There Is - Tom DeLonge oneshot

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fan Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Tom DeLonge and Charlie Vogel have been best friends since preschool, when they bonded over nothing other than aliens. Now they’re in high school, still best friends, and still causing trouble all over the school. But there’s only one difference from Charlie and Tom’s days in preschool to their days now: and that’s the fact that Tom has fallen in love with her.

"Alright, class," Mrs. Hoffman stood at the front of the room, writing a bunch of stuff down on the chalkboard. "Today we're gonna talk about vectors."

I smirked a little and tore out a piece of paper from my journal. I wrote "Shoot me now" on it and then passed it to the desk next to me. She grinned her amazing smile at me and wrote something else down on the paper, her dark brown, almost black hair falling on her face as she bit her lip slightly in concentration.

She passed it back to me and I read it. "Sorry. That's illegal."

"Some anarchist you are," I wrote.

I made a move to pass it to her, but unfortunately it was at the wrong moment. "DeLonge!" Mrs. Hoffman called from the front.

I froze. "Umm...hi," I said dumbly, putting on my most angelic smile. She giggled.

"What are you doing?" the teacher asked me, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows.

"Ummm...I'm giving Charlie a piece of paper. Because she needed it."

She gave me a look, but sighed. "Just stop it, DeLonge," she said, turning back to the chalkboard. "I'm not in the mood today."

As Mrs. Hoffman continued to write stuff down, I tossed the paper to Charlie again. She read it and then wrote something down, chucking it back at me.

"Wow, thanks," it read. "Looks like someone's PMS-ing."

"Oh please," I wrote back. "She's too old."

She read it and giggled, loud enough for Mrs. Hoffman to hear. She turned and glanced at her. "Miss Vogel? Is something funny?"

She smiled at her pleasantly. "There is not, Mrs. Hoffman. Just thinking about a joke Tom told me earlier."

"Really now?" asked Mrs. Hoffman. "Would you like to tell the class this joke?"

She shrugged and I raised my eyebrows at her. She winked at me and I swallowed uncomfortably, glancing down at my hands, which were now sweating. She can do these things to me that no one else can. It's kinda weird.

"What's black and white and red all over?" she asked.

"A newspaper," said this annoying chick named Caitlyn, rolling her eyes. She hated Charlie and I had absolutely no idea why. Actually, I did.

"No," she smirked. "A penguin in a blender."

Some kids laughed, and others (Caitlyn) rolled her eyes. Mrs. Hoffman just sighed. "DeLonge, Vogel, lunch detention," she informed us, going over to her desk and writing something down on a piece of paper.

Me and Charlie exchanged glances and grinned at each other. She had such a beautiful smile. It could light up any room, and were always filled with hope. When she smiled at me, I got butterflies in my stomach, even though I try to hide them. When her eyes turn towards me, I stop breathing. They're these beautiful blue eyes, crystal clear and full of life. They're what I dream about. I've been caught staring at her multiple times, but she just smirks at me and I blush.

I think I'm in love with her.

"We were gonna get a detention anyway," she smirked at me.

I laughed and we did our secret handshake. We decided to make one when we were seven. It's changed multiple times over the years.

Oh yeah. Me and Charlie have been best friends since preschool, when she came up in front of the class and showed everybody her drawing of aliens in outer space. I remember yelling, "ALIENS ARE AMAZING!!!" and we were best friends ever since.

Sometimes I make myself sick when I tell myself I'm in love with my best friend. You don't fall in love with your best friend. That isn't how it works. At all. Your best friend is supposed to be there when you fall OUT of love, to comfort you and shit. They're also supposed to do many other things, too, but that's the one I'm always thinking about.

What if she likes me too?

I could never tell with Charlie.

I've been waiting for her since the beginning of time. I haven't kissed or gone out with ANYONE, AT ALL, because I'm holding out for Charlie. I don't know about her, though. If she ever did date someone, she kept it private, and it was probably only for a few days because I, her best friend, never found out about it.

And then there's this Caitlyn shit.

So apparently, Caitlyn likes me. And apparently, Caitlyn knows the way I look at Charlie. So she is obviously jealous, and she has bullied Charlie, starting rumors about her, and all this shit to try and get ME, Charlie's best friend, to go out with HER, Caitlyn, the one who's fucking up me and my best friend's lives.

It's complicated.

Caitlyn seemed pissed we were gonna be in lunch detention together, so she tried to act "bad" so she could get one, too. That was a total and epic fail if I ever saw one.

When the bell finally rang, me and Charlie jumped up and were basically the first ones out the door. We parted in the hallway (she was smarter than me in social studies class) and I turned toward her with a smirk on my face. "I'll see YOU in lunch detention, Miss Anarchist," I teased her.

"And I will see YOU in lunch detention also, Mr. School Sucks," she smirked right back at me.

I had this overwhelming urge to kiss her right then, and I almost did. Like, really -- thisclose to kissing her. But I didn't. Instead I smiled, waved goodbye, and watched as she walked away.

I turned in the opposite direction then and nearly bumped into my OTHER best friend, Mark. "Jesus fuck!" I cursed. "You scared me!"

"Sorry," Mark laughed. Mark knows everything, including my crush on Charlie. And I'm pretty sure Charlie doesn't know about that. So yeah. "What was that all about?"

"We got lunch detention for passing notes." I shrugged like it was nothing.

Mark laughed. "Lemme see."

I pulled out my binder and started looking through all of the crumpled-up pieces of notebook paper in it -- all of the notes we ever passed. I'm not a stalker, I just like...reliving the good times...?

I finally found the paper and handed it to Mark. He skimmed it over and laughed. "Wow. Did Mrs. Hoffman make you read it aloud?"

"Not this time," I said as he gave me the paper back and I tucked it back into my binder again. "I think we got busted when she started laughing and Mrs. Hoffman asked what was funny and she cracked a joke."

"What joke?"

"What's black and white and red all over?" I asked him.

"A newspaper."


Mark scoffed. "Well then," he said. "I give up, 'cause I suck."

"A penguin in a blender."

He thought about it for a moment, comprehending it. "Oh," he said stupidly. "Oh." His face suddenly contorted into one of horror. "Oh my God! That's mean!"

Just the sight of his face made me crack up. "I'd give a detention for that if I was some bratty, stuck-up, 70-year-old math teacher!" Mark informed me.

That made me laugh harder as we made our way into science class. We went to the back of the room and to the desk on the left, where we usually sat.

"I saw you in the hallway," Mark smirked as we sat down and got out our science notebooks. "It looked like you were about to kiss her."

I blushed. "Was not!"

"The fact that you're blushing just proves it even more," Mark laughed.

I'm sure I blushed redder. "Yeah, right. I'll remember this, Mark. When you have a crush, I'll remember this day."

"But really," Mark laughed again. "You need to ask her out. It looked like you got a boner just talking to her out there."

"I wanna kiss her at least once," I said, glancing down at my hands.

"No, you don't," said Mark. "Then those endorphins will make you want more. Then you're even MORE screwed over. And then you'd wanna kiss her again."

"PLEASE don't mix science into this."

"Sorry," he shrugged. "I'm only telling the truth."

"Okay, I wanna make out with her at least once," I said. "There. Is that a lot to ask for?"


"Oh, shut up!"

He laughed, and then Mr. Brower came in and started class. So we shut up.


* * *

Lunch detention was pure torture. First of all, the fact that it was LUNCH DETENTION just made it drag on and on and on. Second of all, the fact that me and Charlie were in the same room together and we couldn't talk to each other made it suck even more.

Well, at least one good thing came out of lunch detention that day. I decided that I was gonna tell her. Tonight, I'd come over to her house and I'd tell her how I felt. All of it. Except for the part that Mark thinks is true...I'll leave the boner part out of it. But everything else is totally true. I'd tell her all of it.

After school, I followed her almost stalkerishly to her locker. It wasn't stalkerish, though, because we were best friends. We both walked outside, and I swallowed my pride, and my nervousness, and said, "Hey Charlie?"

"Hey Tom?" she imitated me with a laugh.

"Can I come over tonight?" I asked. "I need some help with that vectors stuff."

She laughed. She knew I knew I didn't care about school, and also that she knew about as much vectors as I did. "Tom, I love you," she said, giving me a quick hug. I hugged her back and bit my lip. Oh my God. Mark's little endor-thingys were REAL. Why? Because they were working RIGHT NOW.

"I love you too," I laughed. Little did she know how much.

"But yeah, you can come over," she said when she let go.

"Cool. I'll see you then. Bye."

"Bye Tom." She laughed again and waved as we parted ways. Actually, I just watched her as she skated off. She waved to a few guys standing on the corner, did a quick kick flip, and she was off, and I couldn't see her anymore.

I sighed and skated off in the opposite direction. She was too perfect. It was almost scary.


* * *

I spent what seemed like forever trying to figure out how the fuck I was supposed to tell her. She probably didn't know what was coming when I would come over that night. What if she rejected me? I was so nervous. I almost backed out, but I didn't.

After attempting to do my homework, and ultimately failing (thanks Mom), I started plucking strings on my old Les Paul, Lucy, and got the most amazing idea.

I should write lyrics.

And I did. I spent three hours writing them, and they ended up being a song. It made me even more nervous when I snuck out through my bedroom window and jumped the fence at 8:30 at night. It was pouring down rain and my bangs were sticking to my face. I hated my bangs. I kept them because Charlie claimed they were hot.

Maybe they'd work.

It took ten minutes to skate to Charlie's house. After passing (and flipping off) the school, I knew I was close. I knew her address by heart; I had been there billions of times. Our moms had become good friends because of how close me and Charlie were, and because of all the time we spent with each other outside of school. So when I showed up at the back door, her mom wasn't surprised. "Hey Tom." She always greeted me with a smile. "She's upstairs. Try not to get the carpet wet."

"Okay. Thanks mom." She was my second unofficial mother, and I let her know that by calling her "mom" all the time.

I was scared as fuck as I approached her bedroom door. I knew she was gonna be in there. She was gonna be lying upside down on the bed, reading AP magazine; sitting on her desk, doing homework; blasting music or jumping around; or adding more shit to her infamous Green Day wall. But today was gonna be different, because I was gonna tell her I loved her, and I was gonna sing her a song to prove it.

I finally built up enough courage to open up the door. "Hey, Whatsername," I joked.

"Hey, Jimmy," she laughed. She was putting up a brand new Green Day poster.

"Holy shit, where'd you get that?" I asked, jumping up on her bed to help her.

"A friend," she smirked, giving me a piece of masking tape. We taped up the poster in silence, and she was so close to me, I couldn't breathe. And she smelled so good, too. Like vanilla and strawberries and other wonderful things.

I bit my lip and tried to focus on what we were doing. But when we were done I couldn't help but start to think about her again.

We stepped back and admired her poster. "Sexy," I joked.

"I know, right?" she laughed. "I had to rearrange everything on this whole wall to get it to fit."

"That's because it's fucking huge." Every single INCH of Charlie's bedroom walls are filled with band posters. One half is Green Day. The other half was the less important bands. One day she came to me and told me Green Day had saved her life. Then she went on to tell me that I was more special to her than Green Day. If you think about it, that's saying something.

I didn't know what she was thinking about right then in that peaceful, few minute silence, but it might have been just that.

Now or never.

"Charlie," I started, turning to look at her somewhat seriously. "I came over here to tell you something."

"Okay." She sat down on her bed and I did, too, for good measure. "What's up?" she asked me.

"Okay." I swallowed, sighing. I was scared. More scared than I'd ever been in my whole entire life. "Please don't make fun of me for this."

"I'd never," she told me, holding out a pinkie. I smiled a little and we shook on it. Pinkie swears rule all.

"Okay. Well...I wrote something for you," I said. I pulled it out of my pocket. "It's all wet and disgusting and creepy-looking, 'cause I skated here, in the rain and shit, but yeah."

"I can tell," she laughed.

"Can I use Red?" I asked her. Red was the name of her guitar. She named it that because Billie Joe Armstrong's guitar of Green Day was named Blue. So it's like paying homage but not exactly copying.

She nodded, got up and grabbed him, and handed him to me. I was the only other person in this universe allowed to use Red. Right now I was sorta glad, and also sorta mad. This means I HAD to go through with it now.

I sighed, gathering up every last bit of courage I had, and starting playing and singing.

This vacation's useless
These white pills aren't kind
I've given a lot of thought on this 13-hour drive
I miss the grinding concrete where we sat past 8 or 9
And slowly finished laughing in the glow of our headlights
I've given a lot of thought to the nights we use to have
The days have come and gone
Our lives went by so fast
I faintly remember breathing on your bedroom floor
Where I laid and told you, but you sweared you loved me more

Do you care if I don't know what to say
Will you sleep tonight, will you think of me
Will I shake this off pretend its all okay
That there someone out there who feels just like me
There is

Those notes you wrote me
I've kept them all
I've given a lot of thought of how to write you back this fall
With every single letter in every single word
There will be a hidden message about a boy that
loves a girl

Do you care if I don't know what to say
Will you sleep tonight, will you think of me
Will I shake this off, pretend its all okay 
that There's someone out there who feels just like me
There is

Do you care if I don't know what to say?
Will you sleep tonight, will you think of me
Will I shake this off, pretend its all okay 
That there's someone out there who feels just like me

Do you care if I don't know what to say?
Will you sleep tonight, will you think of me
Will I shake this off, pretend its all okay
That there's someone out there who feels just like me
There is

As I strummed the last note, I sighed and took the risk of glancing up at her. She was in awe. "Tom," she finally said after the longest silence of my life. "That was beautiful."

"It was?" I asked.

She nodded. "Oh my God, thank you," she whispered, moving closer to me and pulling me into a hug.

Ah, a hug. I was hoping for something better. Well. "Charlie," I whispered when I pulled away. "I..." I gulped. "I'm...I'm in...I'm in love. With...with you."

She stared at me for a second. "IN love?" she asked quietly.

I nodded. 

"Oh my God," was all she could say, when she was centimeters away from my lips, and I could smell her strawberry-flavored shampoo, and I didn't know how long I could take of just staring at her before I was gonna have to kiss her. So I did. I leaned forward a little, and she did, too, and then our lips met, and it was magic. I would relive that kids over and over and over again in my dreams and stuff when she wouldn't physically be by my side. I'd picture myself with her hands tangled in my soaking wet hair and my hands wrapped around her waist, and I'd remember how I had felt in this moment in time . That's when I'd know I'd made the right decision. And she was in love with me too.

There is.

Submitted: February 06, 2012

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