summary // the real history of fall out boy; the wild start, the bitter end and everything in between
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andy hurley was not the kind of person who fell for people; but somewhere between featherdown-brushed skin and mediocre sex in hotel rooms, trying to keep quiet so that nobody would hear the gay boys in room 21, he fell in love with peter lewis kingston wentz the third.
it was unexpected, really; pete was rude and mouthy, with a bad attitude and too much negativity, but he was pete and wasn't that to be expected, really?
eventually the things he hated the most about him became things he became fond of, and within three summer months and sweat soaked skin and ice cream headaches and dizzy laughter because of heatstroked sex, it was no longer andrew hurley against the world, but peter wentz against it too.
one august night, the twenty-fifth, twenty-sixth perhaps (andy always had trouble counting the days during summer months, because they stuck like sweaty skin and one night became another and everything became a repeated song, one after another) pete whispered in his ear, head still dizzy from his post-orgasm (or perhaps just post-andy?) haze, "let's do it. let's finally make It."
andy shrugged, brain slurring; 'It' meant many things in the adhd-wired brain of peter wentz, and It was the name that many of his never-gonna-happen projects had been dubbed. but the way that his whiskey-cocoa-chocolate-coffee eyes stared into his storm-cloud-steam-ocean ones, colliding like thunder and lightning, he knew what he meant.
"you wanna do it for real, this time?" he cocked one eyebrow, and pete nodded, running his hands encouragingly down andy's chest, drawing patterns and circles around tattoos that were only there for the sake of the scene, and andy sighed. they'd tried It. bands didn't work out. pete yearned for the ability to have music, though, and ever since arma split, he'd been bugging andy about it. he wanted The Band, the one they'd do for real, and get big on. their band, their success story.
andy was a sucker for pete. and pete knew it well.
so he did it. he said yes.
pete kissed him happily, and rode him out of celebration; coming with a satisfied sigh and a whisper of thanks before drifting to sleep.
andy stayed awake and couldn't stop thinking about if he'd done the right thing or not.
pete wasted no time on sorting auditions; by the time september rolled around their small list of potentials was rounded down to three. andy had refused to participate, instead shaking his head and claiming he'd find somewhere other than drummer to fit.
that was how patrick stump arrived.
he was a young thing, only 17 at the most and pete fell in love almost instantly, which was a Dick Move but this was pete wentz, so what would one expect other than dick moves? andy wasn't surprised nor phased; it was very much a Pete Thing To Do. so, andy did what andy does best - ignored his own feelings in favor of keeping others happy.
and then when he sang andy felt something like pure hate rise in his stomach because pete looked at him like he'd never he'd never heard anything nicer in his life and he nearly proclaimed his love on the spot to some pretentious prick of a kid who wasn't even out of highschool yet. andy hated patrick stumph more than he'd ever hated anyone else before, and he didn't even feel guilty for it.
patrick had, naturally, been noted as lead singer; pete had just given andy the brush-off and had gone "red, you're on drums", much to his complete anger and disgust, because it wasn't like andy had agreed to start the band with him or anything.
the guitarist was even younger than stumph, with a shock of brunette curls and a bad attitude. andy disliked him at first, but soon warmed up to him, thoroughly enjoying his dry remarks towards stumph and savage digs at pete and his behavior.
