Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco > Like A Knife

I Don't Know What To Think Anymore

by PanicxFOBx4Everx 0 reviews

Patrick promises Cammy that things haven't changed between them. Will he be able to keep that promise?

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: PG-13 - Genres: Drama,Romance - Published: 2008-04-26 - Updated: 2008-04-27 - 1441 words

Like A Knife Part 27

“It’s good to be back here,” I sighed, taking in the sights around me. Ry’s teenage presence lingered by the tracks only a foot away from where I was standing, so I tried to ignore that this was the exact place we had almost shared our first kiss. If it hadn’t been for Keltie, that is.

“Yeah, I know. I was hoping you wouldn’t be sad about coming back here, because I know how you wish things hadn’t changed. You’re not alone there, Cams. I wish everything was like it used to be in high school, too,” He admitted to me, his eyes tracing the jovial expression etched to my face.

“It’s great to know there’s someone out there who knows how I feel. Everything’s…less secluded, you know what I mean?” I wondered, grateful he had told me that he understood.

“Exactly,” He agreed, kicking a small rock around. I stood up on the tracks, just barely balancing. He pursued them with me, standing directly across on the other side.

We tried walking, not very gracefully to say the least, down into the thicker woods. I couldn’t ignore the glistening in his baby blue eyes, the white of his gorgeous smile, and the hair peeking out from his ‘I love bingo’ hat.

Without realizing it, my hand snaked through his arm and locked on to his, fingers entwined with one another, mingling and warm with each other’s touch. It sent a fiery chill up my back, and made me shiver. I could see his face turning red as our fingers grasped each other, begging and praying for more.

“What’s the matter, Patty? Afraid of my fingers, are we now?” I joked with him.

“No, of course not. Friends hold hands all the time,” He replied. “It’s just…” He drifted off.

“Just what?” I wondered, curious what he was thinking about. He didn’t answer. “It’s just what?” I repeated, making sure I was clear. “Patrick, you’d tell me if anything happened, right?”

“Of course I would. It’s nothing. Forget it,” He insisted, as we lined the edges of the tracks with our sneakers. I couldn’t help but notice his strange stature; he was at a point in his life where he was just beginning to put on a small amount of weight, still maintaining his boyish looks. His utterly devastating boyish looks at that. In the light casting itself through the tree tops, he looked more magnificent than ever. And strangely, he seemed much more exposed and vulnerable. His emotions were showing then.

“Remember when you and I walked all the way down to the lake from here?” I asked him. I think I would have cried if he didn’t.

“Of course I remember,” He admitted honestly. “How could I forget? We spent hours on end down here.”

He was right. When I was a senior in high school, he had graduated, and we decided we needed to spend more time together. Little did we know that we meant five or six hours.

We came down to the train tracks after school one day, looking for something interesting to do. We spent about an hour or two just talking, opening up to each other, letting our inner thoughts and feelings finally flood from our mouths. We had learned a great deal that day, and decided to walk down the tracks until we couldn’t walk anymore.

Standing in the very place we were standing now, we decided we loved being around each other. We slowly walked down the middle of the tracks, conversing in all of our youthful innocence, until we came to a point where the tracks turned to a bridge, casting its shadow out onto a huge, shimmering lake. Spence’s house was just visible from the bridge, as he lived on the bank far off, overlooking the water.

So we turned back after completely committing to memory the very image painted in our minds, never to return again. Until now.

We walked down for as long and far as we had so many years before, finally coming across the lake. The beautiful, enticing lake that drew me into its exquisiteness each time I lay eyes upon it.

“It’s been so long since I’ve even been here…” I reminded him. “It hasn’t changed at all.”

The sun was setting now, as we had gotten here late and walked for maybe an hour or two, which was now casting a pink orange glow on our faces. The shadows of everything drifted across the lake in their bravado, morphing themselves to their liking.

“I’m glad it hasn’t,” Patrick informed me, turning around to look me in the eyes.

He wasn’t even an inch taller than me, but he seemed so far away it was scary. But then he took my hands in his and leaned in close, eyes smoldering with beautiful blue radiance. His breath was sweet on my face, cool and calming. For a minute, I thought he was going to kiss me, and I became confused when he stopped, inches away from my lips.

“I never want to be without you, Cammy. Promise me…Promise me that you won’t do anything stupid. Ever, because I couldn’t live without you here. With me. Because things wouldn’t be worth it anymore,” He said to me, either the sun or embarrassment filling his cheeks with color once again.

I could have sworn I had heard someone bellow out in the distance, but we ignored it. I wanted to remain in his gaze for eternity, let his great blue eyes rest upon my face and dwell there, make me feel things I’ve never felt before. But he pulled away, breaking away from our one moment of what seemed like love, and sat down on the tracks.

“Sing me a song, Patty,” I told him, sitting down next to him. “It’s been forever since I’ve heard your voice.”

“Aw, Cammy, do I have to?” He whined, like a small child throwing a temper tantrum. “You don’t need to hear my voice. It sucks, anyway.”

I let a laugh breach the protection of my mouth. “How could you even think that? Your voice is amazing, Patrick. Really, it is. Now sing me a song,” I demanded.

“Fine, but it’s only because you asked me to. And I’ll sing the After Life of The Party. Every time I sing it, I think of you…It’s weird,” He admitted quickly. And then he belted out in that beautiful, angelic voice that you would never expect from such a small, modest boy.

“I’m a stitch away from making it. And a scar away from falling apart, apart. Blood cells pixilate, and eyes dilate, and the full moon pills got me out on the streets at night. Cut it loose…Watch you work the room,” He sang, with much feeling in his tone.

My heart almost stopped beating when he looked at me, his mouth open and letting that dazzling voice spill out of it, fixing his blue orbs on me.

“Put love on hold, you Hollywood is on the other line. Your nose runs ruby red, deaths in a double bed, singing songs that could only catch the ear of the desperate. Cut it loose…Watch you work the room,” He sang again.

I lay my head on his shoulder, almost lulled to sleep by the striking sound. His breathing rocked me up and down, in between his lovely notes, and when he finished I sighed. I had no words that would explain what I felt with accuracy.

And then, breaking the silence, I heard another shout form the opposite end of the lake, and squinted. Then I noticed the sound was coming from near Spence’s house.

“Is that Spence?” I giggled, upon finding the small figure frantically waving his arms about in the air.

“I…I think so. HI SPENCE!” Patrick yelled back, waving the arm on the counter side of his body. I did the same, hoping that it really was him.

“Wouldn’t that be embarrassing if it wasn’t Spence?” I laughed, enjoying every second of it, but slightly disappointed that Patrick and I weren’t paying attention to each other now. Maybe if we focused really hard, we could ignore him and return to acting friendly. More than friendly, to be honest, and I didn’t know what to think of that.
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