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

➽ Track Twenty-four (London's POV).

Track Twenty-four (London’s POV): This love is difficult, but it’s real. Don’t be afraid, we’ll make it out of this mess.

(June 13th, 2008)

It was Friday the thirteenth. Well, wasn’t that just wonderful.

When I was still a little kid, I used to watch a lot of horror and thriller movies with the rest of my family (I always ended up crying because I got easily scared, and then my parents would attempt to pacify me while my siblings teased me to no end), and one of those was Friday the 13th, a gruesome film starring a killer named Jason who murdered couples every Friday the thirteenth, hence the title. Plus, it was also a belief in many parts of the world that the day was known to be a day of bad luck, which was why people were advised to be extra careful.

Maybe those were some reasons why I hated waking up and knowing that it was the thirteenth of the month and, of all the seven days in a week, it fell on a Friday.

But, after my friends had called me up and said that they would come over at my place (it wasn’t their first time in our house, but it would be their first time in my room), I felt a lot better.

I told my mom about me hanging-out with my friends in my bedroom, and she said that it was fine as long as we wouldn’t make my room messy (ugh, typical mom). My dad overheard our conversation (I wasn’t sure if that was by chance or not) and said that I could invite them in my room but we should make sure that we wouldn’t be involved with any act of lesbianism. For the record, that was always what my dad says whenever any of my friends would come over at my house, and I got used to it already. With a laugh, I waved my dad off.

It wasn’t long until my new friends had finally come over (there were only two of them, but I knew that I would be gaining more friends soon). When they arrived, my mom immediately gave them cookies and pastries, and then interviewed them (she had always done that) regarding their school, their families and such. My dad, on the other hand, was just listening and watching them get interrogated by my mom, as if he was some kind of police officer who was ready to put the two girls in jail in case they would accidentally say something wrong.

My parents were so overprotective of me. I understood why they were acting like that, though.

After the long list of my mom’s questions to them was finished, my friends and I had hurriedly climbed up to my bedroom, sharing stifled giggles. “Are your parents always like that?” the redhead said in a flawless British accent, wiping an imaginary sweat off her forehead as she shook her head in amusement. I gave her a shrug, grinning at her. She clicked her tongue. “Such really curious people, they were. I was thinking that we were almost wrung into twisted shreds already!”

That was just an understatement. Every friend of mine had been “initiated” (even the boys of Fall Out Boy had been in their situation), and they all said almost the same thing. Somewhere along the completely hilarious lines of “They’re so overprotective of you” or “Are you sure they’re not going to kill us in our sleep?” or even “Maybe I sprayed shat in my pants a little”.

Okay, that last line was uttered by Joe Trohman. No surprise there.

I pushed the door of my bedroom open, and allowed them to get inside before I did. As they looked around my room and fumbled with the things they found in there, I went over to my dresser and busied myself with my CDs and mix tapes, looking for songs to play before we would start our nearly daily chit-chats. I was looking at the front covers of different albums as I stood up from my crouched position, not knowing which one to pick. “Hey,” I began to speak, my eyebrows furrowed together as I stared at the two albums I was holding. I wasn’t sure which one was the best choice and would fit their music tastes.  “Should I play this—?”