Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Sets of Three, They Say...

Good Things Come to Those Who Wait...?

by howshesews 2 reviews


Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: R - Genres: Humor, Romance - Published: 2006-11-17 - Updated: 2006-11-18 - 435 words

"Dude. Sound check." Patrick looked up from the magazine he was reading, while drumming his thumbs on the counter outside of it's pages. He glanced over at his dark-haired friend and shook his head. Tomorrow. Not tonight. He needed to see Meg. Replace her coffee, that sweater.

"No way, dude. I've got to be somewhere in..." He paused, checking his watch. " 7 minutes. You guys go." His friend zipped his jacket, rolled his eyes, grabbed his keys.

"You're going. Get your shit." Patrick pushed the magazine aside, still drumming. He looked down at the marble countertop.

"But I didn't leave a note." He sighed. "Whatever, Pete. I'm coming." Pete flicked Patrick's hat off of it's place over his reddish hair, then placed a hand out, forcing Patrick to stop. Exhale. What now?

"A note? For a her? What the fuck are you talking about?" Patrick shook his head, opening the front door, stepping into the almost-winter evening. Then it hit him.

"Don't you know some sign language?" Patrick asked, waving his fingers, hands raised. Pete turned to lock the door, the replied.

"A very minimal amount. The fucking alphabet, if that even counts. I learned it when I was, like, 13." He stuck his keys in his pocket and raised his hood over his head, around the sides of his face. "Why do you ask?"

Patrick shrugged.

"It's not important. It'd be cool if you could teach me what you know." Patrick opened the door to his car, sat down, and started it. Pete did the same. He pulled up along side Patrick, rolling his window down.

"Not unless you tell me why." He left. Patrick shook his head, putting the car into drive. As he turned the wheel, he quickly glanced at the clock. 5:07.

Fucking sound check. He pressed the gas.

Meg busied herself in the ridiculous game of minesweeper she'd started strictly to ignore the clock. Mine. Game over. She rubbed her eyes underneath her glasses, peeking at the clock from behind her hands. 5:07. No sign of the hat.

But he didn't leave a note.

3 minutes. Until 5:10. If he hadn't shown by then, she was out. Meg had better things to do than sit around and wait for some largely anonymous boy to replace her three dollar pumpkin latte. Given the circumstances, she probably deserved a new sweater too, but she still wasn't waiting.

Five-ten. Meg folded her laptop, putting it in it's case, and placed her coat across her shoulders. Dinner. That's all she cared about now. Plus, she was going to end up seeing hat boy tomorrow. So dinner...definitely way more important.
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