Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > The Beating Of Our Hearts
Part 2
Does It Hurt To Know I'll Never Be There?
There seemed little to do within the few days that strolled by without a care in the world. Patrick had caught little sleep from the hours that dwindled by. Only finding comfort in the fact that he could stretch his legs over both sides of the bed and find extra room for his body. There were other advantages too; the toilet seat could find itself up after he had finished in the bathroom, there were no strange perfume lying in bottles and he, for one, could not care less about the presence of sented candles or pots of dry flowers women liked to call "pot purri". No, it was true life within the house had changed in those small hours and Patrick had chosen, quite rightly, not to dwell on them. Joshua did not seem affected either by the sudden lack of maternal mother, or perhaps like Patrick he was simply acting indifferent to the situation. He shed tears at night though, being the child he were, but Joshua had to be strong for his father. Just as Patrick had to be strong for Joshua.
With an apprehension in the back seat of his mind, driving all sorts of conclusions throughout the headache and whirlwind that was his life, Patrick had sent Joshua back to school. Though against his better judgement, this seemed adequete place to be. In the absence of the heavy atmosphere of the house, the little boy could forget his life in the place of a childhood game or even bath in the sunlight of happiness. Patrick sighed as he watched his son skip step by step throughout the valleys of concrete playgrounds, he thought of how much he loved watching him grow and how vile it were Julie were to miss out on years to come. Slamming his foot down, Patrick sped away just as the bell rang and left a haze of dust in the imprint he had left. A haze of memories and a haze of things to come were all spiralled in the dancing details of dirt that had been picked up by the change of direction.
Patrick zoomed throughout the city until he found himself home once more, placing the cool freshing air conditioning that emanated throughout the house as he took off his bright colourful shoes. It cooled the new pool of sweat that had been created by the heart and his added anxiousness. Patrick slipped of his hat out of sheer safety, not feeling the burden of self esteem wreck havoc on his mind. He reached inside the cupboard under the stairs and reached into the pile of cobwebs to retrieve a box; he held it tight to his chest and embraced it. Throwing his car keys, which he had forsaken in his hand, he began to clim the mountain of stairs, placing foot by foot up them. Each faulty wooden board creaked under Patricks weight and he wondered for a split second how Joshua could walk up and down these freely without an echo of a sound. A heavy heated breath came from Patricks mouth as he struggled with the awkward shape of what he were carrying. In some malicious manner, yesterdays came soaring throughout; from carrying Julie up the threshold in her silk waterfall dress to cupping his first child in his hands, letting it cup his. It seemed so cruel to have these thoughts while planning what Patrick were planning. He had reached the top of the landing and padded across the soft meddows of carpet. His feet burying into borrows. He reached, somewhat struggled, to the door knob of his bedroom, letting it swing open and surprise the ghosts of memories. They screamed past him and dissolved into the shattered pieces of his heart. Placing the box down upon the bedroom, Patrick began to circle the room, deciding for which objects would go in the box. For one, a striking picture of he and Julie on their wedding day would go at the bottom. He studied the beady eyes of her in the laminate photograph before throwing it so hard into the cardboard the glass shattered instantly. After this, the whole task seemed easy. He ripped from the cupbpards the last of her clothes, shoving them one by one into the box not caring about the damage. His rage had only begun to burn, a spark so deep he paced himself, taking all his anger out on the souless pieces of material. Pouring every last scent of her out of his life, Patrick made sure each toilettry she had ever owned was not in his sight. Patrick was now aflame with decisions and choices. He was alight with what she had down and he could find no way to calm him self down.
There was an instant sharp shock on the door as Patrick was delving into the pits of a jewellry box, he dropped it to the cushioned matress of the bed. He check the face of his watch as the second hand ticked by and wondered who would be calling. Perhaps his best friend, after all there jobs had not held them down to trivals of working hours. Patrick rubbed his face in his hands as he walked timidly out of the bedroom, his cheeks scarlet from the mindless act he had commited. Stumbling down the stairs, he saw a familiar figure in the quirky glass. His stomach flipped, this was the figure he least and most wanted to see. He groaned to him self and pulled it open, staring straight at the complexion and pity filled feature of his mother.
"Hey mom," He said and without a warning she had pulled him into her hug. Patrick held the embrace though it was suffocating and breathed in that scent that loved him as a child, feeling his age shrink year by year with every second he was in her arms. She pulled apart from him with a line of tears across her eyes, cupping his face with sympathy. There was an over night bag attached to her arm but Patrick could not care less over her intrusion. Truth was, he needed her there, no matter how much his stubborn attire denied it.
"My poor baby," His mother whispered under her breath before pushing herself throughout the house. Patrick closed the door behind her as he stared at her being. She had begun her role as what she was a mother, shyly placing her bag down on the kitchen table and assessing the damage Julie had done. Patrick expected his mother to assume the house to be a shambles; that it were nearly impossible for a grown man to live without the ever spirit of a womans touch. Yet, as his mother spiralled around the humble woodwork and swirled around the sides all she could see were a few unwashed dishes and the bin a tad over full. Patrick was in a slight awe at her as his mother spun around at him, muttering delicately, "Would you like a coffee?"
~@~
"And then she simply left me, without hardly any reason," Patrick finished after about an hour of moaning to his mother. Afterall, she sat there patiently with just a mere nod of her head, a slant of comfort and a thousand cups of caffiene. There final one stood with little dregs at the bottom. Patrick swirled them around slowly as his eyes kept eyeing the clock.
"How is Joshua? This can't be easy for him." She said after Patrick's heartbreaking story had come to the end at which this point her hand was placed on his with a deep sympathy.
"To the world, he is doing well. But I heard him crying last night. I can't pretend it doesn't kill me to see what that -" he stopped for a second, "bitch has done. It breaks my heart seeing him confused and upset over what has happened. I wish I could make it better but there is not much I can do but be there for him."
Patricks mother let our a small moan of well wishes before her eyes dug holes into his soul, she leaned upon her hand before asking, "And how about you Patrick? How are you doing mom?"
"Me?" Patrick blinked, as though it were the last question he had expected. His eyes darted around for an answer before the sunlight of the summer afternoon caught the sparkled diamond ring that she had left on the side. Patrick had never spotted it before, but the jagged rocks shone like demon eyes. Without warning, he burst into tears. Through his sobs he cried, "How could she do this to me?"
His mother wrapped her arms around him. Knowing that, alas, she was the only thing he needed right now.
***
Ciao Bella
Does It Hurt To Know I'll Never Be There?
There seemed little to do within the few days that strolled by without a care in the world. Patrick had caught little sleep from the hours that dwindled by. Only finding comfort in the fact that he could stretch his legs over both sides of the bed and find extra room for his body. There were other advantages too; the toilet seat could find itself up after he had finished in the bathroom, there were no strange perfume lying in bottles and he, for one, could not care less about the presence of sented candles or pots of dry flowers women liked to call "pot purri". No, it was true life within the house had changed in those small hours and Patrick had chosen, quite rightly, not to dwell on them. Joshua did not seem affected either by the sudden lack of maternal mother, or perhaps like Patrick he was simply acting indifferent to the situation. He shed tears at night though, being the child he were, but Joshua had to be strong for his father. Just as Patrick had to be strong for Joshua.
With an apprehension in the back seat of his mind, driving all sorts of conclusions throughout the headache and whirlwind that was his life, Patrick had sent Joshua back to school. Though against his better judgement, this seemed adequete place to be. In the absence of the heavy atmosphere of the house, the little boy could forget his life in the place of a childhood game or even bath in the sunlight of happiness. Patrick sighed as he watched his son skip step by step throughout the valleys of concrete playgrounds, he thought of how much he loved watching him grow and how vile it were Julie were to miss out on years to come. Slamming his foot down, Patrick sped away just as the bell rang and left a haze of dust in the imprint he had left. A haze of memories and a haze of things to come were all spiralled in the dancing details of dirt that had been picked up by the change of direction.
Patrick zoomed throughout the city until he found himself home once more, placing the cool freshing air conditioning that emanated throughout the house as he took off his bright colourful shoes. It cooled the new pool of sweat that had been created by the heart and his added anxiousness. Patrick slipped of his hat out of sheer safety, not feeling the burden of self esteem wreck havoc on his mind. He reached inside the cupboard under the stairs and reached into the pile of cobwebs to retrieve a box; he held it tight to his chest and embraced it. Throwing his car keys, which he had forsaken in his hand, he began to clim the mountain of stairs, placing foot by foot up them. Each faulty wooden board creaked under Patricks weight and he wondered for a split second how Joshua could walk up and down these freely without an echo of a sound. A heavy heated breath came from Patricks mouth as he struggled with the awkward shape of what he were carrying. In some malicious manner, yesterdays came soaring throughout; from carrying Julie up the threshold in her silk waterfall dress to cupping his first child in his hands, letting it cup his. It seemed so cruel to have these thoughts while planning what Patrick were planning. He had reached the top of the landing and padded across the soft meddows of carpet. His feet burying into borrows. He reached, somewhat struggled, to the door knob of his bedroom, letting it swing open and surprise the ghosts of memories. They screamed past him and dissolved into the shattered pieces of his heart. Placing the box down upon the bedroom, Patrick began to circle the room, deciding for which objects would go in the box. For one, a striking picture of he and Julie on their wedding day would go at the bottom. He studied the beady eyes of her in the laminate photograph before throwing it so hard into the cardboard the glass shattered instantly. After this, the whole task seemed easy. He ripped from the cupbpards the last of her clothes, shoving them one by one into the box not caring about the damage. His rage had only begun to burn, a spark so deep he paced himself, taking all his anger out on the souless pieces of material. Pouring every last scent of her out of his life, Patrick made sure each toilettry she had ever owned was not in his sight. Patrick was now aflame with decisions and choices. He was alight with what she had down and he could find no way to calm him self down.
There was an instant sharp shock on the door as Patrick was delving into the pits of a jewellry box, he dropped it to the cushioned matress of the bed. He check the face of his watch as the second hand ticked by and wondered who would be calling. Perhaps his best friend, after all there jobs had not held them down to trivals of working hours. Patrick rubbed his face in his hands as he walked timidly out of the bedroom, his cheeks scarlet from the mindless act he had commited. Stumbling down the stairs, he saw a familiar figure in the quirky glass. His stomach flipped, this was the figure he least and most wanted to see. He groaned to him self and pulled it open, staring straight at the complexion and pity filled feature of his mother.
"Hey mom," He said and without a warning she had pulled him into her hug. Patrick held the embrace though it was suffocating and breathed in that scent that loved him as a child, feeling his age shrink year by year with every second he was in her arms. She pulled apart from him with a line of tears across her eyes, cupping his face with sympathy. There was an over night bag attached to her arm but Patrick could not care less over her intrusion. Truth was, he needed her there, no matter how much his stubborn attire denied it.
"My poor baby," His mother whispered under her breath before pushing herself throughout the house. Patrick closed the door behind her as he stared at her being. She had begun her role as what she was a mother, shyly placing her bag down on the kitchen table and assessing the damage Julie had done. Patrick expected his mother to assume the house to be a shambles; that it were nearly impossible for a grown man to live without the ever spirit of a womans touch. Yet, as his mother spiralled around the humble woodwork and swirled around the sides all she could see were a few unwashed dishes and the bin a tad over full. Patrick was in a slight awe at her as his mother spun around at him, muttering delicately, "Would you like a coffee?"
~@~
"And then she simply left me, without hardly any reason," Patrick finished after about an hour of moaning to his mother. Afterall, she sat there patiently with just a mere nod of her head, a slant of comfort and a thousand cups of caffiene. There final one stood with little dregs at the bottom. Patrick swirled them around slowly as his eyes kept eyeing the clock.
"How is Joshua? This can't be easy for him." She said after Patrick's heartbreaking story had come to the end at which this point her hand was placed on his with a deep sympathy.
"To the world, he is doing well. But I heard him crying last night. I can't pretend it doesn't kill me to see what that -" he stopped for a second, "bitch has done. It breaks my heart seeing him confused and upset over what has happened. I wish I could make it better but there is not much I can do but be there for him."
Patricks mother let our a small moan of well wishes before her eyes dug holes into his soul, she leaned upon her hand before asking, "And how about you Patrick? How are you doing mom?"
"Me?" Patrick blinked, as though it were the last question he had expected. His eyes darted around for an answer before the sunlight of the summer afternoon caught the sparkled diamond ring that she had left on the side. Patrick had never spotted it before, but the jagged rocks shone like demon eyes. Without warning, he burst into tears. Through his sobs he cried, "How could she do this to me?"
His mother wrapped her arms around him. Knowing that, alas, she was the only thing he needed right now.
***
Ciao Bella
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