I rolled over in my bed, staring at the ceiling. The light from my window was illuminating it, so I knew it was early enough I have to get up.

I hobbled over to my desk and picked up my phone. Huh. That's weird. I could've sworn I put my case on it yesterday. Must've fallen off. I unlocked it, as I never had a pass code and was met with an unfamiliar background.

It was a picture of a pool, with a bunch of people in it. I looked closer, and I could identify the people as Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley, Brendon Urie and Dallon Weekes.

I never set this as my background. I've never even seen this picture.

I clicked on the contacts app and saw everything had changed. There were contacts, a lot of them were celebrity names.

What the fuck? Did someone mess up my phone?

I went into settings to see if my phone number was the same. Nope. It wasn't even a 647 number, the Toronto area code.

I'm really-

Wait.

When Patrick dropped his phone..

He handed me his phone.. so that means...

Oh shit, Patrick Stump has my phone.