Metronome (FOB FanFic ft. Tyler Joseph)

Chapter 10

I was sitting on the closed toilet seat, my cell phone pinched between my ear and shoulder as I painted my toenails. "I just don't know what's going on anymore," I confessed, "First my boyfriend cheats on me and then this professor at the University begs me to keep taking piano lessons with him, when he didn't even want to give them to me in the first place!"

"Maybe he likes you," My mom, who was on the other end of the line, retorted.

I laughed, swiping the navy blue lacquer across my big toe, "Yeah, right, Mom. He can't stand me. He's called me deaf, he's called me stupid, and he's even told me that he doesn't give a shit about what I do on my own time."

"Maybe he's just doing that Kindergarten thing."

"What Kindergarten thing?"

"You remember in Kindergarten when a boy would maybe push you back into the sandbox or take the dodgeball away from you?"

"I don't know what Kindergarten is like these days, Mom..." She worked at one of the elementary schools as a Kindergarten teacher, "...but that never happened to me."

I heard my mother groan through the speaker, "No no no, Evie, you're not getting it. What I'm trying to say is that, he probably just doesn't know how to express his feelings for you and that's why he acts so mean to you."

I recapped the nail polish and set it down on the bathroom counter, "Mom, he doesn't like me, and I don't like him, and that's how it's always going to be. Alright?"

"Whatever you say, Evelyn...but next you know, you'll be bringing him to Thanksgiving dinner and introducing him to us like 'Oh, hi Mom and Dad. This is my new boyfriend. He's the professor at the University who he taught me how to play piano'," She mocked me. I rolled my eyes.

"Mooooom, you're not helping," I whined, standing up and grabbing my phone in my hand, waddling out of the bathroom as to not ruin the nail job I just did. "I don't know what to dooooo." I started making my way down the stairs and into the kitchen, where I pulled open the freezer and pulled out a small tub of ice cream.

"And you think I do?" My mother replied impudently.

"You're my mom, Mom, you're supposed to tell me what to do," I murmured, grabbing a large spoon from out of the drawer and slamming it shut with my hip. I walked over to the table and plopped down on one of the chairs, once again pinning the phone between my ear and shoulder so I could tear open the carton.

"Honey, you want my advice? What I think you so do is follow your heart. Do what you feel is right."

"Wooooooow, best advice of the year award goes to Meredith Quinn!" I retorted sarcastically, shoving the spoon into the chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

"Evelyn, you asked me for my advice and I gave you it. Whether you want to take it or not is up to you." I heaved a sigh and sat back in the chair. "Hey, I've got to go, honey. Are you going to be okay after I hang up?"

"I guess," I mumbled, stabbing the ice cream with the spoon rather than actually eating it.

"Alright. Love you, Muffin."

I closed my eyes and sighed, "I thought I asked you to stop calling me that at the end of middle school."

"Oh, right, sorry. Love you, Evie!"

"Love you too, Mom." I pressed the end call button and set the phone down, playing with the cold dessert a little more before there was a knock on my front door.

I looked back over my shoulder and out into the front hallway, as if I could see who was standing on the porch through the door. Though, of course, I couldn't.

Another knock echoed through the house. I groaned and stood up, dragging myself out into the foyer and undoing the locks, pulling the door open and almost immediately regretting it. "Tyler," I breathed.

"Hey, Evie," He greeted, his voice small and timid.

"What are you doing here?"

He rubbed his upper arm nervously, "I-I just came back for a few of my things." His cheeks blushed a deep shade of red.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

There was a long pause of silence before he gently brushed past me and into the house. I closed the door behind him and turned around, watching him rush up the stairs. He took a quick glance back at me once he reached the top step, as if he wanted to tell me something or he wanted me to say something, before disappearing to the left. I quickly ran up the stairs and followed after him, finding him in what used to be our bedroom, a suitcase opened on the bed as he skimmed through the closet, picking out his shirts.

I leaned against the threshold and crossed my arms over my chest. He looked over at me and then down at his feet. "Do you need to stand there?" He asked, his voice just above a whisper.

"Why? Am I bothering you?" I asked.

"No, you're just making this harder than it has to be," He mumbled, folding a couple of his shirts and transferring them to his bag.

"Harder than it has to be?" I repeated, "You don't think this is hard on me? Seeing you pack your things and leave?"

"Well you're not going to take me back," He glanced over at me, a remorseful look on his face, "Are you?"