Jelly [beans] and [fire] Flys {mo}

[Patrick Follman]

why'd you go and break whats already broken
i try to take a breath and i'm already choking

A deep breath, closed eyes. Slowly he opened his eyes, glancing around before his gaze fell on the people laughing, giggling, having a rather good time in the park. He sighed and nodded to himself, a small smile brightening his expression for a moment- then it faded. He adjusted his glasses to better sit on his nose, then pulled his khaki messenger bag higher up on his shoulder. People bustled about in the rather nice weather, little kids squealing as they ran past him, giggling and chasing each other. He watched them for a moment, smiling and shaking his head before continuing through the park. It was a lot quicker cutting through the park, to get to his apartment, rather than going around it. Patrick sighed, shoving his hands into his vest's pockets, his messenger bag tapping against his left leg. He'd just come from the library, spending much needed time there. Not like he actually had to, but Patrick liked to know things, he liked learning, which ensured that his grades in school were quite well.

His messenger bag was practically his purse. Patrick didn't go anywhere without it. School, to visit Tanya and Jack [mostly Tanya], to the store- it didn't matter. That thing was always hanging off him, usually filled with notebooks, a binder, pens, paper, his wallet- and generally his laptop. But today, he didn't have his laptop with him, which was quite strange, and his bag felt extremely light weight. It was sudden, someone skating cut in front of him, and Patrick of course- fell backward. And of course, with Patrick's luck, not only did he fall flat on his ass, he twisted his knee in the process. He winced, whimpered to himself, and clenched his teeth- pain surging through the entire right side of his body.

Another deep breath and he pushed himself up off the ground, his right foot barely touching the ground. He glanced around, looking to see if the person who'd, basically, knocked him over had come back, but there was no sign of anyone. He shook his head and limped his way over to a bent, easing himself on to it and holding his foot off of the ground. Slowly he pulled his messenger bag's strap over his head and set the bag beside him on the bench, then focused back on his knee. He rolled his pant leg up, barely, and stared at his knee cap- obviously swollen a bit from the way it had twisted. Carefully he pulled his pant leg back down, deciding on sitting there until the pain subsided. He glanced over, a small black bird landed on the bench next to him, and began pecking at his backpack. It was a bit strange that a bird had gotten that close, and Patrick's eyebrows furrowed, before he tried to shoo it away. "go on! stop that!" He whispered and swatted at it, but it took no notice to his attempts to make it leave. "Come oooon, stop!" He didn't want to touch it, since well- it was wild, and he wasn't really sure if it'd attack him or not. "Git! Go on! Stop it!" No use.

how long till this goes away

[Mo Evans]

Incompatible, it don't matter though
'cos someone's bound to hear my cry

[/b] Mo snapped as a boy on skates crossed her path. She had half a mind to push him over into the mud, but she thought better of it after a while, and her anger subsided. However, she did notice someone sitting a little furthur down the pathway, and she couldn't help but let a smile creep over her face. She was happy for a second, happy to see Patrick, and her face flushed slightly red. But her face turned to worry when she saw the boy's ankle, seeing that it was swollen. Fiddling with the bag she had her lunch in Mo walked over toward Patrick, hurrying up a little so that she reached him quicker. Mo knew that this would seem so strange to Patrick, but she knew him from school, he probably only ever saw her in passing, if he ever did see her, that was. Mo thought he was amazing - the silent musical genius. She'd heard him play, and it was incredible. Mo wished she could play like that, but it was just wishful thinking, Patrick just had a way with music, kind of like Mo had a way with persuasion.
"Put this on your ankle," Mo said, pulling her ice pack out of her cooler bag. Mo had it with her - like many others in the park - to keep her lunch cool in the weather. She smiled at Patrick and held it out to him. "It's for the swelling," she said, although she suspected he would already know that, and her face flushed red again and she felt herself shaking slightly. What was wrong with her? She could tell grown men to shut up and listen to her but she couldn't sit next to Patrick? It was insane. Mo looked away from him, glancing down at the red ice pack, her hand shivering slightly.[/size][/blockquote][/ul]

Speak out if you do
you're not easy to find

[Patrick Follman]

old habits die hard
i always end up hating the end

Patrick sighed, gripping the edge of the bench, his short and stubby nails digging into the wood. He took a deep breath and bit his lip, staring down at his knee. Now his entire leg was beginning to get puffy, more so his knee and his ankle. It hurt horribly, though you couldn't really expect him to admit it, and now he just wanted to get home. The only way of accomplishing that- was walking. Patrick didn't have a car. He had his license, but no car, because it was all up to himself to pay for such a thing. And that wasn't going to happen working 7 dollars an hour as a waiter at Applebee's. He glanced up, hearing footsteps come closer to him. His eyebrows furrowed and he lifted a hand to block the sun from his eyes. He recognized the voice, but couldn't quite think of who it was. His gaze wavered between the girl and the ice pack before he carefully accepted it, his fingers brushing against her's. A deep blush lit up his cheeks, a burning sensation flooding his face and he tipped his chin toward his chest- a habit he'd established from insecurity.

"Thanks" He managed to speak, his voice cracking slightly, and he coughed. Gently he pressed the ice pack against his ankle, wincing as he did so. He'd been distracted from the bird, and only really noticed it again when he heard a crunch- as it bit down on his wallet. "Hey! Get out of here!" He waved his hand at it, it's beady eyes staring at him for a moment before chomping down on another part of his backpack. That just wasn't cool. Patrick sneered, quickly snagging his backpack off the bench and setting it down on the ground between his feet. Still the bird had yet to flutter away, it's beady eyes locked on Patrick as it cocked it's head, seeing to be quite offended that Patrick had taken his backpack away from it.

Sheepishly he glanced up at the girl, his blush burning up his cheeks again. "Guess you saw that... huh?" He said rather quietly, probably sounding like an embarrassed little kid- he probably looked like one too. His gaze fell back to the ground, sulking as if he'd done something horrible. Quickly glancing up at her, then to his feet, then name finally hit him. Mo Evans. Yeah- it was Mo. Sure, he knew her, well... knew of her anyway. She was the strangely loud girl, of whom he'd overheard many rumors about, heard many horrible things. But being Patrick, he always shrugged them off, figuring that if he was going to judge someone, he was going to find out what they were like- himself. He smiled under the shade of his hat, his blush slowly fading in his pale cheeks. "You're Mo- right?" His voice was still quiet, and for the most part, he really wasn't sure if she could hear him. He didn't look up, he just stared at the ground, a rather sheepish expression still fallen over him.

i'm no better than the ones before me

[Mo Evans]

Is it possible Mr. Loveable
is already in my life?

Mo felt strangely embarassed to be around Patrick, as if somehow she had tricked him into talking to her. She smiled as he took the ice pack, and her heart fluttered when their fingers touched. It was incredble, how one tiny, miniscule touch from him could send shivers down her body, like she'd been electrocuted. It took Mo a while 'till she realized she was kind of just standing there, looking rather dazed and peculiar. She looked down at Patrick, running her tongue over her lips again -a habit she had when thinking or nervous. She smiled at him, trying to make this all seem as normal as possible, when at the moment she felt like some kind of weird, freaky stalker that had been following Patrick. She'd come across him merely by accident alone, but somehow she felt like she had been following him, even though it was kind of impossible for her to have been doing so.
"That's... that's quite a persistent bird," Mo said after a while, looking at it and she sat down on the bench, looking away from Patrick and telling herself not to blush so much. She could feel the heat on her cheeks, she could feel the blush, and she was still shaking slightly, even though the whole experience of him talking to her was over now. Mo's heart jumped again when he asked if she'd seen it and she shook his head. "No," she said. "What happened?" Mo asked, and then corrected herself quickly. "If you want to say... of course," Mo said with a smile. She despised this feeling, feeling totally controlled by someone, like even the smallest touch would make her feel like she was in a different world entirely. Some would call it infatuation, because many believed there was no such thing as love if it was unrequianted - Mo didn't really know what to describe this as right now.
She didn't know whether to smile or shake more when she realized he knew who she was and she nodded violently before swallowing.
"Yeah... I.. I'm Mo," Mo said with a smile. "And you're Patrick," 'of course you are... You're Patrick Follman... I sit behind you in almost every class... I think you're amazing...' Mo shook her head slightly and smiled at Patrick, reaching into her bag again, knowing that without the ice her food wouldn't stay cold for too long. She pulled out a bottle of orange juice, and a salad and she looked down at it. "I... I suppose I better start eating this," Mo said. She smiled and looked over at Patrick, she was totally surprised that he knew who she was but she tried not to dwell on it too much. He'd probably heard things about her, and that was it. Brushing some hair behind her ear she looked down at his ankle and reached down, taking the ice pack away again, and her heart fluttered again, her cheeks flushing red. "You should only apply it for a few minutes at a time," Mo said, feeling embarassed again.

right in front of me
or maybe you're in disguise

[Patrick Follman]

speechless and frozen
uncomfortable silence again

The ice was numbing the pain, the freezing cold dulling most of the feeling in his ankle. A sigh of relief passed his pale lips, allowing him to relax a bit. He glanced over at her when she asked what had happened and Patrick looked down at his knee and ankle, shaking his head a bit. "I dunno, really, someone just kinda popped up in front of me and I fell..." ...right on my ass. His voice trailed off and he looked up at her, a smile finally coming to his expression. A chuckled a bit when she pulled out her lunch and he nodded slightly, glancing around at the other people in the park. He shuffled his feet nervously, the grass and dirt shifting around his black converse sneakers. His stomach growled quietly and his eye twitched a bit at the uncomfortable feeling. And come to think of it, he hadn't eaten anything that day... in fact, he hadn't eaten since.. uhm.. Patrick really wasn't sure. A few days, a week? He didn't know. Really all he could cook was microwavable things... or make sandwiches [though he tended to mess those up too, somehow], but thats not really cooking. But generally he was to wrapped up in something musically or studying, to even realize that he was hungry. Once he was fixated on something- the rest of the world usually floated away and tunnel vision on his task was established.

He didn't really mind that. He definitely got the job done, but it was taking quite a bit of a toll on his health. That and the insomnia... just wasn't a good combination. Besides that, Patrick walked everywhere, and he loved running.. Actually, he enjoyed running so much that he usually got up at 4 in the morning, jogged, took a shower at 5 and was in school by 6:30. Most people call him strange, Tanya calls him determined, he thinks it's perfectly normal. Patrick smiled when she took the ice pack away, withdrawing his hand back in to his vest pocket.

His fingers gently touched the ring of keys in his pocket and he scowled, realizing that the trek up three flights of stairs to his apartment was going to be absolutely wretched. He really wasn't sure of what to say, or really if he should say anything. He glanced over at her, opening his mouth to speak, but slowly stared down at the ground again. After thinking for a moment he looked back up at her, figuring a conversation- corny or not- was better than sitting there in awkward silence. "I saw you in the library today-" Patrick blushed, realizing that he probably sounded like a stalker. It was odd how the boy was so easily embarrassed. He smiled though, not looking away this time. He chuckled slightly, his smile fading. "I didn't really think you were one to study. Guess I was wrong." A grin flashed on his face and he bit his lip, glancing at his feet. He held his foot off of the ground, only the tip of his shoe touching the grass.

i'm no better than the ones before me

[Mo Evans]

Who doesn't long for someone to hold
who knows how to love you without being told

[/b] Mo told him. She looked down at the ice pack in her hands and turned it over, feeling the cool ice against her hand. She put it down on the bench briefly and opened the salad up, reaching back into the for the plastic fork. She smiled again when he said she'd seen her in the library and she nodded again, but it was almost unnoticable.
"I thought I better get some in," Mo said. He'd seen her? He'd actually noticed her? She blushed again and brushed her hair back, running her tongue over her lips again, such a nervous habit. It usually gave her away when she was nervous, but, of course, Patrick wouldn't notice it... she hoped. "I spend a lot of time sitting in Terryton's doing... well, nothing, to be honest," Mo sad, looking up at him. He was a fellow musician, right? He understood these things. "I play the guitar a lot, and the piano... sometimes studying just happens to fall at the bottom of the priority list... Dan doesn't like that," Mo said. She had to study, otherwise Dan would be disappointed in her, and that was such a guilt and burden to carry around, because Mo was one of the few people at the home that realized exactly how much effort Dan put into the home and how much money and time he spent making sure they were all okay.
"Would... would you like some?" Mo said, offering some of her salad to him. 'Of course he doesn't, you stupid idiot!' Mo thought to herself, and winced in spite of herself. Gosh, she was such an idiot sometimes. Patrick had loosened up the atmosphere with the library talk, but Mo still felt as awkward as ever, simply because she was making herself out to be some loner fool. She picked up the ice pack and without another word she placed it against Patrick's swollen ankle again and she glanced up at him, having put the salad down on the bench beside her. "Do you have to go for home?" Mo asked. If Patrick had a trek across town then Mo wouldn't let him go, not on foot, and not by himself. The ankle was quite obviously sprained, and it would be quite painful for a while. Mo knew very little about injuries, but being in a home you caught on to things from the social workers and what not. She knew about medical things, and at the back of her mind Mo always wanted to be a doctor, but it was hopeless. She very much doubted she'd ever become anything of such importance, no matter what she wanted.[/size][/blockquote][/ul]

somebody tell me why I'm on my own
if there's a soulmate for everyone

[Patrick Follman]

everywhere someones getting over
everybody cries

Patrick stared up at the sky, his thoughts wandering for a few moments. His attention shot back to Mo at the mentioning of Terryton. His eyebrows furrowed and he stared at her, not sure if he'd heard correctly. "Terryton?" He inquired, cocking his head slightly. He shook his head, memories coming back. Yeah- he knew of Terryton. An orphanage here in L.A., a place he'd spent a few months in. Patrick had been everywhere over the years. Five years and he'd been to a good fifteen different orphanages or so, shipped to four or five different states. "Served my time there, too." He said with a bit of a shrug. He smiled when she said that she played guitar, and he thought for a moment, making sure that he didn't start talking her to death. "Oooh" Patrick grinned, his back pressed against the back of the bench. "I've played guitar since I was like... thirteen I think..." His voice trailed off a bit. He laughed a bit, thinking. "Oh- piano is alright. I don't have one, well, anymore. I just have a key board." Patrick bit his lip and stared at his feet. He wanted to ask her if she wanted to come to his apartment and play sometime- but decided against it, figuring maybe that sounded a bit strange since they'd really just met, and maybe a little perverted.

He glanced down when she offered him salad and he shook his head slightly. "No, thanks." He smiled, his hands shoved back into his pockets. As strange as it may sound, he wondered what Phry was doing... Maybe if she missed him or not. Could a cat miss someone?... He thought so. Well, even if she didn't, he sure as hell missed her. Patrick really wasn't sure what he'd do without that cat. If she wasn't there, then he'd probably just sit home in the dark, by himself, which would probably ensue some form of depression. As if he really needed that, as if anyone does. He sighed, taking a deep breath of the cooling air. He made a face when she mentioned him going home, pushing his lips to one side of his face, thinking for a bit. Well, if he went home now, he'd probably lay there until he had to get up in the morning... Or if he sat here, he could at least talk to Mo until she had to leave. Uhhh... Hard choice... But he really did need to be getting home, cause what about Phry? He'd given her food and water this morning, but only little bits because he wasn't exactly sure how long he'd be gone. He definitely didn't think he'd be away from the apartment this long.

"Uh... Yeah... I guess I should..." He stated a little mopey, carefully standing up and picking up his messenger bag. Still he held his leg up, his knee bent, only the tip of his shoe touching the ground. A scowl came to his expression at the thought of not being able to run in the morning. That sucked.. Even as much as Patrick loved to stay inside playing guitar, writing, and stalking Ebay- he loved to run early in the morning just as much. A bit ironic I guess, but that was just the way he was.

and sometimes you can still lose even if you really try

[Mo Evans]

Here we are again, circles never end
how do I find the perfect fit

[/b] 'Liarrrrr.' "I've been there since I was about two, it's basically my home now," Mo said. It would be the nearest thing Mo would ever have to a home at that, and she was worried about leaving next year. Still, she had a whole year to fret about that, as she's really only just turned seventeen. "They have a piano at Terryton's, I play when ever it's not being hogged," Mo told him. "I sing as well... a little bit... not well," Mo said, quickly covering her tracks incase he made some sort of comment or asked her aout her singing. She glanced down at her feet and looked up when he said he should leave. She shut the salad again, almost too quickly for her own liking. Now it seemed like she was all too over eager.
"I'll... er... walk you back, if you like?" Mo asked. "I'd feel terrible walking home without knowing if you'd gotten back alright," Mo told him with a small and embarassed smile. That was half true, the other half to that story was that she wanted to talk to Patrick more, she was, after all, almost fascinated by him. It scared her slightly, but that was the only word she could possibly think of for what she felt. Fascination, adoration... She thought he was her total opposite, everything she found attractive in someone because they were so unlike herself. She smiled at him and put the salad and the drink back into her bag and stood up herself. She could see how much pain he was in just by standing up and she felt like she should be supporting him or something. Mo suddenly felt a lot angrier at the kids on the skates, had she known one of them had knocked Patrick down she wouldn't have hesitated in shoving them all into the mud when she saw them. They had gone now, as had the people who had been eating the picnic in the park.
Mo knew about the rumors that went around about her, about the kind of person that she was. That apparently she was a loner and had no friends, which wasn't the truth. She had friends, it was just rare for her to be seen with any of them because of what she was like in public. However, standing there with Patrick made her feel a little calmer, as if she didn't need to shout out and make loud statements to get attention. With Patrick Mo didn't want anyone else's attention - she just wanted his. Mo flushed red again and pulled her bag up her shoulder, kicking a large stone across the pathway and smiling at the ground. "I liked you, y'know," she said quietly, and then realized what this sounded like. "I mean, I do like you but..." Mo looked around at Patrick and flushed red, hoping that he hadn't caught a word of what she'd muttered. "Shall we go?" she asked nervously.[/size][/blockquote][/ul]

there's enough for everyone
but I'm still waiting in line

[Patrick Follman]

everybody's trusting in the heart
like the heart don't lie

Patrick sighed and shook his head again, shrugging slightly to himself. "I was there... gosh... When I was fifteen? I'd come from Whitegates in Utah. Then they were getting in a lot of kids after someone blew up this big business building I guess. So they shipped me out. Spent about six months at Whitegates- I was at Terryton for.... four months I think." He blushed slightly, glancing toward the ground. "I dunno, I spent five years bouncing through orphanages, went to about five different states. It wasn't fun. But they ended up finding me a foster family just outside of L.A. and.. well, here I am." He made a rather cheesy grin, then shrugged again. "The whole thing of my parents dying, blah blah, doesn't really effect me much anymore. Whether thats good or bad, I'm not really sure." He shook his head and sighed. "They didn't really want me anyway so whats it matter." His voice trembled slightly and he took a deep breath, regaining self control. He could tell himself that, a thousand times, but it still upset him on some occasions. His parents hadn't wanted him, he was passed around for five years, and now his foster father hated his guts.

He thought for a moment, trying to remember Terryton. Patrick had never really spent much time out of his room there, he'd been to scared, to afraid of the world at that time. As skittish and shy he is now, he was a hundred times worse back then.. Back when everything was new and he didn't know how to deal with it all. There was the mean social workers, the nice, and the ones who fell in between. The one's who'd tell him that he was just an unwanted kid who'd be passed around and used for the rest of his life, the ones who would try to coax him out of his room because it wasn't healthy for him to sit in the dark by himself all day. There were the good memories and the bad, just another piece of life. Another piece he'd learned to deal with, easy or hard. He had to.

A chuckle and he kept his hands in his pockets, jingling his keys for a moment. "If you want to, I guess... It's a bit from here though..." He paused and glanced around, laughing slightly. "Sure."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The apartment building. Four blocks, and soon to be three flights of stairs, away from where they'd been sitting. His entire right leg hurt like hell, and he tried his best to hide it from her. He eased his way up the stairs, reminding himself one step at a time... Which was strange to Patrick, considering that he usually went up and down the stairs as fast as he could, sometimes taking them two at a time. A wince, the final step up, and he felt like he was going to die. He groaned a bit, his messenger bag swinging and hitting his stomach, as he fished in his pocket for his keys. Carelessly he pulled them out, the jingle ringing through the hall. Key in door, unlock, and he stepped in, holding his foot up off the floor.

The place was pretty clean, with the exception of his bed and the floor near his desk, which were covered in papers with chords and tabs and music notes scribbled all over them. His red Fender bass was flopped on his bed, black Yamaha acoustic sitting in it's maroon and black case against the wall, silver Gibson SG in it's black case against the wardrobe closet. A drum set pressed against the far wall, in the corner opposite of his bed- the silver Yamaha key board on his computer desk on top of the closed laptop. And of course? Pudgy little Phry just waking up, sleeping in one of the computer desk drawers. She meowed, stretching and gracefully hopping out of the drawer. He picked her up and hobbled over to his bed, clearing it of the papers, note books, and bass- then sitting down with Phry in his lap. "You can come in if you'd like... Sorry it's such a mess." He leaned over and turned on the stand lamp, putting it on the highest setting. The heavy black curtains kept the room dark, their color barely lightening from the sun that was trying to pound in the window.

and thats all I need, someone to cling to

[Mo Evans]

Making my way downtown
Walking fast

[/b] Mo said. "It's not a mess at all," she told him. She walked inside, heading toward his room where he was sitting on his bed, cat on his lap. Mo smiled, reaching out and stroking the cat on it's head. "Gorgeous cat," she told him. Mo loved all animals, Mo was the type of person who would love an animal even if it would kill her given half the chance. "I love animals... I done work for PETA a few years back," Mo explained, crouching down slightly so she could continue to stroke Phry. "I go to protests all the time... animals are such amazing creatures... sometimes they're even better to have around than human beings," Mo said. She smiled at the cat and then looked up at Patrick, her heart fluttering again.
Mo could hardly believe that she was actually in his apartment. It was incredible... Incredible that a random day out to study had turned out like this. It was obvious Patrick wasn't having the time of his life, but she was enjoying this, even though she felt terribly bad about his ankle. Mo's eyes flickered to the keyboard in the corner and then back at Patrick and his cat again. She ran her tongue over her lips again, brushing back her blonde hair as her heart started beating a little faster and she stood up. "You can't very well move right now... would you like me to get you anything, Patrick?" Mo asked, realizing then that it sounded terribly like she had invited him into her apartment and not the other way around. "I mean... I just don't think you should put any unnecessary force on your ankle," Mo said sheepishly. "Sorry if I sounded... y'know... controlling... I just want to help."[/size][/blockquote][/ul]

Faces passed
And I'm home bound

[Patrick Follman]

someone i can lean on until i dont need to
just stay all through the night, in the morning let me down

Patrick wiggled Phry's paws when Mo pet her, and Phry just sat there purring. "See, you're a gawgeous kitty, even Mo says so." He wiggled her paws again and she looked up at Patrick, her head pressed against his chest, appearing to have an eyebrow raised. Patrick grinned and stuck his tongue out at Phry. "Don't look at me like that." Alright, so maybe it was a little strange that he was talking to his cat, but... thats what he did. He had no one else to talk to, so he talked to Phry. She meowed before wriggling out of his hands and jumping onto the floor with a thud. Perhaps you expected cats to be quiet, but Phry was completely different. That cat was heavy on her feet and constantly meowed and made noises. If she wanted food, she'd come over and swat at him, usually smacking him in the head while he was playing guitar. She hopped back into the drawer she'd claimed as a bed and curled up on the towel that was folded inside.

He glanced over at Mo and smiled, nodding a bit as she spoked, proving that he was, actually, paying attention. "I'm okay..." He paused, pulling his feet up onto the bed, he tugged off his left shoe and tossed it onto the floor- then just stared at the right. Well, he hadn't quite thought of what this was going to feel like... and now he pretty much wished that he didn't need to take it off. Patrick clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, slowly untying the sneaker then... yank.. It was off, and he felt his eyes water. He took a deep breath, his hands trembling as he pulled off his socks and set them on the floor next to his mattress. Eyes locked on his right ankle, it was obvious where it was swollen and bruised, still a bit red from the way it had been twisted.

A scowl came to his expression as he rolled up his pant leg, a large yellow and purple bruise appearing just below his knee. Patrick sighed, closing his eyes for a moment in thought, then opened them, staring at his toes. He moved them, only a little, jumping in a bit of shock from the stinging sensation that shot through his leg. It couldn't have been broken... no, then he probably wouldn't have been able to walk all that way, and it would've been impossible for him to get up the stairs- but damn did it hurt. "S'alright. I'll..." He laughed, mostly at himself. He could see how nervous she was acting, it was pretty much obvious, but he didn't see any point in driving any attention toward it. He didn't finish his sentence, he just shook his head, really unsure of what to say. Sure he could've said "I'll be fine" but that was an obvious lie as he stared at his swollen and bruised, knee and ankle. At this rate, he probably wouldn't be going jogging in the morning, and who knew really if he'd be able to go to school. He took a deep breath and set his messenger bag on the floor beside him, watching as it slumped on the floor.

cause thats all i need right now

[Mo Evans]

Staring blankly ahead
Just making my way

[/b] Mo said, bending down she opened her bag and pulled out the ice pack again. She pressed it ever so lightly against Patrick's ankle, so that it didn't hurt him, but it would take down the swelling slightly. She brushed her hair back again so it didn't fall into her eyes and she smiled at Patrick. Fiddling with her hair nervously she worked up the courage to ask Patrick a question.
"How... how did you know my name?" Mo asked. She knew that Patrick may have recognized her, as they did have a lot of classes together, but she would never think in a million years that he would actually know who she was. Mo took a deep breath - she'd gotten over all the hurdles, she'd managed to get this far. She was beginning to feel like she could start loosening up a bit around Patrick, as if perhaps she wouldn't scare him off if she acted normally. All this time Mo had been a bit timid, and she had been feeling awkward, so the atmosphere had been awkward, but now she felt a little more relaxed, as if it was a level playing field between Patrick and herself. As if, as absurd as it sounded, that by inviting her into his apartment that Patrick actually did want to know her.[/size][/blockquote][/ul]

Making my way
Through the crowd

[Patrick Follman]

everywhere someones getting over, everybodys life is someone
people still use other people with a crooked smile

Silently, Patrick watched as she retrieved the ice pack from her bag again, and he winced slightly as she put it on his ankle. The freezing sensation flooded his foot and ankle, beginning to dull the pain. He laid backward, his head on a pillow, hat pushed up and covering his eyes. He closed his eyes, quietly sighing, letting his mind drift. Not dozing, not sleeping... No, he could've only wished for such a thing. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and looked over at Mo, making a bit of a "hmmm" noise at her question. "Well..." He relaxed himself again, folding his arms behind his head, eyes locked on a mark on the ceiling. "You're in most of my classes aren't you?" He inquired rather plainly. "Well, there's that.. and things that I've heard..." Patrick paused and sat up, staring directly into Mo's eyes. "But I figured I'd find out for myself." A smile came to his lips and he glanced down at his hands in his lap. "So far, they're pretty damn wrong."

He grinned, shoving his hands into his vest pockets, staring at the ice pack on his ankle. The grin slowly faded and he shook his head, glancing up at Mo, then back at his ankle. "Don't listen to what they say..." He swallowed hard, not looking up. "Not a word." He was quiet, whispering, then glanced around the room. Deciding they needed a change of mood, he carefully leaned over and tugged at his acoustic's case, dragging it across the floor and onto the mattress. Quickly he unzipped it and pulled out the black guitar, the body perfectly wiped from finger prints and dust. He leaned forward and held the guitar out to her, one hand under the neck, the other holding up the lower bout. "Play somethin'" He stated rather blandly, smiling. Patrick wasn't sure why, but he wanted to hear her play. His smile turned into a smirk as he rested back on his pillows, watching her.

and all around the world theres a sinking feeling

[Mo Evans]

And I need you
And I miss you
And now I wonder....

[/b] she said quietly in response to him telling her not to listen to a word they said. Mo told herself that every single day, not to listen to what they ever said to her. But after hearing something so many times how long would it be before you started to believe it? Mo didn't want to see herself as a loner, but in reality that was what she was, even if it was 'just because people didn't like being it public with her'. She was still a loner, wasn't it? There was something wrong with her. Something that meant she couldn't keep her mouth shut, and then people would talk about her, make up rumors about her. Things that would hurt, things that they knew would strike a nerve in Mo. Once Mo let them find out her weakness they just kept on pushing that button again and again, didn't they?
Mo did smile to herself when he said that he thought that they were pretty damn wrong, and he looked up at him with a smile. She was glad, glad he hadn't been prejudice toward her nor thought the rumors had any truth to them. Mo was extremely happy that he had invited her into his apartment, and it felt like she was in a different world right now. She looked up when Patrick pulled the acoustic toward him, unzipping it she looked over and smiled. The guitar was absolutely spotless, in immaculate condition, and yet Mo knew as well as anybody else that Patrick played a lot, and yet the guitar could have been completely new. He kept it in good condition, she saw. Mo stared at the guitar in awe, and then up at Patrick when he asked her to play something.
"Oh..." she said, reaching out and taking the guitar gently from it, holding it just as he had been. She smiled and her heart fluttered again when their hands touched, and she sat down on Patrick's bed, putting the ice pack down into her bag as she put the guitar on her lap. "Do... do you want me to sing?" Mo asked, slightly surprised by Patrick's request, but she would honor it none the less. She started playing regardless of whether he wanted her to sing or not, the thing was, once Mo started playing she found it damn near impossible not to sing along to it anyway. She was half way through the first verse of Downtown anyway.
"Just listen to the music of the traffic in the city... Linger on the sidewalk where the neon signs are pretty... How can you lose?" Mo sang, looking over at Patrick with a smile. Her fingers found their way over the chords and strings easily. Mo was more used to an acoustic guitar than an electric, so it was quite simple for her, but she was doing her best to treat Patrick's guitar like it was the most important guitar in the world, which, to her, it was right now.[/size][/blockquote][/ul]

If I could fall
Into the sky
Do you think time

[Patrick Follman]

out there right now someones feeling
down on themselves and dont know why

Patrick blushed slightly and sat up as she played, pulling a pillow out from behind him and putting it into his lap. He pressed his left elbow into it, supported by his left knee, with his chin propped up in his palm. His eyes followed her hand down the fret board, occasionally glancing over to the strings to watch her strumming pattern. A smile tugged his lips as he watched her, his eyes slowly moving up to her face as she began to sing. He was quiet, content with watching. He knew she'd been nervous, it was written all over her face, so why not play a song? It calmed him down when he played and wrote music, maybe it did for her too? He tapped his left foot as she strummed, the sound echoing in the small studio apartment. He hummed along as she sang, glancing around the room.

Rarely had anyone been in his apartment, which... He really wasn't sure if that was an honor for her or not. Tanya had been in there once, Jack never came to visit, and probably someone else that he couldn't remember. For some strange reason he just didn't like people being in his apartment, or people didn't want to come in his apartment.. One or the other, he really wasn't sure which. It was like his little laboratory and he was a mad scientist. Maybe that was his problem. It wasn't that he was shy, he was crazy. He glanced over at his Gibson's case, leaning against the wardrobe closet, collecting dust. He hadn't played it in quite some time.. which was a bit depressing, but he just shook his head and returned his attention to Mo.

every night...