Truant Wave

Fall Out Boy made a stop at a diner in a small town in California. So far, the fall tour was a nice one. It'd be ending in a couple of days, and Patrick would be heading home to LA. He had been working on some new material with the band, all without thinking of Allie...which he would fail miserably at.

It had been an entire 2 years since he last saw her. Almost to the day, which made him want to get home quicker. He couldn't stand be anywhere but home; hotels and diners made him sick, made his stomach churn.

As his band sat in the booth and talked, his mind wondered about what Allie was doing...or if she was even still alive. He had hoped she was alive more than anything, especially since all the police had found was her bag. Over the past 2 years, the hope slipped away, but it was still there.

He had spent the first few months, after he left, looking up the investigation into her disappearance, but all that flourished was the police inability to locate her remains, or any other trace of her. It was deemed a suicide, her parents even said she was planning to kill herself any time. No one heard from her, but there had been sightings of her at a Grey Hound station. That was it, nothing else emerged of Allie, and it turned Patrick inside out.

He wrote songs about her, he thought of her nearly everyday for a year, until his band reformed, and he retreated into the formation of a 4-piece. Patrick had made his solo record, some critics liked it, most didn't; he recluse quickly after a tour of it, and kept to himself, writing and trying not to become obsessed with Allie. It worked, but she was constantly in the back of his mind. The one song he wrote about her always played in his head, he loved it like it was his own child, but pretended it wasn't about anyone in particular when he was asked about it.

Patrick hoped Allie had heard it, if she was alive. He prayed she did, even though he wasn't religious. Some nights, he found himself on his knees, saying a silent prayer for her.

As he ate, the thoughts of Allie slipped away; he was talking and having fun with his bandmates. It was like old times, he was back in the groove of being in a band with his friends. Times like these were the sunshine rays drying away the storm cloud of his past failure and loss of his love.

After eating and paying, he and the guys left the diner. A few waitresses asked for their autograph and pictures, which they were happy to do, with the supervision of their bodyguard. Patrick smiled, chit-chatted with the girls until a familiar scent of menthol cigarettes caught his attention.

His eyes looked around the darkened area; the girls and his band disappeared as he laid eyes on a girl standing against the wall of the diner. She was in sneakers, dark washed jeans and a white top, like the other waitresses, but he couldn't see her name tag. Her hair was up in a bun, her attention was on the ground as she took a drag from her cigarette, leaving a ruby red lipstick stain on the filter of her lips. Her face was familiar, too familiar, her face had come into his dreams for a full year, he knew her. His stomach dropped as his mind shouted "Allie! It's Allie!"

Patrick swallowed and advanced towards her, leaving the band behind, their eyes following him. They noticed the girl, they chuckled, wondering if Patrick was going to hit on her, which was never his style, so they encouraged it with soft whistles. Patrick couldn't hear them, his attention was on her; his eyes focused on her face, noticing the familiar features; the sad hazel eyes and the pale cheeks.

He got closer to her, smelling the menthol cigarette, and smiled, "Allie," he breathed her name softly, hoping that this was her; the love of his life.

Yes, Allie looked up, startled, but instantly shocked when she saw Patrick. He wasn't platinum blonde, he wasn't wearing a suit; he was in jeans and a denim jacket, and a trilby hat on his head. She tossed her cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke, her heart racing. "H-hey..."

Patrick stopped short in front of her, their eyes locked, "You remember me, right?"

Allie could never forget, her lips turning up to smile, "How could I forget?" she mimicked her thoughts.

"How have you been?" He stepped a few steps closer.

"I'm okay now," she said softly.

He exhaled heavily, "I'm glad."

"I read about you in a magazine...about your band getting back together. That's...that's great--awesome. Congratulations."

He nodded, happy that she mentioned it, that she never forgot about him, "Yeah...I actually released a solo album...Soul Punk. Have you heard it?" he asked curiously.

She shook her head, "Diner tips only go so far," she had a slight amusement to her voice. "How is it?"

He gave a sheepish shrug, "I enjoyed it."

She smiled, "Well, I'll make sure to pick it up...along with Save Rock and Roll."

He felt the conversation dying, and he didn't want it to, he wanted to stay and keep talking to her. His stomach flipped with anticipation and excitement, "Uh, y'know, can I ask why you left?"

Allie sighed, feeling sick and angry with herself, "I needed to clear my head...I didn't think...I didn't think we'd make it."

Patrick furrowed his brows, "Where'd you go?"

"Here," she outstretched her arms with a sorrowful laugh, "San Mateo. But, it's not all bad. I've got a job and an apartment, I'm okay now...clear headed."

Patrick chuckled at her, "Do you like it here?"

She hummed, "It's okay. It isn't my old home, so it's better than nothing."

He nodded, without lack of anything better to say or do. He held his breath for a second, then someone called his name from his bus. He and Allie looked over, seeing Joe Trohman waiting just outside the bus door, "I'm comin'!" He called back.

"You're on tour," Allie noted softly.

"Tour is ending next week. What if I come back and see you? Can I get your number?" Patrick spoke confidently and quickly, which he wasn't expecting.

Allie couldn't stop the butterflies erupting in her belly, "I guess so. No one calls me but the bitches inside wanting me to take over their shifts."

Again, he laughed, "You won't leave me hanging?"

"No, no...no way...I still love you, Patrick."

His heart skipped a beat as he pulled out his phone; he couldn't believe what he heard, he hoped it wasn't his mind playing tricks on him. He handed his phone over to her and told her to type her number in, which she then called herself, just so he knew it was her. Her cell phone rang in her pocket and she showed him her old beat up iPhone. Patrick exhaled, still smiling, "Great."

"Yeah, I already can't wait to see you," Allie breathed.

Patrick leaned forward to hug her, which caused Allie to stiffen for a moment, then returned the hug. She could smell sweat and Irish Spring; squeezed him tighter before letting go.

"I missed you," she said against his ear.

"I missed you too," he confirmed before he kissed her lips gingerly, causing her to blush.

Her own heart skipped and she handed him his phone back, "Don't forget to call me,0 she warned playfully with turned up lips.

"I won't..." Patrick hesitated before stepping back, "I'll see you, Allie."

"See you, Patrick," she said, waving to him.

And just like that, they were brought back together again, but separating once more. Though, neither didn't know if it would last. Both were scared.