*A/N* Hey Youngbloods :) I'm writing a Fall Out Boy fanfic. I've had the idea for a long time and I want to get it out on paper- er... screen.

Before you go all fangirl on me, I see no problem with Elisa. She kind of has a small role in the beginning of the story that isn't the best. Don't worry, it's for the story's sake.

Hope you guys like it ;)

I sat on the plane ride to Chicago, the last show of the Monument Tour, with earbuds in. My laptop was nearing death, but I pushed it for the love of my favorite band's Vevo channel.

When I listen to music, I can't help but plunge into it, digging myself deeper and deeper. I can pull apart the different instruments and voices. Music can make people laugh or (most likely for me) cry. Just hearing the sound of his voice makes my heart melt.

I'd almost forgot I was on the plane, until the stupid girl next to me bumps my arm. I give her a look.

"Leah, you might want to see this," she pulls an earbud out and flashes her phone at me.

A YouTube notification's popped up on her phone. The name nearly makes me faint.

Patrick Stump - live video chat in 5 minutes.

I immediately turn to my laptop and open Patrick's channel. It's been years since he's posted a video. I'm itching to find out what was so important.

I handed one bud to my bud, Emily, and kept one in my ear.

"What could be so-?"

"I don't know..." I nervously spit out. I'm not so good with talking to people. That's why I sit alone and listen to music. I'm what most people call antisocial.

The video started loading and my heart began to race. This was really happening. We were actually going to see Patrick live, before we even get to the concert.

I saw his cute little face and wanted to cry. He had a black t-shirt and dark jeans, from what I could see. Thank God for his fedora, he looks absolutely adorable in it. He even wore his glasses.

His smile lit me up. The corners of his mouth turn outwards and I see his little dimples.

Patrick waves his hand and blushes a little saying, "Hey guys!"

Emily and I fangirled at the spot. The flight attendant shushed us. We still squealed.

"Sorry, I've been so inactive on YouTube. I just found no reason to post a video."

I knew he was lying, but he wasn't about to tell it to us. When the band released that they were going on hiatus, Patrick received a lot of nasty haters. This wasn't no "haters gonna hate". It was bad. Patrick swore to himself that he would never go back, but music is music. You don't quit or retire. Something, I don't know what yet, is bringing him back.

"Anyways, our last show is tomorrow at 7:30, so don't miss us there! Paramore and New Politics are rocking up a storm and love hearing your guys' cheers. Thanks guys," he said and adjusted his fedora. I caught a glimpse of his acoustic guitar in the background and hoped he was going to sing. I prayed to God that he would sing.

"Well, I shoved myself towards the internet and decided to sing a song for you guys as a gift for having left you guys."

Emily fanned herself to keep consciousness. I was stuck staring at the screen, watching as he bent down and picked up his guitar. He sat down in what looked like a recording room. I recognized it in some other video covers, it must be in his house. He sat on a couch and folded his legs. I spotted Ninja Turtles on his socks.

Patrick cleared his throat and tuned his guitar a little. As soon as he started playing, I knew what song it was.

"Baby seasons change, but people don't & I'll always being waiting in the back room. I'm boring, but overcompensate with headlines and flash, flash, flash photography..."

I mouthed the lyrics as he sang them. It was from my favorite album, Infinity on high, "The Takeover the Break's Over." Somebody was watching him from the door, I'd noticed. It was Elisa. She didn't look very happy.

He sang on, oblivious to her presence, "Don't pretend you'll ever forget about me. Don't pretend you'll ever forget about me."

She walked closer and closer to him, yet he still didn't notice. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked at Patrick with disgust.

"Wouldn't-" he saw her and completely stopped singing.

Emily and I sat at the edge of our seats, clutching onto the arm rests. Some shit was about to go down and neither of us were ready for it. I don't think anybody is.

He looked up at her and faked a smile.

She looked down at him and tapped her foot, squinting an eye, "Sing that next lyric."

His smile faded, "Elisa..."

"Patrick, sing the freaking lyric, would ya?" she shouted.

I wanted to slam her face in.

"I-I was just-"

She put her fingers to her forehead and sighed, "You don't think I know what this means? What the lyric means? Come on, Patrick..."

"Elisa, please, I'm-"

"I'm leaving, don't wait up," she said and snatched her jacket from the hook.

"Wait, where are you going?" he asked frantically.

"Somewhere, I don't know. Your house, not mine," she slammed the door behind her.

Emotions didn't come easily to Patrick. I could tell it was a mix between anger and sadness. He loved Elisa, but something was not right at the moment.

He looked at the camera, realizing that everyone had seen it.

Patrick picked up his guitar and started playing again. His brow knit into concentration.

"Wouldn't you rather be a widow than a divorcee? Style your wake for fashions and magazines," he sang loudly, "Widow or a divorcee? Don't pretend d-d-d-don't pretend- We do it in the dark with smiles on our faces. We're trapped and well concealed in secret places. We don't fight fair."

The screen went black, and it wasn't because my laptop was dead. It was because my heart was.