Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > The Two of Us.
Chapter One
__________________
Waking up the next day Patrick felt a tad bit better about his life. Maybe it was the fact that it was no longer 'their anniversary,' or maybe it was because he just took a shower - he couldn't be completely sure, but he felt better. For the first time in a long time he put on clean clothes and put the dirty ones in the hamper groaning when it overflowed. Maybe emptying his entire suitcase into the dirty clothes hamper wasn't one of his best ideas - no wonder she always complained about him being a slob. He frowned at the realization that he would be doing his laundry alone before wondering if he even had anymore clean underwear. Adding laundry to the top of his to do list he made his way into the kitchen and actually took the time to notice that there was no food in the fridge and instead of complaining about it, not that he had anyone else to complain to - not anymore at least, he made up a list. Patrick surveyed his empty kitchen thoroughly and once satisfied with his list he folded the piece of paper and shoved it in the front pocket of his jeans all the while grabbing his keys and heading for the front door. Step one to becoming a big boy, grocery shopping alone. Patrick slid into the driver's seat of his car and started the ignition. He pulled rather forcefully out of his drive way and sped down the block, not more than five minutes later he was passing the corner grocery store, and a few minutes after that he was speeding past the sign informing him that he was now leaving Glenview. He knew exactly where he was going the only thing he didn't know was why.
Chicago greeted him happily as he entered the city, the buildings engulfing him almost protectively as he followed the along with the traffic. Turning left on Michigan Ave. he pulled into the tiny parking lot of downtown's only farmers market. As soon as he got out of his car he pulled out his list checking it over - before today he had never in his life made a grocery list, he would usually wing it and forget something she asked him specifically to buy which only confirmed her accusations of him being lazy and selfish.
Milk
Bread
Cereal
Samantha
Patrick looked up once again surprised to see the auburn haired girl enter the store. She was oblivious to the fact that she was being watched as she adjusted one of her earphones before grabbing a basket next to the door. Patrick immediately ducked into the pasta aisle clutching his precious list to his chest - he was breathing hard, why was he breathing hard?
Samantha calmly strolled into the produce section and directly over towards the oranges, she picked one up and studied it. Almost immediately following her actions the oranges display tumbled to the ground. She tried to catch as many oranges as she could but it was no use, almost all the oranges were on the floor. She frantically looked around her causing some of her red hair to fall out of the bun she had secured with a pencil before tiptoeing around the oranges and quickly out of the produce section.
Patrick laughed silently to himself as he watched her scurry into the canned food aisle. From the aisle over he could hear the remnants of the music she was listening too as it blasted loudly from her earphones. He followed the sound as she walked slowly, his footsteps matching hers. Moving some pasta boxes over to create a viewing space is when he noticed the paint covered apron like thing she was wearing over her clothes, and the paint on her face, and on her hands, and on her shoes. Who was this girl?
It was then that Patrick realized that it is not ok to spy on girls in-between pasta boxes and he backed away suddenly only stopping when his back hit the shelving on the other side of the aisle. An elderly woman stared at him sympathetically and he smiled slightly before abandoning his groceries and heading out of the store.
Patrick sat in his parked car and gripped the steering wheel tightly.
What in the hell was going on with him?
Why did he drive all the way to the city to buy groceries?
He sighed inwardly before starting the ignition; this time when he pulled onto the road he did so carefully as if he was contemplating his destination. His stomach grumbled on cue and he nodded in agreement as he switched lanes and then made a u-turn.
...
"I would like a BLT and just water with that please." He replied to the waitress who jotted down his order with a smile.
"Right away Mr. Stump." The teenaged girl replied with a giggle, he blonde curls bouncing as she did so.
"Oh no, don't do that." Patrick pulled down the bill of his cap mostly just to hide his blushing cheeks.
The girl ignored him as she bounced away to put in his order.
He sighed inwardly as he fiddled with the sugar packets groaning in frustration when they didn't fit back in as easily as they had come out. The bell above the door dinged signaling someone's entrance but Patrick was too preoccupied with the sugar packets to notice. It wasn't until someone behind the counter yelled that he even looked up.
"Hey Sammy the usual?" The big Italian man questioned with a yell.
"Yes please." She smiled thankfully as the man bent down to retrieve 'the usual' from the glass case underneath the counter.
Patrick stared at her wide eyed. This could not be happening. Immediately he grabbed a menu and hid the bottom half of his face. Ignoring the fact that he looked insane Patrick took the time to question himself, why exactly was he hiding?
Samantha peered into her grocery bag and pulled out three oranges, the only three that probably hadn't of fallen onto the floor and placed them on the counter in a neat row.
"Tony for your mother." She pointed to the oranges on the counter and the man named Tony smiled wide.
"Aw Sammy, Mama is going to be so excited she loves oranges."
"Tell her I hope she feels better. Keep the change." Samantha smiled once more while tapping the ten on the counter and putting the newly acquired white paper bag inside the big brown one. She tried her best to wave while juggling the bags in her hands on her way out the door; before she had completely left however, a strange man hiding behind a menu caught her eye. Her blue eyes studied him as he tried his best to avert her gaze. Samantha tried to figure out why he looked so familiar, coming up empty handed she shrugged and continued her way out the door.
Patrick didn't notice the waitress standing next to the table with his food in hand as he still hid behind the menu. She cleared her throat startling Patrick who looked up at her embarrassed and smiled. She smiled in return displaying her full mouth of braces, giggling she placed his food in front of him lingering longer than probably necessary.
"Thank - thank you." He smiled up at her and she nodded while ruffling her curls and skipping off.
...
He hadn't of realized how late it was until he walked outside and saw the sun setting. He sighed deeply as he watched it sink below the horizon.
Had he really gotten that late of a start?
How long was he at the diner?
These questions he could not answer but as he stood on the corner of LaSalle and Chestnut staring at his car from across the street he realized suddenly, irrelevantly that he didn't want to go home. He didn't want to go home to the empty house that awaited him, he didn't want to turn on the TV to realize of course that nothing was on, he didn't want to go home put on those headphones and disconnect from reality. So instead of walking across the street getting into his car and driving away he dug his hands into his hoodie pockets and continued down the street. As he was walking he noticed the looks he was receiving and finally realized that though he usually didn't have a problem being recognized he was in downtown Chicago, so he pulled his hood over his head in an attempt to at least mask his identity some.
Patrick had been walking for about a block or so when his feet just stopped in front of an art gallery. He stood in front of the glass window attracted to the amber glow that was coming from inside because by then it had grown dark and cold. His breath was clouding in front of him, who guessed that in April it would be this cold? He backed away from the window slightly to read the print scribbled across the glass, in the dim light the writing was unreadable, he sighed before fixating on the people inside the gallery and that's when he saw her. She laughed as she used her hands to explain the painting in front of her. Her dress was white, laid just above her knees and moved as she did, he was captivated - three times in one day was ridiculous, something bigger had to be going on here. Patrick groaned at the sky in frustration before forcing himself into the studio ignoring the fact that he was severely underdressed for the art show that was going on. No one paid him any mind, which was fine, he wasn't supposed to talk to them anyway. Patiently he stood behind her as she continued to talk to the elderly woman who was interested in purchasing the painting he could only guess was hers.
"The colors are just extraordinary." The elderly woman replied while reaching out to gently touch the canvas.
"Thank you so much." Samantha smiled, she knew that she would never be confident in herself, but art - she knew she was good at art.
"How come you only have this one painting here tonight?" The older woman questioned while taking off her glasses to take a better look at Samantha.
"Well I finally lucky enough to convince Cheryl to let me display some of my work, I'm just an intern ma'am." She replied while brushing a piece of loose hair off her face silently urging it to stay with the rest of her hair that was pulled loosely into a classy low sideways ponytail.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" The woman's light blue eyes twinkled as she lightly touched Samantha's forearm, gripping her like only a grandmother could.
"Oh God no." Samantha laughed, snorting while she did so and then covering her mouth in embarrassment, "Why is it," She straightened up and cleared her throat slightly, "Why is it you ask ma'am?"
"Just something I thought I saw in your eyes is all." The elderly lady smiled before lightly touching the canvas again. Smiling once more the grey haired woman placed her glasses back on the bridge of her nose before quietly walking away.
Samantha watched the woman walk away in confusion. Instinctively she brought her hands up to her eyes wondering what exactly about them said that she wasn't single. Shrugging she glanced over at the woman again, she could hear her tell the owner if the studio, Cheryl, something pertaining to her but it was too faint to make out. She let her shoulders drop into a more relaxed stance as she turned to face her artwork once more.
"Why is the sky just blue?" He questioned as he stepped next to her. She turned to face him in surprise as he tried his hardest not to smile. Samantha opened her mouth to say something, but what do you a say to a stranger who asks you your own question?
"I've seen you three times today." Patrick replied while not taking his eyes off of the painting.
She furrowed her brows in confusion before stepping away from him slowly, slightly scared.
As if he registered what he just said he turned to face her,
"Not that that's normal, cause it isn't - I don't just usually see girls all the time." He blurted out quickly before noticing the strange look she was giving him. "Well I mean I see girls, I mean I CAN see, not very well obviously." he paused only for a second to gesture to his glasses, "But what I meant was that I'm not a stalker. I'm not stalking you."
"Good to know." Samantha finally replied with a nod.
"I'm Patrick, I met you last night, I spilled my drink on you, I gave you napkins and you apparently don't remember so I'm going to leave now." He retorted with his eyes closed and his cheeks flushed from embarrassment.
"I remember." She replied with a smile, finding it mildly amusing that someone else besides her had difficulty explaining what they meant.
"I just figured after the third time I saw you today that I don't know it was something telling me that I was supposed to talk to you, supposed to know you." Patrick shrugged still severely embarrassed. Samantha turned her body to face him for the first time that night.
"I don't want to date you." She replied bluntly, unsure of his intentions.
Patrick immediately checked behind his making sure that she wasn't talking to someone else, when no one besides a sculpture was there he turned back around to face her.
"Oh no, I'm sorry - I don't want to date you either, not that you're not datable." He stopped to stammer slightly, "I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. Oh wow I'm really embarrassed now."
Samantha let herself laugh out loud,
"Good."
"Good?" He questioned before nodding. "Good."
"Good." She repeated more to convince herself than actually talking to him.
"So Samantha?"
"So Patrick?"
"We should hang out or something." He stated matter of factly while once again studying her painting.
"We should. But not a date." She replied while mirroring his actions of looking at the artwork.
"Totally not a date." Patrick confirmed while shoving his hands once again inside his hoodie pockets.
"Ok then, but promise me something?" Samantha once again turned to face him, he nodded while glancing at her.
"Promise you won't fall in love with me?"
Patrick had to laugh at this question,
"Not a chance. Though I am never going to let you live it down that you quoted that Mandy Moore movie."
"Whatever. I've always wanted to say that to someone, but seriously, promise?"
He let himself actually look at her, really look at her for the first time that night and it seemed as if she was looking right through him. The thought of her reading him like a book scared him and he shivered involuntarily.
"I promise."
Samantha smiled in response before fixing her glaze back on the painting.
"Oh and Patrick?" she tossed him a sideways glance, "Just so you know, I'm never going to let you live down the fact that you've actually seen 'A Walk to Remember.'"
They both laughed before he replied,
"Fair enough."
__________________
Waking up the next day Patrick felt a tad bit better about his life. Maybe it was the fact that it was no longer 'their anniversary,' or maybe it was because he just took a shower - he couldn't be completely sure, but he felt better. For the first time in a long time he put on clean clothes and put the dirty ones in the hamper groaning when it overflowed. Maybe emptying his entire suitcase into the dirty clothes hamper wasn't one of his best ideas - no wonder she always complained about him being a slob. He frowned at the realization that he would be doing his laundry alone before wondering if he even had anymore clean underwear. Adding laundry to the top of his to do list he made his way into the kitchen and actually took the time to notice that there was no food in the fridge and instead of complaining about it, not that he had anyone else to complain to - not anymore at least, he made up a list. Patrick surveyed his empty kitchen thoroughly and once satisfied with his list he folded the piece of paper and shoved it in the front pocket of his jeans all the while grabbing his keys and heading for the front door. Step one to becoming a big boy, grocery shopping alone. Patrick slid into the driver's seat of his car and started the ignition. He pulled rather forcefully out of his drive way and sped down the block, not more than five minutes later he was passing the corner grocery store, and a few minutes after that he was speeding past the sign informing him that he was now leaving Glenview. He knew exactly where he was going the only thing he didn't know was why.
Chicago greeted him happily as he entered the city, the buildings engulfing him almost protectively as he followed the along with the traffic. Turning left on Michigan Ave. he pulled into the tiny parking lot of downtown's only farmers market. As soon as he got out of his car he pulled out his list checking it over - before today he had never in his life made a grocery list, he would usually wing it and forget something she asked him specifically to buy which only confirmed her accusations of him being lazy and selfish.
Milk
Bread
Cereal
Samantha
Patrick looked up once again surprised to see the auburn haired girl enter the store. She was oblivious to the fact that she was being watched as she adjusted one of her earphones before grabbing a basket next to the door. Patrick immediately ducked into the pasta aisle clutching his precious list to his chest - he was breathing hard, why was he breathing hard?
Samantha calmly strolled into the produce section and directly over towards the oranges, she picked one up and studied it. Almost immediately following her actions the oranges display tumbled to the ground. She tried to catch as many oranges as she could but it was no use, almost all the oranges were on the floor. She frantically looked around her causing some of her red hair to fall out of the bun she had secured with a pencil before tiptoeing around the oranges and quickly out of the produce section.
Patrick laughed silently to himself as he watched her scurry into the canned food aisle. From the aisle over he could hear the remnants of the music she was listening too as it blasted loudly from her earphones. He followed the sound as she walked slowly, his footsteps matching hers. Moving some pasta boxes over to create a viewing space is when he noticed the paint covered apron like thing she was wearing over her clothes, and the paint on her face, and on her hands, and on her shoes. Who was this girl?
It was then that Patrick realized that it is not ok to spy on girls in-between pasta boxes and he backed away suddenly only stopping when his back hit the shelving on the other side of the aisle. An elderly woman stared at him sympathetically and he smiled slightly before abandoning his groceries and heading out of the store.
Patrick sat in his parked car and gripped the steering wheel tightly.
What in the hell was going on with him?
Why did he drive all the way to the city to buy groceries?
He sighed inwardly before starting the ignition; this time when he pulled onto the road he did so carefully as if he was contemplating his destination. His stomach grumbled on cue and he nodded in agreement as he switched lanes and then made a u-turn.
...
"I would like a BLT and just water with that please." He replied to the waitress who jotted down his order with a smile.
"Right away Mr. Stump." The teenaged girl replied with a giggle, he blonde curls bouncing as she did so.
"Oh no, don't do that." Patrick pulled down the bill of his cap mostly just to hide his blushing cheeks.
The girl ignored him as she bounced away to put in his order.
He sighed inwardly as he fiddled with the sugar packets groaning in frustration when they didn't fit back in as easily as they had come out. The bell above the door dinged signaling someone's entrance but Patrick was too preoccupied with the sugar packets to notice. It wasn't until someone behind the counter yelled that he even looked up.
"Hey Sammy the usual?" The big Italian man questioned with a yell.
"Yes please." She smiled thankfully as the man bent down to retrieve 'the usual' from the glass case underneath the counter.
Patrick stared at her wide eyed. This could not be happening. Immediately he grabbed a menu and hid the bottom half of his face. Ignoring the fact that he looked insane Patrick took the time to question himself, why exactly was he hiding?
Samantha peered into her grocery bag and pulled out three oranges, the only three that probably hadn't of fallen onto the floor and placed them on the counter in a neat row.
"Tony for your mother." She pointed to the oranges on the counter and the man named Tony smiled wide.
"Aw Sammy, Mama is going to be so excited she loves oranges."
"Tell her I hope she feels better. Keep the change." Samantha smiled once more while tapping the ten on the counter and putting the newly acquired white paper bag inside the big brown one. She tried her best to wave while juggling the bags in her hands on her way out the door; before she had completely left however, a strange man hiding behind a menu caught her eye. Her blue eyes studied him as he tried his best to avert her gaze. Samantha tried to figure out why he looked so familiar, coming up empty handed she shrugged and continued her way out the door.
Patrick didn't notice the waitress standing next to the table with his food in hand as he still hid behind the menu. She cleared her throat startling Patrick who looked up at her embarrassed and smiled. She smiled in return displaying her full mouth of braces, giggling she placed his food in front of him lingering longer than probably necessary.
"Thank - thank you." He smiled up at her and she nodded while ruffling her curls and skipping off.
...
He hadn't of realized how late it was until he walked outside and saw the sun setting. He sighed deeply as he watched it sink below the horizon.
Had he really gotten that late of a start?
How long was he at the diner?
These questions he could not answer but as he stood on the corner of LaSalle and Chestnut staring at his car from across the street he realized suddenly, irrelevantly that he didn't want to go home. He didn't want to go home to the empty house that awaited him, he didn't want to turn on the TV to realize of course that nothing was on, he didn't want to go home put on those headphones and disconnect from reality. So instead of walking across the street getting into his car and driving away he dug his hands into his hoodie pockets and continued down the street. As he was walking he noticed the looks he was receiving and finally realized that though he usually didn't have a problem being recognized he was in downtown Chicago, so he pulled his hood over his head in an attempt to at least mask his identity some.
Patrick had been walking for about a block or so when his feet just stopped in front of an art gallery. He stood in front of the glass window attracted to the amber glow that was coming from inside because by then it had grown dark and cold. His breath was clouding in front of him, who guessed that in April it would be this cold? He backed away from the window slightly to read the print scribbled across the glass, in the dim light the writing was unreadable, he sighed before fixating on the people inside the gallery and that's when he saw her. She laughed as she used her hands to explain the painting in front of her. Her dress was white, laid just above her knees and moved as she did, he was captivated - three times in one day was ridiculous, something bigger had to be going on here. Patrick groaned at the sky in frustration before forcing himself into the studio ignoring the fact that he was severely underdressed for the art show that was going on. No one paid him any mind, which was fine, he wasn't supposed to talk to them anyway. Patiently he stood behind her as she continued to talk to the elderly woman who was interested in purchasing the painting he could only guess was hers.
"The colors are just extraordinary." The elderly woman replied while reaching out to gently touch the canvas.
"Thank you so much." Samantha smiled, she knew that she would never be confident in herself, but art - she knew she was good at art.
"How come you only have this one painting here tonight?" The older woman questioned while taking off her glasses to take a better look at Samantha.
"Well I finally lucky enough to convince Cheryl to let me display some of my work, I'm just an intern ma'am." She replied while brushing a piece of loose hair off her face silently urging it to stay with the rest of her hair that was pulled loosely into a classy low sideways ponytail.
"Do you have a boyfriend?" The woman's light blue eyes twinkled as she lightly touched Samantha's forearm, gripping her like only a grandmother could.
"Oh God no." Samantha laughed, snorting while she did so and then covering her mouth in embarrassment, "Why is it," She straightened up and cleared her throat slightly, "Why is it you ask ma'am?"
"Just something I thought I saw in your eyes is all." The elderly lady smiled before lightly touching the canvas again. Smiling once more the grey haired woman placed her glasses back on the bridge of her nose before quietly walking away.
Samantha watched the woman walk away in confusion. Instinctively she brought her hands up to her eyes wondering what exactly about them said that she wasn't single. Shrugging she glanced over at the woman again, she could hear her tell the owner if the studio, Cheryl, something pertaining to her but it was too faint to make out. She let her shoulders drop into a more relaxed stance as she turned to face her artwork once more.
"Why is the sky just blue?" He questioned as he stepped next to her. She turned to face him in surprise as he tried his hardest not to smile. Samantha opened her mouth to say something, but what do you a say to a stranger who asks you your own question?
"I've seen you three times today." Patrick replied while not taking his eyes off of the painting.
She furrowed her brows in confusion before stepping away from him slowly, slightly scared.
As if he registered what he just said he turned to face her,
"Not that that's normal, cause it isn't - I don't just usually see girls all the time." He blurted out quickly before noticing the strange look she was giving him. "Well I mean I see girls, I mean I CAN see, not very well obviously." he paused only for a second to gesture to his glasses, "But what I meant was that I'm not a stalker. I'm not stalking you."
"Good to know." Samantha finally replied with a nod.
"I'm Patrick, I met you last night, I spilled my drink on you, I gave you napkins and you apparently don't remember so I'm going to leave now." He retorted with his eyes closed and his cheeks flushed from embarrassment.
"I remember." She replied with a smile, finding it mildly amusing that someone else besides her had difficulty explaining what they meant.
"I just figured after the third time I saw you today that I don't know it was something telling me that I was supposed to talk to you, supposed to know you." Patrick shrugged still severely embarrassed. Samantha turned her body to face him for the first time that night.
"I don't want to date you." She replied bluntly, unsure of his intentions.
Patrick immediately checked behind his making sure that she wasn't talking to someone else, when no one besides a sculpture was there he turned back around to face her.
"Oh no, I'm sorry - I don't want to date you either, not that you're not datable." He stopped to stammer slightly, "I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. Oh wow I'm really embarrassed now."
Samantha let herself laugh out loud,
"Good."
"Good?" He questioned before nodding. "Good."
"Good." She repeated more to convince herself than actually talking to him.
"So Samantha?"
"So Patrick?"
"We should hang out or something." He stated matter of factly while once again studying her painting.
"We should. But not a date." She replied while mirroring his actions of looking at the artwork.
"Totally not a date." Patrick confirmed while shoving his hands once again inside his hoodie pockets.
"Ok then, but promise me something?" Samantha once again turned to face him, he nodded while glancing at her.
"Promise you won't fall in love with me?"
Patrick had to laugh at this question,
"Not a chance. Though I am never going to let you live it down that you quoted that Mandy Moore movie."
"Whatever. I've always wanted to say that to someone, but seriously, promise?"
He let himself actually look at her, really look at her for the first time that night and it seemed as if she was looking right through him. The thought of her reading him like a book scared him and he shivered involuntarily.
"I promise."
Samantha smiled in response before fixing her glaze back on the painting.
"Oh and Patrick?" she tossed him a sideways glance, "Just so you know, I'm never going to let you live down the fact that you've actually seen 'A Walk to Remember.'"
They both laughed before he replied,
"Fair enough."
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