After The Dance (FOB FanFic ft. Panic! At The Disco)

~PART ONE~ [Chapter 16] Five In The Morning (Lexy)

(Lexy's POV)

It had been about three weeks since my dad moved Catherine and me to New Jersey. I had gotten used to the new house and school, but I still missed my old ones. I missed Patrick the most, though.

It was Friday morning. I was sleeping soundly when a large clashing noise sounded right above my ear. I woke with a startle and fell out of the bed (because I was sleeping on the edge). I sat up in the pile of blankets that I took down with me and looked over the edge of my bed to see Catherine standing on the opposite side of my bed with a pan in one hand and a pot in the other.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I yelled at her as I grabbed onto the mattress and pulled myself up.

"I couldn't miss the opportunity," She retorted as she twirled the pot and pan in the air. I glared at her. "Oh don't act like you wouldn't do the same thing to me if you'd have thought of it first." I shrugged my shoulders in agreement. "Anyways, we need to get going."

"Going where?" I glanced over at my digital clock that was sitting on my desk and realized the time - 5:03a.m. I looked back over at my sister, "And more importantly, why are you waking me up at five in the morning?"

"You and I are going on a little weekend road trip," A smirk crawled on her face as she spun around and walked over to my bedroom doorway, "Pack enough for two nights and three days, alright?"

"But I have school to go to!"

"Who cares?"

"Me! Because today Mikey said after school he was going to introduce me to his brother and his friends!"

"Well...looks like he isn't going to introduce you to them after school today."

I rolled my eyes and sighed, "Fine. Say I do agree to go with you, what about dad? Does he know?"

"No," She replied sharply.

"You didn't tell him?"

"He was already gone when I woke up." Our dad wakes up at 4:30 in the morning now for this slightly-above-minimum-wage job he took here. Good thing he was gone, though, because if he had heard the metal-on-metal clink of the pot and pan, he would've thought it was a gunshot and had a panic attack.

"He's going to be worried sick, Cath."

"I don't give a fuck what he's going to be, Lex. What I do give a fuck about, though, is what we're going to be. And if you don't hurry up, you and I are going to be late." And with that, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and walked out. I heaved a sigh and flopped back down on the bed - face first.

*****

I was sitting in the passenger seat of the Honda Civic, head leaning against the frosted window. We were listening to "London Beckoned Songs About Money Written By Machines" for the fourth time. If someone could wear a CD out, Catherine would be that someone. She's been listening to Panic!'s album "A Fever You Can't Sweat Out" nonstop since we've arrived here, in New Jersey. She puts it in the boombox in her room and blasts the music at the loudest volume possible. There's literally not one place in the house you can hide to escape the sound of Brendon's voice.

"There's a concert tonight," Cath blurted out randomly over the lyric: Well we're just a wet dream for the webzine.

"For who?" Make us it, make us hip, make us scene.

"For Fall Out Boy." Or shrug us off your shoulders. "I know they're your favorite band, so..." She retorted, breaking her gaze from the road for a split second to look over at me before looking back out at the road. "I got you and that friend of yours, Marie, tickets."