FicWad

“Walking off that stage tonight, I know what you're thinking, yeah. ‘He stands alone because he's high on himself.’ But if you only knew. I was terrified, and would you mind if I sat next to you and watched you smile? So many kids, but I only see you, and I don't think you notice me.

“Well I've seen your boyfriend, and I don't think he treats you right. But that's none of my business, is it? I'm not the way you think I am, no. I'm not the way you think I am, no.”

“Okay, Sarah! There you go! Fuckin’ work it, lady YEAH!” Sarah laughed at Pete’s attempts at encouragement and shot a series of faces at the photographer. She blew her new bangs out of her face. After the abortion and moving some of her things out of Bill’s house before he made his way back from New York, Sarah decided she needed a more drastic but controllable change; she went with bangs and some light layering in her chestnut locks. “YES SARAH! You go with that Zooey Deschanel hair!” She laughed again and recomposed her face into something more stoic, striking a power pose against the white backdrop.

Her debut album was finally coming together. In the month since she and Patrick had returned to Chicago, they dove straight into working on her music. Sarah’s mind was filled to the brim with new material, between her bitter end with Bill and being back in cahoots with Patrick. She was dying to get everything out. She cranked out the last few songs and sent them to Patrick to collaborate with her; he tastefully provided vocals, drums, and some light trumpet. As her now-official producer, Patrick worked on finalizing the album itself, including setting Sarah up with Pete to work on promotions and marketing. Which, at that particular moment, meant album art.

The day after photographing, Sarah and Pete went over the material at Patrick’s house.

“How is it possible that we spent all day with that photographer and didn’t manage to get a single fucking usable shot?” Sarah threw the proofs down on the table, feeling defeated.

“You’d be surprised,” replied Pete. “Out of all the albums Fall Out Boy did together, shooting covers and the rest of the album booklet would take, like, a week. Sometimes longer.” Patrick groaned as he came in from the kitchen with a prepared meat and cheese plate.

“Don’t remind me. I always hated those. They never liked when I wore my glasses or put hats on. And because of how sweaty I am, they kept making me take breaks to change shirts or blow-dry my armpits!” Sarah and Pete chuckled at him. “It was humiliating!”

“You’re telling me! They never straightened my hair or applied my eyeliner right so I always had to fix it.” Sarah shook her head at the other two as she grabbed a couple of cheese on crackers. “What?”

“Nothing. Just sounds like this won’t be the last day of shooting or having to look through batches of these.” She scoffed as she gestured to the photo proofs and popped the cheese into her mouth. As Pete went towards the cheese and meat himself, Patrick began glancing over the proofs. Then one caught his eye. He moved some of the other photos out of the way so that he could get a better look. Smiling, his eyes lingered over the details: dusk set over Lake Michigan, the calm water blending with the sky, and there was Sarah in the left side of the frame. He admired how her long, dark hair contrasted with the scenery around her, clearly flowing down her back as she stood on the shore and faced the lake.

“Hey guys?” Patrick asked as Sarah and Pete turned to him. “Did you see this?” He pushed the proof over to them. “I think this is the one.”

“Oh man! Yes! How did we miss this?” Pete smiled and turned to Sarah. “What do you think?” Sarah was stunned at the photo. It’s perfect, she thought. And while not vain, she noticed the intrinsic beauty of the shot; she cracked a small smile as she caught Patrick’s knowing glance.

“Patrick’s right. This is the cover.” She searched through the others and found one that was taken at the same location but with her face in front with part of the Chicago cityscape behind her. She showed it to Pete and Patrick. “And this one would be the back cover.” They nodded in agreement. “So what about the interior content?” She turned to Pete.

“This sounds like a late night,” Patrick said, excusing himself from the discussion. He grinned to himself as he watched Sarah get more and more enthusiastic about her album.

“Well,” Pete responded to her, “part of your whole goal for this project was focusing on collaboration, right? And you don’t really want anything too glamorous? Like, you want the music and artistry and shit to shine instead of looks?” She nodded. He paused for a moment, eyes suddenly lighting up. “Did anyone take pictures while you were recording?”

“Uh, I think so, I think we all did. Like I have some, and Brendon and Ryan have a few, Hayley I know for sure does. Why?”

“Imagine as a backdrop to the song lyrics and credits and dedications are various photos in black and white of you either alone playing or collaborating with everyone you worked with.”

“Pete! Fuck yeah!” They high-fived as Patrick came back into the room with takeout menus.

“Well that was quick,” Patrick quipped, smiling as he sat down. “You guys already worked everything out?”

“Surprisingly, yeah,” Sarah said, starting to put away the rejected photo proofs. “The inside is going to basically be a compilation of various pictures we all took in the studio during recording. To show the actual collaborating.” She smiled at Pete and began looking over a Chinese menu. Then Pete got a call; he excused himself for a brief discussion in the other room. When he came back, he gathered his things as well as the album material.

“Hey guys, sorry to cut tonight short, but I have to catch a flight to get Bronx. Sounds like Ashlee’s going out of town. Again.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, Sarah, start digging for those photos. I’ll check my phone to see what I might have on it. Send me an email when you’re done with what you have and we’ll go from there.” He hugged Sarah and fist-bumped Patrick as he left.

Patrick turned to Sarah.

“So…working dinner?” Sarah grinned.

“With wine?” she asked coyly. He grinned back at her as he retreated to the kitchen, returning with two glasses and a bottle of zinfandel. “You brought out the good stuff!” Sarah eagerly reached for the glasses and set them on the table.

“Why not?” he said, popping the cork with ease and filling each glass half-full. “It kinda feels like we’re celebrating.” He looked over at Sarah. Gingerly, she swirled the wine in her glass and took a sip, swishing and mulling the tastes over her tongue. It fascinated him; she caught him staring. He blushed. “Uh, you should figure out what you’re going to order.”

“Oh! Right!” She blushed back, her empty hand rubbing the back of her neck as she flipped through more menus.

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Some hours later, takeout sushi consumed and a bottle of wine downed, Patrick and Sarah were lazing around his studio as they flipped through Sarah’s studio pictures on Patrick’s computer. They had already decided on the photo from her times with Brendon Urie (she sits next to him on a piano bench with her guitar), Ryan Ross (he points at her with finger guns and she pretends to faint), and Bebe Rexha (they sit at a table next to each other, written lyrics and music composition strewn about). She was still waiting on emails back from Joe and Pete.

“Oh my god!” Sarah exclaimed, laughing uncontrollably and pointing at the photo on screen of her and Hayley Williams both on mics, headphones on, and sticking their tongues out the sides of their mouths towards the camera. “I have to have that one in the book.” Patrick laughed with her, nodding in agreement as he marked it and clicked to the next one; his face fell slightly.

“Oh,” he said softly. Sarah looked up; her smile dropped.

“Oh.” Up on the screen was a shot of her and Bill. He’s looking at her fondly, arm wrapped around her shoulders, while she points to some lyrics in a stand. “I forgot I still had these around.” A pregnant pause as she stared at them together. She felt…well, she didn’t know what she felt. “I wonder how he’s doing.”

“You really want to know?”

“Why? What did you hear?”

“I—I heard he’s back with Christine.”

“Since when?” Patrick didn’t answer. “Since when, Patrick?”

“Since he came back after New York.” Tears began brimming her eyes, and she stood up, angrily wiping them away. “Sarah? Are you okay?” Patrick started to get up after her.

“I’m fine, don’t get up. I just need more wine if there are going to be more photos like that.” She forced a meek smile as she trotted down the hall to the kitchen to grab the next bottle of wine. Why would something like that affect her so much? Not like she had intended on getting back together with him. She wondered if she had meant anything to him at all, or if she had just been a rebound. She stared at the collection of whites and reds in front of her. No, she thought. Time for the big guns. She searched until she found Patrick’s best whiskey and a couple of whiskey glasses. Halfway down the hall, she started to hear Patrick angrily speaking to someone on the phone. She tiptoed closer to the studio door and watched Patrick quickly pace back and forth, gesticulating wildly.

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m still working on it…No, she fucking counts, Elisa! She fucking counts. I am her producer; I am seeing this project through…When it’s done! You can’t rush th—...He—Hey! That’s—oh my god ENOUGH!” He yelled. “You don’t get to do this! You’re supposed to be supportive, as my girlf—no, let me fucking finish. You know how much my solo album means to me. I mean Jesus Christ, Elisa—” At that moment, the glasses in Sarah’s hand clinked together, loud enough for Patrick to hear. He whipped around and faced her. Has he been crying? “I have to go.” He hung up on Elisa and approached Sarah, taking a glass and the whiskey. “Oh good,” he played off, sniffling. “You brought whiskey.” She smiled warmly at him.

“Figured we might need it.” She sat next to him on a small couch in the room and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know you were asking me this just a few minutes ago, but are you okay?”

“Ha! Am I okay?” He laughed bitterly, pouring himself a drink and chugging it. “I’m pretty sure that my girlfriend hates me because she never fucking leaves me alone long enough to get any actual work done. She still gives me a hard time about producing your album. You know how I’ve been trudging along on a solo album?” Sarah nodded as she poured him a new glass. “Well, she hates that, too. She doesn’t think it’ll be successful. She wants me to go crawling back to the band and beg everyone to get back together.” He audibly scoffed, taking another swig of whiskey. “Like, we’re taking a fucking break! Part of the point of that break is for everyone to explore their own projects and this is mine! And she treats it like trash.” His voice broke a little at the end.

“Patrick, you shouldn’t have to put up with that.” He laughed.

“No, you’re right. I shouldn’t.” He smiled at her. “So why am I, Sarah? Why do I let her fool me?”

“Do you love her?” He paused a moment and opened his mouth like he was going to say one thing but changed his mind. He finished the second glass.

“You know? I don’t think I do. I honestly don’t think I love her or that I want to keep dating her. I want to break up with her.” He sighed a long breath, like a weight had been lifted off of his chest. “That feels amazing to say. I want to break up with Elisa.” The sentiment was short-lived. “But she’s still someone to come home to. I can’t be alone again, Sarah, it was awful.”

“Patrick, I know you don’t think very highly of yourself, but I honestly believe that you could do better than Elisa. She’s never treated you right and you deserve more.” He looked up at her.

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, no I’m not.” She looked into his eyes, making sure he was looking back. “You could have anyone.” For a split second, she thought she saw something familiar flicker from his eyes to hers.

“What if I’m not the way you think I am?” He asked.

“Then you’re better off alone than with someone who makes you feel like this.” He nodded and wiped a new tear away, thinking over what she’d said. She poured herself a glass and nursed it.

They sat in a comfortable silence for awhile longer.

“Hey, I’d love to hear that solo album when it’s finished,” she prodded. He grinned.

“Well, I was planning on sharing it with you on your bir—hang on, what time is it?” He reached for his phone, checking the date. “Holy shit! It’s already July seventeenth! Hang on.” He got up and found a pair of his wireless headphones and handed them to a very bewildered Sarah. He pulled up a file on his computer and connected the headphones.
“Happy birthday,” he said, pressing play.

“Is this—”

“Shhh,” he said while pressing a finger over her lips, forcing her to focus as Soul Punk played in her ears. She closed her eyes and listened, smiling to herself.

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When the album finished playing, Sarah left the studio and searched for Patrick. She found him in the living room on his laptop.

“I finished it. Soul Punk?” He turned to her and nodded. “I like it.” His eyes lit up.

“Really? You do?” She grinned enthusiastically. “And you’re not just saying that?”

“I don’t really lie about anything but especially not music.”

“Right.” He smiled back at her.

“It was a good birthday present.” She paused contemplatively. “Wow, it’s already my birthday.” She sat next to him on the couch. “I can’t believe it’s been a year since—well, since my parents both died.” She fell silent for a few long minutes before turning to Patrick again. “Do you think they’d be proud of me now? Do you think if they were here to see me, to see all of this, that they’d be happy?”

“I might be a little bit biased, okay I’m more than a little biased, but yeah, yeah I do. You’ve given them a lot to be proud of.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her to him, making her feel warm and protected.

“Thanks, I needed that.” She turned her gaze to his computer screen. “What’ve you been up to?”

“Oh you know, this and that, booking a flight to LA.” Sarah raised her eyebrows at him. “I decided. I’m leaving Elisa. But I need to do it in person.” She nodded and wrapped him closer to her. They both felt the ease in their intimacy.

“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”

“Aw thanks I’m proud of me, too,” he mocked back at her.

“Don’t be a shit you’re ruining this very special moment,” she teased, still in their embrace. He smiled into her neck. “Hey Patrick?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you mind if I stay here tonight? I don’t want to go home alone on, well, today.” He pulled her in for another hug.

“Of course I don’t mind. And it’s your birthday after all.” He winked at her. “You know where all the guest stuff is. Make yourself at home.” He rose and started to make his way down the hallway. “Goodnight, Sarah.”

“Goodnight, Trick.” She smiled shyly at him as she made her way into the guest room to get ready for bed.

As she was about to fall asleep, a notification woke her.

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From: peterpanda@aol.com
To: ocdmusic@gmail.com

Subject: album art pic
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She expected for Pete to find a whole bunch of pictures that she’d known he’d taken during her time in the studio. But it was what he sent that melted her heart. An indiscretion, a flash of the truth behind the curtain. Her soft hair flowing down Patrick’s shoulder, her head neatly tucked between his neck and her chin, her laughing up at him and him just beaming down at her. A glimpse of something more in their eyes. Sarah smiled.

“I got troubled thoughts, and the self-esteem to match. What a catch, what a catch. And all I can think of is the way I'm the one who charmed the one who gave up on you, who gave up on you…”