FicWad

Hello, ficwadians, if you could all do me a favor?
Patrick Stump is one of my heroes, and FOB is the reason I'm here today. The band keeps getting so much hate over the hiatus and Patrick Stump is considering being done with music. This absolutely breaks my heart because he loves music. He was so excited that they'd all be doing their own thing for a while. So after, before, or while you read this, could you trend
#SINGitForStump on Twitter? We're trying to show him just how loved and appreciated he is.

It also inspired me to write this:



Why is it so hard to believe that it wasn’t a nasty break up? What makes it hard to believe that we’re all still friends and honestly intend to continue the band in the future? I sigh and rub my tired eyes before standing up and getting dressed. The Black Cards are in the middle of a break in tour, and Pete and I planned on catching up. Though, to be honest, part of me considered making an excuse not to go. It’s not that I don’t want to see Pete, not at all. He’s my best friend. It’s more along the lines of, I don’t want to get up and face the world. Call that pathetic if you want, but it’s true. I shake my head, and the pessimistic thoughts in it. I promised Pete I’d get off my ass and meet up with him, and that’s what I’m going to do. I change quickly and pull on a light jacket before leaving, locking the door. The sad thing is, this hate that’s getting me is exactly why FOB took a break. We weren’t making the same music we were in the “Take This to Your Grave”/ “From Under the Cork Tree” era. Music is constantly changing. Constantly transforming into more creative ideas. We didn’t want to do the same exact thing with every album. And that seemed sensible to us. But apparently we were wrong. I drive to the Waffle House Andy, Pete, Joe and I would go to when we stopped off in Chicago. The radio is on, but at such a low volume, I can barely hear a thing. Not that I’d be paying much attention to it right now, anyways. As I park I can’t help but smile a tiny bit in remembrance. Joe stealing Andy’s waffles when he’d look away. Pete and I sword fighting with our forks as Andy would scowl at us for eating meat. Pete would mix different types of syrup together on his waffles, and Joe would mix all of his food together. And at some point, there would be a keep away game with my beloved hat. I run my fingers through my hair and grin slightly. That can’t happen today. I’ve stopped wearing hats as often. In fact, I’m hardly ever tucked under my comfort blanket now. I pull the key out of the ignition and step out of the car. As I close the door, I can’t help but have a wishful thought. I would love to see Andy and Joe soon. I walk inside and frown, not seeing Pete as I look around. I take a seat, asking the waitress for a water. She nods and goes behind the counter as I gently tap my fingers on the table. Come on Pete, hurry up. I look up as I hear the door chime, a few minutes later. I grin at the man walking in as the door shuts behind him. I uncontrollably jump up out of my seat and rush over to him, hugging him tightly. He chuckles and hugs me back.

“Wow, Pat. Looking good.”

I roll my eyes, “Patrick. Not Pat.”

He grins playfully, “You’ll always be Pattycakes to me.”

I smile, despite my hatred for the nickname, and ask in a playful tone, “What took you so long?”

He shrugs, “Went to see a couple old friends...”

The door chime draws my attention again. I look up and nearly squeal as I run to pull Andy into a tight hug. He laughs and hugs me back.

“Damn, I didn’t know I would be attacked!”

I let go and grin up at him, then glance over at Pete. He’s grinning like the Cheshire cat, so I know instantly this is his doing. I grab his arms and pull him into another hug, as he and Andy laugh. Familiar faces when you feel nothing but despair, feel like a godsend. Especially familiar faces who have helped you through so much in the past.

“How’d you get Andy here?”

“I drove here.” Andy answers with a smile, “I was in town, and there was no way I was letting you two hang out without me.”

The door chimes again as an old couple walk in, and I frown a bit wishing it where Joe. But he’s probably busy with something or the other right now.

I smile at them both as we sit down.

“So, Patrick, how’ve you been, since...”

I frown, “Pretty invisible. Like I wanted...”

“Patrick, as your friend, I love your solo album. And as a fan of yours, I also love it.” Pete smiles, “But not everyone will. I’m so tired of people hating on all of us. But they’re going to for a while.”

“And besides, Patrick, music makes you happy.” Andy smiles, “And I’ve seen you live, solo. You were having a great time.”

“But all they want is FOB... and they don’t want what we’re going to want FOB to be. Some fans will, sure. But so many just want a replica of Take This to Your Grave.” the door chimes, but I continue without looking up, “If we please them, we won’t be happy with it ourselves.”

“Exactly.” Another familiar voice joins the conversation, “And we want them to be happy about it, of course. But if it doesn’t make us happy, then we’re wasting our time.”

I jump up and hug Joe tight midsentence. He hugs back and smiles.

“Missed you, Patty.” he grins.

I gently hit his shoulder, “Joseph.”

He grins and looks over at Andy, “Andrew!”

Andy scowls before looking over at Pete, “Peter.”

Pete laughs and rolls his eyes, “You guys suck!”

Joe and I sit back down, he looks over at me, “But really Patrick, don’t give up because of a bunch of losers who have nothing better to do then bitch and complain.”

“I don’t want to give up. But I’m so tired of disappointing so many people.” I frown and look down at my water.

“I’m not disappointed. I’m damn proud of you. Since this, you’ve gotten better at speaking on stage, you’ve lost weight, and you’re music is awesome! You know we loved you even through your chubby stage, and you were adorable enough to pull it off. But you took the initiative to lose the extra weight so you could be healthier. How anyone sees that as a bad thing is beyond me, Patrick.” Pete smiles.

“I’m not disappointed either.” Andy grins at me, “And I’ll bet more people aren’t than the ones that are.”

“Exactly!” Joe nods in agreement, “You should never feel bad for doing what is making you happy. As....long as it’s legal, Pat.”

Pete claps a hand on my shoulder, “So you do your thing, we’ll do ours. And when we’re ready, we’ll get back to work on Fall Out Boy and make an album we’re fucking proud of. And any haters can bitch all they want, because if it makes us happy, and real fans happy, then they don’t mean a damn thing.”

I grin at the three of them, “You’re all right. I can’t believe I wanted to give up. I love making music!”

“And you’re fucking awesome at it.” Joe nods.

I smile at them, “Thank you guys... this is exactly what I needed.”

“Not quite...” our usual waitress walks over, “Who’d like some waffles?”

“Me!” the four of us say, grinning childishly.

I guess some things never change. But others do. Instead of running away from change, or labeling it as bad, give it a chance. Because one small change could have the result of a masterpiece. And when people hate on you, just ignore them. Because words may hurt, but only if you don’t consider the source from which they came. A hater is just trying to upset others. If you don’t like something, that’s awesome. You’re entitled to your own opinion. But that’s all it is, an opinion. For every thing you don’t like, there will be hundreds of those who like it. Instead of hating on it, think. Would you like one of them to constantly bash your favorite band, movie, show, or anything related? Of course not. Would you like to be hated on? Of course not. So, I think we should all go back to what we learned at home, or in school. If you have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.