The Emo Trinity/Quartet Book 2

The Elephant in the Room

Prepare for some nice drama...

"Okay, is NO ONE going to talk about the elephant in the room?" Ryan Ross asked.

"Um... this is a sheep," Patrick said, holding up a large fluffy sheep with small white wings.

"No, not that! But where did you -- aw, it doesn't matter. I was referring to Brendon," Ryan folded his arms, glaring daggers at the musician. Haplessly sitting at the kitchen counter, eating a doughnut.

"What?" Brendon asked.

"What do you think? We've been ignoring the subject of everything controversial surrounding you for so long, letting it slide, but... I just can't take it anymore!" Ryan sighed. He produced a leather-bound book out of nowhere. "And that's why... I'm asking you all to help me de-magic him."

"De-WHAT?!" Brendon jumped up in horror.

"De-magic him? Ryan, that's... that's serious!" Patrick gasped.

"What he's done is serious, too! Come on, Patrick, please?" Ryan begged.

"I..." Patrick hesitated for a moment, then his face hardened. "Alright. I'll get the others."

"No, don't!" Brendon reached forward, but Patrick had already fled down the hall to gather some of the others.

****

"So... what are we doing again?" Jack asked, staring up at the other lead singers standing on the auditorium stage.

"Simply put, we're taking away Brendon's magic -- his musical powers," Gerard explained, his tone unusually quiet. "It's a horrible process, for both sides. Only used when someone is too far gone to be given the gift anymore."

"Wait, music is magic?" Ryan M. asked in awe.

"Yep. People are born with it, but only some choose to utilize it. When they do..." Gerard cleared his throat and sung a short verse a capella.

Well I think I'm gonna burn in hell
Everybody burn the house right down
And say what I wanna say
Tell me I'm an angel, take this to my grave
Tell me I'm a bad man, kick me like a stray

"We glow with magic," Gerard finished, admiring his yellow aura.

"Woooow..." Jack and Ryan breathed.

"Can we just get this over with, please?" Brendon pleaded, struggling a bit against the ropes that bound him to a chair on the stage.

"Alright. Everyone, the rules are simple. You all must perform a song of yours to summon enough power, and then, when the time is right -- trust me, you'll feel when that is -- you reach towards the target -- Brendon -- and make a grabbing motion. Then pull back and tear out their aura," Ryan Ross read from the book. "Who wants to go first?"

"I will, I guess..." Patrick offered. He looked over at his bandmates. "Are you guys ready?"

"Ready," Pete nodded, holding up his red bass.

Then, as if they could read each others' minds, Fall Out Boy started up the same song.

This is a black, black ski mask song
So put all of your anger on
In the truly gruesome do we trust
I will always land on you like a sucker punch
Singing I am your worst, I am your worst nightmareI am your worst, I am your worst nightmare

As he sang, Patrick began to faintly glow with a light blue aura. He stepped closer to Brendon, who stared up at him, trying to hide his fear.

If you knew, knew what the bluebirds sing at you, you would never sing alongCast them out 'cause this is our culture
These new flocks are nothing but vultures