||Cole Wentz|| First Person||
I run my pale fingers through my hair, feeling my free hand across the laminated pages in the Wedding Plan binder Hayley Williams gave to me. The inside contents of the two inch ringed binder held page after page of gorgeous wedding themes along with dresses and all of that jazz. The idea of choosing gives me anxiety because this is something that I will think about for the rest of my existence. The day I vow to spend the rest of my life with Patrick Vaughn Stump.
It's been three years, and I'm still not over it.
I lift my left hand up, extending my fingers outwards as my eyes scan the gems lining up to the gorgeous engagement ring Patrick bought me. He has a simple ring on his left hand to signify that he has a fiancée, and you won't believe how crazy the Fall Out Boy fans got when they found out that Patrick Stump is that much closer to being officially taken off the market.
"Cole," I hear the front door's lock jiggle as Patrick shoves his key into the slot. I stand up immediately, my legs pushing the dining room's chair backwards. The wooden legs scrape across the tiles as my frantic fingers close the binder. "I'm home,"
Home. You heard right- three years and a little bit more officially means that I've moved out of my parents' place. It was a long time coming, seeing that I was expected to move out sooner or later, but the second I got engaged, my parents figured that I probably should live with Patrick, seeing as we were going to marry each other. At first, I was nostalgic about leaving my home and not waking up to the smell of the bitter coffee my father is always brewing, or inhaling the sweet scent of my mother's pancakes. But I got pretty accustomed to waking up next to Patrick every morning. I mean, when he wakes up, he has this sort of innocence to his face. His eyes are normally squinted for the first few minutes, but then they dilate while his face is red and the slightest drop of dry drool sits on the corner of his mouth. And then of course, cooking breakfast with him is a privilege, considering the fact that we're blasting music and dancing around the kitchen.
"In the kitchen," I call out, grabbing my empty water glass in between my cool hands. My ring clinks against the material lightly as I turn and head for said room in our fairly large apartment. Patrick and I had decided to rent out an apartment while it was just the both of us, meanwhile dealing with getting financially prepared for the cost of the wedding and marriage life. Right now, he's been looking into houses around the area, hopefully somewhere near Pete's house because...
Patrick and I have a daughter, and Pete's kids can hang out with her.
I know, I know, shame on me for not telling you. But come on, Patrick and I just got carried away one day, and suddenly, we found out that I was pregnant after I started puking my guts out one morning.
She's only a year old. She can barely string together more than three words, unless you count her pushing her little chubby hands against Pete's face and shouting 'Baby, go away.' Her name is Maya Alison Stump, based on Patrick's idea that she should have my middle name. I was unsure about it, but she looks like a Maya. What with her slightly curly but mainly wavy dark blonde locks and those gorgeous hazel eyes, she's gorgeous.
And I gotta admit, a pain in the ass.
I'm only twenty three, and yeah, Patrick and I had a kid way earlier than we would have planned, but at least I'll be able to run after her when she's growing up. But of course, with Patrick having to worry about Fall Out Boy, and me having to go to work(I go to work now), it's a difficult schedule. Some days, Patrick would accidentally sleep over at the studio without calling me, and I'd have a heart attack all night long with a wailing child screaming for her milk bottle. So that's why we have a system; I work Monday to Friday, 9-5 schedule, and Patrick's schedule is all over the place. The days I'm busy with work, either his parents or my parents would take care of Maya until we can pick her up, or if Patrick had a free day, he'd take care of Maya all by himself. It's cute coming home and finding Patrick sitting in the middle of the sofa, exhausted while Maya sleeps curled up into his chest.
Patrick drops his keys into the little bowl by the door, venturing further into our apartment and heading for the kitchen. I put my cup into the sink, pulling the tap up before closing it, wondering why I was attempting to rinse a water cup. I shake my head and turn around, nearly crashing right into Patrick.
"Oh my God, you scared me." I breathe out, a hand over my chest as Patrick grins at me. He kisses me on the cheek before speaking.
"Sorry." He says sheepishly. "The guys are here," he smiles at me, referring to my brother, Mother Hurley, and Joe Hoe/Pringles Hair. I nod my head and let out a yawn, glancing at the clock above the door. It was only six in the evening. "Are you tired?"
"Just stressed." I correct him, rubbing my itching eye lightly. "Nothing I can't handle."
"Is it the wedding?" He asks me, and when I shyly nod, he sighs softly. "Cole, don't worry about it. The Planner is coming in tomorrow again- a professional. She'll bring more options and help us out, okay?"
"Yeah," I agree, smiling when he pulls me into a hug. "Is Maya home?"
"My mom said she'd take care of her for the night." Patrick responds. I sigh in relief. A break.
"I love you, Patrick." I mumble.
"Love you, too, Colby." He smiles, pulling back before extending his left arm. My eyes catch sight of his engagement ring while he's pulling the fridge door open and taking out a case of pop. He bumps the door shut with his hip, winking at me before taking my hand.
"There's the little shit," Pete jokes once Patrick and I enter the living room, where the group of three have already set camp. Pete's ordered the pizza already and Andy has gone to work on hooking his laptop up to our television. Patrick drops the drinks on the table before he plops down on the one seater love seat, gently pulling me down with him. I laugh lightly as he scoots over, letting me sit half on him and half on the chair.
"Hey there, big shit." I shoot back at Pete, who rolls his eyes at me.
"How's the wedding planning going?" Joe asks.
"Okay, I guess. We're planning on a themed wedding," I begin, leaning my head on Patrick. "But the Wedding Planner keeps having to postpone meetings because of other clients."
"It'll be fine," Andy says, scrolling through the movie folder on his laptop for the movies he's torrented online. "Let's just chill for the night, okay?"
"Sure." I respond, smiling.
Three years. This is our third year, and Patrick and I are planning to get married in a few months. I'm not nineteen anymore, but rather twenty two, while Patrick is twenty five years old. Three years since the Discomposed Composers tour, and my boys are still pumping out albums.
Three years since Pete signed me to his record label DCD2, and also three years since Fueled By Ramen signed me to their record label. I've been busy with work and all that jazz. I got this crappy office job to make a bit of extra money for Patrick and I in addition to the shit ton coming in because of their new album American Beauty/American Psycho. We're not making tens of millions or anything, but we have a decent amount of money that Patrick keeps in a shared account between us in the bank.
This is also the third year that Derek Skinner has been in jail.
We had overwhelming evidence to prove that he was guilty as fuck, and Elisa helped to testify against him as well. She's sworn to not bother us again and that she's so sorry for everything she's done. So far, she's stuck to the plan, and Patrick and I couldn't have been happier. But Derek gets out soon. We couldn't pin him for attempted murder because the guns had all of our fingerprints and there was no video surveillance that he shot us. That means that he will possibly get out of jail sometime in the next three years, but Patrick promised me that jail changes people and that he'll have probably learned his lesson by then.
"What are you thinking about?" Patrick whispers to me, and I almost jump when I realize that I've zoned out long enough for Andy to choose a film and for the first five minutes to go by.
"Maya," I sigh. "The wedding. Derek-"
"Is an asshole that isn't coming back, okay?" Patrick says, tilting my head up so I can look him in the eyes. "You're safe as long as you believe you are."
"I don't know, it's just... tiring. I love Maya to pieces, and I love you so much that it hurts, but I guess I'm just scared."
"Of what?" Patrick inquires.
"Losing my way again. Not being a good enough mother or wife... Not burning my bridges..." I say.
"You've crossed the bridge," Patrick reminds me.
"But how will I know it's mine? How will I trace my steps back here if I get lost?" I whisper softly, enjoying the feeling of Patrick's fingers stroking through my hair.
"You'll just... know. I guess you'll just feel it." Patrick guesses.
"Those bridges are supposed to be my guide- lighting my way back home when I inevitably fuck everything up."
"You have me to always be by your side." Patrick tells me. "I'll always be there to guide you back home, okay?"
"Promise?" I ask him, lifting my pinky finger up. He hooks his own around mine, grinning.
"Promise, Porcelain."
-/::\-
ITS THE END- I'm unsure of whether I should be crying or excited!
This is the first book I've ever completed, and that's thanks to all the motivation you sweethearts have given me. I literally wouldn't be anywhere without you guys. We've achieved together over 200 thousand reads, about 7000 votes, and nearly nine thousand comments. This book was a party, I swear. And, we've assumed the number one position on the Fall Out Boy tag and the Patrick Stump tag. Thank you guys so much.
Sequel is called Light My Way Back Home, and it is going to be sick as frick, so check it out when i post it.
-Stay Classy, Young Volcanoes,
•LeaveNoWordsUnspoken