Metronome (FOB FanFic ft. Tyler Joseph)

Chapter 14

FOR THOSE IT MAY CONCERN, SCHEDULE STARTING NEXT WEEK (EFFECTIVE DEC. 6, 2015):
- MON - Homewrecker With A Heart Of Gold (FOB FanFic ft. Zack Merrick)
- WED - Something Worth Fighting For (Patrick Stump Imagine Story) => COMING SOON
- FRI - Keep Me Out Of Trouble (FOB FanFic ft. Brendon Urie)
- SUN - Metronome (FOB FanFic ft. Tyler Joseph)

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I was pulling my combat boots on my feet as I stumbled down the stairs, trying my best not to lose my balance. "Alright, Patrick, I'm-" I reached the bottom of the steps and saw that Patrick was no longer standing there. "Patrick?" I took a few steps forward and peered into my living room, where I found Patrick holding a picture frame he'd picked off of my mantle in his hands.

"You know, I love the way looks are so deceiving," He remarked, "Like the way he's looking at you in this picture. It's so artificial, so fake. But you probably didn't suspect a thing. You just kept smiling, kept laughing, thinking that he was really smiling and laughing too. Right?"

I walked over to him and plucked the picture out of his hands. "Don't mess with my stuff," I grumbled, not answering his question.

"She used to look at me the same way," He continued to say, glancing down at me, "The way that makes you feel like you're actually special, like you actually complete their world and that they're the luckiest person to call you theirs. But there's always someone out there more special than you, someone else that completes their world and makes them feel just as lucky as they did with you to call them theirs."

A heavy blanket of silence fell over the room as the two of us stared at the photograph of Tyler and me. It seemed as though, underneath that blanket, the sounds you wouldn't normally hear were amplified. Like the consistent ticking of the clock hanging on the wall, keeping time. Or the humming of my laptop that was sitting on the coffee table, hibernating while it wasn't in use.

I snapped out of the daze I had fallen into and turned on my heel, pulling my hair up into a pony tail with the hair tie I had wrapped around my wrist and making my way over to the front door, "Hey, are we going to go or what?"

"You know what I like about you, Evie?" Patrick inquired, looking back over his shoulder at me.

"Um...nothing?" I guessed, the corner of my lip curling up into a smirk as I spun around to face him.

He chuckled, "No, but you're close." He slipped his hands into his pockets and began to approach me, "I like that your looks are genuine. They're not artificial like his or like hers. Yours are real."

"Oh is that so?" I retorted.

"Mhmm."

"Then you should know that you're getting on my last nerve with all these questions," I crossed my arms and tilted my head to the side ever so slightly.

He smirked, "Oh yeah. I'm well aware of it."

I scoffed and smacked him on the arm, "You asshole!" He laughed, his smirk evolving into a full-on smile. I shook my head and went over to the door, "Come on, Patrick, the night's not getting any younger!" He calmed himself down enough to join my side and leave the house with me.

*****

We were sitting at the bar, six empty shot glasses in front of us and one more in each of our hands. I looked down at the clear liquid and swallowed the nauseous feeling rising up in my throat down. I looked over at Patrick and slurred, "You ready?"

He nodded his head and two of us - in unison - put the small glasses to our lips and cocked our heads back, pouring the drinks into our mouths and letting them run down our throats. I squeezed my eyes shut and slammed the glass down on the bar, feeling the burn of the alcohol.

Patrick shook his head and set his down as well, stifling a belch with the back of his hand. I laughed and rested my head in the palm my hand. "You know, you're a real shit professor, but you're not too bad to have a drink with."

"I don't know what I was thinking..." He replied, meeting my gaze with his bluish green eyes that sparkled in the dim lighting of the bar, "...becoming a professor. I didn't even really become a professor. A friend of mine works at the university and he was telling me how the music director was going to be out for a while - I forgot the reason why - and since she was harping on me to get a job that didn't require me gone so long, I thought why not give a shot?"

"You know," I interrupted him before he could say anymore, "Every time you've mentioned this girl to me, you've never once said her name. It's always 'she' or 'her'. But you've never-"

"Elisa," Patrick responded sullenly, "Her name's Elisa."

"Lisa?"

"No, Elisa. There's an E in the beginning of her name."

"Elisa," I repeated. He nodded his head in approval. "Got it. Who was she, anyways? Your girlfriend or something?"

"Ex-girlfriend," He corrected me, "She wanted me to get a job that didn't require as much traveling, but she didn't stick around for it. Remember?"

"Oh yeah, right. What even happened?"

Patrick chuckled sadly, "Well..."