Ch.1

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A/N: So this fic I'm actually going to take semi-seriously as shown by the crappy art of the characters I did in an hour lol :P I should note for clarification that MCR is sort of a ghost, which is why he's referred to as the spirit of the fandom rather than a personification. Also, Panic!, FOB, Pilots, and MCR use "they/them" pronouns for both the band Paramore and their friend/sibling, the personification of the band (who the others refer to as 'More) because of the fact that the band is two guys and a girl which is reflected in the personification... I should stop talking now XD Please comment/etc for the next chapter!

'More is still missing. It's been a week since the last time any of us saw them. Panic! has locked himself in his room and won't let anyone in, FOB is trying to pretend he doesn't care but we all know he misses them, and MCR is "not o-fucking-kay". I think, if anything, he has it worst. He's the only one of us whose originators are gone, and he doesn't want it to happen to 'More. He's even more withdrawn than usual, which is difficult, and snapped at me when I tried to talk to him. This whole debacle is just really making me stressed out... I hope they're okay. -Pilots

The personification of the Twenty One Pilots band and fandom set down his pen and sadly adjusted his beanie.

One Week Earlier~~~

Panic! At The Disco, Fall Out Boy, Twenty One Pilots, and My Chemical Romance exited the crowded ampitheatre, walking to the back entrance as the fans started slowly spilling out behind them.

"Paramore did great today," Panic! reflected, sliding his hand into FOB's with a wink. The curly-haired personification squeezed his younger peer's hand, smirking, before letting go.

"Yeah, they did, didn't they?" Pilots agreed, walking quickly to keep up with the flirting bands and fiddling with the drumsticks he always kept in his pockets.

The quiet older MCR spoke up, breaking his brooding expression. "'More's going to be intolerably cheerful for a while now."

"Oh, be happy for them!" FOB exclaimed, grinning as he turned around, walking backwards and trusting Panic! to guide him. "Just because you don't have concerts anymore doesn't mean you can't remember what it was like. Let 'More have their fun." Panic! casually steered FOB to hit his head on a pole, knocking off his fedora. "Ow!" He grabbed at it, which only made his glasses slip off. He scrambled to collect his things.

"Yeah, yeah." The spirit of the MCR fandom lapsed back into silence.

They arrived at the back entrance and made themselves comfortable, waiting for their sibling to come out. FOB leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Panic! rested his head on his shoulder, while Pilots balanced on the railing and struck up a conversation with MCR.

Thirty minutes later, Paramore was still nowhere to be seen. The bands were still casual, though a little tense now. MCR brought it up first, interrupting Pilots.

"Where are they?"

He was a little louder than he'd meant to be, drawing the other two into the conversation. FOB pushed himself off the wall and away from Panic!, coming over to where the oldest and youngest were. Panic! caught himself before he fell, joining the group.

"They should have been back twenty minutes ago," FOB added, worried.

"Should we...?" Pilots asked, trailing off and simply gesturing to the door.

"Yeah, let's," Panic! nodded assertively, striding over and grabbing the handle. "It's locked." Panic!, FOB, and Pilots looked at MCR expectantly.

The red-dyed brunet groaned. "Just because I'm not fully corporeal and my band split up, why do I always have to go through doors and things to unlock them?" But he joined Panic! anyway. The black-haired personification stepped away from the door to give him room, and he set a hand on the door, glaring at nothing in particular as it sank slowly through the metal like sand. Finally, MCR was no longer visible, and there was a moment of silence, broken by faint clicking before the door handle turned and the spirit stood in the doorway expectantly. "I hate doing that, it feels like ice," the young man griped as he stood aside for his friends.

"Sorry, man," Pilots said as he passed by, turning and holding the door for MCR so it didn't pass through him again before he could join the other two bands.

Said other two bands were standing around a particular patch of floor. Pilots followed MCR and stood opposite him between Panic! and FOB. "What?" he asked, following their gaze to the pile of obsidian sand slowly slipping through a crack in the concrete ground. "Oh."

"Shit," Panic! summed up eloquently.

You've reached the end of published parts.

⏰ Last updated: Nov 08, 2016 ⏰

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