Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > The Two of Us.
Chapter Two
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"So you graduated from Glenbrook South, that's cool." Samantha replied while attempting to take off her sweater but only getting tangled in the process.
"Yeah, you went there?" Patrick questioned while spinning slowly in a circle in order for him to take in her whole apartment, which wasn't very hard considering that the bathtub was in the living room and the bedroom was the corner piece of the floor sectioned off by a privacy curtain.
"I've actually never even heard of it." She confessed while finally untangling herself from her attack sweater.
"Oh," He chuckled as he watched her angrily throw the sweater across the room, "You didn't grow up here?"
"No I'm from New Orleans." Samantha explained while moving behind her privacy curtain and slipping off her dress hanging it over the top of the curtain as she did so. For some reason unknown to her she was comfortable with this man. Granted, he had practically followed her home insisting that they needed to hang out - but she just didn't let anybody in her home, she's not that stupid. "I moved here almost a year ago, I think. Something like that."
"You don't sound like you're from New Orleans." Patrick replied while studying the unfinished paintings on the stands littered across the tiny apartment. He needed to keep himself busy afraid that if he didn't he would just watch her silhouette undress.
"Yeah I kind of stopped speaking like I was from the backwoods after I learned to read and write." She smiled as she reemerged now dressed in jeans and a tank top.
"Touché." He laughed while glancing in her direction, strongly fighting his urge to do a double take - she was just so god damned beautiful.
"I'm sorry it's such a mess in here, I really wasn't expecting to be harassed and followed home." Samantha teased as she pulled the elastic out of her hair ruffling it as it tumbled over her shoulders and down her back.
"So." Patrick cleared his throat in an attempt to snap himself out of the daze she was unknowingly putting him in, he was touching everything just to keep himself busy. He knew that he must have looked like a spaz but he needed to focus on anything that wasn't her.
"So, you said you traveled a lot for work," She began while sitting on the couch and tucking her legs underneath her bottom. "What exactly is it you do?"
"I'm a musician. I'm uh, I'm in a band." He nodded before knocking a glass off the counter, catching it just before it hit the ground.
She laughed slightly. She felt bad for laughing at him but she just couldn't help it he was acting so strange now, not at all like before, well maybe a little bit. He did stammer a lot in the art gallery.
"You know you can sit down right?"
"I'm good." He replied hastily. "I'm totally good over here in the," Patrick glanced around him, "in the kitchen. You know, chilling with the toaster and the . . . forks." He replied while picking up a fork, smiling as he showed her the utensil.
"Alright." Samantha nodded and smiled as he began subconsciously drumming on the counter with the forks all the while looking everywhere else but at her. "So how is the band thing working out for you?"
"Good, really good." He stopped drumming for a second to finally look at her. She looked so interested in what he had to say as she sat on the couch mindlessly fiddling with her toes to keep her hands busy, did she really not know who he was? And if she didn't, did he really want to inform her?
He had so many fake friends already and didn't need another, but she looked so sincere.
Patrick closed his eyes contemplating the next thing he was going to say before opening his mouth again,
"My band is just in a really good place right now."
"That's awesome." She smiled excitedly, she loved it when people did what they loved regardless of the consequences. "You must be stoked." With a nod she urged him to go on.
"It's kind of scary actually." He confessed before biting his bottom lip unsure of why he just said something so personal, "But I know now that I have to please myself first before worrying about what everybody else thinks."
Samantha nodded in agreement,
"What's your band called?"
Patrick never realized that such a simple question could cause him so much turmoil. His heartbeat echoed in his ears - she didn't know.
But she had to know, you had to be living under a rock not to know. Granted he wasn't Pete, but still.
He looked at her again for confirmation.
She was clueless.
"Uhm, Fall Out Boy." He mumbled slightly while rubbing his ear urging the echoing to stop.
"Hey!" Samantha grew excited sitting up immediately in realization, "My friend loves you guys. You sing those songs about sugar and arms racing or something."
Patrick stared at her for a second before letting out a loud laugh. He tried to cover up his face with his hands in order to hide his smile, it had been a while since he had smiled like that. He never thought that something so simple could make him so happy. He didn't even know if that was what he had wanted her to say but one thing was for sure, he was so glad that she did.
"Was that wrong?" She bit her lip apologetically, afraid that she might have offended him.
"Not at all." He finally let her see him smile.
"I'm sorry. Its just, I'm so busy that I don't pay much attention to popular music - I'm kind of retro. I like 80's a lot, I love Prince. Uhm, 90's rock, I like the Foo Fighters, I think that one is because I've always wanted to be into Nirvana but I just can't stand Cobain's voice so when the drummer broke away after his death I got really excited." She rambled slightly for a bit before putting herself back on track, "and lately I've really been getting into Jazz and Blues, Sinatra and Nat King Cole." Samantha explained while lacing her fingers together nervously. She should have just not said anything then she wouldn't have painted herself into this corner.
"You like what kind of music?" Patrick coughed while leaning on the counter hoping that at this new angle he could hear her say something other than what he knew she said.
"Uhm, all kinds - Blues and . . . Jazz." She stopped speaking abruptly to touch her face, "You're looking at me weird, is there something on my face?"
Patrick immediately stood up straight, his hands fidgeting until finally finding sanctuary in his jean pockets. "Uhm what?"
"Is there something on my - " Samantha began again only to be cut off.
"No. No there's nothing on your face." He sighed while taking his hand out of his pocket momentarily to gesture to her face from across the room.
"Oh, ok." She replied while letting her head drop. Samantha could tell that he was visibly upset, or confused or something. He kept his intentions well hidden and though it didn't bother her before it was slightly irritating now.
What did he want with her?
She couldn't possibly supply him with anything he needed, she thought she had made that perfectly clear earlier.
Patrick contemplated the situation at hand. The cards were on the table, the gloves were off but he was still clueless. He didn't know why he was there with Sam, he didn't know why he went into the art studio, he certainly didn't know why he had insisted on literally following her home.
Was this the universe playing some weird joke on him?
If it was, it certainly wasn't humorous anymore.
It was almost as if someone was gaining pleasure in the slow but inevitable demise of his sanity.
Maybe the guys were right and he should have just gone to see the shrink but then that would only mean that She had won, and that She had total and complete control over him and his life, and there was no way in hell that surrendering to Her was even an option, not anymore.
Samantha was a nice, beautiful, interesting girl, and Patrick wasn't going to let Her ruin a beautiful new friendship.
"Lets not talk about music." He finally spoke up eyeing her cautiously as she lifted her head to meet his gaze.
"Ok."
"Lets talk about you. What is it you do?" Patrick smiled in hopes of masking the thoughts that were still running ramped in his mind.
"I was a waitress, but I got fired last night." She nodded and he swallowed hard unsure of the response that should follow a statement like that. Was 'I'm sorry' appropriate in times like these? Probably, but he wasn't sure.
"That's why I was crying by the way," She interjected quickly, "I really wasn't that upset that you spilled soda on me I mean it was my work shirt and I got fired so, you know, it's not like I'm going to be using it much anymore." Samantha laughed loudly.
"That makes me feel a lot better, thanks for clarifying cause I seriously felt like shit last night." He nodded as he also began to laugh.
"Yeah, you didn't look too hot yesterday, no offense." She paused and looked at him as he waved his hand signaling that he wasn't offended, "Rough night?"
"Rough night. Rough day. Rough past six months." Patrick confessed while once again drumming the forks on the counter.
"Care to divulge, or not so much?" Samantha bit her nail anxiously, he had spiked her curiosity and she hoped that he wasn't going to clam up now.
"I don't mind." He started while shaking his head 'no' confirming the fact that he really didn't mind. "My girlfriend of four years broke up with me six months ago, she said she couldn't handle my job anymore." He paused, Samantha figured it was for dramatic affect but she really couldn't be sure, "but anyways," He continued, "I haven't really gotten over it and yesterday was our anniversary."
"Oh my." Samantha gasped as if she was in pain trying her best to sympathize.
Patrick nodded in agreement before continuing,
"I had asked my booking manager to book a show but he didn't and I was forced to go to my friend's DJ Set and I really just didn't want to go. I'm really not a shitty friend I promise, but if I couldn't be playing music then I just wanted to be at home making it."
Samantha couldn't help but giggle at his last statement, Patrick looked at her for a second before realizing what he had alluded to.
"Shut up." He teased while letting a small smile creep onto his face.
"I'm sorry." Samantha laughed before taking a deep breath in, trying her best to compose herself. Forcing herself to frown she gestured for him to continue.
"You see, when you give me a face like that I just can't even continue. My bitter mood is now destroyed."
"Well Mr. Fall Out Boy, I am not going to apologize for making you happy." She stated matter of factly while standing up to stretch, yawning as she did so.
Patrick smiled at her for a second before nodding to himself.
"It's late, I should go." He replied while heading towards the door.
"You don't have to go yet it's only," Samantha stopped mid yawn to glance at the clock, "4 A.M." She gasped surprised.
"Yeah." He stated with his hand on the doorknob. "I'll uhm, just see you later. We should do this again sometime."
"Yeah definitely." She nodded in agreement before waving goodbye.
As Patrick walked down the street to his car snuggling into his hoodie to hide from the cold as he did so, he couldn't help but notice the smile that hadn't left his face, and he couldn't help but wonder if him meeting Samantha was more than just a freak coincidence.
__________________
"So you graduated from Glenbrook South, that's cool." Samantha replied while attempting to take off her sweater but only getting tangled in the process.
"Yeah, you went there?" Patrick questioned while spinning slowly in a circle in order for him to take in her whole apartment, which wasn't very hard considering that the bathtub was in the living room and the bedroom was the corner piece of the floor sectioned off by a privacy curtain.
"I've actually never even heard of it." She confessed while finally untangling herself from her attack sweater.
"Oh," He chuckled as he watched her angrily throw the sweater across the room, "You didn't grow up here?"
"No I'm from New Orleans." Samantha explained while moving behind her privacy curtain and slipping off her dress hanging it over the top of the curtain as she did so. For some reason unknown to her she was comfortable with this man. Granted, he had practically followed her home insisting that they needed to hang out - but she just didn't let anybody in her home, she's not that stupid. "I moved here almost a year ago, I think. Something like that."
"You don't sound like you're from New Orleans." Patrick replied while studying the unfinished paintings on the stands littered across the tiny apartment. He needed to keep himself busy afraid that if he didn't he would just watch her silhouette undress.
"Yeah I kind of stopped speaking like I was from the backwoods after I learned to read and write." She smiled as she reemerged now dressed in jeans and a tank top.
"Touché." He laughed while glancing in her direction, strongly fighting his urge to do a double take - she was just so god damned beautiful.
"I'm sorry it's such a mess in here, I really wasn't expecting to be harassed and followed home." Samantha teased as she pulled the elastic out of her hair ruffling it as it tumbled over her shoulders and down her back.
"So." Patrick cleared his throat in an attempt to snap himself out of the daze she was unknowingly putting him in, he was touching everything just to keep himself busy. He knew that he must have looked like a spaz but he needed to focus on anything that wasn't her.
"So, you said you traveled a lot for work," She began while sitting on the couch and tucking her legs underneath her bottom. "What exactly is it you do?"
"I'm a musician. I'm uh, I'm in a band." He nodded before knocking a glass off the counter, catching it just before it hit the ground.
She laughed slightly. She felt bad for laughing at him but she just couldn't help it he was acting so strange now, not at all like before, well maybe a little bit. He did stammer a lot in the art gallery.
"You know you can sit down right?"
"I'm good." He replied hastily. "I'm totally good over here in the," Patrick glanced around him, "in the kitchen. You know, chilling with the toaster and the . . . forks." He replied while picking up a fork, smiling as he showed her the utensil.
"Alright." Samantha nodded and smiled as he began subconsciously drumming on the counter with the forks all the while looking everywhere else but at her. "So how is the band thing working out for you?"
"Good, really good." He stopped drumming for a second to finally look at her. She looked so interested in what he had to say as she sat on the couch mindlessly fiddling with her toes to keep her hands busy, did she really not know who he was? And if she didn't, did he really want to inform her?
He had so many fake friends already and didn't need another, but she looked so sincere.
Patrick closed his eyes contemplating the next thing he was going to say before opening his mouth again,
"My band is just in a really good place right now."
"That's awesome." She smiled excitedly, she loved it when people did what they loved regardless of the consequences. "You must be stoked." With a nod she urged him to go on.
"It's kind of scary actually." He confessed before biting his bottom lip unsure of why he just said something so personal, "But I know now that I have to please myself first before worrying about what everybody else thinks."
Samantha nodded in agreement,
"What's your band called?"
Patrick never realized that such a simple question could cause him so much turmoil. His heartbeat echoed in his ears - she didn't know.
But she had to know, you had to be living under a rock not to know. Granted he wasn't Pete, but still.
He looked at her again for confirmation.
She was clueless.
"Uhm, Fall Out Boy." He mumbled slightly while rubbing his ear urging the echoing to stop.
"Hey!" Samantha grew excited sitting up immediately in realization, "My friend loves you guys. You sing those songs about sugar and arms racing or something."
Patrick stared at her for a second before letting out a loud laugh. He tried to cover up his face with his hands in order to hide his smile, it had been a while since he had smiled like that. He never thought that something so simple could make him so happy. He didn't even know if that was what he had wanted her to say but one thing was for sure, he was so glad that she did.
"Was that wrong?" She bit her lip apologetically, afraid that she might have offended him.
"Not at all." He finally let her see him smile.
"I'm sorry. Its just, I'm so busy that I don't pay much attention to popular music - I'm kind of retro. I like 80's a lot, I love Prince. Uhm, 90's rock, I like the Foo Fighters, I think that one is because I've always wanted to be into Nirvana but I just can't stand Cobain's voice so when the drummer broke away after his death I got really excited." She rambled slightly for a bit before putting herself back on track, "and lately I've really been getting into Jazz and Blues, Sinatra and Nat King Cole." Samantha explained while lacing her fingers together nervously. She should have just not said anything then she wouldn't have painted herself into this corner.
"You like what kind of music?" Patrick coughed while leaning on the counter hoping that at this new angle he could hear her say something other than what he knew she said.
"Uhm, all kinds - Blues and . . . Jazz." She stopped speaking abruptly to touch her face, "You're looking at me weird, is there something on my face?"
Patrick immediately stood up straight, his hands fidgeting until finally finding sanctuary in his jean pockets. "Uhm what?"
"Is there something on my - " Samantha began again only to be cut off.
"No. No there's nothing on your face." He sighed while taking his hand out of his pocket momentarily to gesture to her face from across the room.
"Oh, ok." She replied while letting her head drop. Samantha could tell that he was visibly upset, or confused or something. He kept his intentions well hidden and though it didn't bother her before it was slightly irritating now.
What did he want with her?
She couldn't possibly supply him with anything he needed, she thought she had made that perfectly clear earlier.
Patrick contemplated the situation at hand. The cards were on the table, the gloves were off but he was still clueless. He didn't know why he was there with Sam, he didn't know why he went into the art studio, he certainly didn't know why he had insisted on literally following her home.
Was this the universe playing some weird joke on him?
If it was, it certainly wasn't humorous anymore.
It was almost as if someone was gaining pleasure in the slow but inevitable demise of his sanity.
Maybe the guys were right and he should have just gone to see the shrink but then that would only mean that She had won, and that She had total and complete control over him and his life, and there was no way in hell that surrendering to Her was even an option, not anymore.
Samantha was a nice, beautiful, interesting girl, and Patrick wasn't going to let Her ruin a beautiful new friendship.
"Lets not talk about music." He finally spoke up eyeing her cautiously as she lifted her head to meet his gaze.
"Ok."
"Lets talk about you. What is it you do?" Patrick smiled in hopes of masking the thoughts that were still running ramped in his mind.
"I was a waitress, but I got fired last night." She nodded and he swallowed hard unsure of the response that should follow a statement like that. Was 'I'm sorry' appropriate in times like these? Probably, but he wasn't sure.
"That's why I was crying by the way," She interjected quickly, "I really wasn't that upset that you spilled soda on me I mean it was my work shirt and I got fired so, you know, it's not like I'm going to be using it much anymore." Samantha laughed loudly.
"That makes me feel a lot better, thanks for clarifying cause I seriously felt like shit last night." He nodded as he also began to laugh.
"Yeah, you didn't look too hot yesterday, no offense." She paused and looked at him as he waved his hand signaling that he wasn't offended, "Rough night?"
"Rough night. Rough day. Rough past six months." Patrick confessed while once again drumming the forks on the counter.
"Care to divulge, or not so much?" Samantha bit her nail anxiously, he had spiked her curiosity and she hoped that he wasn't going to clam up now.
"I don't mind." He started while shaking his head 'no' confirming the fact that he really didn't mind. "My girlfriend of four years broke up with me six months ago, she said she couldn't handle my job anymore." He paused, Samantha figured it was for dramatic affect but she really couldn't be sure, "but anyways," He continued, "I haven't really gotten over it and yesterday was our anniversary."
"Oh my." Samantha gasped as if she was in pain trying her best to sympathize.
Patrick nodded in agreement before continuing,
"I had asked my booking manager to book a show but he didn't and I was forced to go to my friend's DJ Set and I really just didn't want to go. I'm really not a shitty friend I promise, but if I couldn't be playing music then I just wanted to be at home making it."
Samantha couldn't help but giggle at his last statement, Patrick looked at her for a second before realizing what he had alluded to.
"Shut up." He teased while letting a small smile creep onto his face.
"I'm sorry." Samantha laughed before taking a deep breath in, trying her best to compose herself. Forcing herself to frown she gestured for him to continue.
"You see, when you give me a face like that I just can't even continue. My bitter mood is now destroyed."
"Well Mr. Fall Out Boy, I am not going to apologize for making you happy." She stated matter of factly while standing up to stretch, yawning as she did so.
Patrick smiled at her for a second before nodding to himself.
"It's late, I should go." He replied while heading towards the door.
"You don't have to go yet it's only," Samantha stopped mid yawn to glance at the clock, "4 A.M." She gasped surprised.
"Yeah." He stated with his hand on the doorknob. "I'll uhm, just see you later. We should do this again sometime."
"Yeah definitely." She nodded in agreement before waving goodbye.
As Patrick walked down the street to his car snuggling into his hoodie to hide from the cold as he did so, he couldn't help but notice the smile that hadn't left his face, and he couldn't help but wonder if him meeting Samantha was more than just a freak coincidence.
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