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

➽ Track Sixteen (Patrick's POV).

Track Sixteen (Patrick’s POV): You were the last good thing about this part of town.

(May 14th, 2008)

“Hey, Pete!” I called our bassist, looking around for him on the backstage.

It was our last day on tour… probably. I wasn’t quite sure. I forgot to ask James if it was the final date on our tour before we would take a quick break to rest and record for the new album.

Andy and Joe were already onstage for sound check (but it was more of a semi-rehearsal; a tradition that we had done ever since we started playing in relatively medium-sized stadiums to large arenas), and Pete was the only one missing. He was being questionably quiet these days (which was really not normal; Pete’s really talkative), and his constant teasing when Donnie was around had suddenly stopped. I wondered if something had happened in between them. Maybe they got the chance to talk already but they were just trying to avoid each other again. Normally, I just shrugged off my thoughts about them, but something was just… off.

It was quite unsettling, to be fairly honest.

I finally saw Pete standing just outside the dressing room. His back was faced towards me. I sighed in relief as I made my way towards him, glad that he seemed to be ready since he was already gripping his bass guitar with one hand. “Sound check in five”—Pete turned after hearing me, the sort of ‘intruder’, and I saw a familiar face behind him—“Oh.” My sentence was cut off short when I had recognized the shorter brunette he was talking to. It was Donnie.

Thought about Pete and Donnie awkwardly avoiding each other: a huge red X mark.

“Um, I’m sorry to bother you,” I muttered to him, looking at my sneakers instead. My cheeks heated up, and I was pretty sure that my ears had turned pink. “I didn’t know you’re busy.”

“You didn’t bother us, P,” Donnie promised me.

“Just go ahead, ‘Trick,” Pete told me, his tone serious. “I’ll catch up with you.”

“Okay,” I nodded politely to Pete, although I was quite unsure if I had to leave him and Donnie alone to talk. I waved at my best friend, grinning at her. “Hey, London!” I exclaimed. Donnie gave me a small yet reassuring smile, as if telling me, ‘Don’t worry. I’m going to be fine.’ before she replied “Hello, Patrick.” She had done that very same gesture a million times before, even when situations weren’t exactly fine at all. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure if she was just testing my irony-radar skills or if she was just being plain stubborn.

“Don’t take too long,” I reminded Pete before turning my heel and, hesitantly, deciding to leave them.

Looking at Pete’s face made my skin crawl, sort of. I wasn’t sure why he made me feel that all of a sudden. It was not my typical reaction whenever Pete was around. His facial expression… It was as if I had caught them talking about something I wasn’t supposed to know. Now that made me really want to know. Curiosity was killing me, little by little. I was tempted to ask Donnie what their conversation was about – maybe I could ask her after rehearsals or the gig, I guessed – but I was pretty sure that she still wouldn’t tell me anything.

I knew that Pete would never hurt Donnie (because I was certain that Pete, although he had blabbed that Donnie was nothing to him anymore, always had a soft spot for her). He could never do that.

Well, so much for that.

“Where’s Pete?” Joe asked me the moment I had stepped onstage, with one eyebrow arched at me. He was standing at the left side of the stage, clutching his electric guitar and leaning his shoulder against a metal post. Andy was already sitting with his drum set, tapping his drumsticks against his leg.