Musicians/Music Groups Fan Fiction >> The Academy Is...
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I Would've Married
You In Vegas
I guess marriage in Vegas was never really marriage after
I didn't love Andrew Mrotek. I've never loved Andy. That drunken night in Las Vegas all those months
ago just made me think that my lust was really love. What a mistake on my part, going along with
Andy to that chapel.
I guess that I should really explain to you what happened that night…
I, Kayl, sat at the bar watching as my boyfriend (fondly known as ``The Butcher'') and his band
finish their set.
Butcher and I had plans that night, after TAI's set we would hang out, maybe have a couple of beers
back at the hotel we were staying at.
We stayed at the bar for a few hours, consuming as much alcohol as our hearts desired. Thinking
back, I often wonder why the bartender hadn't refused me anymore drinks. I was always quite a small
girl, barely 110 pounds at the most, but the bartender seemed to be too busy collecting money to
realize that I could not handle my alcohol.
I particularly remember the guys drunkenly telling dirty jokes, flirting with random girls, and
asking me if I only kept Butcher around because of his skills in bed (The last comment was from Mr.
Everything's a little fuzzy after that. I remember walking the streets clinging to Butcher for dear
life although the man was stumbling himself. I have glimpses of stumbling through the chapel door
and demanding that we be wed, now. From what I remember the Elvis Impersonator (Andrew paid good
money for him, for his Best Man Sisky Biz) who married us did not seem to have a clue what he was
doing, and when he told Butcher that he could kiss his bride, Adam drunkenly kissed me for him. We
were an odd bunch, but none of the people who worked at the Chapel seemed to think that we stood out
anymore than any other group who came in.
The next thing I knew, it was morning. Glimmers of bright sunlight were escaping through the thin
shades covering the window as I turned, burying my face into my boyfriend's chest. Andy made a noise
of annoyance, as if I'd woken him.
I'm sure you've figured out the rest, haven't you? Of course we discovered our ``lovely'' wedding
bands, a tacky fashion that only Vegas could have.
Most people would have probably had something similar to a heart attack if they had awoken in the
same situation we had, not Butcher and I though. We would going to make it work, somehow or another.
Although we both acted determined, we had no drive to work things out with each other. We just
weren't right for each other.
Our marriage wasn't forever.
Three months after our vows were said, I watched my ``husband'' toss his wedding band into a pond at
a nearby park as he told me it was over. Stupid cheap-ass wedding band. I could still see flashes of
metal through the ripples that had formed in the pond. My ring suffered a similar, yet much worse,
fait. Right at Andy's fucking hard head. I stormed away from him, as he was clutching his eye which
my overly-large ring had apparently hit. Oops.
I didn't even know what had gone wrong in our relationship; he never explained it to me. I had to
learn the hard way, with the help of a few friends.
Although the Butcher and I weren't together anymore, the rest of TAI (as well as Gabe Saporta,
although I'm fairly sure Gabe didn't know what the hell he was doing) invited me to Patrick Stump's
birthday party, permission from my favorite Fall Out Boy granted of course. I had always had a
slight crush on Mr. Stump.
All five boys (TAI - Butcher + Gabe) showed up on my doorstep, and found me wallowing in self-pity.
By this I mean, lying on my couch with a pint of Starbucks ice cream while in pajama pants and a
I knew I was invited to Patrick's party and I also knew that I was supposed to be ready by the time
the males showed up. I didn't feel like partying though. After a half hour of begging and pleading
from four slightly pathetic looking guys (Gabriel decided that sitting on my couch, eating my ice
cream and watching the over-dramatic scene in front of him sounded better) I finally got myself
dressed in a ``little black dress'' and ballet flats, then hurrying out of my apartment. After I
screamed at Gabe for eating my ice cream of course, and I may have beaten him with a pillow as
I remember staring blankly out the window of the cab that we were squished into when I heard Sisky
speak to me.
``Shit happens,'' was all that came out of his mouth as I stared at him with a look that I hope he
took as, `What the fuck?'
``Shit happens Kayl,'' he repeated. ``You've just got to move on.''
That was probably the wisest phrase that ever passed Adam T. Siska's lips. I'm proud to say it was
Parties were never my thing, and I clung to Michael Guy Chislett as we walked in. Michael was trying
not to laugh at the fearful expression on my face, whereas Carden was practically on the floor he
was laughing so hard.
``Fuck you, Mike Carden,'' I mumbled angrily. I would have said more to him, but I was too busy
taking in my surroundings.
That's when I saw my worst nightmare, Andrew ``The Butcher'' Mrotek with his arms wrapped around a
slightly plump blonde. Not plump, round. Pregnant. He looked so happy with the girl in his arms, she
looked so happy with him. The scene made me miserable though, wishing that I had never left my
I looked up at Michael, whom I was still clutching. I was hoping he would tell me that the kid
wasn't Andy's, that Andy would never cheat. It had been two weeks since Andy and I had broken up,
and that girl was very pregnant.
Chizzy nodded at me, ``I'm really sorry Kayl. The guys and I... You just had to know.''
Normally I loved hearing Michael's accent. Normally he could say anything and that accent would make
everything better. Nothing could make this discovery better.
I buried my face in Michael's chest as tears began to flow from my eyes. Suddenly, I felt myself
being lifted as I heard Michael whisper to Gabe and Nate Navarro that he would be taking me home. As
odd as it may sound, Chizzy carried me 8 blocks to my Apartment Building, up two flights of stairs
and into my apartment until he placed me down on my couch.
That night, I sobbed as I lay curled up on my couch in Michael Guy Chislett's arms.
That night, I truly wished that it had been Michael who I had married.
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The preceeding was a work of fiction. Any statements regarding any person, place, or other entity (real or imaginary) is the sole responibility of the author of this work of fiction. Fan Works Inc. takes no responsibility for the content of user submitted stories. All stories based on real people are works of fiction and do not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. All stories based on other copyrighted works are written with authors knowing that these works violate copyright laws.
Please see the Terms of Service for more information.