You Want A War? You've Got A War

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

Vanessa Kingsley had the world in her hand...until Patrick left her for the life of music and fans, leaving her broken and insignificant. Can he walk back into her life forgiven?

"I can't believe it. I just can't believe it." I muttered to myself as I collapsed into an armchair, holding my head in my hands with my elbows on my knees.
"Neither can I." Patrick replied solemnly. I looked up at him. He was sat in an armchair opposite me, staring down at his fingers, which were resting lifelessly in his lap. He always had that posture when he was truly upset, right back when he was a child.

I had known Patrick since God knows when. His mother and mine were very good friends, and we were sort of forced into being friends, seeing as I would stay at his house after playschool until my mom came back from work to collect me.
We would play together; running around playing tag and Cops And Robbers in the summer, throwing snowballs and making snowmen in the winter. We became very close. He felt like the sibling I never had. Even though I had an older sister, she didn't really like me when I was younger, so we weren't very close. It was only when I became older she took a liking to me.
We went to the same schools and stayed best friends through those terrible years of school hood. We aged into adolescents, eventually into adulthood, without leaving each other's side. We moved into the same apartment building, on the same floor, opposite each other.

And now he was leaving me. After all these years of never leaving each other's side, always being there for each other whenever we needed it, he was going to leave me. He had just told me that his band Fall Out Boy, who had recently got a record label, was going on tour. I knew that the tour wasn't very long and it would probably go quickly, but I needed Patrick more then ever right now. My dad had died only 2 months ago and although I was happy and got on with life, I was still upset deep down and needed him when it was all too much to keep inside. I had no other friends than Patrick, and Patrick's friends were going on tour with him, as they were his bandmates. My mother was already finding it hard to deal with my dad's death, and I didn't want to put any more pressure on her by turning up at her door.

I coiled myself up into a ball in the chair, rested my head on my knees and stayed silent. I didn't want to speak to him right now. I wasn't mad at him. Nothing Patrick could do would ever make me mad at him. Even if he told me he killed all of my family for no reason, I'd probably say something like, 'Oh well...at least they can't nag at me anymore'.

Minutes passed and still both of us had not talked, not even moved. I stayed in my ball of insecurity in the chair, and he still sat in the chair opposite me, staring down at his hands. I watched him for a few seconds before letting out a sad whimper. I got up from my chair, sat on his lap and curled up next to his chest, his calming scent making my eyes well up with tears. His arms closed around me and held me tight against him while I clung to him like a child.
"Don't leave me." I said in such a small voice I barely heard it myself.
"I have to. I pleaded with our tour manager to let you come with us, but refused to. He said that we're going to some pretty rough places, and God knows what could happen to you there. You've gotta stay here, where it's safe." I couldn't help but agree with him; I was a pretty easy target. He knew that this upset me more and held me tighter.
"I'll write. I'll call. I'll email. Every day. I promise." His words brought great comfort to me and I knew he would keep his promise. He always did.
"When you get big, promise you won't forget me." He smiled and kissed the top of my head.
"I'll never forget you."

*****

* 5 years later *


He forgot me.
He called every day, like he promised, but this turned into every week, then once or twice a month, then stopped altogether.
Fall Out Boy got huge. They had released 3 albums and were currently working on album number 4, which they had just announced that it was to be called 'Infinity On High'. Everyone loved them. I loved them. I bought all their albums, countless t-shirts and got every magazine they were in. The pictures of him in the magazines made my mind and body ache for him. Just to hear his voice and his laughter. To feel his sweet-smelling touch on my skin and his cuddles. To see his cute little smile and his eyes light up when he laughed.

My mom told me to move on; just get on with life. She said that he would have found new rich, famous friends now, and he didn't care about the people who where with him from the beginning anymore; that's what fame had done to him. This made me angry. I kept telling her that Patrick would never do that and he hadn't forgotten me, but I just gave up and faced the facts. I was ancient history to him.
So I sat at my desk at work, feeling sorry for myself yet again. I had done quite well while he was gone, job wise. I quit working in the record store 2 years after Patrick left, deciding that I needed to start over, and got a job in one of the most famous fashion magazines in the world; Catwalk. I got promoted up to personal assistant to the editor before I even had time to settle in. I loved my job; no day was the same, my own desk I could call my own, a pretty important role in the team, quite a big responsibility in some ways and the editor was the best boss anyone could ever ask for.

Anyway, there I sat, spinning a pen on my desk, waiting for something to do. A phone call. An instruction. Anything.
"Vanessa?" I jumped up at the sound of my name, grabbed my notebook and hurried off to my boss's office, my heels clicking on the floor as I walked briskly.
"Yes?"
"I need you to collect those skirts I ordered from Calvin Klein and those jackets from Dior for the photo shoot tomorrow. And I'll be needing my coat from the dry cleaners. Make sure that they didn't leave any creases in it like they did last time. Check that dinner is confirmed with David tonight, and call the nanny to tell her that there was a change of plan and she needs to look after Anna on Saturday. Have you got all of that?" I wrote down the last bit and smiled.
"Yep."
"Excellent." I turned on my heel and left her office.
"Vanessa?" I turned again.
"Yes?"
"I'll be wanting some coffee too."
"Of course." I left her office, grabbed my jacket and headed for the elevator. I got the clothes and her coat, and went along to the street to Starbucks for the coffee order. My boss and I drank so much coffee that I was regular in Starbucks; they knew my name and my order. It made me smile.
"Good morning Vanessa. Usual?"
"Yep." I said with a knowing smile. We exchanged small talk while the coffee was being made; talking about how busy we had been today.
"A latte to go please." I heard a male voice next to me say. I knew that voice. I turned to look at the source of the voice.
"Pete?" He turned to me at the sound of his name and his brown eyes widened in surprise.
"Oh my God, Vanessa!" Before I knew what was coming, I was engulfed in a huge hug.
"I haven't seen you in 2 years!"
"Five." I smiled. Pete was not graced with the gift of remembering dates.
"No! Has it really been five?"
"Yeah."
"Wow." He paused to pay for his coffee. "So, how have you been?"
"Okay I guess." I lied. Okay, so I had a swanky new job and I had completely re-decorated my apartment, but I missed all the guys.
"How's the new album going?"
"It's going really well. It's gonna be our best yet." He sipped at his coffee while I paid for mine.
"Patrick really misses you, ya'know." He stated as we walked out of Starbucks and toward where I worked.
"Does he?" I replied without even looking at him. My sadness had evolved into anger over the last month or two, and I was very bitter with all of them. I had known all of them before stardom loomed, and not one of them bothered to pick up the phone or tap out a small email once in a while. I was sourer with Patrick because I was closer to him than any of the other guys put together. He said he would never forget me, and he would keep in touch, and he broke his goddamn promise.
"He's really sorry that he's missed a few phone calls, but we've all been really busy lately, what with countless photo shoots, touring, interviews and everything. But I'm so glad I ran into you." I felt better knowing that Patrick was sorry, but I wanted to hear it from his own lips, not a messenger boy. I just nodded at what he said and answered my phone, which was buzzing away in my pocket.
"Hello?"
"Call my daughter's teacher and tell her I won't be able to make it to Parent-Teacher Evening tomorrow night. You know those things bore me to death. Tell her that if there is anything I need to know, she can leave a message with you."
"Okay."
"Did you get everything?"
"Of course. I'm on my way back now." I knew she was smiling.
"Good." She hung up and I slipped my phone back into my pocket.
"Who was that?"
"My boss. I gotta make a phone call when I get back."
"What time do you get off work?"
"7. Why?"
"We could meet at your apartment and catch up. I'll bring Andy, Joe and Patrick too." A genuine smile appeared on my face.
"I'd like that a lot."
"Great." He beamed too. We stopped outside the Blush building and he stared up at it.
"Well, this is where I work."
"No fucking way! You work at Catwalk?" I nodded.
"What do you do?"
"I'm the personal assistant of the editor." Pete's eyes widened even more. I didn't think it was possible since they were already quite wide from astonishment, but he proved me wrong.
"Whoa."
"I know." I laughed. I grabbed my apartment key out of my bag and handed it to him.
"You need that to get in." He grinned and put it into his pocket.
"That might be useful. Well, I'll leave you to work. I'll meet you at your apartment at 7." He gave me another hug before walking down the street. I smiled, walked into the building and headed towards the elevator. When I reached the top floor, I got out and placed the clothes on the rack, ready to be taken down to the photo shoot tomorrow, hung the coat up and put the coffee on my boss's desk. She was standing at the window, twirling the beads around her neck around her finger, a small smile on her face.
"It's funny what you can see from up here."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Who was that you were with just now? He seemed very smitten with you."
"Oh, just an old friend." I smirked to myself and walked away to make the phone calls.

* That night *

As soon I entered my apartment, I was showered in Party Popper confetti and several boyish cheers met my ears. I couldn't help but grin as I dumped my stuff on the floor and hugged the first person who ran to me; Andy. From there I hugged Pete and Joe, patting Joe's hair and smiling, as it had got so big from when I last saw it. I turned my gaze to Patrick, who had just got up from the sofa. I smiled faintly, tears stinging my eyes. He returned my smile and held his arms out. I ran to him and fell into the arms which I missed so much. I felt all my anger and sourness towards him melt away and I was left with pure, unbridled longing.
"I've missed you." He said as he stroked my hair gently.
"I've missed you more."
"That's not possible." I smiled, closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder. I breathed in the scent of this hoodie. It smelt of him. I had missed it so much. I felt more tears form and threaten to fall and smudge my makeup, but I kept them back.
"Alright, break it up so we can party!" Pete pulled us apart and shoved a beer into one of our hands before putting some music on. The boys claimed the sofa, so I sat on Joe's lap and sipped at my beer.
"So, how's life on a bus?" I queried.
"Pretty bad. Pete doesn't wash and he makes the bus smell." Andy replied, making all but Pete laugh.
"Hey, that's not true!"
"Sure Pete..." I replied, earning me a playful slap from him. I giggled and picked off a small speck of dust off my pencil skirt.
"I've just realised this, but you look very fashionable." Joe remarked.
"Well, I do work at a fashion magazine, so appearance is kinda crucial." I smiled.
"Yeah, Pete told us about that. Go you, Miss Vanessa 'Going-Up-In-The-World' Kingsley! You'll be too high class for us soon."
"I wouldn't put it like that Andy. I'm still me in a way. Same Vanessa, better clothes."
"I liked the old clothes." Patrick piped up. It was the first thing he said in 10 minutes.
"Well I'll go change then." I beamed, placed my beer on the coffee table, hopped off Joe's lap and into my room, closing the door behind me. I returned a few minutes later in a pair of old and quite worn jeans, a faded t-shirt and a hoodie that was too big for me, the makeup wiped off my face and the jewellery removed from my neck and arms.
"Better?" They all nodded, making me smile. I perched on the edge of the coffee table, grabbed my beer bottle and drank from it.
"That's where it was!" Patrick exclaimed.
"What?"
"That t-shirt!" I looked down at the t-shirt I put on and realised it was the one Patrick had.
"Can someone tell me what the Hell he is talking about?" Pete said with a bemused expression.
"This is Patrick's t-shirt. I kind of stole it before he left, ya'know, just as something to remember him by." Pete, Andy and Joe cooed while I went slightly pink.
"I hope you didn't mind." I looked at Patrick.
"Not at all. In fact, this hoodie is yours. Didn't you recognise it?" I looked at the grey hoodie with red stars on it that hung from his body and laughed.
"Now that you mention it, I do. I wondered where I put that..." I beamed and tipped some more of my beer down my throat.

We chatted for seemed like a decade; catching up, gossiping on people they once knew, sharing stories that happened over the past 5 years. One by one the guys left my apartment, until it was just Patrick and I left.
I didn't know what to say. I had been so lively and chatty throughout the night, but when it came to down just me and Patrick, the words got stuck in my throat. We sat in silence, nursing our beers and staring into outer space.
"I've missed you." He piped up after what felt like an ice age of silence.
"So you said."
"But I really mean it." I looked at him, grunted and finished off my beer. I rose to put my empty bottle in the sink and sat back down on the edge of the coffee table, picking imaginary bits of fluff off my jeans. The anger that had gone when I first saw him rushed back and made me sour all over again.
"What's wrong? Aren't you happy to see me?"
"You broke your promise." I replied, not looking at him.
"What?" My gaze shot from my jeans to his face.
"You told me that you would never forget me, and you did."
"I never forgot you Vanessa. You were on my mind every second. Being away from you was like torture to me. Some nights I couldn't sleep because of the fact I was so far away from you! You don't know how much you mean to me!" His voice grew louder towards the end of his little speech and his eyes narrowed.
"Why did you stop calling me then?!"
"Is this what it's all about? Me being too busy earning myself a living to call you?"
"You promised Patrick!" My voice began to get louder as well as my anger was set free. I flew onto my feet and turned off the music that was still playing. I didn't turn around to look at him.
"You're right. I promised I would keep in touch and I didn't. I'm sorry Vanessa." He said quietly. My expression softened and tears spilled down my face. I kept my back to him. I didn't want him to see me cry. He had seen me cry more times than I can remember, but I just didn't want him to see me cry this time.
"No. No, I'm the one that's supposed to be sorry. You were busy. I shouldn't be so spoilt." I felt his soft hand on my shoulder and looked at him. He thumbed away the tears on my face and pushed some of my hair out of my eyes. I whimpered like a lost child and buried my face into the crook of his neck. I felt his strong arms wrap around my body and hold me close to him, so close I could feel every heartbeat. He hummed to me softly while I sobbed silently out of pure guilt. Why had I been such to bitch to him? Why didn't I consider the fact he was just too busy? No one's perfect, after all.
I tried to say that I was sorry for being so mean to him, but he just shhh-ed me and carried on humming. His gentle, angel-like voice made me tired and I closed my eyes.

I must have fallen asleep in his arms because when I opened my eyes, I was laying on the sofa with Patrick head on my stomach. He wasn't moving and his hat and glasses were on the coffee table, so I presumed he was asleep. After stretching my arms above my head, I started to play with Patrick's hair tenderly, making him stir and look up at me.
"Did I fall asleep?"
"We both did." I smiled and looked at the clock on the wall.
"What time is it?"
"Nearly 1." I replied and twirled a lock of his hair around my finger. "You need to get your hair cut again Patty."
"I know. I'll do it soon." I smiled to myself and sighed. I felt Patrick fingers trace over something on my hip and stifled a giggle with my hand.
"Pat don't, you know I'm ticklish."
"I'm not trying to tickle you. There's something on your skin..." He lifted up my t-shirt a little and saw it.
"You got a tattoo? You got a tattoo and never told me?" He smiled and looked at it. I got it done about a year after he left. It was a red rose with a white ribbon wrapped around the stem, the thorns pocking through the ribbon and ripping it. I loved it.
"Cool, huh?"
"Hell yeah. Got any more?" He added with a sly grin. I matched his grin, lifted myself up onto my elbows and pulled down the left sleeve of my hoodie. I had this one done about month after Patrick left. It was of a heart and another ribbon winding loosely around it, but there was writing on it. It said: 'Derek Jerome Kingsley 1947 - 2002' and underneath the heart said: 'we'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when, but I know we'll meet again some sunny day', which was my dad's favourite war-time song. He was born not long after WW2 ended, and his dad would sing war songs, and he picked them up and taught them to my sister and I when we were little.
"I don't think he'd approve of you getting tattoos, but I'm sure he's proud." I smiled and nodded.
"It's my favourite out the two."
"I like this one." He said and poked the rose. He traced over it delicately with his fingertip, making me squirm. I was cursed with being extremely ticklish and that was one of Patrick's weapons against me. He chuckled at my squirming, but stopped tickling me. He lowered his head to my hip and kissed my tattoo gently. When he noticed I didn't squirm, he carried on, leaving an invisible pile of kisses on my hip. I closed my eyes to savour every kiss. His lips travelled up my t-shirt, kissing the material and design on the front, and up my neck. Before I knew what was coming, I felt Patrick's soft lips on my own. I cannot put into words how magical this moment was. I moved my lips with his and my arms found themselves around his neck as his hand cupped my face. We pulled away and stared into each other's eyes.
"You don't know how long I've wanted to do that." He breathed and smiled shyly.

I didn't say anything. I didn't have to; my eyes said it all.


Submitted: August 11, 2008

© Copyright 2022 Rosie Riot. All rights reserved.

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Maple Bowen

WOW! That is really good! I'm definitely a fan now! =)

Mon, August 11th, 2008 3:03pm

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Thanks =D

Mon, August 11th, 2008 11:55am

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