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

➽ Track Twenty-two (Pete's POV).

Track Twenty-two (Pete’s POV): Best friends, ex-friends till the end. Better off as lovers and not the other way around.

(June 3rd, 2008)

“Wait, so what do you want me to do now?” I asked James, our manager, tiredly.

“Finish up the songs that you haven’t finished yet. You’ve got plenty of time to do that today,” he replied, and I had to stop myself from groaning loudly. But, if I did that, maybe our manager would think that I was acting like a child. Who would want that?

No, I can’t. I’m sorry, I wanted to tell James. Or, what was even worse was, No, I won’t. Sorry, not sorry.

I mean, I wasn’t in the mood for song writing or for practicing for the recording of the rest of the demos for the ‘Welcome to the New Administration’ mix tape the next day. To sum everything up, I just didn’t want to do anything at all. But probably because I didn’t want to deal with a short-tempered man that day and since I just wanted to avoid another argument, I decided to do what he wanted me to do. “Alright. I’ll try finishing the rest up,” I said finally.

“I’ll check your drafts tomorrow. I want them done by today,” James told me in a bossy tone. I didn’t mind; he was disappointed with me, for sure, just like the rest of the band, which was maybe why he was acting that way. “Don’t let anything distract you. And be prompt tomorrow. As much as possible, be the early bird.” When he had said the word ‘distract’, Donnie’s face – of all the faces of the billions of people in the world – had instantly appeared in my mind. Shit.

Can my brain just shut the fuck up about Donnie for a second and concentrate on the task at hand?

Before I could even tell him that I probably couldn’t finish them all up by myself and I might need some helping hands, he had already abruptly hung-up. I had listened to the dead line for a minute or two, the noise ringing in my ears, before I had placed my phone down on the bedside table. I was about to pick it up again to text Patrick, Andy and Joe, but I then remembered that James had told me that they were all pissed at me because I was missing for the supposed recording, which meant that they wouldn’t help me with the unfinished songs. I had wasted their time and effort.

I didn’t even bother checking the unread text messages anymore.

Fuck everything.

Seeing that I still had a lot of work to do, I grabbed my folder of the unfinished drafts of chosen songs for the next album from my bedside filing cabinet and sat on my working table. As I paged through the pieces of nearly-yellowing paper, I found out that there were only about three to four songs left, including ‘What a Catch’ (that song was too difficult for me to finish, although I wasn’t sure why), still unready to be composed. It would’ve been better if Patrick was there with me; he was the only guy who could help me out to finish the task.

I was about to call him up, admitting to him and the rest of the world, that I couldn’t make it by myself. After communicating with London McKenzie again, I realized that I was not even focussing on the band anymore, which made me thought of quitting the band after we would release the album. I would tell my parents, tell our manager and Patrick and Andy and Joe, tell the fans—explain to all of them that I would finally stop after being the bassist and main lyricist of Fall Out Boy for nearly a decade. I would tell them that I had found someone worth living for, that I didn’t want her to slip from my fingers ever again.

My full attention was on Donnie already. I figured that quitting my music career and just living peacefully with the love of my life and probably a few kids would be the key to find my true happiness.