The Music Or The Misery (FOB FanFic)

Chapter 9

-Patrick's POV-

The four of us were on The Hideout's roof, a makeshift stage set up in the center for us to perform - far back enough for people down below not to see us. I was sitting near the edge, squatting really, and looking down at all of the people at the bar tonight. If there was one thing good that came out of the ban was that the bars began to really flourish. All because people like me had nothing better to do.

I pulled out my phone and looked for any missed messages or calls. None. All there was was the picture of Mara and me that I had set as my background a while ago. Before she left me. I still hadn't gotten around to changing it.

"Alright, guys!" Gabe exclaimed, clasping his hands together. I stood back up and turned around to face everyone. "Are you ready?"

"Are you sure we should do this, Gabe?" Andy inquired nervously, "I mean, what if we get arrested? Or sent to prison? Or even worse! Get k-"

Joe clamped his hand over Andy's mouth. "Calm down," He reassured the anxious drummer, "We're not going to get arrested or sent to jail or killed. We're just playing a little music. And when has music ever harmed anyone?"

"Right," Pete agreed, "And if the cops come to shut us down...it's not the first time they would've done it. The only difference between now and then is that we just won't listen to them. We'll keep playing."

"That's the spirit," Gabe remarked, a smirk on his face, "Now remember. You've been preparing for weeks for this. You guys can do this. I have faith in you, Alex has faith in you..." Alex nodded his head eagerly. "...and Boss has faith in you. Now play your asses off and don't stop for anyone. Got it?"

"Got it," We replied monotonously in unison.

"Good luck, guys," He said before walking away, Alex trailing not far behind him. The four of us got into our places.

As I was adjusting my microphone, making sure it was on and working, Pete swooped up beside me and whispered, "Patrick, I've got something to tell you. Something important."

"Can't you tell me later? Now's not really a good time," I whined. He always used to do this to me when we were a band...bugged me when I was getting ready to perform or while I was performing. I wasn't quite sure whether or not I missed it...

"Dude, you're going to want to hear this," He tried to persuade me.

"Tell me later!" I snapped, my voice echoing through the night. I froze in my place, as did everyone else. The bustling of the bar below us even came to a halt for a brief moment in time, but it didn't take very long for things to return to their normal liveliness. "I'm sorry," I apologized, a good distance away from the microphone.

"Tell who what later?" Joe questioned.

Pete's cheeks grew a faint red color before he picked up his bass and strapped it over his shoulder, "It was nothing. Let's just get this over with..." He plugged in his bass and started playing. Shortly after, the three of us joined in and we started performing the songs we'd worked on over the past few weeks.

*****

"...Complain when he destroys it all agaaaaaaaain..." I sang into the microphone before backing away as Pete, Joe, and Andy continued playing their instruments. I took a quick glance over the rooftop and saw that nearly everyone from inside the bar was outside, their heads tilted back, looking up at us. I smirked and walked back as the music faded away into silence.

Applause erupted from beneath us, replacing the sounds of the crickets, and a smile stretched across my face. For the first time in a long while, I felt that indescribable feeling I used to get on stage. And that in itself felt incredible, not to mention all the applause and cheering we were receiving.

But that's when sirens started blaring. I looked back over my shoulder and saw the familiar blue and red flashing lights, followed by the muffled voices of the police over the megaphone.

"Shit," Pete muttered under his breath.

"What are we gonna do?" Joe asked.

"Come on! Come on! We need to go! Now!" Gabe screamed as he and Alex reappeared to usher us off of the roof. We rushed down the fire escape and jumped in the van that the two of them brought us there in. We sped away and began racing down the streets, getting as far away from the bar as possible, eventually headed back towards the Sears Tower.

"What's going to happen to all those people?" I inquired worriedly, leaning forward and holding onto the seat Alex was sitting in, which was the passenger seat.

"I-I don't know," Alex stammered in response, just as worried as the rest of us were.

"It doesn't matter what happens to them," Gabe chimed in, keeping his eyes on the road as the speedometer just kept increasing. "Because you guys made your mark. All those people at that bar were reminded of how much better this world is with music. They're on our side, guys! You did it!"

"But what if the police really hurt them?" Andy added from the back seat. He was sitting back there with Joe.

"The police aren't going to hurt them," Gabe retorted coldly.

I wasn't so sure I believed him. And I was right.

On the news later that night, there was a breaking news story about a violent strike at The Hideout, where local bar-goers - who had been riled up by a "mystery band" led by "a mystery man in a fedora" - protested against the police when told to leave the premise, things escalated and shortly after, violence was introduced to the scene. Many were sent to the hospital with severe injuries and a few of them had been killed. There was even footage to go along with it. I almost couldn't watch it.

"I thought you said the police weren't going to hurt them..." Andy murmured under his breath sadly, the six of us gathered around the television. We all looked over at Gabe who tugged nervously at his collar.