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

➽ Track Ten (Patrick's POV).

Track Ten (Patrick’s POV): May I say you look like an angel today.

(April 27th, 2008)

“Mom, I have to go,” I interrupted my mom from talking, massaging my temple and trying not to start whining for her to stop. My head started aching from all the blabbering that she had done for the past three minutes, and to be frank, I didn’t even understand any word that she said. I wasn’t exactly listening to her. “I’ll call you back later.”

“What? Why? Have I said something, dear?” my mom asked me.

You’ve already said basically everything. “Mom, I know that I love you and I love talking to you, but I really have to go now. We’re gonna start recording for our next album today,” I replied to her as I glanced at Donnie who was texting just a few meters away from me.

“Oh. Alright, then,” my mom finally said, and I had to supress a victory scream and my sudden urge to start dancing awkwardly in front of the studio due to pure joy. “Just please take care of yourself, okay? And call me back right after the recording.”

“I will, mom. Bye,” I told her before quickly hanging up. I then breathed out loudly in relief as I approached Donnie. I mumbled to myself, “Thank god that’s done now.”

Donnie was in the middle of putting her phone back in the beaded purse that she was carrying when she had asked me, “So, how did the phone call with your mom go?”

“Splendidly,” I answered sarcastically, rolling my eyes. I then sighed and rubbed my stomach, feeling a sudden jolt of pain. My eyebrow twitched, and Donnie seemed to notice it and looked at me worriedly. “Nah, just a little stomach ache. Probably from the blueberry cheesecake we ate earlier,” I told her so that she wouldn’t be too alarmed.

“You’re not lactose intolerant, are you?” Donnie inquired, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Nope. I’m going to be fine, I promise,” I assured her, smiling a little and trying to hide the pain that I was suffering from my features. “I think we should go inside.”

She nodded, smiling back at me, but the anxiety in her eyes didn’t fade away. “Okay. I think it would be better if you sit down for a while and rest,” she told me, and I quickly nodded in approval. The pain in my stomach was killing me, and all I wanted was to rest for a bit. Our manager and the other three might give me an hour to nap it off.

We were in front of the entrance door of the studio when I heard noises from inside. The noises seemed to come from a lot of people, and usually, the only people in the studio were the band, our manager and RJ, but the unexplainable noises were definitely from a small crowd. Donnie seemed to notice my abrupt hesitation to open the door.

“What’s wrong?” she asked me, her eyebrows furrowed.

I looked at her for a second before staring at the doorknob. “It’s just that… something felt different, Donnie,” I admitted to her, licking my lips as I held the doorknob. I wasn’t quite ready to open the door. Everybody probably knew that I hated facing a crowd (a reason why I always took my eyeglasses off whenever the band performed so that I wouldn’t see the audience clearly due to my blurry eyesight and would let me feel less nervous, which was both a good thing and a bad thing).

“Nothing’s different, P,” Donnie giggled, wrapping an arm around my neck. She then gave a quick friendly peck on the cheek. “Maybe you’re just being unreasonably paranoid today.”

Maybe I was paranoid that day. My reason was fairly rational though. I mean, why wouldn’t I feel self-conscious and insecure since it was my birthday and none of my friends or the people I work with had greeted me? Even Donnie or Pete didn’t greet me, and those two were supposed to be my closest friends. The only people who greeted me that day were my family, and it kind of sucked since almost everybody had forgotten my birthday.