Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Dead On Arrival
i know im not your favorite record
8 reviewsa crucial character of patrick's past pays him a visit, will it rekindle the spark he's been missing for so long or bury the flame deeper than ever?
5Original
Observing the continuously growing crowd from under his oversized hood and behind the brim of his hat, he wandered aimlessly through the venue with his hands dug deep in his pockets, fiddling with the VIP pass hidden deep inside. Glancing up occasionally from his fixation on the ground below his feet, he avoided eye contact with the spectators filling the old dusty auditorium, hoping there would be no chance for him to be recognized. Desperate for a minor form of entertainment, desperate to break free from the confinement of a tour bus or a sticky, humid dressing room, he strolled through security in search of adventure.
Now among the sea of fans, flowing through the door like water crashing through shattered flood gates, he tried to collect the organization of his mind, but lost in the translation of his thoughts, he crashed almost violently into what he presumed to be a body.
"I'm sorry" Rushed quickly past his lips the moment he was pulled back to reality by the impact of his body against hers, "I wasn't paying attention"
"Tr-tree Stump?" A familiar voice echoed in his ears, forcing his eyes to pull away from their fixation on his sneakers; locking with his victims as she peered under the visual confinement of his hood. Memories crashed through his mind instantly, as the air constricted in his lungs from the instant shock.
"Anabella Genevamarie Stumotrolazera?" sang from the front of the room as roll was taken, each syllable echoing off of the ancient walls of the classroom. Stifling a laugh by burying his face in his arm, he couldn't help the outburst as she raised her hand, signally her presence.
"What are you laughing at tree Stump?" She snapped around in her chair to burn a hole in his heart with her eyes; her name was funny, he couldn't help but laugh as it echoed through the room. Shrugging his shoulders, avoiding a real answer, his cheeks were burning as she grabbed his pen, drawing a sad face on the cover of his calculus book, and placing the pen back on his desk before turning back around in her chair.
With a sigh he slouched down into his seat, admitting defeat, making today yet another day that passed where he laughed at her name, another day she replied with a sad face and another day he had managed to blow any real chance he would ever have.
"Stumocrolitipusisosis?" He inquired, trying his very best to keep a straight face as he intentionally destroyed the pronunciation of her last name.
Playfully slapping his arm, she let a smile slip through and he remembered how infectious her smile had always been, assuring him that she remembered. It had been 5 years, but the days and the weeks and the months, they do things to people, they change perceptions and rearrange memories, ensuring nothing would ever appear or be remembered the same as it should.
With a laughed and a smile she agreed to take a walk with him, trusting that their years apart hadn't turned him into a serial killer; he wanted to catch up, it had been far too long, but lost in the sea of a continuously growing crowd wasn't where he could let down the barriers of his mind. Weaving in and out of the crowd, he pulled her along, a lose grasp on her forearm allowing him to lead the way, stopping momentarily to pound his fist against the fist of a large intimidating man in the doorway of a long hallway as he moved to the side, allowing them to pass through.
"Patrick Martin Stump! Where are we going?" She called, quickly on his heels as they skipped down the hallway, shouting erupting from somewhere in the ibis of the darkness surrounding them.
"Anabella Genevamarie Stumotrolazera! You always asked too many questions!" He replied, stopping her near the doorway of a room full of couches, equipment, suitcases and strangers, guitars and a drunk equipped with a water gun.
"You said it without laughing ..."
Breaking down his happiness barrier, Patrick let a smile slip over his lips as Ana leapt into his arms, embracing him in an overdue hug, the hug; the very hug she had longed for since the very last time she watched him walk away from her to the awaiting embrace of his anxious parents, clutching her diploma to her chest with tears in her eyes.
"Where are we? And how did we get back here?" Ana inquired, her eyebrows wrinkling together in confusion when he finally let go of her.
"Why are you here?" Ignoring her question, he had questions of his own. Was it possible for her to really not know?
"I was forced to come; my roommates are really into some band that's playing tonight so they forced me to come along with them. They're going to be so angry that I drifted away, but it's their own fault, they know I have no interest." He didn't expect her to be, he knew this wasn't her forte, he would never be something that she would ever listen to, and he was okay with that.
"Have you really not grown out of this scene Patrick; it's been how long now?" She laughed, remembering all of the times she would find him in his basement, creating like a madman, prodding away at his guitar or securing himself for hours behind his drum set.
With a smile he hadn't let through in longer than he could remember, he slipped his arm around her shoulder, leading her into the room of strangers and chaos, "Anabella my dear, I am this scene."
Now among the sea of fans, flowing through the door like water crashing through shattered flood gates, he tried to collect the organization of his mind, but lost in the translation of his thoughts, he crashed almost violently into what he presumed to be a body.
"I'm sorry" Rushed quickly past his lips the moment he was pulled back to reality by the impact of his body against hers, "I wasn't paying attention"
"Tr-tree Stump?" A familiar voice echoed in his ears, forcing his eyes to pull away from their fixation on his sneakers; locking with his victims as she peered under the visual confinement of his hood. Memories crashed through his mind instantly, as the air constricted in his lungs from the instant shock.
"Anabella Genevamarie Stumotrolazera?" sang from the front of the room as roll was taken, each syllable echoing off of the ancient walls of the classroom. Stifling a laugh by burying his face in his arm, he couldn't help the outburst as she raised her hand, signally her presence.
"What are you laughing at tree Stump?" She snapped around in her chair to burn a hole in his heart with her eyes; her name was funny, he couldn't help but laugh as it echoed through the room. Shrugging his shoulders, avoiding a real answer, his cheeks were burning as she grabbed his pen, drawing a sad face on the cover of his calculus book, and placing the pen back on his desk before turning back around in her chair.
With a sigh he slouched down into his seat, admitting defeat, making today yet another day that passed where he laughed at her name, another day she replied with a sad face and another day he had managed to blow any real chance he would ever have.
"Stumocrolitipusisosis?" He inquired, trying his very best to keep a straight face as he intentionally destroyed the pronunciation of her last name.
Playfully slapping his arm, she let a smile slip through and he remembered how infectious her smile had always been, assuring him that she remembered. It had been 5 years, but the days and the weeks and the months, they do things to people, they change perceptions and rearrange memories, ensuring nothing would ever appear or be remembered the same as it should.
With a laughed and a smile she agreed to take a walk with him, trusting that their years apart hadn't turned him into a serial killer; he wanted to catch up, it had been far too long, but lost in the sea of a continuously growing crowd wasn't where he could let down the barriers of his mind. Weaving in and out of the crowd, he pulled her along, a lose grasp on her forearm allowing him to lead the way, stopping momentarily to pound his fist against the fist of a large intimidating man in the doorway of a long hallway as he moved to the side, allowing them to pass through.
"Patrick Martin Stump! Where are we going?" She called, quickly on his heels as they skipped down the hallway, shouting erupting from somewhere in the ibis of the darkness surrounding them.
"Anabella Genevamarie Stumotrolazera! You always asked too many questions!" He replied, stopping her near the doorway of a room full of couches, equipment, suitcases and strangers, guitars and a drunk equipped with a water gun.
"You said it without laughing ..."
Breaking down his happiness barrier, Patrick let a smile slip over his lips as Ana leapt into his arms, embracing him in an overdue hug, the hug; the very hug she had longed for since the very last time she watched him walk away from her to the awaiting embrace of his anxious parents, clutching her diploma to her chest with tears in her eyes.
"Where are we? And how did we get back here?" Ana inquired, her eyebrows wrinkling together in confusion when he finally let go of her.
"Why are you here?" Ignoring her question, he had questions of his own. Was it possible for her to really not know?
"I was forced to come; my roommates are really into some band that's playing tonight so they forced me to come along with them. They're going to be so angry that I drifted away, but it's their own fault, they know I have no interest." He didn't expect her to be, he knew this wasn't her forte, he would never be something that she would ever listen to, and he was okay with that.
"Have you really not grown out of this scene Patrick; it's been how long now?" She laughed, remembering all of the times she would find him in his basement, creating like a madman, prodding away at his guitar or securing himself for hours behind his drum set.
With a smile he hadn't let through in longer than he could remember, he slipped his arm around her shoulder, leading her into the room of strangers and chaos, "Anabella my dear, I am this scene."
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