Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Sets of Three, They Say...
Purple. That was the color of the other boy. Passionate. Intense. Lost, kind of like...
Meg couldn't put her finger on it. She wasn't sure she wanted to. No time for this though. Tonight, was her opportunity to bless others in a way she couldn't be. A benediction, of sorts, from the not-so-benedicted. She loved sitting in front of the ivory, making melodies, having faith. That's really what it came down to. Her own confidence in her own abilities. Her own hands.
She was pretty sure Mal had at least invited Pete and Patrick, and that was okay. The bigger the audience, the more excited she was to be there. It was a feeling she figured they could relate to. She stepped behind the curtain.
Two pianos. One drum set, directly next to her piano, of course. Nights like these were a bit more difficult for her. They tested her skill, shook her nerves. As long as she felt the pulsing of the drum, she was able to play, no problem, but throw another piano into the mix, well, that was just plain stress-filled. She looked over at the other pianist.
"E." He signed. She nodded. That gave her a bit of an idea as to what he was going to be playing. She knew his style, his technique. Nothing she couldn't beat. She smirked, and waited for the signal to step out.
There it was. She moved forward into the light, unable to see the crowd beneath it. That was probably for the best.
E, she though. Then G, probably. Probably and F...minor, maybe. Oh well. She had this. She closed her eyes, striking the opening chord.
"She's amazing. I don't get it." Pete said, as the others watched, profusely impressed. Mal leaned over to him.
"When she was 4, she told her parents she wanted to play piano, like the kids at her church, and some of the kids at her school. Her parents didn't really have the heart to tell her no, so they sent her to an instructor, decided to leave it up to him. I'm sure it was hectic at first, but she learned to read music, and then eventually learned what note each key was. After about 18 years of practice, she's pretty confident in her abilities. I'm even amazed." Pete shook his head in amazement. Patrick was lost in her melody.
Her hands were the most incredible things he had ever seen. December first, 2005, had been the most unbelievable day of his life, all because of an anonymous girl, who hadn't said a word to him.
Pete was impressed, no questions there. Her energy, her faith in herself. Sure he had plenty of the former, but the latter, he could definitely borrow some of hers...or learn where she got it.
Meg could feel them. Their eyes. Their energy. Purple. Gray. They were out there alright, and it made her more than nervous, the more she thought about it. How had this one day supplied her with a ruined sweater and some potentially incredible friends. The purple one. There was so much more to him. His heart and soul and how sadly tarnished it seemed. Calloused, maybe. That's what he was. She could see it in his tired eyes. Her heart broke when she found herself searching them.
Patrick was Patrick, and though he was still a bit of a mystery to her, she could tell that he was a good-hearted kid. A real, genuine guy, but with a raging temper. His silence was shyness. It usually meant he was pissed, and she was learning.
She smiled at the thought of it all. What. A. Day.
Meg felt the beat of the drum come to a stop, and gracefully floated her fingers across the keys for her last few notes, her dainty finish. She stood, bowed slightly, and waved, as she exited the stage. She had another hour and a half before she would play again. Cool. Time with her semi-colorful new friends.
As she made her way down the steps backstage, and around to the front of the bar area, she was able to find them quickly. Patrick looked over at Mal.
"Tell her what I taught you." Patrick raised his hands slowly, and timidly, carefully signing the new portion of this beautiful language he had just learned.
"You-did-well." Meg smiled, and hugged him. She was a hugger, what could she say?
Everything, if you really want me to answer that question.
They took a seat, and Meg was introduced to two other gentlemen, with the help of Mal. After they had gotten through the introductions. Patrick spoke. Mal signed.
"Seriously, Meg. That was amazing. I'm very impressed. You're much more of a musician than I'll ever be." Meg blushed. Mal patted Meg's leg from under the table, noticing the hint of pink on Meg's cheeks.
"Mal. I'd like you to teach me to sign. If you don't mind. I'm not always in town, but after my...couple...of run-ins with Meg, I've learned it's not such a bad thing to know. And it's pretty." Pete chimed in.
"Oh, hell yeah. I want to know, too." Patrick rolled his eyes.
"Because he doesn't spell well enough to communicate with Meg using the alphabet." Pete flipped him off, and took a drink of his coffee. Meg, honestly, had no idea what was going on. She was Transposing. Mal tapped her on the shoulder.
"Get your nose out of your music. These boys are here for you." Meg smiled, and looked at Andy. She nodded at Mal, and began signing.
"I like your piercing. I've never really seen that before." Mall repeated and Andy pointed at his chin.
"This one? Lots of people have it. Not lots can pull it off." He laughed. Mal signed and Meg smiled, and nodded.
"How old are you all? I want to know about you. I'm sure Mal has informed you of...pretty much everything about me. Which isn't embarrassing or anything...wow. I bet sarcasm is a lot easier for you guys to convey." Mal repeated after Meg's signing, and they laughed.
"I need to go get ready for the next show. Thank you all so much for coming. I mean that. You didn't have to." They waved, and Patrick stood to hug her, which the others noted as a morbidly (okay, not morbidly) uncommon gesture. Thank the Lord for custom. He decided he needed to see her again.
"What are you doing tomorrow for lunch?" Pete beat him to it. Meg thought. Mondays and Fridays were her days off.
"Nothing." Mal informed Pete. He stood, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat.
"Will you accompany me for some fine Chicago dining?" Meg smiled. This was weird...the good kind. What was even weirder was her urge to...not deny him.
Patrick adjusted his hat, dismayed. The early bird gets the worm. That's fucking stupid. Meg's no worm. She's one of the most interesting people he'd met in awhile. A friendship with her would be unlike any he'd basically ever known, but Pete was definitely faster at this kind of thing, leaving him feeling chanceless.
Meg Accepted Pete's invitation, and hugged her as well before she went.
As she walked back stage, she thought about the two men she'd met that day. How incredibly opposite they were. What was she doing? Would this end up a mess?
She kind of hoped so...
Meg couldn't put her finger on it. She wasn't sure she wanted to. No time for this though. Tonight, was her opportunity to bless others in a way she couldn't be. A benediction, of sorts, from the not-so-benedicted. She loved sitting in front of the ivory, making melodies, having faith. That's really what it came down to. Her own confidence in her own abilities. Her own hands.
She was pretty sure Mal had at least invited Pete and Patrick, and that was okay. The bigger the audience, the more excited she was to be there. It was a feeling she figured they could relate to. She stepped behind the curtain.
Two pianos. One drum set, directly next to her piano, of course. Nights like these were a bit more difficult for her. They tested her skill, shook her nerves. As long as she felt the pulsing of the drum, she was able to play, no problem, but throw another piano into the mix, well, that was just plain stress-filled. She looked over at the other pianist.
"E." He signed. She nodded. That gave her a bit of an idea as to what he was going to be playing. She knew his style, his technique. Nothing she couldn't beat. She smirked, and waited for the signal to step out.
There it was. She moved forward into the light, unable to see the crowd beneath it. That was probably for the best.
E, she though. Then G, probably. Probably and F...minor, maybe. Oh well. She had this. She closed her eyes, striking the opening chord.
"She's amazing. I don't get it." Pete said, as the others watched, profusely impressed. Mal leaned over to him.
"When she was 4, she told her parents she wanted to play piano, like the kids at her church, and some of the kids at her school. Her parents didn't really have the heart to tell her no, so they sent her to an instructor, decided to leave it up to him. I'm sure it was hectic at first, but she learned to read music, and then eventually learned what note each key was. After about 18 years of practice, she's pretty confident in her abilities. I'm even amazed." Pete shook his head in amazement. Patrick was lost in her melody.
Her hands were the most incredible things he had ever seen. December first, 2005, had been the most unbelievable day of his life, all because of an anonymous girl, who hadn't said a word to him.
Pete was impressed, no questions there. Her energy, her faith in herself. Sure he had plenty of the former, but the latter, he could definitely borrow some of hers...or learn where she got it.
Meg could feel them. Their eyes. Their energy. Purple. Gray. They were out there alright, and it made her more than nervous, the more she thought about it. How had this one day supplied her with a ruined sweater and some potentially incredible friends. The purple one. There was so much more to him. His heart and soul and how sadly tarnished it seemed. Calloused, maybe. That's what he was. She could see it in his tired eyes. Her heart broke when she found herself searching them.
Patrick was Patrick, and though he was still a bit of a mystery to her, she could tell that he was a good-hearted kid. A real, genuine guy, but with a raging temper. His silence was shyness. It usually meant he was pissed, and she was learning.
She smiled at the thought of it all. What. A. Day.
Meg felt the beat of the drum come to a stop, and gracefully floated her fingers across the keys for her last few notes, her dainty finish. She stood, bowed slightly, and waved, as she exited the stage. She had another hour and a half before she would play again. Cool. Time with her semi-colorful new friends.
As she made her way down the steps backstage, and around to the front of the bar area, she was able to find them quickly. Patrick looked over at Mal.
"Tell her what I taught you." Patrick raised his hands slowly, and timidly, carefully signing the new portion of this beautiful language he had just learned.
"You-did-well." Meg smiled, and hugged him. She was a hugger, what could she say?
Everything, if you really want me to answer that question.
They took a seat, and Meg was introduced to two other gentlemen, with the help of Mal. After they had gotten through the introductions. Patrick spoke. Mal signed.
"Seriously, Meg. That was amazing. I'm very impressed. You're much more of a musician than I'll ever be." Meg blushed. Mal patted Meg's leg from under the table, noticing the hint of pink on Meg's cheeks.
"Mal. I'd like you to teach me to sign. If you don't mind. I'm not always in town, but after my...couple...of run-ins with Meg, I've learned it's not such a bad thing to know. And it's pretty." Pete chimed in.
"Oh, hell yeah. I want to know, too." Patrick rolled his eyes.
"Because he doesn't spell well enough to communicate with Meg using the alphabet." Pete flipped him off, and took a drink of his coffee. Meg, honestly, had no idea what was going on. She was Transposing. Mal tapped her on the shoulder.
"Get your nose out of your music. These boys are here for you." Meg smiled, and looked at Andy. She nodded at Mal, and began signing.
"I like your piercing. I've never really seen that before." Mall repeated and Andy pointed at his chin.
"This one? Lots of people have it. Not lots can pull it off." He laughed. Mal signed and Meg smiled, and nodded.
"How old are you all? I want to know about you. I'm sure Mal has informed you of...pretty much everything about me. Which isn't embarrassing or anything...wow. I bet sarcasm is a lot easier for you guys to convey." Mal repeated after Meg's signing, and they laughed.
"I need to go get ready for the next show. Thank you all so much for coming. I mean that. You didn't have to." They waved, and Patrick stood to hug her, which the others noted as a morbidly (okay, not morbidly) uncommon gesture. Thank the Lord for custom. He decided he needed to see her again.
"What are you doing tomorrow for lunch?" Pete beat him to it. Meg thought. Mondays and Fridays were her days off.
"Nothing." Mal informed Pete. He stood, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat.
"Will you accompany me for some fine Chicago dining?" Meg smiled. This was weird...the good kind. What was even weirder was her urge to...not deny him.
Patrick adjusted his hat, dismayed. The early bird gets the worm. That's fucking stupid. Meg's no worm. She's one of the most interesting people he'd met in awhile. A friendship with her would be unlike any he'd basically ever known, but Pete was definitely faster at this kind of thing, leaving him feeling chanceless.
Meg Accepted Pete's invitation, and hugged her as well before she went.
As she walked back stage, she thought about the two men she'd met that day. How incredibly opposite they were. What was she doing? Would this end up a mess?
She kind of hoped so...
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