Listen (Patrick Stump / Fall Out Boy Fanfic)

Prologue

            I sat at the conference table and absently spun my chair back and forth. Our manager was droning on and on about the best ways we could go about doing this, but I wasn't really listening. Sure, I wanted this to happen, but we didn't even have any solid material yet. I swore to Pete up and down when he'd proposed the idea that I would never do it unless we had music and songs that we cared about. We needed material before we could even consider this an actual endeavor.

While I sat there, I glanced across the table to see Joe doing the same thing as myself; Not listening. He heaved a quiet sigh, then noticed my stare and looked up at me with an annoyed roll of his eyes. He hadn't been too keen on the idea either, not because he didn't want Fall Out Boy to come back, but simply because we weren't sure if it would work. Four years is a long time to be gone, and now we were all involved in other projects. What if this fell flat and we ended up on our asses, without any form of a backup?

I smiled halfheartedly at Joe, then turned slightly to look up at our manager. He knew we were hesitant, but he was certain this would work out perfectly. God bless him for believing in us, even when we didn't seem to believe in ourselves.

When the meeting was finally over, our manager left and we all looked around blankly at each other. Andy leaned back in his chair, sighing, and Joe pushed his hair away from his face. Pete looked at me expectantly, and I shrugged. "Come on, Patrick," Pete sighed, "This will work."

I smiled slightly. Pete seemed to be the only one of us as sure about this as our manager. "We'll have to be really careful," I said, looking around the table, "At least until we have something written." Joe and Andy nodded, and Pete chuckled.

"Yeah, let's not do anything stupid and let the paparazzi catch us before we're ready."

"Easier said than done, Pete," Joe sighed. I glanced at him and he gave me the same, unsure look as before.

"We should keep our distance from each other while we write," I stated, making them all look at me like I had just sprouted second head. I rolled my eyes and shook my head at them. "I mean, we shouldn't all turn up to a studio together or something. They'll see us all together, and they'll assume this is happening. If we want the comeback to be a secret, we should stay away from each other. Don't give them any reason to believe that we are writing a record." They all looked around at each other, then one by one, they nodded at me in agreement.

"It's settled, then," Pete said, standing up from his chair. "We all start writing what we can, and call or email each other whenever we have something." We all nodded again, and then Pete clapped me on the shoulder and headed for the door. I said goodbye to each of them before they left, and only got up to leave when I was alone.

I headed out to my car, wondering what in the world I was going to do, because I had already been trying to write for weeks. I had a bad case of writer's block, and I could only hope that Pete's poetic ability would save us at this point. I was in desperate need of some inspiration, but I had no idea where I would be able to find it. Then again, life has a funny way of throwing things at you when you least expect it, and more often than not, you find exactly what you need the moment you stop looking for it.