It was a Saturday evening in Seattle Washington and students of Taluca High were dancing about, having a grand old time. Boys and girls in formal gowns and suits held red plastic cups filled with punch and there was a band up on the auditorium blasting out a formerly popular song. Well, it wasn't so much of a band so much as it was just one man accompanied by three other strangers.
This man was Patrick Vaughn Stump, and you may be wondering why a celebrity such as himself is playing at a high school dance. Well, the answer is simple. He wanted a break from gigantic stadiums and concerts consisting of a thousand people. And besides, most of these kids didn't even know who he was. They mostly listened to shitty rap and pop songs. That was a relief to him.
As he belted out the lyrics to his old song, he scanned over the sea of kinds in semi-fancy attire. Patrick smiled as it seemed most of them were having a great time. That made him even happier.
God, he missed this so much, just performing for people and not have to worry about fighting with his band immediately afterwards. Although, he wouldn't mind them being here. Truth be told, he missed them so much. He never wanted to break up or go on hiatus. But it happened and now there is nothing he can do about it.
Patrick inwardly frowned and continued to focus on his lyrics and how he sang them.
However, somewhere in the middle of the song he noticed a lone girl standing by the punch bowl with a crestfallen look upon her face. He noticed her wearing a cure thigh length black strapless dress. Her legs were covered by ripped black stockings and she had a plain red ribbon choker around her neck. Patrick couldn't see her face very well, but he caught a glimpse of what looked to be mascara running down her face. He felt sympathy tugging at his heart and he felt compelled to storm down there and comfort her. But to some that may look a little creepy.
He saw the girl wipe something off her face and then speed walk all the way to the back exit where she left the dance entirely.
After the song had ended, he told the crowd it was time for the half hour break. He then set his guitar down and watched as the percussionist popped in some random CD to entertain the people below while he was away.
Once he was certain they were all good, he walked off and headed straight for the back exit where he saw that girl running off to. He didn't know why, but he felt compelled to be hear her. Which was weird to say the least. He didn't even know her name or really what she looked like. He couldn't explain it really, but she had a strange aura.
Once Patrick stepped outside, the freezing cold air hit him like a tsunami. He was suddenly glad he wore a jacket along with his suit tonight.
He looked around for a moment, wondering where the sad girl had gone. But then he spotted her a few feet away leaning up against the wall in the darkness. He walked closer to her and noticed a glowing orange light near her fingers. That's when he realized she was smoking a cigarette.
He stood next to her and looked at her. Her raven hair cascaded in front of her clavicle bone, exposing her bony bare shoulders and back. Patrick hesitated before speaking in a kind tone.
"Aren't you a little young to be smoking already?" He teased. The girl before him froze, but not in fear. It looked like she was just starting to get irritated.
"What are you gonna do, tell my mommy?" She retorted. Her voice was naturally kind of high pitched, but she spoke in a low tone. Her voice was also a little raspy.
Patrick sighed and ran a hand through his light blonde hair. "Like she'd care." She mumbled, maybe thinking he wouldn't hear her. But he did.
"I'm sure that's not true." He told her softly.
The girl turned her head to him slightly, and he saw she had wiped her pale face of her previous tears. Patrick also noticed a pair of dark aviators covering her eyes. After a few seconds, she let out a bitter snicker. He furrowed his eyebrows.
"You don't know me." Was all she said in a cold and resentful tone. Patrick flinched at her harshness, but replied anyway. "Okay, maybe you got me there," He paused, "but maybe I'd like to get to know you."
Instead of snickering this time, the girl just burst out into laughter. Although he didn't know why she was laughing in the first place.
"What's so funny?" He asked, a bit confused. The girl took one last drag, light gray smoke rolling past her blood red lips. Sighing, she dropped the cigarette and stomped on it with her bare black lace heels.
"Because there's no way someone like you would wanna get to know someone like me." She finally answered his question.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that you're Patrick goddamn Stump and I'm a nobody with a deadbeat future!" She snapped at him. Patrick didn't flinch this time.
"What makes you think you have a 'deadbeat future'?"
"Why do you care?" She retorted. "I just do." Patrick immediately answered back quickly. She scoffed.
"I'm serious." He gave her a serious look but she didn't seem to care. "I'm sure you are."
It was now Patrick's turn to sigh and glance down at his feet. "I am."
It was silent now, and the former front man noticed she didn't have a coat on, and it was mid October in Seattle. It's cold in this city already and it looked as if it would rain soon. Seeing this, he took off his own jacket and started to hand it to her. She held up her hand to stop him. "No thank you." She tried to sound polite but Patrick rolled his eyes. "Just take it."
The girl still refused to take the coat, so he resorted to just draping it over her shoulders. She sighed, but thanked him quietly nevertheless.
"No problem." He said gingerly. The silence then returned and neither of them said anything. It was then that Patrick realized he had yet to ask what her name was. He looked over at her and said, "May I ask what your name is?"
She paused and shuffled her feet awkwardly before speaking. "It's Winter...Kirijo..." She mumbled shyly. Patrick's lips pulled into a small smile. She had an interesting and beautiful name. Kirijo. It sounded foreign. Maybe she was of an ethnicity other than American. He couldn't tell though due to those dark glasses of hers. Why did she wear them anyway? It's nearly pitch black, even he could barely see a thing with his contact lenses. He wanted to ask her why, but he had a feeling he has asked too many questions already. Besides, he's sure she's got her own reasons.
"Hey, I still stand by my statement. I'd like to get to know you better. Do you drink coffee at all?"
Winter furrowed her arched eyebrows slightly. "Don't you find it a bit odd, especially since you're a twenty nine year old man?" She said, a small smirk rising to her lips. She does have a point. People might interpret it the wrong way.
"I take it that's a no then?"
"No, I'll have coffee with you." She told him.
"You're not too young right?" He questioned, not really knowing how to talk to someone so much younger than him.
She gave him a weird look, scoffed, and then turned away a little bit. "Sorry, disregard that." He mumbled at the last second. "How does tomorrow sound?There's this cafe a few miles away..."Patrick began to trail off.
"Yeah, I know which one you're talking about."
"Uh, cool. Does eight sound good?"
"Yeah, sure. Whatever." She said carelessly. Winter then handed Patrick his jacket and began walking away. "See ya' then."
"See ya'..." He said softly, watching her leave.