The Music Or The Misery (FOB FanFic)

Chapter 19

Author's Note You Might Want To Read, Might Not: Hey guys! So, not that I expect you to go back and reread it, but I made a small change in Chapter 14. In Mara's explanation of how her role in this came about, it said that ...she bumped into someone in the street (she wouldn't tell me who, though, but it was apparently a musician who I was personally acquainted with). For purposes of the story (because I didn't have the setting in mind when I wrote that chapter), I changed it to ...she bumped into someone on the street (she wouldn't tell me who, though, but it was apparently another musician). That's really it, guys. I'm sorry if this chapter's not all that great either, I kind of have what I want to do in mind but it's taking a little while to get there and that's why I haven't really been liking these past few chapters. But anyways, hope it's not too bad and hopefully the next chapter is better! -Rachael

-Mara's POV-

"Tyler Joseph?" Pete repeated, releasing me. I fell to the elevator floor and began coughing and gasping, trying to bring oxygen back to my lungs. "Who the fuck is he?"

I glanced up at him, still trying to catch my breath, "I don't know who he is. He was just this guy who came up to me and asked me if I wanted to help him take the ban down."

I was walking down the sidewalk with my hands shoved in my pockets, my head hung low and my gaze locked on my feet. Normally I would've had earbuds in, but with the ban, listening to music was forbidden. So, no earbuds, no headphones, no music. Nothing.

I wasn't really looking where I was going, and that's when someone brushed me by the shoulder, nearly knocking me back.

"Hey!" I snapped as I turned around, seeing the man standing before me. He was of average height and wore black pants and a skeleton hoodie, the hood zipped all the way up, covering his face. As intimidated as I was inside, I added irritably, "What's your problem?"

"I'm so sorry," He apologized kindly, quite contrasting from my bitterness that I'd acquired over the past few months. He unzipped the hood and lowered it, revealing his face. "Are you okay?"

I adjusted my jacket, "I'll be fine. Just watch where you're going next time, would you?"

I spun back around and continued walking down the sidewalk when the man shouted, "Your name is Mara, right?" I stopped dead in my tracks. "Is that right?"

I glanced back over my shoulder, "How do you know my name?"

The man approached me and grabbed me by the arm, dragging me into one of the side shops and wrapping his arm around my shoulder, mumbling under his breath, "Act like you're my girlfriend, alright?"

"Excuse me?"

He chuckled, "Oh, Mara, you're so funny." With his free hand, he began skimming through articles of the same boring clothing, clothing that had been approved by the government, since fashion was deemed as a form of expression and therefore was illegal.

I pushed him away from me and glared at him, "Who are you and how do you know my name?"

"You're my girlfriend, silly," He continued to play the role he cast himself in, pulling me close again and whispering in my ear, "I'm trying not to attract any attention here, and I can't do it alone, so please just play along."

"Answer my questions and I will," I whispered back.

He heaved a sigh, "Fine. My name's Tyler. I'm a musician, or at least I was trying to be one. My friend and I were working on our first album when the ban was established. The studio kicked us out and when I got home, all my instruments had been taken away. Long story short, I'm angry and I'm out to destroy the ban. As for knowing your name, you're Patrick Stump's girlfriend. You're also a pretty renowned writer. Better question would be how someone doesn't know your name."

I stared at him blankly for a little before inquiring, "What do you want from me?"

Tyler smiled down at me, "You're cute, has anyone told you that?"

"Tyler, you better tell me what the hell you want from me before I just leave."

"Impatient, aren't we?"

My eyes narrowed.

He sighed, "I just want you to help me take down the ban. And to do so..." He turned me around so that I was facing him and leaned in, as if he was about to kiss me. My heart began to pound against my chest the closer and closer he got. But before our lips made contact, he froze and looked into my eyes, continuing with his voice below a whisper, "...I'm going to need to kill the president. But I can't do it alone."

"And you said yes?" Pete yelled at me, as if saying yes was a mistake.

"Pete, you've got to understand, I'm nothing without my writing," I admitted my motivations, fighting to muster up the strength to rise to my feet, but I was still winded. I heaved a sigh and sat back against the wall, "None of us are. People like you and me, we're nothing without our pens, without our guitars, without our cameras. And yeah, I'll admit, killing the president is a little extreme. But it's the only way we're going to ever do what we were born to do and love doing again. If you think about that way, it doesn't seem so bad."

He scoffed, "Oh my god, Mara, you're insane! What did that Tyler kid do to you? Brainwash you?"

"No," I set my hands down on the ground and got up on my knees, forcing myself to painfully stand up. I straightened my back out and remarked, "He made me realize that this isn't how things should be. And to make things right again, we need a revolution. Because one life, compared to thousands - hundreds of thousands, even - is nothing."

"It's the motherfucking president!"

I crossed my arms over my chest, "I thought you wanted to help."

"Yeah. I wanted to help start your 'revolution', not kill the president."

I shook my head, "Well you better make up your goddamn mind, Pete. Do you want the music or do you want the misery? Because this is the mission now. Gaining that support, starting that revolution, it doesn't matter anymore. The president is going to be killed. The ban is going to lifted. It's up to you whether or not you want to be a part of it."

He swallowed hard.