Scared (Patrick Stump Imagine Short Story)

Part 7

It's later that night - the doctor was able to see Patrick immediately. You're in the car with Gabby and Patrick, you're driving and Patrick is in the passenger seat. His head is resting against the window and he looks awful. Just absolutely awful. However, your daughter, who's in the backseat, is quite the opposite. She's got a wide smile across her face and her legs are swinging back and forth, kicking the seat.

"Oh my god, Gabby, would you please stop?" Your husband grumbles, glaring back at her. Her legs drop and she frowns.

"It wasn't annoying anyone..." You mutter under your breath to him.

"It was annoying me."

"Well you're annoying me!" You snap at him.

"Mommy, stop," Your daughter murmurs.

"Well if I'm such an annoyance, why won't you let me die?" He snaps back.

"Daddy! Please stop!"

"Because I don't want you to die!" You reply, your voice just below a shout, "If I wanted you to die, I wouldn't have come back that night. I wouldn't have called the doctor and I wouldn't be driving you to the hospital right now!"

"STOP FIGHTING!" Your daughter screams at the top of her lungs, her voice shrill.

Patrick crosses his arms and averts his gaze out the window, and you return your attention to the road.

After that, everyone went silent and the only sound in the car was the song playing on the radio. It's sort of ironic how the song is "Centuries".

...Remember me for centuries...

"Patrick, I didn't mean what I said," You say softly, feeling bad about the small argument the two of you just had, feeling even worse that you had it in front of your daughter.

"I know," He whispers in response, reaching over the center console and interlocks his fingers with your right hand, "I know..."

*****

You and Gabby are sitting out in the hallway while Patrick's doctor examines him to see what stage the cancer was at, whether it had or hadn't progressed. Your leg is shaking nervously as your daughter flips through one of the children's books a nurse had found for her.

The doctor comes out of the examination room a little while later and closes the door behind him.

"Well?" You ask, standing up and taking a step towards him.

He heaves a sigh and asks you to take a walk with him, ordering the nurse who had found the book for your daughter to keep watch of Gabby.

You and the doctor begin walking down the hallway.

"I'm afraid I don't have good news for you, Mrs. Stump," He starts off, not easing into the conversation at all. A knot forms in the pit of your stomach, though you aren't surprised. "It seems that the cancer has gotten worse. And I'm almost positive that if we don't do something now, and I mean right now, there's a very, very small chance of your husband living much longer."

"What can we do?" You whisper, tears forming in your eyes.

"What I highly recommend we do is put him into surgery. I only say that because, the longer we wait, the more the cancer is going to spread, and the closer Patrick is to dying. I'm also aware that Patrick's career revolves around his voice, so the best option would be endoscopic surgery."

"What's that?"

"It's a newer technique that allows our surgeons to remove whole tumors through the mouth, without incisions and little to no change in speech. That would ultimately solve the problem, no question about it."

You nod your head in understanding.

"But along with the surgery, we might need to put him through chemotherapy, to shrink the tumor before surgery. We should continue treatment after the surgery too, probably radiation therapy. That will hopefully ensure that the cancer never returns."

"And what about his voice? Will he not be able to sing anymore?"

The doctor clears his throat, "Well, depending on the outcome of the surgery, he may or may not be able to sing. Whether it be for a short while or forever."

You hang your head, "And if he doesn't do this, he's going to die?"

"More than likely. Mrs. Stump, your husband...he's deteriorating fast. Any day that cancer could spread to important parts of the body and...and it could kill him. It's not up to me whether or not you want to take my advice and go through with it, but I strongly recommend that we start all of this tonight, if not, tomorrow morning."

You stop in the middle of the hallway, looking up at the doctor, "Tonight?"

"Yes. Like I said, Mrs. Stump, your husband is only getting worse and if we don't do something now-"

"Can I talk to him first?" You interrupt him. "I want to know what he thinks about all of this."

"By all means, Mrs. Stump, go ahead."

You practically jog back to the room where you find Patrick sitting in the hospital bed, with Gabby in his lap. The two of them are playing Concentration 64. You walk in and Patrick glances over at you. He becomes at a loss for words and Gabby tells him proudly that he lost and she won.

"Wanna play again?" Gabby questions, still not acknowledging your presence.

"Actually, Mommy and I need to talk alone for a little while," He whispers into your daughter's ear. Your daughter finally looks over at you. "Why don't you go wait outside for us?" He asks, "Maybe you can teach that nice nurse the game you just taught me."

"Okay, Daddy," Gabby replies, kissing her dad on the cheek and jumping off from the bed, running out into the hallway. The nurse smiles sympathetically at you before closing the door behind your daughter.

You heave a sigh and sit down on the hospital bed beside your husband.

"So," Patrick says, his voice cracking, "What'd the doctor tell you?"

"He told me that he thinks it would be best if we started treatment tonight. And if we don't do something now, you'll-"

"Die," He completes your sentence, "Yeah, I know. He said that to me too."

You look over at him sadly.

"I want to get better, (Y/N)," He takes your hand in his and shakes it gently, "I really do. But going through all of this...the chemotherapy, the surgery...who knows what'll happen, who knows if the surgery will be successful or not. I may never be able to sing again." You meet his gaze and see tears wavering in his eyes. "Do you know how much that scares me, (Y/N)?"

"I could only imagine..." You reply, bringing your free hand up and swiping away a tear that had fallen from his eyes.

"But what scares me the most, over losing my voice or never being able to make music again, is that I might lose you. I might lose Gabby. And...And you two mean more than the world to me."

"And you mean the world to us, and that's why you should go through with this," You rub his back comfortingly, "It's the worth a shot, Patrick. Worst comes to worst and the surgery doesn't work. But there's always a possibility that it will work. And you won't have to lose us, or your band, or everything you live for. I beg you, Patrick, it's time to try it my way now. Go through with this."

"Okay," He says, giving you a long kiss on the lips. He pulls away and caresses your cheek, "I'll do it."