Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > The Twelve Days Of Christmas
On the Third Day of Christmas - December 27th
December 27th 2006
Her hair reeked of the smoke of the fire from last night, rolling over and off her hair she stared at the bare back next to her. Her hand softly stroked it and it just made a noise and shuffled slightly.
Grinning, she stood up off the bed and as quickly as she could, whipped the bed sheets away and off his sleeping body.
"Hey!" He whined, she giggled hard as she ran to the door and he leapt out after her. Squealing as she fled down the stairs, he grabbed the bottom of the sheet and pulled on it hard, both falling not far from the bottom of stairs.
"That was mean Annerson! Why would you do that??" He whined,
"That's some sweet white ass Trick!" she laughed and he attacked her ribs with one hand, pinning her hands with the other. Roaring with laughter she begged him to stop and they both froze as the front door was opened with a key.
"Oh my god!" She gasped, and they quickly tried to stand up.
"Nana!" she inadvertently blurted out.
"Ella....Patrick." She said, eyeballing them both with a grocery bag in her hand.
"I don't want to know..." She moaned, walking into the kitchen.
Refraining from giggling until she'd left the hallway, they raced upstairs to make amends for their awful ways.
Ella moved down the stairs quietly, hearing the tones of Bach's Cello Suite No.1 float through the air of the house. She stared at the TV screen, her Nana was sat on the edge of the coffee table watching the screen intently. Patrick stood behind her Nana and watching too with the same intent eyes.
Ella stared a little open mouthed at the video footage of her younger self, holding the cello and playing so confidently, the camera shaking where her Mom had been so nervous.
"What are you doing?" She asked, the both turned quickly and Ella moved towards the TV.
"Ella..." her Nana said softly.
"No...You turn this off now!" She said angrily, reaching for the remote control and turning it off.
"Ella!"
"Where did you find this?" She asked, holding the video cassette in her hands.
"I found it...." Patrick said, Ella's eyes glanced to his.
"It wasn't to be found." She said coolly.
"I...." Patrick started and Ella's eyes remained on his.
She looked down at the video tape and pulled out the film, angrily pulling the reems of tape from the cassette.
"Ella no!" Her Nana cried sadly.
She continued to pull out the film and it knotted in curls of distorted memories on the floor.
Patrick's eyes stared wide at her behavior. She dropped the cassette on the floor and watched them both look at it.
"It wasn't to be found...." She said again and walked past them both.
December 27th 2005
Holding the bow in her right hand, it held as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Ella had so greatly missed putting the bow to the strings of her Cello and hearing those deep sensuous tones come out.
Patrick sat on the piano stool in what used to be the music room of Ella and her Mom's. The anticipation of hearing her play was more then he could take.
Her hand shook as she attempted to bring it to the first string. He held his breath and allowed his ears to show patience as the notes could almost be heard already.
"I can't.." She whispered.
"Of course you can!" He encouraged her gently.
She tried again, his eyes witnessing for themselves as her hand physically trembled when her bow came closer to the strings.
"No I can't!" She gasped and surrendered the bow to her side. Patrick moved towards her and then slipped behind her, his warm hand took her right arm and moved it up to play position.
"Play Ella..." he whispered in her ear. She pushed on her bottom lip hard and concentrated hard as his subtle strength both physically and emotionally helped her move the bow to the strings.
Her head started to shake and he felt the trembled even more as his hand rested on her hand, guiding it.
She cried out suddenly and moved away from him. He stood quickly and watched cautiously as she pushed the cello over and they heard and felt it collide with the wooden floor. With a growl she snapped the bow effortlessly in her hands and hurried out her room.
He'd seen that same anger flash in her eyes that morning as he did last year. He was sure it was resentment, but who or what of was still unknown to him. Patrick had never lost someone close to him, so he knew he could never understand to full comprehension, just what contorted her thoughts.
Patrick regretted encouraging her to pick up the cello again and play it. They'd never spoken of that moment nor had she made any inklings that she was going to try it again. However, he understood music, he understood the passion, he shared that look as she saw her cello last year, for what appeared to be the first time in a long time. That was the common ground he knew he had to connect with her on. That and the love they'd built block by block over the last 2 years.
He crept in to her bedroom and looked at her sat on the edge of her bed.
"Did you know your parents were gonna split?" She asked him out of nowhere, his eyebrows raised and let out a breath through puffed up lips.
"I guess I didn't....but when it happened I wasn't shocked...." He said.
"What do you mean?" She frowned. He sat down on the bed next to her and sat the same as her.
"I mean, it pretty much felt OK for them to get divorced. I didn't have a problem with it. " He continued. She watched him.
"Didn't you feel hurt?" She asked him. He glanced at her, noting her expression of shock.
"Yeah I felt hurt, but my parents made it clear what was going to happen and we just kind of accepted." He said shrugging.
"Didn't you feel angry? I mean, no-one suffers except you!" She frowned.
"It would be worse to stay in a marriage without love ...."
"But, ....kids don't understand that! ....They're just living and next - BAM! It's like it all blows up in your face and you have all these decisions to make and you're barely able to decide whether you want Pop Tarts of Count Chocula for breakfast, never mind deciding which parent you're spending Christmas with or which school you wanna go to!" She spilt out.
"That's true..." Patrick agreed.
"Aren't you mad at your parents for doing that to you!?" She questioned him forcefully.
"I was..." He replied, calmly.
She turned away from him and stared at her dresser.
"Are you mad at your parents?" he asked.
"I was..." She replied with his sense of calmness.
"Until I physically couldn't be angry anymore because my Dad moved state and my Mom killed herself." She said bluntly.
"But you're still angry..." He said.
She stood up and folded her arms across her waist, walking to her dresser.
"Why won't you play your cello?" He asked.
"It's nothing you would understand." She mumbled.
"Try me."
"No." She said softly, shaking her head.
"I'm not doing this Patrick, same as last year, you try and get me to play and I'll just crack it up and go back to square one." She explained.
"Where was square one?" he asked.
"God!! Patrick!! Stop psychoanalyzing me!!....I don't wanna play the damn thing, I don't ever wanna play it again, I don't even want to go and see the damn show in January so you can have your tickets back and sell them - I don't even want to hear the sound of that god awful instrument!" She verbally lashed him.
He stood up quickly and she saw she'd made him pissed.
"Stop being a child!" He snapped
"Go screw yourself!" She snapped back. He laughed slightly and shook his head.
"Call me when you're ready to talk like an adult Ella." He said as he walked past her.
"Damn it!" She growled,
As he moved down the stairs, he heard the crash of what he knew to be the products of her dresser onto the floor. He grabbed his jacket and slammed the door hard.
He opened the door quickly at the request of the doorbell and froze as the snowball smacked him dead on the nose and splattered over his face. Wiping it away he looked and saw Ella standing before him with her hands behind her back.
"I'm sorry." She said firmly.
"Wow. Apologies are totally changing concept...." He said, wiping more snow off his face.
She stared at him and hung her head to the side.
"But seen as I know what a stubborn short ass you are.....and how difficult that was for you. I accept." He added.
"And I bought Oreo's...." She said, whipping out the box from behind her back.
"Get here!" He summoned her and she moved in to hug him.
She kissed him hard and they lingered a little on the cold bite of the evening.
The box of Oreo's was empty and Patrick's eyes couldn't leave the screen as they sat and watched Uncle Buck together for what must have been the 20th time in their relationship. Her eyes moved to him slowly and smiled as she saw him anticipating the next line.
"My Father left while I played Cello in the room. He never even said goodbye." She said suddenly. Patrick's hand slowly reached for the remote, his eyes fixed on hers and he switched it off.
"I was playing that piece of music....Y'know...on the video?" She continued.
"Practicing like hell because the show was in 4 days. I was so proud, I waited for Dad to come home that evening so I could play it to him. But he never came home. So I never played the music.....what you don't see on the video.....is me choking up and bailing out a minute later because I get stage fright." She said.
"But it wasn't stage fright....it's just, that's all I could play before I got angry." She said softly, looking down.
He didn't invade her space with affection, neither did her smother her with an overture of words, he just listened.
"I was angry too..." He said.
"I still am." He said, raising his eyebrows slightly.
She looked at him.
"You're right. The children come out worse....but they make it seem like it's OK and it's not." He frowned.
"But we're OK...we're walking wounded.....but we're OK!" She smiled, taking his hand.
"You're Dad was a fool for leaving you..." he said. She squeezed his hands.
"He had his reasons....I just wasn't a big enough one to make him stay and work it out." She whispered.
A silence marked the relief of the situation. She moved in and cuddled him gently.
"It's the third day of Christmas Ella." He said factually.
"Really?" She smiled. She popped her head and smiled.
"Don't tell me....the three French hens are out back laying eggs as we speak?" She asked, he laughed and shook his head.
"Girlfriend, you're pretty funny." He smiled.
"They were fresh out of hens but I got you something French..." he said, taking a wrapped gift from the tree.
"Oooo" She cooed as she saw the shiny paper.
She unwrapped it and peeked inside the box.
"Patrick Stump!" She gasped and shut the box quickly. He laughed slyly and looked at her as she glanced in the box again.
"They are /nice!/....you got style Boyfriend!" she smiled.
"Wanna try them on?" he asked, nodding his head to his room. Laughing coyly she bit her bottom lip.
December 27th 2006
Her hair reeked of the smoke of the fire from last night, rolling over and off her hair she stared at the bare back next to her. Her hand softly stroked it and it just made a noise and shuffled slightly.
Grinning, she stood up off the bed and as quickly as she could, whipped the bed sheets away and off his sleeping body.
"Hey!" He whined, she giggled hard as she ran to the door and he leapt out after her. Squealing as she fled down the stairs, he grabbed the bottom of the sheet and pulled on it hard, both falling not far from the bottom of stairs.
"That was mean Annerson! Why would you do that??" He whined,
"That's some sweet white ass Trick!" she laughed and he attacked her ribs with one hand, pinning her hands with the other. Roaring with laughter she begged him to stop and they both froze as the front door was opened with a key.
"Oh my god!" She gasped, and they quickly tried to stand up.
"Nana!" she inadvertently blurted out.
"Ella....Patrick." She said, eyeballing them both with a grocery bag in her hand.
"I don't want to know..." She moaned, walking into the kitchen.
Refraining from giggling until she'd left the hallway, they raced upstairs to make amends for their awful ways.
Ella moved down the stairs quietly, hearing the tones of Bach's Cello Suite No.1 float through the air of the house. She stared at the TV screen, her Nana was sat on the edge of the coffee table watching the screen intently. Patrick stood behind her Nana and watching too with the same intent eyes.
Ella stared a little open mouthed at the video footage of her younger self, holding the cello and playing so confidently, the camera shaking where her Mom had been so nervous.
"What are you doing?" She asked, the both turned quickly and Ella moved towards the TV.
"Ella..." her Nana said softly.
"No...You turn this off now!" She said angrily, reaching for the remote control and turning it off.
"Ella!"
"Where did you find this?" She asked, holding the video cassette in her hands.
"I found it...." Patrick said, Ella's eyes glanced to his.
"It wasn't to be found." She said coolly.
"I...." Patrick started and Ella's eyes remained on his.
She looked down at the video tape and pulled out the film, angrily pulling the reems of tape from the cassette.
"Ella no!" Her Nana cried sadly.
She continued to pull out the film and it knotted in curls of distorted memories on the floor.
Patrick's eyes stared wide at her behavior. She dropped the cassette on the floor and watched them both look at it.
"It wasn't to be found...." She said again and walked past them both.
December 27th 2005
Holding the bow in her right hand, it held as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Ella had so greatly missed putting the bow to the strings of her Cello and hearing those deep sensuous tones come out.
Patrick sat on the piano stool in what used to be the music room of Ella and her Mom's. The anticipation of hearing her play was more then he could take.
Her hand shook as she attempted to bring it to the first string. He held his breath and allowed his ears to show patience as the notes could almost be heard already.
"I can't.." She whispered.
"Of course you can!" He encouraged her gently.
She tried again, his eyes witnessing for themselves as her hand physically trembled when her bow came closer to the strings.
"No I can't!" She gasped and surrendered the bow to her side. Patrick moved towards her and then slipped behind her, his warm hand took her right arm and moved it up to play position.
"Play Ella..." he whispered in her ear. She pushed on her bottom lip hard and concentrated hard as his subtle strength both physically and emotionally helped her move the bow to the strings.
Her head started to shake and he felt the trembled even more as his hand rested on her hand, guiding it.
She cried out suddenly and moved away from him. He stood quickly and watched cautiously as she pushed the cello over and they heard and felt it collide with the wooden floor. With a growl she snapped the bow effortlessly in her hands and hurried out her room.
He'd seen that same anger flash in her eyes that morning as he did last year. He was sure it was resentment, but who or what of was still unknown to him. Patrick had never lost someone close to him, so he knew he could never understand to full comprehension, just what contorted her thoughts.
Patrick regretted encouraging her to pick up the cello again and play it. They'd never spoken of that moment nor had she made any inklings that she was going to try it again. However, he understood music, he understood the passion, he shared that look as she saw her cello last year, for what appeared to be the first time in a long time. That was the common ground he knew he had to connect with her on. That and the love they'd built block by block over the last 2 years.
He crept in to her bedroom and looked at her sat on the edge of her bed.
"Did you know your parents were gonna split?" She asked him out of nowhere, his eyebrows raised and let out a breath through puffed up lips.
"I guess I didn't....but when it happened I wasn't shocked...." He said.
"What do you mean?" She frowned. He sat down on the bed next to her and sat the same as her.
"I mean, it pretty much felt OK for them to get divorced. I didn't have a problem with it. " He continued. She watched him.
"Didn't you feel hurt?" She asked him. He glanced at her, noting her expression of shock.
"Yeah I felt hurt, but my parents made it clear what was going to happen and we just kind of accepted." He said shrugging.
"Didn't you feel angry? I mean, no-one suffers except you!" She frowned.
"It would be worse to stay in a marriage without love ...."
"But, ....kids don't understand that! ....They're just living and next - BAM! It's like it all blows up in your face and you have all these decisions to make and you're barely able to decide whether you want Pop Tarts of Count Chocula for breakfast, never mind deciding which parent you're spending Christmas with or which school you wanna go to!" She spilt out.
"That's true..." Patrick agreed.
"Aren't you mad at your parents for doing that to you!?" She questioned him forcefully.
"I was..." He replied, calmly.
She turned away from him and stared at her dresser.
"Are you mad at your parents?" he asked.
"I was..." She replied with his sense of calmness.
"Until I physically couldn't be angry anymore because my Dad moved state and my Mom killed herself." She said bluntly.
"But you're still angry..." He said.
She stood up and folded her arms across her waist, walking to her dresser.
"Why won't you play your cello?" He asked.
"It's nothing you would understand." She mumbled.
"Try me."
"No." She said softly, shaking her head.
"I'm not doing this Patrick, same as last year, you try and get me to play and I'll just crack it up and go back to square one." She explained.
"Where was square one?" he asked.
"God!! Patrick!! Stop psychoanalyzing me!!....I don't wanna play the damn thing, I don't ever wanna play it again, I don't even want to go and see the damn show in January so you can have your tickets back and sell them - I don't even want to hear the sound of that god awful instrument!" She verbally lashed him.
He stood up quickly and she saw she'd made him pissed.
"Stop being a child!" He snapped
"Go screw yourself!" She snapped back. He laughed slightly and shook his head.
"Call me when you're ready to talk like an adult Ella." He said as he walked past her.
"Damn it!" She growled,
As he moved down the stairs, he heard the crash of what he knew to be the products of her dresser onto the floor. He grabbed his jacket and slammed the door hard.
He opened the door quickly at the request of the doorbell and froze as the snowball smacked him dead on the nose and splattered over his face. Wiping it away he looked and saw Ella standing before him with her hands behind her back.
"I'm sorry." She said firmly.
"Wow. Apologies are totally changing concept...." He said, wiping more snow off his face.
She stared at him and hung her head to the side.
"But seen as I know what a stubborn short ass you are.....and how difficult that was for you. I accept." He added.
"And I bought Oreo's...." She said, whipping out the box from behind her back.
"Get here!" He summoned her and she moved in to hug him.
She kissed him hard and they lingered a little on the cold bite of the evening.
The box of Oreo's was empty and Patrick's eyes couldn't leave the screen as they sat and watched Uncle Buck together for what must have been the 20th time in their relationship. Her eyes moved to him slowly and smiled as she saw him anticipating the next line.
"My Father left while I played Cello in the room. He never even said goodbye." She said suddenly. Patrick's hand slowly reached for the remote, his eyes fixed on hers and he switched it off.
"I was playing that piece of music....Y'know...on the video?" She continued.
"Practicing like hell because the show was in 4 days. I was so proud, I waited for Dad to come home that evening so I could play it to him. But he never came home. So I never played the music.....what you don't see on the video.....is me choking up and bailing out a minute later because I get stage fright." She said.
"But it wasn't stage fright....it's just, that's all I could play before I got angry." She said softly, looking down.
He didn't invade her space with affection, neither did her smother her with an overture of words, he just listened.
"I was angry too..." He said.
"I still am." He said, raising his eyebrows slightly.
She looked at him.
"You're right. The children come out worse....but they make it seem like it's OK and it's not." He frowned.
"But we're OK...we're walking wounded.....but we're OK!" She smiled, taking his hand.
"You're Dad was a fool for leaving you..." he said. She squeezed his hands.
"He had his reasons....I just wasn't a big enough one to make him stay and work it out." She whispered.
A silence marked the relief of the situation. She moved in and cuddled him gently.
"It's the third day of Christmas Ella." He said factually.
"Really?" She smiled. She popped her head and smiled.
"Don't tell me....the three French hens are out back laying eggs as we speak?" She asked, he laughed and shook his head.
"Girlfriend, you're pretty funny." He smiled.
"They were fresh out of hens but I got you something French..." he said, taking a wrapped gift from the tree.
"Oooo" She cooed as she saw the shiny paper.
She unwrapped it and peeked inside the box.
"Patrick Stump!" She gasped and shut the box quickly. He laughed slyly and looked at her as she glanced in the box again.
"They are /nice!/....you got style Boyfriend!" she smiled.
"Wanna try them on?" he asked, nodding his head to his room. Laughing coyly she bit her bottom lip.
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