Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Golden

Coffee Shop Cliché

by moocow 27 reviews

A Peter/Patrick story. No, you pervs. No Slash.

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: R - Genres: Angst, Romance - Warnings: [!] [?] - Published: 2007-05-29 - Updated: 2007-05-30 - 1723 words

My eyes felt heavy as I blinked again, struggling to keep myself awake as I sat leaned against the hospital bed, my head aching with thoughts of what caused this kind of disaster. Pete had promised to never do this again, but then again, I had also promised myself to not get romantically involved with him. The words hung in the air around me and I couldn't help but play what Jenn said over and over in my head.

"I've seen the way he looks at you..."

Those words were the very root of our problem.

But I didn't get it, quite frankly. How did he look at me? Was it in the way I was thinking? Was it in the way that his parents warned me? Or was Pete actually in love with me? Giving up, I rested my head down next to his arm and yawned softly, watching as his fingers twitched for the tenth time that night. I closed my eyes and without warning, felt a few tears slip through my closed eyes and dampen the bed-sheet. I turned my head again and sighed solemnly, keeping my eyes closed as I sniffed.

It didn't faze me as a hand softly became entangled in my hair, fingertips rubbing against my scalp. Realization hit me and my eyes fluttered open and I felt my heart leap at seeing Pete with his eyes half-way opened, a lazy smile residing on his lips.

"Peter," I whispered, sitting up fully and taking his hand in-between both of mine.

He gulped, and opened his eyes a little more before sighing and licking his chapped lips. I eyed his notebook at the side of the small table and nodded, grabbing for them and handing them to him. His hands shook as he struggled to write, and when I read his writing, I found it sloppy and confusing, his once gentle hand rough around the edges.

I'm sorry, Sally

I sighed to myself, honestly not having a response for him. I tightened my grip on his hand and closed my eyes. His other hand brushed against my cheek and I snuggled into it, moving it only once to kiss his bandaged wrist. My eyes fluttered open yet again to see Pete smiling to best of his abilities.

"Jenn paid a visit," Pete nodded, assuring me to go on. "She told me some things," I whispered. Pete frowned and used his free hand to scribble.

Are they sending me away?

I gasped and shook my head, scooting and moving my hand to brush his bangs out of his face.

"Of course not, Petey," I breathed. "Jenn talked more about me and you then anything else," Pete gulped.

What about us?

I took a nervous breath before rubbing my thumb across his cheek and lightly over his lips.

"She told me that we were in love with each other," Pete's eyes held something I didn't expect. His lips parted and he let a soft sigh escape before he closed his eyes. His hand twitched and I blinked slowly and watched as he wrote.

It's true


Later that day Pete was discharged from the hospital after they stabilized him. I was blessed, but still nervous about what he had written to me. I tried my best to shrug it off, but it stayed there, in the back of my head.

Pete loved me.

"I need some coffee," I mumbled to myself, scanning the area for anything that mentioned the very word.

Pete tapped my shoulder as we stopped at a red light and I nervously glanced over at him, finding him smiling and pointing at a small shop next door to a music/ bookstore. I smiled and nodded, moving the car so I could park in the small lot next to the two buildings.

"Do you want anything, Pete?"

Pete shrugged and I nodded. He moved closer as we walked on the sidewalk and I swallowed hard as we stopped in front of the two shops. I shifted my vision to a couple standing near us at the same time, the guy giving the girl the same loving look. I breathed out softly as Pete placed his notebook in my hand.

I'm going to go next door and look at music. I'll be fine. Order what you want... we can share, right?

My eyes glazed over and I hid it with a heavy, fake cough before glancing up at him and nodding. Pete lowered himself to my face and I closed my eyes, bracing myself, but sighing as he only kissed my cheek. I copied as he hovered near me and watched as he walked towards the music store, the young looking boy with a trucker hat following him.

I shrugged and entered the coffee store, stepping into line.


Another cold and quiet ride home was settling in upon us. Patrick sat fastened into the front seat of my well worn explorer, eyes fixated on anything but me. I kept my own locked with the road. I didn't know where to go from here. This is something all the degrees and textbooks in the world couldn't prepare you for, this was reality. This was human life and nature in its truest, most raw form. This was a man fallen apart.

"Mali?" His voice was hoarse; it had been for a while now. Repercussions of his illness.

"Yes Patrick." I reply, wishing I could keep the stiff clinical ness out of my tone. I could see him cringe at the sound of my answer.

"Can we stop? For coffee, maybe at that place next to Warner's." His eyes remain fixated on the passing trees as we make our way back to suburbia. I nod and flip the turn indicator on signaling my plan to veer on to the next exit ramp.

"Thank you." He says almost in a normal tone as we pull into an empty parking space in front of the shopping square. He moves slowly as he exits the car, locking and closing the door behind him. "Get me Mocha; I'm going to walk around Warner's for a minute."

Without another word he walks toward the music shop, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his old leather coat, shoulders slumped and hood pulled down on his face. Most would assume this was to protect himself from the weather of a Chicago winter, but I knew better. It was to protect him from the world around him. He never minded the cold, he told me once he couldn't feel the wind.

I watched him disappear into the store before making my way from the side of the car toward the doors of CC's Coffee. The door chimed as I pushed through it bringing the attention of the barista to me, she smiled and rattled off her company enforced greeting. I smiled in return making my way toward the counter, in front of me stood a girl about my height, maybe an inch taller. Her hair was dark and pulled back in to a lazy ponytail, she looked tired even from behind. The wear in her bones shown through in her slumped posture and slow movements.

"Coffee please, black." She tells the barista, her voice hushed and almost hallow. The design of her hoodie catches my attention next, oddly familiar. Hidden Agenda. My brother's former band, breaking up shortly after rising to local fame.

"I like your jacket." My own voice surprises me. She turns, looking at me quizzically for a moment before responding.

"This old thing? I think the guys in the band called it quits last year, but they were kind of amazing while it lasted." She says, slowly turning to face me. Her eyes mirror her voice, tired but vibrant.

"Did you know them personally?" I ask, attempting to keep her talking. Its rare that I meet someone, especially of the female persuasion that I think I might be able to hold a conversation with. Even rarer that once they find out what I do they'll stick around. Too many times I've been told they can't see me like I am. Breaking down slowly. I somewhat agree.

"I knew Brennan years ago, in high school. Why? Did you know them?"

"Yeah. Rowan, the drummer, he's my twin." I say with a smile, "Brennan's married these days you know."

"Really?" She says accepting her coffee in exchange for a few dollars from the barista. She moves aside allowing me to order.

"Yeah," I say to her before turning to the barista, " Two mochas please."

"Wow. I..." Her words fall short just as the door chimes again. "I'm sorry, excuse me just one minute?"

I nod and watch as she walks toward the skinny dark haired boy that just entered. She talks to him softly and sweetly before he nods and takes a seat by the door. She returns to me just as I'm paying the barista.

"I'm Sally," She says before pointing to the table where the boy with eyes as dark as his hair still sits sunken into the seat, "And that's Pete."

"Mali," I say walking behind her to the table. I reach in my pocket as the vibrations from my phone start to tickle my thigh. "Sorry."

"Yes?" I ask, Patrick's name had flashed on the ID seconds before. "I have the coffee. Okay. See you soon."

I close the phone and take a seat across from Sally at the small corner table. Seconds later the door chimes again and a now de-hooded Patrick enters, he spots me eyes wide with surprise at out new found company. He sits, not saying a word and grabs his cup of coffee mumbling a thank you before taking a cautious sip.

"Patrick, this is Sally and Pete." I say pointing at them individually, Patrick nods, " This is Patrick." He nods again at the sound of his introduction.

"So how do you two know each other?" Sally asks sipping her drink. I pause a moment, calculating an answer in my head.

This is my least favorite part of meeting new people. Under the table I feel Patrick's hand squeeze mine, I glance over at him. His eyes plead with me to lie. Say that I'm anything but what I really am.

And for his sake, I do.

"We're friends."
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