I didn't picture this
I wasn't hoping high
Now I'm reaching for the things I left behind
'cause I'm finally content
And I sure as hell meant all of it

The first time walking into the studio, I was nervous as fuck. I mean, why wouldn’t I be? I was going to be recording with Fall Out Boy, only one of my favorite bands ever. Their music had shaped me, even defined me in some stages of my life. And now, here I was, about to be in the same room with them after agreeing to help them out on a song or two and all I could focus on was the nerves in the pit of my stomach over the plethora of ways I could potentially embarrass myself in front of my idols.

Per usual.

You would think that after all these years of getting to know musicians of the famous caliber, I wouldn’t be freaking out as much, but no. The sixteen year old fan girl buried deep inside me with sweaty palms and an overactive imagination wins yet again.

I mean, it was one thing for Pete to hang out with Jack and I on a Saturday night. He was our friend, after all, and friends tend to do things like that. It was a completely different thing to join Pete in studio with Patrick, Joe and Andy. The only way I can think to describe it is like he was two different people in my mind. There's Pete, a legend in his own right, but mostly a nice guy who makes way too many dad jokes. Then, there's rock star Pete, who I'd only experienced through old YouTube clips back when I was an obsessive teen with a crush on the moody bassist.

I cleared my throat for the umpteenth time that morning as I walked towards the large, intimidating building in the middle of downtown LA that housed a plethora of recording studios. I guess even though this was supposed to be a secret project, what better way then to hide in plain sight, right? I glanced up towards the sky, trying to swat away those pesky butterflies rising from the pit of my stomach. I let out a full breath, deciding that butterflies or not, it was now or never.

I cleared my throat yet again, in a nervous tick. I had already gone through a quick vocal warm up in the car, and though my throat felt open and ready to go, I couldn’t help but be concerned that my range wouldn’t be up to par for what I was about to endure. After all, Patrick’s own range was substantially wider than my own, so even on my best day I wasn’t sure how much I’d be able to contribute, singing wise. Or really anything-wise, for that matter. The guys in Fall Out Boy were seasoned musicians, and were well versed in the art of crafting a song. Me on the other hand? Well I'd been in the studio a couple times just doing whatever Jo wanted me to, only occasionally putting in my two cents as more often than not, that girl knew what she was talking about.

When I told Pete this, he just repeated what he’d said before, that I was “selling myself short.”

Sure. Or I was just being realistic.

Thing was, I knew they expected me to be more than a voice for Patrick to bounce off of. They wanted me to have a strong opinion about the art we were creating and be able to put my own spin on things. Normally, not such a problem as I'd technically done this before with All Time Low for the demo of Guts. But there, I was so much more relaxed, you know, since by that point, my mind moved on from seeing ATL as any form of celebrity and they became simply my boyfriend and his friends, recording a song.

And yes, Pete was my friend so I knew I shouldn't have been freaking out as much as I was...

...but I couldn't help it. Fall Out Boy meant so much to me for so long, it's not like I could just snap a finger and forget that I was literally about to record with my idols.

Outwardly though, I was surprisingly calm and collected as I approached the receptionist desk, even managing a smile, as I informed the girl, who looked maybe a year older than myself, that I had an appointment.

She nodded politely and asked who the appointment was with, and I gave her the pseudo name Pete had booked the sessions under ("The Youngbloods")...whatever that meant. Knowing Pete, it had to mean something. The secretary however, simply typed the name into the computer and, after verifying that I was on the list of people allowed in the session, handed me an official looking laminate and told me the floor and room number the recording session was taking place. Taking the badge, I thanked her for her assistance before moving freely past the intimidating security guard to her left and towards the elevators in the middle of the lobby.

Alone with my thoughts once more, I tried to calm my nerves, even trying the tactic of pretending this would be like any other recording session. "This is going to be just like recording in Midnight." I thought to myself, pursing my lips as the elevator let out a 'ding' and opened its doors to allow the small group of people who'd been waiting for it. I b-lined it to the back corner of the elevator, slipping by people looking way more important than me in their fancy suits and designer shoes. "Just recording some songs with friends. Nothing to worry about..."

I suppressed a groan as I could feel my heart thump wildly in protest as if to say, 'Nice try, dummy!'

Ignoring the organ going crazy in my chest, I tried my best to focus on the digital screen in the upper right hand corner of the elevator, just above the buttons for the floors. The green block lettering flashed the number five, indicating I was now half way to my destination.
“I can do this.” I went back to giving myself that mental pep talk I desperately needed. “I’m doing THEM a favor, remember?”

The elevator stopped a few more times, either dropping off people who’d requested lower floors than I did or allowing more to come on, I wasn’t exactly paying attention. All I knew was I was in the home stretch, watching the numbers count up with another shaky breath.

...7

...8

...9

10.

As the elevator doors opened to the floor I needed, it took me a second to gather the courage to take that first step onto the carpeted floor. When I did, I practically tripped myself up, I was too focused on the intimidating nature of the hallway alone, with the gold and platinum records of people I’d only dreamed of meeting plastered proudly on the walls.

“Whoa...” I breathed in a daze, approaching one very shiny looking Mariah Carey platinum record, wondering for just a second if Midnight would ever be so lucky. I lifted my fingertips, getting my skin as close as I possibly could as I imagined what it must feel like, to have your music that well received, to make that many sales world wide. Not that I wanted to have a career like Mariah, but God, did she sell a lot of records.

Thankfully, I only drifted into that daydream for a second, and refocused on real life once more, though honestly it felt like a daydream all it’s own--you know, with what I signed up to do and all.

But we already established that.

I continued down the hall, noticing each room had a little number plastered to the right of the door frame. I needed studio 1008, and by the looks of it, it was at the end of the hall.
I approached the studio door tentatively, unsure if it was okay for me to just walk right in. After all, the guys could be recording in there, and I didn’t want their first impression of me to be the girl that was so stupid she walked in without knocking and fucked up a take.
But then, I noticed above the doorframe was a large electric sign that read RECORDING IN PROCESS, and below that, another, simpler sign that said, When red light is on, please knock.

Well. The light was not on. So...it’s okay to go inside, right?

I fiddled a bit longer, debating if I should text Pete or not before entering the studio. But then, he did tell me to meet him here. Did here mean inside the studio or just outside in the hallway where we’d all go in together?

God. I’m so stupid sometimes.

Realizing there was no point in looking like an idiot just standing in front of a doorway, I bit the bullet and pushed the door handle down, gently opening the door just wide enough so I could slip inside.

Now, when I walked in, I fully expected Pete, Patrick, Joe and Andy to be busy at work, recording or writing a new hook or doing something.

I certainly didn’t expect to walk into an empty room.

My mouth fell into a firm frown as I yanked out my phone, glancing at the time. It was 10:02. I was on time, at least according to Pete’s request of me being here around 10.

Around was the key word, apparently, as the studio was currently a ghost town, with all their instruments set up and ready to go, but no musicians in sight.

I bit my lip, feeling awkward as I wondered if it was okay for me to be in here without the producer or band I was here for. Then again, being cooped up in a fancy ass studio (Fueled By Ramen had a great set up, don’t get me wrong, but this was the big leagues, here) was hands down better than standing outside in the hallway pretending to look at something on my phone until someone came in to save the day.

So, I dropped my bag gently onto the plush leather couches just adjacent to the door and observed my surroundings instead, admiring the large sound board glamorously placed on the other side of the room next to the the glass paneled sound booth and instrument room. “Sweet set up...” I muttered to myself, the technology used reminding me a bit of the studio Rian had set up in his home back in Tennessee. He’d spent a lot on it, but it was worth it to see just how talented the drummer had become at producing things himself. It wasn’t easy to play with all those dials and buttons, believe me. I had a hard enough time messing around with the mini sound board Pete had given me for my studio back at home.

Of course, no matter how cool the tech might’ve looked, what really caught my eye was the grand piano in the sound proof room where all the instruments were. I was always a sucker for pianos, especially fancy looking ones currently teasing me by just being there.

I glanced over my shoulder to double check no one was looking out of habit. I knew I was by myself, but still. I wasn’t totally sure what the rules were for guest artists. Were they supposed to sit and not touch anything, like they were in a museum or something?

Because I was totally going to touch something.

I pushed open the door to the sound proof room and scuffled over to the piano in glee, whatever nervousness I’d felt in the elevator dissipating significantly as soon as my fingers touched the ivory keys. I sighed happily to myself, admiring the craftsmanship of the grand piano before me. I’d always wanted one of my own, but never had a place big enough for one.

I twiddled my fingers, tapping them against the tops of the keys as I thought of a song to play. After all, it wasn’t like I’d get the opportunity very often to play an instrument such as this, and whatever song I picked had to be worth it.

Then, it hit me.

Should’ve been obvious, given who I was going to be recording with, but the first song that popped into my head was a Fall Out Boy song. 7 Minutes in Heaven to be exact. I’d figured out the song back when I was still in high school, transposing the original guitar parts to piano after days of listening to the song on repeat on my old iPod. It took forever, but by the time I figured it out, I was so happy with myself. It was the first time I’d played a song by ear that wasn’t a classical piece given by my piano teacher and just like that, I felt like I’d gone from a mediocre piano student to someone who actually had potential.

Yet another reason Fall Out Boy meant so much to me.

I keep telling myself
I'm not the desperate type
But you've got me looking in through blinds
I keep telling myself
I keep telling myself
I'm not the desperate type

I played the song from memory, smiling as I sang the words that ironically I could now relate to. Yet, it didn’t make me fall into my depression like it easily could have a year before. No, it made me stronger, singing out my demons like they meant nothing to me. I was stronger now. I was better.

I'm sitting out dances on the wall
Trying to forget everything that isn't you
I'm not going home alone
Cause I don't do too well
I'm sitting out dances on the wall
Trying to forget everything that isn't you
I'm not going home alone
Cause I don't do too well on my o--

“Damn, Chris!” A familiar voice shot out, halting my playing as quickly as it had started. My fingers froze as I fell into an awkward note, spinning my head around to find Pete smiling widely at me. “What a way to make an entrance.”

“With one of our songs, too.” A voice behind him quipped, and my mind instantly recognized the slight nasal tone of Joe Trohman. A second later, he was behind Pete, looking right at me, the remaining members of the band inching into the instrument room as well. “Great job, by the way.”

I smiled shyly at him. “Oh, uh, thanks.” My eyes shot down to the ground, a blush rising from my cheeks as I jumped up from the piano. “Sorry about inviting myself in...I wasn’t sure how long you guys would be and I’ve never played such a nice instrument and--”

“Hey, no worries. You’re our guest, remember?” Patrick stopped me, holding up his hand as he smiled warmly at me.

I smiled weakly in return, his words only putting me slightly at ease. “Um, right...”

“Guess there’s no need for formal introductions, now.” Pete quipped, his dark eyes watching me as I timidly approached my idols. It was a lot to take in, and believe me when I say I was trying my hardest not to shake too much or generally look like an idiot. “Guys, this is Christina Lawson, and Chris, this is Patrick, Joe and Andy.”

His bandmates took their turns shaking my (thankfully dry) hand, each smiling politely at me. “We technically met last summer, but nice to see you again.” Patrick chuckled.

My eyes widened, shocked that he’d remembered such a thing. After all, he must’ve done hundreds of gigs last year in support for his solo album, Soul Punk. For him to remember doing a favor for a friend of a friend was mind boggling to me. I mean, sure, it was an engagement, and I couldn’t imagine it was everyday he was asked to sing at something as special as a proposal, but still. Patrick Stump remembered who I was.

I think I could die happy now.

To Patrick, I pieced together a response as best I could, not even trying to mask my surprise. “Oh, yeah, of course! I never got to thank you, by the way, for doing that for me. Jack knows your my favorite singer and I think I was too shocked that you were actually there, and then of course Jack proposed and then the rest of my friends were there to celebrate and--”

Again, like the saint he was, Patrick stopped my ramblings before it got too embarrassing. “Hey, I totally understand. Getting engaged trumps me any day. It was your moment, and I was just there to help you guys out.”

“Speaking of which, I’ve decided that Pat’s gonna be my plus one.” Pete added in, smirking over at his best friend who stared back at him with a puzzled expression.

“I’m what?” Patrick asked, clearly not in on Pete’s announcement.

“You’re gonna be my date for Chris and Jack’s wedding.” Pete elaborated as he rolled his eyes.

Patrick’s own light eyes widened, his gaze switching between me and Pete a few times before he shook his head, his cheeks turning red as it was turn to blush, though oddly enough I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because Pete referred to him as his ‘date’. It was Pete, after all, and oddball comments like that were commonplace. “I’m sure Pete can pick someone better than me. I don’t wanna intrude.”

He was kidding, right?

I let my jaw slack slightly, a laugh escaping my lips at his bashful response. “Are you serious? I’d love for you to be there.” I paused for a second, my words echoing in my mind and instantly I backtracked, inwardly cringing at how crazy I sounded, jumping at the chance to have someone I hardly knew at my wedding. “I mean, I know we hardly know each other, but if playing that song a few minutes ago didn’t make it clear, I’m a huge fan of you--all of you.” I gestured to Andy and Joe as well, who’d been silently watching the exchange with amused eyes. “You’re all invited, if you can make it, of course. I mean, we still haven’t decided where it’ll be but it’s going to be at the end of August, for sure.”

“Wow, you really do love us.” Joe chuckled, shaking his head softly at the whole thing. “You’re just lucky we’ve grown out of our party animal phase, otherwise we might’ve trashed the damn thing. Remember Pete’s wedding?” The question was geared towards the rest of the guys, who instantly cringed at the memory.

Pete however, did his best to deny this claim. “Hey, it wasn’t that bad.”

Joe just rolled his eyes, ignoring Pete’s protest. “Ask him how much we had to pay in damages that night.”

I scrunched up my nose, turning to Pete as I carefully asked, “How much did you pay in damages?”

His smile fell, grumbling as he reluctantly admitted, “Okay, fine. So it was a little bad.”

Patrick laughed lightly, “Anyway, we’ve got plenty of time to RSVP to the wedding. Right now, I think we should get down to business and show Chris what we’ve been working on for the record.”

My ears perked up at the mention of new music, the very thing that had instantly got me to agree to the whole thing to begin with. And sure, I was still scared as hell I wouldn’t be able to contribute much to the song they wanted me to do, but the fan in me couldn’t resist squealing over the mention of new music. I could feel my nerves subside--talks of music always tended to do that for me, for whatever reason. Plus it helped that it took all of two minutes to see Pete and the rest of the guys weren't all high and mighty in the studio like some people were. They were average Joe's who got lucky, and that made me substantially more comfortable around them. There was no reason to freak out over them, however in awe of their talent I might be. “I’m so ready to hear what you guys have so far. Are they just demos right now or...”

“We’re well past the demo stage, Chris.” Pete told me, his features relaxing once more into a natural smile. “We’ve finalized five songs already, recorded the instruments for five more. Today we’re gonna do the vocals for the duet I told you about and maybe add some more instrumentation if Butch feels it’s necessary.”

He continued explaining to me what they’d done so far before showing me the first song they’d completed for the record, Where Did The Party Go?, a grooving, dance worthy track that admittedly, didn’t scream FOB to me. That’s not to say it wasn’t bad. It was awesome, and honestly, it’s just what they needed. It was the kind of song that borrowed bass lines straight out of the eighties with rebellious backing vocals and poetic lyrics that only Pete could write.

“You and me are the difference between real love and the love on TV”

Pure Pete.

After the boys happily showed off their new songs to me, enjoying my Anna-esque reactions every time I heard something I liked (which was a lot), it finally came time to show me the planned duet, a song called Just One Yesterday. The plan was for Patrick and I to record the song at the same time so we’d get as much natural energy from our performance. Fine by me, as I loved raw, not so perfect recordings. It showed the true artistry, in my opinion. In our case though, figuring out said harmonies took a bit longer than I was proud of, as I had yet to gain an ear to pick up on harmonic notes as natural as my counterparts. Still, Butch Walker didn’t have a problem going through my parts with me, the sweetheart. If he thought I was wasting his time with the obvious (unintentional) hand holding, he didn’t show it, instead choosing to compliment my choice of inflection and tone.

I repeat: sweetheart.

Finally, it came time to record, and as I stood in the adjoining recording booth, headphones secure and ready to go, I let the sound of Patrick singing next to me fill my ears.

I thought of angels
Choking on their halos
Get them drunk on rose water

I bobbed my head to the music, feeling like I was watching myself from above as reality seemed too good to be true. I was singing with my idol, a dream come true.

Please, God. Don’t fuck up.

See how dirty I can get them
Pulling out their fragile teeth
And clip their tiny wings

I took a breath, coming into the pre-chorus with controlled restraint.

Anything you say can and will be held against you
So only say my name
It will be held against you
Anything you say can and will be held against you
So only say my name

We went through the chorus with ease, then the second verse came in. This time I was a bit more forward with my vocal, pushing my range as I took the upper harmony that flew naturally back into the chorus once more. Then, my big ‘solo’. I decided to start tender, a side of my voice that had hardly been used during my work in Midnight. Other than the occasional slow song like Under the Water or You, I had an edge to my voice that most of the fans went nuts for. Hopefully though, our fans would be open to seeing this different, less ‘scary’ side of me. I had created a character on stage after all, and though many expressed their fear of Jo when meeting us, it wasn’t uncommon for younger fans unaware of all those instagram pictures that Jack and I posted showing quite the opposite picture to fear me as well. I was never that surprised when this happened, you know, given the subject matter of our songs, and I was quick to assure them that I was not a she-devil like our music insinuated.

What I was recording right now though? This was like sunshine and daisies compared to that. And you know what? I was completely okay with that.

If I spilled my guts
The world would never look at you the same way
And now I'm here to give you all my love
So I can watch your face as I take it all away, away, away....

The chorus repeated one last time, and the energy in the small recording booth was filled to the brim, Patrick’s voice bouncing off of mine in a harmony I had only dreamed of. Then, when the song finished, the cheers erupted on the other side of the studio where the band and Butch sat. “I told you guys she kicked ass!” Pete shouted happily into the microphone that communicated to Patrick and I, his bright, blinding smile easing the last of those stubborn nerves that had been plaguing me all day.

Butch, who was smiling as well, was more professional about his reaction. “That was really good, Chris. Really great. But you mind if we get a few more takes just to be safe?”

I nodded, adjusting the headphones so they fit more comfortably against my ears as Patrick gave a nod towards his producer as well. “Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, awesome. Take two starts in three, two...”

The music filled my head and Patrick opened his mouth, beginning the vocal track once again.

~*~

“Thank you so much again, Chris.” Pete told me for the tenth time at least as we finally wrapped up the session for the night. As it turned out, putting together the vocal track for Just One Yesterday didn’t take that long at all, and Butch and the guys liked my sound so much that they had me add some additional backing tracks to other songs like The Mighty Fall and Young Volcanoes, one of my favorites from what I’d heard so far.

“I should be thanking you.” I countered, smiling like a school girl with a crush, too giddy off my musical high to even bother hiding it. “Today was the best day ever. Seriously.”

Pete laughed at my goofy response. “Well, you really did us a solid, helping us with the songs.”

I shook my head, giving my eyes a light roll as I told him earnestly, “Like I’d pass up the chance to work with you guys.”

He stared back at me for a second, his smile only growing.

I frowned. “What?”

He shrugged innocently, as if his wide smile a moment ago had been a figment of my imagination. “Oh nothing. Just the guys and I were talkin’, and we think it’d be dumb of us not to invite you and your band on tour with us this summer, that’s all.”

It was my turn to gape. “No. Way.” My jaw practically fell to the floor. “Are you telling me the truth right now, or is this a set up to one of your super lame dad jokes?”

“I’m telling the truth, I promise!” Pete chuckled before correcting me with mock offence. “And my jokes are not lame, they’re hilarious.”

“Oh my Go--” My hand flew up to my mouth suppressing a scream as a high pitched noise escaped my lips. “Oh my--and I thought you couldn’t get any cooler.”

Pete’s thick eyebrows raised in amusement as he observed my reaction. “So that’s a yes, I take it?”

I nodded firmly, not even thinking twice. “That’s a million times, yes! Hell yeah, we’ll go on tour with you!” I swallowed hard, running a shaking hand through my wavy hair as I tried once again to find reality. “Holy shit, Jo is never going to believe this...”

Notes

This is soooooooo long. And so overdue. I'm so sorry for the wait, but honestly this was supposed to be way different, with the whole recording part of it being maybe half the length it is now. Thing is, the next chapter is gonna be way different, and I needed them to be separate. Plus, this is really freaking long lol. So enjoy! And please comment, if you're still here lol. I missed you guys!

Songs mentioned: basically all of Save Rock and Roll by FOB, but more specifically "Where Did the Party Go?" and "Just One Yesterday" . Also "7 Minutes in Heaven".

Opening lyrics are from "Sure as Hell by Tonight Alive