Pete went out of the house that day.
He was up at 4am.
Had had no company.
He thought it best to take a walk.
The autumn leaves scattered the ground.
Leaves.
The wind took them away.
The slight crunching of the ground.
It made its own beat.
There was no one out this early.
People were home asleep in there beds.
Or they were home, thinking.
Writers pushing to meet there deadlines.
Coffee addicts shaking on the couch, watching shows they would never talk about.
Teenagers texting the people they think are going to be their friends forever.
Musicians trying to make that final touch.
Everyone is doing what they do.
Pete was out of place.
He didn't belong awake at this hour.
The streets were not for him.
He walked into a small restaurant.
A 24-hour diner.
He couldn't stay.
He was too tired.
He went home and slept.
At eleven he got.
He took another walk.
He walked all the way to the tattoo parlor.
Most of his tattoos were drunk decisions.
He liked this one.
It was the one that saved him.
On the back of his neck now read.
Love. kisses. blood. stars.
"this is for you boy."
He got home and the letter sat on the table.
dear pete
nothing
"people are leaves, they can't stay forever." -s.y.k.
Please vote ;) love you all.
ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
To people who leave: {petekey} (editing)
Hayran Kurgu"People are like leaves, they can't stay forever." Pete Wentz knows this. Someone tells him this everyday. Everyday Pete gets a letter from someone he supposedly doesn't know, or at least that's what they say. He knows basically everything about th...
