Canvas (Peterick)

Prologue

TRIGGER WARNING (THIS IS WHAT THE STORY CONTAINS SO FAR, SO I MIGHT ADD MORE LATER ON): HINTS OF SUICIDE, SEXUAL CONTENT, CURSING.

December, 2007
Pete Wentz

"Fall Out Boy: Nominated Worst Lyrics," read the title of an online article that Joe had emailed me. I had never felt so hated in my life after reading it. "Their songs are creepy and depressing. Not fun to rock out to." I wiped a hand down over my warm face and angrily threw my phone into the couch cushion. My best friend, Patrick, jumped in the love seat he'd been lying on across the room. I think he was checking his Facebook on his laptop.

"What's wrong?" His small voice asked. I shook my head and sighed, then tilted my head upward to stare at the shadows on the ceiling.

"They hate my lyrics."

Patrick closed his laptop and sighed. I could hear footsteps, and then I could see his shadow on my section of the ceiling. He slumped down next to me and placed a hand on my thigh. I shivered and hoped he didn't feel it through my leg.

"No one hates your lyrics," he said. "They're just not used to them. They don't understand them."

"Which makes them hate them. They don't like our music," I spat.

"If it makes you feel any better, you have the best lyrics I've ever seen."

I turned my head to face him. There was a little glow in his eyes from the lamp on one side of me. And he was smiling. Thinking that his positivity would make me feel better. But he should know by now that it doesn't.

"Thanks, Patrick. But one person isn't enough." I stood from the couch, letting his hand fall away from my thigh. My bed sounded great at this time. I checked the clock on the wall. 1:46AM.

"Are you going to bed?" Patrick asked just a little softer. His voice always grew quieter the later it became. I nodded and shuffled down the hallway to my bedroom, the floorboards creaking every now and then from the pressure of my weight. I peeled off my jeans and my t-shirt, then climbed into my soft bed. I always kept the door open just so Patrick could check on me if he wanted to. He didn't know that I knew he always peeked in every single night. For what reason? I never asked. He just liked to reassure that I was safe, I suppose. I drifted to sleep soundly, comforted by the fact that Patrick knew I was okay.

* * *

That morning Patrick drove us to meet with our tour promoter, Dave, to put a tour together for our new album, Infinity On High. We had some ideas on which bands we wanted to tour with and what we wanted on the setlist. Actually, I hardly had any part in it. I basically sat and watched Patrick, Andy and Joe discuss this stuff without any say. It's not like I even gave a care. I wasn't really into this album.

After not really making any progress in the planning, the band went back to Patrick and I's place to hang out. They made me order pizza "to celebrate", but I didn't really know what we were celebrating. The tour? I didn't even want the tour to happen.

Andy was excited about it. He kept on saying how "good we're gonna sound". And Joe agreed. Patrick and I looked at each other, and I was pretty sure we read each other's thoughts. Because what he said was exactly what I had been thinking.

"Guys... I, uh, don't think we should do the tour."

Andy slapped down his slice of pizza, almost missing the plate. "What the fuck are you talking about? Give me one good reason why shouldn't go through with it."

I spoke this time, my voice a little raspy from hardly saying a word all day. "We feel like it won't be a successful tour." I glanced at Patrick, making sure I was saying words he agreed with. His eyes read, "go on." I grasped my glass of water tightly. "People don't like the album. And I honestly haven't seen many good reviews on it." I gulped, feeling my band mates' eyes pierce through me. "And I, personally, can't really see a good future for this band."

"Are you trying to say that you want Fall Out Boy to disband?" Joe leaned forward and spoke quietly, as if he didn't want anyone to hear him from behind the walls. Before I could answer, Andy chimed in.

"Why don't you just leave, then? If you don't want to be in the band no one is stopping you from leaving."

"But I feel the same way that he does," Patrick spoke, dragging his tongue across his lips. The guys leaned back in their chairs in an awkward silence.

I drew pictures in the condensation on my glass of water. My fingers traced the rim, then drew lines down to the bottom. The cold touch relaxed me for some unknown reason.

Andy parted his lips to speak. "You know this is a terrible time to break up, right? We just released an album two weeks ago and we haven't even toured—"

"And we don't have to," Patrick said. Then he pulled out his cell. "I'm calling Dave and cancelling this tour."

"You can't do that without the whole band coming to an agreement, Patrick." Joe was ready to launch himself across the table.

Patrick closed his phone and set it on the tabletop. "Then we have a problem."

I knew that we weren't going to come to an agreement in just one night, but it didn't last as long as I thought it would until we did. About three days later, Joe called us to his apartment and we discussed the disbanding thing. Andy finally agreed that we needed a break and Joe said "it's for the best." The next thing I knew, we were cancelling the tour and announcing to the world that Fall Out Boy was now broken up.

YES, I KNOW THAT FOB DIDN'T BREAK UP AFTER IOH AND I ACTUALLY LOVE IOH VERY MUCH AND IT IS NOT A BAD ALBUM. I JUST WANTED TO MIX THINGS UP. HOW IS IT SO FAR? -MICKx