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

➽ Track Three (Patrick's POV).

Track Three (Patrick’s POV): The poets are just kids who didn’t make it.

(April 17th, 2008)

Without any further ado, Pete started the band meeting. He laid out all the pieces of papers on the table and all of us had started scanning through them. I noticed that he left a piece of yellowing paper in his grip as we looked at the others. I wondered what it was.

“These are some song lyrics that I’ve written for the next album,” Pete told us. “As usual, you can add some bits or edit a few details to it. Those underlined words on top of the paper are the working titles.”

The title on top of the paper that I was holding was ‘Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown on a Bad Bet’. Pete’s familiar scrawl on the piece of paper kind of fascinated me as I read through the lines of the song. “‘Does your husband know the way that the sunshine gleams from your wedding band? Does he know the way? Does he know the way of the crickets that would convince me to call it a night?’”

“I think this one is great,” I commented, holding out the paper. Pete chuckled at me, and I insisted. “No, really, it’s great. Tell me again, Pete, why weren’t you an English professor or a poet or an author of a book or something?”

“Because I prefer to be a musician?” he answered, an eyebrow raised as he laughed. “But speaking of being an author of a book, I’m planning to write one.”

“Ooh, have plans to be the next J.K. Rowling?” Joe teased him before looking over at him from the paper he was holding to give him a wink. Pete just rolled his eyes as Andy and I laughed.

“‘20 Dollar Nosebleed’ sounds like a cool title,” Andy stated as he continued reading through it. He then turned to Pete, who seemed a bit too engrossed to the yellowing paper that he was holding. “Do these songs already have the tune?”

Pete looked up from the paper and shifted on his seat. “Well, a few of them. But I want you guys to do most of it. I don’t wanna control the group. You’re free to make some changes and such,” he told us.

“What’s that you’re holding?” I asked Pete, nodding at the piece of paper.

He glanced at the paper for a second before looking up at me. “This is nothing,” he chortled uneasily, swiftly slipping it inside the folder.

Stubbornly, I moved as fast as I could to snatch the folder from him before he could stop me, and I managed to grab it from his side of the table. I quickly got the paper from the folder as he tried to snatch it back from me, but luckily, he missed. Pete could only groan as I read his messy scrawl of the words ‘What a Catch’ on top of the page.

“‘I got troubled thoughts and the self-esteem to match. What a catch,’” (since I didn’t know the tune of the song just yet) I read the first line loudly for them to hear. There were words scribbled after it, but Pete had crushed them out before a new line was written. “‘You’ll never catch us, so just let me be. I said I’ll be fine till the hospital or American embassy. Miss Flack said I still want you back—’”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Pete yelled as he snatched the paper from my hands, glaring at me. “‘Trick, goddammit, I never expected you to act like a nosy asshole—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Andy stood up, trying to ease the tension building up in the room. From the corner of my eye, I could see Andy looking at both of us warily. “We all agreed that we wouldn’t fight here—”

“Pete, it’s actually quite good,” Joe commented as he sat further back on his seat and crossed his legs. He then gulped from his coke can as Andy, Pete and I looked over at him. Joe was undeniably calm while the three of us were the exact opposite. “I think we can pull it off.”