Battle Of The Bands (FOB FanFic ft. Panic! At The Disco)

[Chapter 4] Kiss Our Chance Goodbye (Patrick)

(Patrick's POV)

Three weeks. We had three weeks to come up with new songs to compete in the Battle Of The Bands. We'd probably need a new song for each of the competition days, so we'd probably need to come up with at least five new songs, because even though I highly doubt we'll even make it past the first day of competition, we didn't want to show up unprepared.

Pete and I were in the library one day after school when I brought this issue up to him.

"What do you mean?" He asked me, looking up from the textbook he was pretending to read out to hide the fact he was using his phone underneath the table.

"Pete, I mean we need to work on more songs. How much simpler can I put it?"

He glanced back down at his phone, mumbling, "But we can't just 'work on more songs', Patrick. Songs come to me, I can't just write them whenever you need them."

"Well you're going to have to or else we're going to lose this competition for sure," I crossed my arms over my chest, "And we can kiss our chance at our first record deal goodbye."

"What about our first record deal?" Joe asked as he slipped into the seat next to me, joining Pete's and my conversation. Andy was also with him and sat next to Pete.

"Patrick said we need to work on more songs or else we're going to lose the competition and lose our chance at our first record deal," Pete recapped the two of them. Joe and Andy nodded their heads in understanding.

"I suggest we get together every day after school," I remarked very businesslike, "Work on songs till we can't. Or till dinner. And on weekends, we work all day. We've got to have at least five songs for this competition and they've got to be good enough to beat out these other bands."

"Look at Stump getting all serious about this," Pete jeered, a smirk stretched across his face, "I thought you didn't even want to do this."

I sighed, "Well it's too late to turn back now and I don't want to lose. Especially to Panic! At The Disco."

"Wait, Panic!'s competing too?" Andy questioned.

"How the hell did they find out about the competition?" Joe tacked on.

A guilty look washed over Pete's face as he went back to "studying", none of us noticed this though, except maybe Andy.

"I don't know," I retorted, "But I saw the list of bands and they were there, last one to register before us."

"So it's really going to be a competition against us and them," Joe scoffed, crossing his arms, "Great."

"Hey, we're just as good as them and maybe even better than them," Pete interjected, setting his phone down on the table, "And I know we can beat them. We just got to try and not go into this competition thinking we're gonna lose. And who knows, we might not even have to battle them. There's forty bands. The chance of us battling them is small. So come on, guys, let's have a better attitude about this, okay?"

The three of us groaned.

*****

It was later that day and I brought all three of them to my house. The four of us were walking down the stairs to the dark basement of my house.

"You want us to play down here?" Pete inquired.

"It smells funny," Andy commented, bringing his arm up to cover his nose.

"And it's so dark. I can't see shit," Joe remarked, falling forward and blindly stumbling down the stairs to be funny. He only got a laugh out of Pete.

"Look, my mom doesn't want us playing in the garage. So this is our next best shot," I told them from the top step where I stayed.

"Why don't we just practice at my house?" Pete suggested, looking back at me, "My basement is much nicer than this and it doesn't smell bad."

"Because your house is on the outskirts of town and we can't walk to your place from school," I replied. Pete rolled his eyes. "Plus we have everything here." I flicked on the light switch and the basement was illuminated. The three of them gave me a suspicious look. I smirked and joined their sides, "Come on. I'll show you where we can practice." I walked forward and they hesitantly followed.

I made my way over to a door (one of the two in the basement, the other leading to the room the heater was in) and glanced back at them to see their confused expressions. I shook my head and opened the door, walking into the other dark half of the basement. I flicked on another light switch, but this time it revealed a finished practice room.

Countless records (blank, of course) lined one of the walls, and the adjacent wall had all my guitars hanging on display. Other instruments were scattered about the room, like my synthesizer, keyboard, and my own drum set that Andy could play. There were two leather couches to sit on in one corner of the room, accompanied by a mini-fridge, and in the corner across from it there was a small stage with a microphone and amps stacked on top of one another, wires everywhere.

"Whoa," Joe muttered under his breath in amazement.

"I know," I replied, smiling, "You still want to practice at your house, Pete?"

"Fuck my house. We're practicing here," He retorted, being drawn over to the wall of guitars. I laughed.

Author's Note: I have two things to say sorry for. First thing I want to apologize for how shitty this chapter was. I just felt like there should be a little transition chapters instead of just jumping into the competition, and yeah, this is what I came up with. Second thing I want to apologize for is posting this a day late. I had to babysit, and that took up most of my night, and I also didn't really have the chapter finished. So, yeah, sorry about that, guys. Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope this chapter wasn't too bad! -Rachael