Metronome (FOB FanFic ft. Tyler Joseph)

Chapter 3

It was after midnight by the time I returned home. The G major scale rung in my ear, overpowering the car radio I had on during my drive home. I tiredly stumbled up the walkway as I flipped through my keys, searching for the one that matched the front door. I found it and slid it into the lock, turning it over and pushing the door in.

The house was dark - the only light on being the lamp on the small table I kept by the door. The house was almost completely silent too, the only sound the whirring of the dish washer in the kitchen. I quietly closed the door behind me and locked it back up, turning around and setting my keys in the dish next to the lamp. I stripped myself of my jacket and hung it up on the coat rack.

I didn't even bother turning off the lamp before trudging upstairs, fighting to stay awake to just make it to the bedroom. I grasped the doorknob and twisted it, entering the room. Surprisingly (or should I say not surprisingly), my boyfriend was still up. He was sitting at the electronic keyboard we had set up in the corner of the room, his back to me.

"I'm home," I announced.

He glanced over his shoulder just quick enough to see me before turning away from me, "It's nearly two in the morning, Ev. What took you so long?"

"I lost track of time," I answered vaguely as I walked over to the closet, pulling my shirt up over my head and tossing it to the side. He didn't know I was taking piano lessons from Patrick, and I didn't intend on him finding out. "What are you still doing up? Can't sleep?"

"Not one bit," He answered with a sad chuckle as he picked up and pen and scribbled a line down in the notebook he had propped up against the music rack. He slipped the pen behind his ear and pressed down on the plastic keys, starting to play the tune he must've been working on and humming along. He shook his head and abruptly stopped playing - something wasn't right.

"How many nights does this make it?" I stepped out of my pants and threw those on top of my discarded shirt, walking forward and snatching a loose-fitting gray v-neck t-shirt off of one of the hangers and slipping into it.

He ran a hand through his hair and sat back in his chair, heaving a sigh. "Twenty-one," He answered, smirking, "Ha. Twenty-one."

"Oh, you're so funny," I retorted sarcastically, rolling my eyes and making my way over to him. I slung my arms around his neck from behind and rested my chin on top of his head, "What have you been working on?"

"Not exactly sure," He mumbled, tilting his head back so he was looking up at me. But I was staring at the lyrics he had scribbled down.

Being tested by a ruthless examinant that's represented best by my depressing thoughts,
I do not have writer's block, my writer just hates the clock,
It will not let me sleep, I guess I'll sleep when I'm dead,
And sometimes death seems better than the migraine in my head

"Well it looks like you've got yourself something in the works," I remarked.

He shrugged his shoulders and closed the notebook, slipping the pen into the wire spine, "Yeah, but I don't know...I'm just not feeling it..." He stood up from the chair he was sitting in and dragged himself over to the bed, where he sat down and ripped his shirt off. He balled the article of clothing up before tossing it in the air like it was a basketball, shooting it into the hamper we had sitting by the closet door. It went right in. "Yes!" He exclaimed.

I smirked and walked up to him, sitting on his lap and draping my arms around his shoulders, "When's the last time you played a game?"

"I don't know...high school?" He guessed, snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me closer to him. His lips were millimeters away from mine as he looked deeply into my eyes.

As much as I wanted it to be there, the connection we had when we first met was gone.

I still loved him, I loved him with everything I had. But he didn't love me, not anymore at least.

He hadn't told me that he didn't love me yet, but he didn't need to. It was evident in the way we acted. We barely saw each other, he was always in and out of the house, doing whatever he did, and I was always at school. I didn't even have a solid job, I was just the barista at the University's coffee shop. He was at the house during the day, I was at the house during the night. Sometimes he would be there too, but more times not. And when both of us were home, we never wanted to do anything together, other than be in the same room but at different ends, doing our own things.

We'd just lost touch, I guess, and that was why I was doing what I was doing. To try and salvage the relationship I wasn't even sure was still in tact.

He connected his lips with mine - not because he wanted to, but because he was supposed to - and kissed me softly. The kiss deepened as he lied back, me lying down with him.

His hands slipped up underneath my shirt and he unclasped my bra. I pulled back out of the kiss and slid the straps down my arms, sliding my bra out from under my shirt and throwing it to the side before diving back in.

"Ev..." He moaned as I began to unbuckle his belt without breaking the kiss. "Ev, wait." He pushed me away from him a little. "I don't...I don't know if I can do this."

I sat up, "What do you mean?"

He turned his head to the side and heaved a sigh, never conveying to me what he wanted to. He glanced back up at me and broke into a sly smile, "You know what? It was nothing." He leaned up and pressed his lips against mine.