Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy > Opened Once.

First Day of My Life

by ClandestineUnited 3 reviews

"Those boys could have played the best first show ever, but before they did, they should have made sure they set up their amplifiers properly."

Category: Fall Out Boy - Rating: G - Genres: Humor,Romance - Published: 2007-09-24 - Updated: 2007-09-24 - 2595 words

Oh, God. I got so nervous in that place when they played their first gig.
I was standing backstage at some arena. No, it's wasn't even an arena. There wasn't even a stage. Some sort of... let's just call it a room. Honestly, our downstairs bathroom couldn't even fit in there. And this is where was all going to start.
All the mayhem, all the blood, sweat, tears (maybe, you never know). Everything was going to begin in this room.
And it did.
Patrick wouldn't let me see them rehearse. I swear, one day that boy will actually try and ground me. So, I was even more nervous than Patrick was. He'd called me several times a few hours before with continuous panic attacks. Why? I didn't understand, either. He'd been playing gigs since he was like... I dunno. Ages. Mind you, he'd never sung for a band. I knew he had a great voice, he really did. But I won't deny in telling you that there was a tiny part of me that was only praying Patrick wouldn't forget the words because I would laugh. I'm like that. I laugh when I'm nervous.
I must look so good to you guys, huh?
Hand on my heart, I'm not as cruel as I sound. But come on, wouldn't you laugh if someone forgot the words to a song when there was a roomful of kids watching?
Anyways, standing there I know it sounds lame but I felt important. Blah, blah, blah. No, I wasn't standing there with my chest puffed out and my nose in the air. I was sort of standing like a loner. A really sad, pathetic looking loner. I was watching them set up their amplifiers and such, while Patrick sort of stood looking like my reflection, out of sorts and wondering whether he should be there.
Oh, I meant to say. There was a change in line up, Patrick had auditioned to be the drummer. Because, let's face it, that boy is awesome at pretty much anything, and he can play multiple instruments and has the voice of an angel. And that's what changed the line up.
Patrick had been showing Pete some melodies he'd come up with for some other songs Pete had written, until Pete had had enough and badgered him to be the singer instead. I mean, if a boy with such vocal talent was just sat behind a drum kit, then what use was he? So, yeah, long story short, Patrick switched from drumming to singing.

I stared, my mouth open.
Maybe I shouldn't tell you what my first reaction was.
My first reaction was wanting to dig a hole and reside in it until the noise stopped.
I'm not saying Patrick's voice was bad. It was perfect, it always has been. But the noise! God! Those boys could have played the best first show ever, but before they did, they should have made sure they set up their amplifiers properly. Jesus. I thought I was going to go deaf.
Asides from that?
Patrick didn't forget the words, and I never told him why I prayed so hard he wouldn't. He looked strange, though, hunched over, singing his guts out. He needed something to do with his hands, it was obvious, because he kept one behind his back while he sang every word. Looking at him, it's plain obvious he's a drummer. His foot stomped the drum fills as he sang, how he managed to do that and sing in tune was beyond me. But with the foot stomping and the looking useless without banging something? Typical drummers.
Joe was... scarily great at guitar. A madman, even. I thought he would go flying into the crowd at some point. I remember watching him in awe for ages, wondering how the hell he could play every note and still jump around and, let's face it, frighten the front row with his scary faces he pulled while playing guitar.
Pete had done it before, over and over. He waltzed onto the stage, cool as a cucumber. If I can bend the subject here... cucumbers aren't that cool. I mean in the temperature way. Back to Pete, though, he had this sort of smirk on his face, he was the leader, he'd done this before. He clapped Patrick on the back and gave him a reassuring nod of the head before they started.
I tried so hard to keep my hands by my side the whole gig, and not stuff them over my ears. I managed... just. I looked around, wondering how the hell these kids could jump around and not grimace. Well, about a quarter of them were jumping about. The rest just sort of stood there, with their arms folded.
Now that's not good.
"Having fun?" A voice bellowed in my ear. I spun around and came face to face with Christa.
"Hey! I think I am, are you?" I yelled back. She held up her hand and pulled out her headphones out of her ear.
"Sly." I yelled again. "Good thinking, it's not that they're bad, it's just..."
"They're really bad!" Christa shouted while laughing.
"Well..." I shrugged. It might have sounded better had they checked their equipment properly.
Asides from that, it was safe to say I was going to be a big fan.

"Heyyy, it's the stars!" I said, as the guys came out of the building. Christa and I had escaped just as they had stopped playing, so we didn't get trampled on by the other kids leaving.
Patrick blushed as he joined me by my side, and Joe and Pete grinned.
"Ladies, please, one at a time." Joe said, holding his hands up.
"You wish, Joe." Christa replied with a laugh.
"So what did you think?" Pete pressed us. Christa and I glanced at each other, both praying the other would answer.
"Uh... it was..."
"I found it..."
"It was shit, wasn't it?" Pete laughed. "It's okay, we could hear ourselves how awful it sounded."
I bit my lip and Christa did the same.
"We sucked." Joe said.
"You'll get better." Christa said, kindly.
"Yeah." I said, trying to be helpful. "Give it time."
"Oh, well, practice makes perfect." Pete shrugged, as though it didn't matter in the slightest. Well, he had done it before. I was pretty confident this guy could turn them into a full blown band.
He looked at his watch, it was around nine in the evening, I knew he was planning something with Christa.
"Alright, guys, gotta go. We'll catch you tomorrow or something, right?"
Joe and Patrick mumbled in agreement and nodded as Pete wrapped his arm around Christa.
"Night." They called, with a wave.
"I better go, too. Catch you later, guys. Thanks for coming, Lee." Joe said, making his own way home.
"No problem." I replied, as we waved him goodbye. I turned to Patrick when Joe had disappeared around the corner. He looked up at me with his head down, looking as though he were about to burst into tears.
"Hey, cheer up." I said, nudging him. "You weren't that bad."
"We were. We blew." Patrick said, sadly, when we began to walk the long walk home.
I felt awful for him, glancing at him, I noticed Patrick was staring at his shoes, looking defeated.
"Just you wait," I said, nudging him and putting my arm around him. "One day you'll be blowing people away."
"Yeah, away from our sound." Patrick said, scuffing his shoe on the sidewalk.
"Don't be so pessimistic." I told him, but he shrugged.
"I should've been the drummer. I told Pete I was too nervous to sing. He pushed me."
"Oh, be quiet. Pete wouldn't have done it if he didn't think you could." I said. "You were nervous, it was your first gig, just because it didn't go perfectly doesn't mean you suck."
He stayed silent and bit his lip as he stared in the windows of the stores we passed.
"Come on, Patrick. You'll never get anywhere if you don't believe in yourself."
"I know. But you don't get anywhere without talent, either."
"Give it a chance. Honestly - one day you'll be standing in front of all these kids who are desperate to get one glimpse of you."
"Yeah, right." Patrick said, modestly.
"I promise." I said. But when he shoved his hands in his pockets, I could tell he didn't believe a word I said.
"Come on, let's go back to mine." I said. "And I bet you 100 dollars that things will get better."
"That's a lot of money to bet on a failure."
"I'm not betting on a failure." I said. "I'm betting on you."
At last, a smile formed on his face. He moved closed and linked his arm in mine.
"Thank you."

"Welcome home." Ellie was in our face as soon as we'd opened the door.
"It's past your bedtime!" I said, looking at the clock above the mantelpiece.
"Shut up. How was your gig, Pat?"
Patrick tensed at her choice of words.
"It was okay." He said, quietly.
"Did you...?" Ellie started, but I cut her off.
"Okay, bye, we'll be in my room."
Patrick groaned under his breath as he reluctantly turned around on the stairs.
"I'l be at your next show, you know, as a good luck sort of thing." Ellie said.
"Great." Patrick said, feigning a smile. I really feel sorry for that kid.

Luckily, we managed to escape up to my room, and Patrick sat on my bed whining about how badly he had sucked that night.
"Oh, would you put a sock in it?" I said, crumpling a piece of paper and throwing it at him. "You did not suck. You have a great voice. You were nervous."
"I know, but I still..." Patrick mumbled, running out of arguments.
"So think of it rationally. Why were you so nervous?"
"Uh, hello? It was a gig!"
"Really? I was under the impression it was a play." I replied, sarcastically. "People get nervous all the time, Patrick. What makes it even better is if you can overcome the fear and play a great show."
"I can't help it, Lee," Patrick said, using my nickname again. "I just get so nervous, all these people staring at me makes me sweat."
"So put this on." I said, pulling a cap from the post of my bed and jamming it over his head. He stood up and admired himself in the mirror, raising his head up slightly to see.
"Perfect." He whispered with a grin, as he turned towards me, his face hidden from view.
"Keep it." I told him.
"Really?" He asked, surprised, pulling it off again and running his hands over the material.
"Yeah. I never wear it anyways." I replied. "Plus, it can be something to remember me by when you make it huge, and have all these fan girls screaming your name outside your bus."
"Shut up." He said, shoving me. But he punched me softly and let his arm fall to his side, a smile on his face as he tilted his head.
"Thank you." He said, looking me in the eyes and then hurriedly shoving the hat back on, turning back to the mirror.

So there you have it. I guess I'm responsible for Patrick Stump and his ever present hat.

The next day, I was lying on my bed watching the local evening news, (yes, that's how I spent my summer, being that bored), when I heard my name being called.
"Lisa! You have some visitors!" Ellie yelled up the stairs to me. I frowned, I never got visitors. The only person who came round was Patrick, and he usually just walked in. It was easier than knocking and him being confronted with Ellie.
I went downstairs and grinned at the sight of Pete, Christa, Joe and Ethan.
"Hey, what are you guys doing here?"
"We came to see you and Patrick." Joe said. "Although, turns out Patrick isn't at home."
I checked my watch, it was 5pm. Patrick worked 4 to 7 at his job in Borders. He wouldn't be home for at least two hours, and probably another half hour after that.
"He's at work." I told them.
"He has a job?"
"You sound surprised."
"Yeah, well, I didn't imagine him having a job." Pete shrugged. "So where does he work?"
"Uh, Borders. You know, the one in the city?"
"Sure. I go there all the time." Pete told me. "Can we go see him?"
I bit my lip. Usually it unnerved Patrick when I surprised him during the hours he worked.
"I guess."
"Alright, so lead the way."

An hour later we were in Borders, it's familiar smell of coffee drifting around in the air. The sound of groups of people chattering away in the Starbucks that resided on the second floor rang throughout my ears, as did the sound of their cutlery. I grinned as I noticed Patrick's line of work today was serving people at the counter in Starbucks.
"I thought he worked in the store?" Joe asked, puzzled, when I pointed him out.
"He does. But if they need an extra person in there, then he helps out."
"Oh, I love your apron." Pete said, when we made our way up the stairs and over to the counter, where Patrick was bent over the surface scribbling on a notepad. His head shot up at the sound of Pete's voice and he groaned.
"What are you doing here?"
"I asked them the exact same question." I pointed out.
"I don't want to sound rude but, you'll make me really nervous."
"See? I told you." I said, giving Pete a shove.
"What? We can't come see you at work?"
"Not really. Why can't we meet up later?"
"Because..." Pete tried to think of an excuse. "Because we're not going home for a while. We're going to the park when you finish work, we're gonna help you overcome your nerves, so chop, chop."
"So you're gonna make me starve the whole day?" Patrick asked. "I can either hang out in the park with you, or go home where my mom's made my dinner."
"Just tell her we're taking you out for dinner." Pete told him.
"Are you?" Patrick asked, surprised.
"Nope." Pete laughed.
"Fine. You guys can stay, but I can't serve you."
"It's policy. Incase I don't charge you for stuff."
"Yes, he doesn't serve me, but he will bring home free food." I told them.
"Beat it, you guys." Patrick said, looking around. It was almost as though he was hoping his boss would come out and catch him.
"You would turn away a baby?" Joe asked, feigning shock as he indicated Ethan.
"To save my job? Yes, I would." Patrick told him, watching Pete take Ethan from Christa.
"Aww, but I thought you liked babies." Pete teased him, as Ethan grabbed Patrick's glasses with his fist.
"Uh, I do, I really do." Patrick said, laughing nervously as he ducked his head and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "It's just, I..."
"See, you're making him nervous, Pete. Stop it." Christa scolded him lightly. "We'll leave you to it, Patrick."
"Thank you." He said, relieved.
"I tried to stop them..." I chipped in. Patrick rolled his eyes and waved me away. I shrugged and turned away, but turned around again when he clicked his tongue.
"I'll still bring the two of us some food home." He grinned.
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