FicWad

“Why can you read me like no one else? I hide behind these words, but I’m coming out. I wish I kept them behind my tongue. I hide behind these words, but I’m coming out.

“Put your hand between an aching head and an aching world. We’ll make them so jealous; we’ll make them hate us. An aching head and an aching world. We’ll make them so jealous; we’ll make them so jealous.”

“Aren’t you ready yet?”

“Calm your shit! I’ll be there in a minute!”

“Sarah, you said that ten minutes ago.”

“Just hold ON!”

“You’re such a pain in the ass!” He laughed.

“I know!” She laughed back. Sarah continued to switch out clothes from inside her closet. How could she get dressed for an outing when she had no idea where she was going? With the production of the album finished the month prior, she and Patrick made a “date” to celebrate the upcoming official release and subsequent tour. He kept the destination a surprise, to match what he claimed was equally surprising “fantastic” news. He insisted surprises were fun; she scoffed but went along with it anyway.

She settled on a scoop-necked tight black dress and black patent leather pumps. In the mirror, she looked herself over: tousled hair, winged eyeliner, glowing skin. She finished it off with a warm red lipstick to match her nails. The ensemble reminded her of the kind of thing she used to wear to her parents’ parties, something simple and understated yet classic.

When Sarah walked out, Patrick tried to hide his smile but couldn’t.

“Wow,” he breathed, not able to manage much else.

“Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself.” He wore a black fitted suit, a tweed-like gray button down, black dress shoes, and a black tie with a horizontal cut at the end. They grinned at each other.

“So, uh, ready to go?” She nodded, and together they walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind them.

A black car awaited them outside, a chauffer ready to open the door as Patrick and Sarah slid into the back seat.

“Wow, Mr. Stump, you sure know how to treat a lady,” Sarah boasted with a wink. They’d been more openly flirtatious since he’d left Elisa, but Sarah was still uneasy about pursuing him romantically outright. Still, she figured flirtation and banter were harmless.

“Well, it’s a night worthy of a proper celebration. You’d better get used to lavish treatment with the way your career is going.” He winked back at her. The car drove off.

“Can’t I at least have a hint for what all the fuss is about?”

“You really can’t drop this and just be surprised, can you?” She pouted at him, causing him to sigh and smile. “Alright, alright. One hint. It has to do with your first tour. But that’s all you’re getting for now!” Sarah laughed, admitting defeat. Hands in her lap, she started lightly pulling at her fingers; Patrick reassuringly took her hand in his. She felt her face flush and was immediately grateful for the dark of the night to cover her.

They pulled up in front of a relatively non-descript building with a long line of people outside. Music pulsed through the brick walls and floated down the sidewalk. Between the music, the surprisingly cool mid-summer air, and the starry night with a full moon hung in the sky, Sarah could have sworn there was magic all around her.

Patrick told the driver he’d call when they were ready. He placed a guiding hand on Sarah’s lower back, sending a small shiver up her spine, as they went up the steps to the bouncer, who simply lifted the velvet rope and let them inside. She took in the scenery around her: elaborate chandeliers and black damask paper adorned the walls, and dark wood floors spread through the space. The best words she could muster to describe it were “swanky gothic.” The club was packed but not uncomfortably so. Patrick led her through the crowd and past the dance floor to another roped off area, presumably VIP. Behind the rope were small cocktail tables with wrap-around seating upholstered with vampire red velvet. She felt like a kid in a candy store as a waiter brought them a menu.

“Wow, Patrick, this is incredible. Where are we?” He smiled at her gushing.

“It’s called Angels and Kings. I don’t come often, but I figured it was a special occasion.” They shared a smile again, and Sarah’s eyes wandered through the club again, stopping abruptly when in the DJ booth she spied Pete.

“Holy shit, what’s Pete doing here?” He looked at her inquisitively as she pointed in the direction of the DJ; he turned, locked eyes with Pete and waved, and turned back to Sarah.

“Oh, yeah, he comes pretty regularly. It’s his bar.” Sarah’s eyes widened; she nodded in understanding as they both refocused on the menu. “So,” Patrick started, still reading the menu. “Don’t you want to know about your surprise?” He teased. Sarah snapped up.

“So help me god, Patrick, you better tell me!” She playfully swatted him with her menu.

“Okay okay! Geez, so violent!” They laughed. “Well, so you know how with your album release this fall comes a tour.” She nodded eagerly. “It’s been arranged for you to open for a pretty sweet lineup, if you say yes.” He took her hands in his. “What would you say to being the opening act for me and Panic! At The Disco?”

“Oh my God!” She squealed. “Yes, yes, yes! A million times yes!” They couldn’t stop grinning at each other. “Patrick.” She inched nearer to him on the bench and pulled him into a close hug. “Thank you. For this, for everything. This year wouldn’t have been the same without you.” He smiled to himself as he felt her body lean into his; they must have felt the same thing at the same time because they mutually broke the hug, looking at each other a little sheepishly.

“Let’s celebrate.” The waiter returned, and Patrick ordered two bottles of champagne for the table. They also put in orders for their meals. When Sarah was about to ask about not being carded, it was like Patrick read her mind. “You’re with me and Pete’s here, don’t worry about it.” She grinned.

“I bet I can outlast you,” she challenged, and he snorted back at her.

“Listen, miss, I’ll drink you under this fucking table and then I’ll casually walk out of here with a glass of whiskey in my hand. You want to go?”

“Oh it’s so fucking on.”

One meal, two bottles of champagne, and a bottle of red wine later, Sarah and Patrick were laughing hysterically, objectively drunk. As the laughter died down, Sarah took a messy gulp of her water.

“Fuck, man, I can’t remember the last time we’ve had this much fun.” Patrick lazily rolled his eyes, trying to remember.

“Holy smokes it had to be like, months ago.”

“Before my first show!” His eyes widened.

“You’re so RIGHT! We should’ve been doing this all the TIME!” He reached for his water and took a swig before clumsily pouring them each another glass of wine.

“Hey man, I wasn’t the one who dated a psycho who thought I was a threat,” she said, finishing with a sip of more wine. “It was goddamn impossible to get you alone after that!” Patrick groaned.

“Ugh, I know I know. She—she was a buzz kill.” Sarah sensed his unease.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me you still have feelings for the bitch,” she accused bitterly. He sighed.

“It’s complicated! We were together a long time before we first broke up. We got back together because she told me she was sorry, which believe me was very hard for her to do, and I don’t know. It’s, just—”

“Complicated?” Sarah interrupted. He shot her a knowing glance as he went for his wine again. “I don’t get what’s so complicated about it. The woman purposefully got in the way of your work. She fucking threatened me to keep me away from you. She isolated you. She’s a goddamn lunatic, and you’re better off away from her. What is it? Is it because she’s familiar? Or is it because she raked your self-esteem through the mud so deeply that you think you don’t deserve better?” She realized too late she might have pushed too far. Patrick stared blankly at his glass. “I--”

“Don’t,” he said, resigned. He chugged the rest of his glass, and Sarah followed suit. He grabbed her hand. “Come on.”

He led her back through the growing crowd to a small photobooth where they could take mugshots. They let the tension from earlier melt away. They made some ridiculous faces and got into wild poses, but Sarah’s favorite picture was after she sloppily kissed his cheek. They were grinning ear to ear from laughing, Sarah’s hair was untamed and blocked half of her mugshot place card, and the red lip print stood out in stark contrast from the white background of the booth and their black outfits. She had the attendant print out an 8x10 for her to take home and frame. Then he took her to the dance floor.

Because of their drunkenness, they weren’t so much dancing as they were stumbling around vaguely to the beat of the music, but that didn’t stop them from having a blast. They gradually danced closer and closer together as Pete introduced a new single from his side project The Black Cards called “End of Pretend.” As the beginning beats pounded over the multitude of speakers, Patrick and Sarah let the music overcome them. He placed a hand on her hip and pulled her close as she faced away from him. She swiveled and shook against his pelvis, grinding into him. He wrapped both arms around her waist and rested his head on her shoulder, grinding back. She turned her head to face him and leaned in so their foreheads lightly touched. The last time she had felt this happy, this content with her life, she had just moved to Chicago.

Sarah turned around in Patrick’s arms to face him while the song came to a close. The grinding gave way to swaying. Their faces flushed with emotion and alcohol, they looked into each other’s eyes and slowly started leaning—

Vvvvvvbbbbbttttt. Vvvvvvvbbbbttttt.

Patrick groaned in frustration.

“I have to get that.”

“I’ll be here.” She smiled up at him. He smiled back and pulled out his phone. As soon as he saw the caller ID, his face dropped.

“It’s Elisa. I’ll be right back,” he yelled to Sarah as he pushed his way through the crowd to get outside. Meanwhile, Sarah picked up her printed photo and walked back to their table. A few people she recognized from the studio and Decaydance came up to her and congratulated her on the upcoming album; she excitedly told them about her new tour.

Pete came by after he finished DJing and slid in next to her at the table.

“Sarah! Glad you came!” They hugged hello.

“Hey! This place is kickass!”

“Well I try. Yo, did Trick tell you about the tour? You going with him and the Panic! boys?”

“Hell yeah I’m going! Pete, it was such a surprise. The whole night has been one surprise after another. Patrick’s been really great,” she gushed and smiled, giddy.

“Can’t wait to hear all about it,” he winked. “Speaking of, where’d he go? I saw him rush out of here pretty fast earlier.”

“Oh, he said he got a call from Elisa that he had to take care of.” Pete’s eyes bugged. “What?”

“She’d said something earlier today about needing to talk to him, but I didn’t get any details from her.”

“You talk to her?”

“Hey, I don’t feed the crazy, I’m just a messenger,” he said, leaning back with his hands up. Sarah reached for more water and saw Patrick coming towards the table. He was stone-faced and much paler than when he left. Pete turned to him and said, “Hey Tri—Whoa man, you alright?”

“Not now, Pete. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” He nodded, got up and left, waving back at Sarah. “I’m sorry for ruining your night. Let’s get you home.”

“Is everything okay?” She asked, gathering up her purse and the picture.

“It’s—I’ll explain when we get back.” He gestured for her to follow him out of the club to the street where the chauffer was already waiting. He opened the door for them and drove off once they buckled up.

They rode back to Sarah’s apartment in an uncomfortable silence. She felt a little nauseated but couldn’t tell if it was from the drinking or from her anxiety. She went back to pulling at her fingers and wringing her hands in her lap; Patrick didn’t try and comfort her this time.

------------------------------------------

Once they arrived, Sarah went to unlock the door while Patrick tipped the chauffer and sent him off for the night. She fetched them each a large glass of water and sat on the couch. He joined her, sipping his water. They finished the glasses before Sarah broke the quiet.

“Out with it. What happened?” She turned to face him.

“I don’t even know how to—Fuck it.” Patrick took a moment to compose himself. “Sarah, Elisa’s pregnant.” He took a deep breath. “She told me that she suspected it earlier this week, but she confirmed it at the doctor today. That’s why she called.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Elisa and I. We’re having a baby.” She felt herself go pale. Her heart dropped with the weight of a ton of bricks. She tried to respond, but her words came out as dead air as she opened her mouth. “There’s more,” Patrick added. Great, she thought as the tears welled up. “She asked if I wanted to get married. I said I’d think about it.”

It was like she was in slow motion. Nausea bubbled up. She couldn’t help her reaction. She wished that she could have felt overwhelming joy for him at the news, but she couldn’t. Instead, she shakily rose from the couch and slumped into the bathroom; she made it to the toilet and promptly threw up vigorously. After a few minutes, she felt empty, and she fell against the door and burst into tears. Thank God for waterproof makeup, she thought. And as hard as she tried to cover up her sobs, Patrick could hear her.

“Sarah?” He asked, knocking on the door softly. “Is everything okay?” She continued to cry. He tried opening the door to get to her; locked. “Please let me in.”

“Just go, Patrick. I need to be alone,” she choked out. And he thought about leaving her like she asked, but he wanted to know what the hell was wrong in the first place. He was having a kid, not being shipped off to war, and her less-than-expected reaction really pissed him off. Not like he reacted like that when she was pregnant.

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on!” He insisted. “So open this goddamn door and talk to me!”

“Are you seriously that blind, Patrick?!” He heard her get up and yank the door open. “What do you think is going on with me? We talked every day every time you left for LA, and not just about music. And I thought that maybe, just maybe, there would be more to us than just friends, but no. Then you told me you were seeing Elisa, so I tried to get over whatever I thought I felt for you. And through everything with Bill, even you having a girlfriend, you acted like nothing changed between us, like we were still good friends. We’ve gotten so close, especially in this last month. Now you’re going to have a family.

“But the worst part? The worst part is being here in front of you, yelling at you, and crying my eyes out. Because as badly as I want to be happy for you and congratulate you and celebrate with you, I can’t. Because when you broke the news to me just now, I knew in that moment that I was in love with you and that I’ve been in love with you since that day in the record store.” In that entire story, tears hadn’t stopped streaming down Sarah’s face, though her tone shifted from angry to pained and hurt. She realized almost immediately that if she hadn’t still been a little drunk, she would have been able to hold herself together and not embarrass herself like she just had done. Fucking hell, she chastised. Patrick just stood there, staring at the floor. He hadn’t made a sound since Sarah started on her rant.

In the silence following her confession, Sarah watched Patrick intently look at the floor. The tears had stopped, thankfully; the anger and frustration were still there though, causing her breaths to feel labored and heavy in her chest. As she was about to ask him to leave again, he suddenly looked up at her, revealing the tears and the frustrated conflict in his eyes. Sarah was taken aback and softened her stance as she delicately approached him to caress his face. He caught her mid-gesture.

“Patrick--”

“I can’t deal with this right now.” He threw her hand away as he stormed away from the bathroom. Sarah followed him; her anger resumed.

“I’m sorry? You can’t deal with this?” She sarcastically asked, gesturing to herself.

“Yeah, Sarah, I can’t. There’s too much fucking shit right now and I’m still a little drunk and my psycho ex is pregnant and wants to get married for Christ’s sake and now you—And I thought you were—” he cut himself off and ran his hand through his hair. He leaned against the wall in the hallway.

“You can get out of this marriage thing. Just call her back tomorrow and tell her you were drunk and weren’t thinking and that you can figure something else out.” He shook his head at the suggestion.

“It’s not that easy for me. I’m in the public eye. I can’t go around being a dad to a kid who’s born to parents who aren’t together. I think a kid deserves married parents.” He paced down the hall away from Sarah.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She called after him. When he didn’t respond, she followed him into her bedroom. He was already halfway undressed. “Patrick, what—”

“Don’t start, I feel like shit and I just want to sleep. Please, can we talk in the morning?” He looked up at her pitifully. She could tell he was really struggling; it was hard to stay mad at that face, especially after she had embarrassed herself with her outburst.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I can sleep on the couch.” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm.

“Please stay.” He let go of her arm. “I mean, it’s your apartment. And the bed is big enough for both of us.” She sighed at him.

“Fine,” she begrudgingly agreed. He stripped down to his boxers and undershirt and she to her underwear. She turned off the lights as Patrick slid under the covers.

They laid in the comfort of the darkness for what felt like hours; in the dark they didn’t have to hide their faces. Sarah was on the verge of tears, angry with herself for not having ever spoken up for herself before that night and angry at what seemed like an insurmountable obstacle. She turned to face away from Patrick and determined herself to try and get some sleep.

-----------------------------------

“Sarah?” Her eyes fluttered open; it was still dark. She thought maybe she was hearing things. “Sarah? You up?” No, it was Patrick whispering for her.

“I’m up.” She turned back to face him, though it was impossible to know in the darkness. “Can’t sleep?”

“Can’t sleep.” He sighed. She could feel his heat radiating through the sheets, despite feeling like she was so far from him. “Do you think we’re still drunk?”

“I don’t feel drunk. Do you?”

“I wish I did.”

“Why’s that?” He leaned over to her and cupped her face in his hands. He got close enough for their foreheads to touch. “Patrick—” He put a finger to her lips.

“I can’t sleep because— You made me realize something tonight. I realized that while I was already living a life better than I ever could have imagined, I was still missing a partner. I’d told myself a long time ago that the right partner wouldn’t come along, that I couldn’t possibly have someone who could be with me and with the music. I thought you were just a flirty drunk and that we were just friends.” Sarah blushed. “But for the first time, I have hope, and I have hope because I think this someone might be you.” Before she could respond, they were kissing wildly and twisting up the sheets as they realized their passions.
Moments bled from one to the next. As he explored every inch of her, she focused on where his hands landed and pressed, determined to commit to memory the roadmap they made on her skin.

“We sold our souls in dark hotel rooms. We slip tongues and lie like ‘I will see you soons’. Two explorers in dark, making maps and drawing shots. Put the world on notice: I'm ruined and I know it. We threw the game from the start. I'm desperate and devoted the secret no one told us: my songs know what you did in the dark.”