I'm Not Yours (Fall Out Boy // All Time Low)

Breakaway

I hate mornings.

That is the sentence I repeat in my head every morning. There is nothing good about my mornings. I have a job I hate, I live alone, I have no friends... Yup, nothing good. Ever.

This morning was slightly different than the others. This is the morning everything started changing... Again.

~~~~~~~~~~~

7: 47 a.m.

I'm running late! Again! I can't afford this! I scream at myself as I run around my apartment trying to finish my morning routine.

Have I brushed my teeth? Yes. Have I showered? Yes. Done my make up? Yes... What am I missing? I look down to see only my large t-shirt that I slept in last night.

"That's what's wrong," I mutter to myself as I scurry off to my bedroom to get dressed.

I slip on a black tank top, my favorite red and black flannel, a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, and my favorite gray Converse.

Looking around my room one last time, I snatch my maroon beanie off my dresser before heading back out of my room. Just as I pick up my keys, the phone rings.

With an exasperated sigh, I pick it up. "Hello?" I ask them, with slight irritation in my voice. "Ah, yes. Miss Stump. I'm sorry to see you go. I hope your new career takes off well. We all wish you the best of luck. Good day." The voice of Mr. Barnes, my boss, comes out of the phone before a quiet beep. WHAT? When did I quit? Did I do it in my sleep or something?

I push my thoughts to the back of my head as I hear a knock on the door.

Without even checking to see who it is, I swing the door open to see Fall Out Boy. "What do you need Patrick?" I ask in an obviously annoyed voice. "What's got you in a bad mood this morning?" he asks as he and the rest of his band shove through the doorway, probably off to my kitchen.

"Well, apparently I quit my job, so now I have nowhere to work, no way to make income, and not many places to go," I say angrily.

"Oh, you didn't quite your job," Joe says as he takes a seat on my counter, Froot Loops box in hand.

"Then why did I get a call from my boss saying that he was 'Sorry to see me go, and wishes me the best in my new career'?" I say, waving the phone that I have yet to put down through the air.

"Oh, that. We quite your job FOR you," Pete says as he pours himself a glass of orange juice.

"You WHAT!" I screech. "I now have NO way to make money, pay bills, get groceries, anything I need to do! You better have a back up plan for me or you won't be invited back here, ever." They should have also warned me, but I won't even start to go into that now.

"Don't worry. We have a job ready for you. You're going on tour with us! Bren wants to perform This Is Gospel, piano version, on tour, but also wants to move around while singing it, plus he wants a duet with someone and nobody else would do it. We also need a few extra techs, and we know you have experience with that sort of stuff," Patrick explains with a large smile on his lips.

"And why would I want to go on tour with you guys?" I ask snidely.

"We worked that out too. We quit your job for you so you didn't have a job, which you now need, so you are forced to come on tour, because we all know you won't be able to find a job fast enough to pay your next set of bills," Andy says innocently.

I stand in shock. This had to be the most thought out thing ever to pull this off. "So, go pack your bags. We leave for the parking lot in about three hours. Go! Go!" Pete says as he shoves me lightly to my room.

What am I going to do with them? I think to myself as I pull my luggage off of my top shelf. I stuff pants, tank tops, t-shirts, pull over shirts, one or two nicer shirts, and almost all of my shoes. Next comes my electronics. With the backpack I always use for electronics in hand, I shove in all my important cords and cables, which really only consists of my phone and laptop chargers, and slide my laptop into it's compartment. Then, I grab my emergency toiletries bag from my closet and throw that with my stuff.

"Done!" I call out to the guys as I swing my backpack over my shoulder and grab my other two bags, one in each hand.

"Hold on!" Joe calls out before I hear the pounding of feet, making their way up the stairs and to my room. He looks around the room before spotting what he came for in one corner.

He picks up my camera bag off the floor and makes his way out contently. "Oh, no you don't. I am not using my camera on this tour."

He looks at me smugly. "And why not?"

"I don't like photography," I lie.

He shakes his head. "Yes you do. Try again." I rack my brain for a reason not to have to bring my camera.

"I, um, my camera is out really old," I explain. That is actually true. I haven't used the thing in over three years and I got it about 10 years ago.

"We'll get you another one. We need you to take pictures anyways. The photographer has another tour to cover this year." And then he walks out, leaving me standing in my room.

"Well come on! We don't have all day," Joe shouts at me as he pokes his back through my doorway.

This is going to be a long tour.

Title from the song Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson.