fingers got to work on my own shirt. He slowly revealed my tattoos, kissing along my thorn necklace, trailing his teeth along my chest and sparking a deep moan in my throat.

He's so beautiful. I couldn't help but marvel at his toned chest, running my hands up and down as he continued to plant kisses all over me. The muscles in his back flexed as he moved, because he wasn't fragile, he was strong, a force of nature, and I let myself be swept away by him. Everything was different with him, the way he moved, breathed, the high cheekbones, piercing eyes. His bulging biceps and rock hard stomach. You were always just kinda squishy.

He started unbuckling my pants and my heart jumped at the way this was going.

A flick of his wrist and a hand in my boxers later, I was electrified, his touch rippling though me. I moaned again, and was about to shout for him when it hit me.

"Wait, what's your n-name?" I breathed, stuttering slightly due to the fact that he'd just replaced his hand with his mouth, and it was damn difficult to concentrate on anything else.

He pulled off of me, laughter lighting his eyes.

"Mikey Way."

I smiled. Mikey, I thought, it's hot. He suits it.

"Yours?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Pete Wentz."

He simply grinned and went back down on me, and I writhed underneath him, finally able to weave his name into my moans of pleasure.

-

A while later, we were left slumped on the couch, buck naked and slick with sweat. Our arms were slung around each other, legs tangled and chests heaving to a steady rhythm. Wow. That was fucking amazing. Or, that was amazing fucking.

I always thought the first guy I'd fuck would be you. And I'm so, so glad I was wrong. Because he was better than I'd ever imagined. Better than you could ever be.

He slowly fell asleep in my arms, as I planted lazy kisses on his neck, stroking his soft brown hair, his lean form and angled features reminding me just how different he was from you.

I fell asleep to the sound of his breathing.

-

When I woke up, he was gone.

I felt my heart sink through the floor, missing his warmth and his fire and his passion. Why did he leave me? Please, don't let him leave me. I panicked, wondering what the hell I did wrong, writhing around under the covers. Wait, I'm under covers?

I sat up, looking around and blinking as if I had a grudge against my eyes, feeling a seething headache split my skull in two. I'd forgotten how drunk I was before he showed up. I was on the couch still, but a duvet had been drawn over the top of me and a pillow placed underneath my head.

"Coffee?" A voice called from the kitchen.

"Ugh?" was all I managed to blurt out.

I heard laughter. "I'll take that as a yes."

A few moments later, there was coffee in my hands and caffeine in my blood, and after taking two aspirin, I started to feel somewhat human again.

He sat beside me, talking about something I wasn't listening to. Whatever it was, it was making his colourful eyes light up and his smile spread through his features. He's so beautiful.

And that's when I started to think that maybe it was all over. The hangover was fading, I'd had it for five years and not even realised it 'til today, I was finally waking up to the fact that I deserve better than you. Why chase after some fat idiot in a hat who tries to kid himself he can sing, when I could be right here with Mikey, the angel sent to snap me out of my stupid crush? Fuck, I think I'm in love with him already.

He even asked me to be his boyfriend. I'd made it very clear to him that I'd ditched you for good, and that made him happy. We exchanged numbers, and a whole lot of secrets, in the hours before he had to leave. He did it in the cutest way too, all blushing and quiet and worried about what my answer was gonna be. But he shouldn't have worried, I'd said yes before he'd finished the sentence.

Then he kissed me again. I love kissing him. Unlike you, he doesn't hesitate, doesn't look around to see if there's anyone watching, even when we were on my doorstep in full view of everyone. He said he was so glad this wasn't just a one night thing, and he'd love to see me again, and that I was hot and funny and clever. He said he's proud to have me, proud. Did I ever make you proud, Patrick? Of course I didn't. But I don't care any more. Your opinions, your decisions, your existence doesn't matter to me in the slightest.

I have Mikey Way. My goddamn hero. He's in a band too, actually, something about chemistry. I've never heard of them, but I'm sure you'll say you have. Because I'm going to introduce him to you. If you think for one second that I'm going to hide him, to spare your feelings or whatever, you've got another think coming. Your feelings aren't worth sparing.

I want to see the look on your face when you see my new, perfect boyfriend. 

You know what? I hope you do end up in love with me. I hope you see what it's like to cry over someone until you've no tears left to give, I hope you end up a depressed wreck like I did. It'll be hilarious. 

Farewell and fuck off,

Pete.