Fall Out Girl (FOB FanFic ft. All Time Low)

Chapter 7

-Patrick's POV-

I was sitting in bed, a bass guitar sitting in my lap as I tried to work out PJ's part, adjusting little things here and there to make it just right. Elisa climbed into bed next to me and lied on her side, resting her head in the palm of her hand and using her elbow for support. "Why don't you take a little break?" She suggested, seduction laced within her voice, though I didn't notice. I didn't even noticed that she was dressed in lingerie, and had her hair and makeup done.

"I can't take a break," I mumbled as I played a few notes on the guitar, "Tomorrow we're recording and I need to get this part perfect." I pulled the pencil from out behind my ear and jotted down what I had just played.

She heaved a sigh and fell back so that she was lying flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with her hands folded on her stomach. "You know, I hate to say this, but I don't think the band coming back was a good idea."

I scoffed and glanced down at her, "Excuse me?"

"You were so happy when the band was on hiatus," She continued, tilting her head to the side and looking up at me, "You were more carefree, more fun. You didn't care so much about making things perfect. And now...now it's all you seem to care about. I miss the old you."

I shook my head, "What the hell are you talking about, Elisa? I was miserable when the band took hiatus. I never stopped caring about making things perfect, in fact, if I recall correctly, I worked even harder to make things perfect back then."

She sat up and frowned, "Patrick, I just want my husband back. This band and that replacement thing has consumed you whole!"

"'This band' and 'that replacement thing' are my life, Elisa," I argued, "And I'm sorry if - for once - I'm actually focusing on it." I swung my legs over the edge and stood up, the bass guitar and notebook I was writing in in my hands as I made my way over to the door.

"Where are you going?" She asked me.

"Somewhere you aren't," I grumbled, not even bothering to look back before walking out and closing the door behind me.

*****

My eyes fluttered open and I was immediately blinded by a bright light. I groaned and brought my hands up to my eyes, rubbing them. I let out a yawn as I dropped my hands down into my lap and gazed around the room, remembering I had fallen asleep in the closed-in porch. My guitar was perched up against the wall and my notebook was on the floor in the mess of crumpled up pieces of paper.

I ran a hand through my hair and glanced back over my shoulder, noticing a note attached to the window of one the French doors separating the porch and the living room. I pulled myself up and walked over to it, instantly recognizing Elisa's handwriting.

Patrick, I didn't mean what I said last night. It was stupid of me to say and I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I love you and I support everything you do. As long as you're happy, I'm happy.

The corner of my lip curled upward and I pushed the door in, walking inside. I passed through the room and caught a glimpse of the clock on the television box. 10:37. I stopped in my tracks, my eyes growing wide.

"Elisa?"

I didn't get a response.

"Elisa!"

I made my way around the entire house and saw no trace of her. I stopped at the bottom of the steps that led upstairs and looked at the note, seeing that there was something else written on the other side.

By the time you read this, I'll probably be at work, Declan will be at daycare, and you'll be running late to the recording (yes, the time on television box is correct). So since I won't see you until later this evening, just come and meet me at our favorite restaurant tonight. I got us a babysitter and an eight o'clock reservation. I'll be there waiting ;)

There was no use in trying to resist the smile that wanted to crawl onto my face. I shook my head and folded the note up, heaving a sigh and taking another quick glance at the clock. 10:53. "Shit..." I muttered as I went back upstairs to get clean myself up.

*****

I literally ran into the recording studio, saying hi to the receptionist really quick before darting down the hallway towards the studios. She yelled to me which studio we were in and I shouted my gratitude back before finding my way to the correct place. I pushed open the door and stumbled in, my chest rising up and down and sweat beading on my forehead as everyone who was sitting at the control board looked back.

"You know, I was just about to suggest that Fall Out Boy should become a trio with PJ as the lead singer and bassist," Joe remarked jokingly, "Because she knows how to show up on time, unlike someone I know.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, catching my breath, "It's just that I...I slept in."

"You always sleep in," Andy chuckled.

"Speaking of PJ, where is she?" I inquired, approaching them and grabbing on to the back of the chairs they were sitting in.

"In there," The producer answered, nodding towards the temporary Pete replacement who was pacing back and forth, one hand on her head and one on her hip. "She's been doing that for the past half hour."

"Can I go in there and talk to her?" I asked.

"Yeah, go for it," He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, "I doubt she's going to play anytime soon. Maybe you could talk her into taking a lap or something."

My eyebrows furrowed together as I came to the understanding that our own producer - the man who had been with us for a good majority of the bumpy ride - had no faith in her, in us, or in this decision. I shook my head in disgust and made my way into the sound booth, PJ immediately turning around and meeting my gaze with glassy eyes.

"Patrick, I can't do this."