You're Not Even Mine to Miss [Fall Out Boy - Wattys 2014]

➽ London's Prologue (Part One).

London’s Prologue (Part One): Today was a fairy tale.

(April 1st, 2008)

I couldn’t believe it. We actually made it.

Through all those memorable late-night phone calls, walking hand in hand on the beach and kissing under the rain, numerous photographs, lots of misleading rumours that had spread throughout the media and all the countless fights and misunderstandings we had, Pete Wentz and I had been together for two years.

Pete – even though my family and my closest friends found him quite eccentric because of his thick eyeliner, his sense of style and his rather long hair covering almost half of his face – was the sweetest and most caring guy I had ever met. Even though he was busy as the bassist of this alternative-punk band called ‘Fall Out Boy’ and touring around the world with his band mates, he always had time for me. Whenever he would be out of town, he would call me to make sure that I was okay, and whenever we would meet again, he would be kissing me and hugging me as if we hadn’t seen each other for years.

My family and friends loved Pete so much. Even though he looked and acted a bit unusual for their liking, they told me that he seemed to be a really nice guy (which he was) and they all agreed that he was very talented – he was the bassist, back-up vocalist, and the lyricist of their band, for crying out loud!

I remembered the first time we met backstage in one of their gigs when they were still starting the band. It was probably January. One of the members of the band, the chubby but undeniably cute and quite dorky twenty-two year old blond Patrick Stump (who was the lead vocalist and the lead guitarist of Fall Out Boy, and was finally turning twenty-four that year), was my long-time best friend. We had known each other since high school, and he was actually the bridge that had connected Pete and me.

And ever since that night, Pete and I had been inseparable. And only then by April did he have the guts to ask me to be his girlfriend, and of course, I said “Yes”.

A lot of people had been asking me why I had fallen in love with him. My family didn’t exactly like him at first (especially when Pete got caught in a fight during the birthday of my older brother and almost broke my cousin’s nose – Pete said that my cousin called him a “transvestite” because “he looked like our godfather Max/Maxine”) but they had eventually caved in. My friends had always known that he wasn’t supposed to be my type. I remembered that I had told them that I was a sucker for brunets, tattoo-less, tall and well-developed guys who are into sports, but Pete was the exact opposite of my standards for men (except the ‘tall’ and ‘sporty’ parts; he was a good head taller than me, and he was an amazing soccer player). Funny how love could change what you want your ideal guy to be and to have.

I loved a lot of things about him, just like his beautiful face – the face that I had stared at for hours before I would cuddle with him at night and before I would wake him up with my kisses in the morning. I loved his fingers – the way he strums the strings of his bass as he practiced before their performances and the way he writes in pieces of paper for their new songs. I loved his hair – the messy yet soft hair that I loved running my fingers through. I loved the way he would stare at me, as if memorizing each and every part of me, as if I was genuinely special in his eyes. And his eyes – those eyes that I could gaze at for hours and just melt inside because I could see that he really loved me. I could tell it from his eyes.

I also loved his many tattoos, his not-so understandable pizza obsession, his adorable pout, and his amazing voice – the voice that had captivated me to listen to everything he would tell me. His voice that I had lent my ears to for hours, just listening to Pete sing the new songs that he had written for the band. The voice that I knew that I would never forget.