FicWad

A CD, like a mix CD of sorts. Not just a cheaply recorded, home-made, child-like, arts and crafts disaster. Studio recorded. The art work was amazing. Some twisted drawing of me but much younger, maybe six or seven, clutching on to a security blanket. No feet but a mesh of tentacles, all with bunny faces on the end, designed to look like slippers. The background was a faded blue-gray with a barely-visible plaid pattern. Signed in the bottom right of the picture was a mixed up jumble of words, just about legible. Travis McCoy. Travi had drawn this? It was amazing, breath-taking almost. I didn't know that he was so skilled.

'He can really draw, can't he?' I smiled, fingers tracing around the face of a childhood memory. It didn't look much like I actually did when I was that young, more like a smaller version of my current self. That wasn't too much of a problem, if anything I prefer this drawing to the reality. My hair was in short brown curls clung tight to my head as a kid. The flat yet slightly spiked look was much more effective.

'Yeah' Patrick replied, exhaling out a short chuckle, 'He'd work on it between recording. He took forever doing that. He'd get one thing wrong and then would have to start all over again. Serious perfectionist.'

'I'm glad' Still locked onto the haunted looking eyes of the me in art form. Was it that obvious that my yesteryears were less than pleasant? This was based on me as Travis as he had seen me. Then why did the kid look so scared, traumatised. Did I really give off that vibe? 'It's amazing'

'Look at the back' He instructed, leaning over the table to get a closer look as I flipped over the CD case carefully. The back was very much the same as the front except this time there was no 'art work' as such, just the same blue-gray background. In scrawled black lettering there were four tracks. 'Grand Theft Autumn'. My song to him. He recorded my song for him. Was it really that great? I mean, I suppose it did ultimately win him over in the end. Underneath that was 'It's Not A Side Effect Of The Cocaine, I'm Thinking It Must Be Love'.

'What's that one?' I questioned, pointing it out, seeing his face drop slightly.

'The song I wrote for Dwayne' He sighed, my heart feeling as if it were boiling. Why would he put that on an album for me? A song he wrote for his ex boyfriend. He must have seen the look on my face as he went on to explain himself. 'I don't want him to have it anymore. He doesn't deserve it. It's yours now.'

'The song?' I asked, he nodded. He was giving me that song. It meant something to him. I meant something to him. So much that he took it back and passed it to me. I wasn't sure how to react really. It was a nice idea but I also felt as if it would never truly be mine, like buying a used car. 'Why?'

'Because I don't love him' Patrick slipped, and all of my tension, hesitation disappeared. He doesn't love him. Patrick doesn't love him anymore. The relief was welcomed. I had always had that tension, that wandering thought that I wasn't good enough, couldn't come up to the standard that Dwayne had set. Withered now in five simple words. 'Track three is for him'

'My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon' I read aloud, finger drifting under the sloppy handwritten back. Another song about him? Twist the knife Patrick. He built my hopes up just to throw me a curveball. I knew that I wasn't going to get good things happen to me. I should have run away when he left me outside my front door. 'What's it about?'

'Put it in' He grinned widely, oblivious to my sceptical expression or just plain ignoring it. Pulling the CD out of the case, positioning myself in front of the laptop on the counter, I paused the song 'Darling Nikki' that was playing quietly. Opening the disk drive I gently dropped the CD in and closed the drawer again. Waiting for it to load I took another glance at Patrick who's mouth was still stretched and stuck into a look of sheer joy and anticipation. I flicked straight to track three and sat myself back down in my chair, predicting that I'd need to sit down after hearing this one. It took a few second to kick in which had me wondering if it was actually on. Suddenly a burst of noise emitted from the speakers and Patrick's clear voice came tumbling out followed by the sting of acoustic guitar.

'I spent most of last night dragging this lake
For the corpses of all my past mistakes
Sell me out
The joke's on you
We are the salt
You are the wound
Empty another bottle and let me tear you to pieces
This is me wishing you into the worst situations
I'm the kinda kid that can't let anything go
But you wouldn't know a good thing
If it came up and slit your throat'

I was surprised how glad I felt about the anger in the song. Here I was thinking it was a love song. Well, that's just how masochistic I am I guess. Always going for the worst possibility. Besides I was pretty sure that Patrick wasn't that much of a sadist. It was weird, thinking he was doing this over the past few weeks and I'd been moping around feeling sorry for myself, thinking he didn't care. I was so relieved that he… wait a minute. He said that he didn't want Dwayne to have that song because he didn't love him, did that mean, that he loves me? I couldn't even concentrate on the rest of the words of the song.

'Patrick…' I posed, the music still playing in the background, catching a sentence or two between thoughts. I bitted on my freshly sharpied nails, putting the CD case on the table.

'Yeah?' He kept eye contact with me but his voice was slow, wondering why I sounded so profound yet distant. Tipping his head to the side, narrowing his gaze and bracing his arms on the chair. Puzzlement scrolling over his face. 'What?'

'Next to heartbeats were you shouldn't dare sleep' The laptop chimed in, cutting through my question. About Ashlee I could only assume. It must have been written quite recently then. Especially for this CD perhaps. It made me wonder why he was doing all of this for me in the first place. Picking up random bits of spaghetti and shovelling them down because even though I wasn't that hungry, it was only polite and it was pretty damn good. He beamed lightly at me, watching me finish every last bite. 'You should try saying no once in a while'

'Hey,' He called my attention back as I stood with the empty plate in hand, passing his own to me. I nodded to him, taking it in my hands but he still refused to let go. 'I'll do the dishes, go sit down'

I agreed begrudgingly. Feeling so grateful towards him I almost felt like I should contribute somehow. Picking up the CD I took it with me over to the couch. Slumping in as usual, taking a casual leap and landing on my back atop, I held the case in the air, scanning over the back again. 'My Heart Is The Worst Kind Of Weapon'. Track three. There was a track four, no name attached to it though. It was just a blank space. Where every other song had the number, a full stop and then the title this one only had a number. Four.

'Nothing more than collateral damage' The tune continued, Patrick's pitch being as impeccable as ever. The slight interference of a running tap cutting through the flow. Watching him pile plates in, sleeves rolled up and sponge in hand, I figured I'd just have to wait for this song to finish before discovering what the next was. Sighing, I leaned back, poised. 'Oh, once in a while'

The song faded out gently with a quick and abrupt complete ending. Waiting patiently for the fourth song to begin, I watched Patrick jiggle as he tried to remove a particularly pesky stain from one of the dishes. Scrubbing away, the guitar riff for song four began. I recognized it almost instantly but I couldn't tell why, or who it was by. The second he started singing it clicked.

'When routine bites hard and ambitions are low
And resentment rides high but emotion won't grow
And we're changing our ways taking different ways'

'Love Will Tear Us Apart!' I all but screeched, making Patrick jolt and splash dish water around. I couldn't help it. The house party scene, Donnie Darko, it was playing in the background. It was one of my favourite songs from the entire movie. I shook my head with the stupidest smile. 'How did you know? Why did you do all of this for me?'

'Because,' Patrick turned around, pushing the peak of his cap up with his thumb, coincidentally the only finger that was not wet or soapy. He came nearer, drying his hands first on a kitchen towel next to the sink. Dropping back down on the arm of the couch as he was earlier, he leaned in towards me. 'I love you too.'

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Oh Em Gee Drama! :]
First Note After One Of My Chapters
All The Way On Chapter 59 So Maybe It's Overdue
Sorry That I Went Forever Not Updating
Life's Been Pretty Hectic And Sucky Lately
I Have Got Back To The Swing Of Writing Though
So You Better Be Ready To Expect Daily Updates From Now On
By The Way, The Artwork Mentioned Is Real Artwork
Not By Travis McCoy Unfortunately And It's Not Of Pete Wentz Either
It's A Piece By Greg Simkins And Here's A Link For Yous:
http://www.imscared.com/illust/is_ill115.jpg
Absolutely Amazing

:]

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