Scared (Patrick Stump Imagine Short Story)

Part 9

Author's Note: So I changed a little bit of the last part so that it fit a small part of this update, so if you read it before I made the change, here it is (it's the bolded part):

"Well thanks for being so concerned," You punch him lightly on the shoulder and smirk. He smiles before telling you he should probably get going, that he's got a few other things to do while he's out here. You nod your head in understanding.

He gives you a quick hug and goes to leave when he stops in his tracks and turns around, saying, "Hey, um, you don't have to tell Patrick what I told you, you know, about the band if you don't want to. I'll do it."

"No, I can do it."

"You sure?"

You nod your head, giving him a friendly smile. He returns the gesture before leaving for good.

You walk over and lean against the threshold in between the kitchen and front entryway to watch as Pete slips into his still wet sweatshirt. He takes a quick glance back at you and winks before opening the door and walking back out into the pouring rain.

Anyways, that's that and I hope you like this update! Thanks for reading! -Rachael

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Patrick's sitting in his hospital bed and the nurse who Gabby had developed a friendship with was taking his temperature. He'd just received chemotherapy and he was exhausted, a little nauseous too, and the nurse was checking his vitals. She pulls the thermometer from Patrick lips and checks the temperature, marking down the reading on a clipboard.

"Your daughter's a sweetheart," The nurse comments, flashing Patrick a quick smile as she disposes of the cover on the probe.

He smirks wearily, "I know. Can you believe she's going to be five soon? In a few months will be her birthday..." He sighs and says sadly, "I had this huge party planned for her. My friends and I were going to go all out for it too...but now I don't know if I'll make it till then..."

"I'm sure you will, Mr. Stump, and it's going to be the best birthday party of the year. I can already feel it." Patrick cracks a smile.

"Your wife seems really nice too," The nurse goes on to say, changing the subject.

"She is." He closes his eyes and relaxes into the hospital bed.

"It seems like the two of you really love each other."

"We do," He mumbles sleepily.

The nurse cleans up the rest of her things and looks back at her patient, "Mr. Stump?"

Patrick makes some sound of acknowledgment that isn't entirely English, or any language really, but it's enough for the nurse to know he's still there.

"Don't give up." Your husband opens his eyes and looks over at the nurse who is facing away from him. "I know it's the easy way out, but it's not the right way out. Because giving up...it'll affect your family like you'll never know. Trust me, I would know. My dad gave up and it's never been the same since." She takes in a quick breath before apologizing, "I'm sorry, I just..." She chuckles nervously, "Your little girl reminds me a lot of myself, that's all, and I really don't want to see her end up like me."

Patrick just stares at the nurse, unsure of how to respond.

"Well, I'll come back later today," The nurse tells him, pushing the cart out of the room but before she leaves, turning around and adding, "If you need anything, just press that button right there. Okay?"

He nods his head and the nurse smiles at him, leaving the room once and for all.

Patrick closes his eyes and turns on his side to get more comfortable. But just as he's about to fall asleep, there's a knock on his door. He drowsily glances over his shoulder to see you standing in the doorway, Gabby by your side. One of her hands is gripping onto yours tightly and the other is holding the picture she drew for him this morning.

"Hey," He mumbles, smirking, "Come in."

"Daddy!" Gabby exclaims, running up to Patrick and jumping on him. He grunts in pain but laughs it off, greeting your daughter with a bunch kisses on her face. You walk in and sit beside Patrick's bed.

As a whole, you're not doing too well. First off, you're still feeling sick from yesterday and it's taking you everything not to lose what little you had for breakfast. Secondly, you hate seeing Patrick like this, knowing something's killing him and knowing that all of this might be for nothing. And lastly, you have the responsibility of reiterating to Patrick what Pete had told you - about the band breaking up. Pete said you didn't have to, but you agree - it will sound nicer coming from you. As manipulative as it sounds, you can pull the family card, saying he needs to worry about you and Gabby and any future children - though that's just a thought - first and foremost. Pete can't pull that card. You have a lot on your plate right now and you're not quite sure how you've been dealing with all of it.

"Daddy, Daddy, I made you a card!" Gabby waves the piece of colored construction paper in front of Patrick's face. He grabs hold of it and reads it over, smiling.

"I love it, Gabby, thank you," He kisses her on the head and reaches behind you to set the card on the little table that rolls up to his bed.

"Are you coming home today, Daddy?" She asks him sweetly, looking up at him with her big green eyes.

"Not today, sweetheart," He replies tiredly. The smile your daughter had on her face fades away. "I'll come home soon, though. I promise. And when I come back, it'll be like nothing-"

Before he can finish his sentence, you make a gagging sound and stand up, dashing into the bathroom that's off of Patrick's hospital room. You puke a little prematurely before actually making it to the toilet and it gets on the front of your shirt.

While you're coughing up what little you have left inside of you, Pete, who's on the other side of town, pulls into the driveway of his house. He turns his car off and gets out, slamming the car door behind him.

He walks into his house and is greeted by Bronx screaming in the living room. Pete peers his head around the corner and sees that his oldest son and youngest son are sitting on the ground next to one another, Bronx playing some video game with his headset on (that's why he was screaming) and Saint playing with some stupid baby toy Pete's girlfriend, Meagan's, mom had given the relatively new parents to keep their son occupied.

"Hey there," Meagan whispers in his ear as she wraps her arms around his front, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Hi," Pete replies sadly, much like you had this morning.

"What's wrong?"

"Can I talk to you somewhere else?" He questions. Meagan nods her head and she and Pete find somewhere quiet to sit. There, Pete discloses to Meagan the entire situation about Patrick.

"He's my best friend, Meagan," Pete conveys to her, running a hand through his short bleach blonde hair, "I just don't know what I'm going to do if he...if he doesn't make it. I mean, (Y/N) told me he's getting chemotherapy and surgery and all that...but it's not guaranteed to work, you know?"

Meagan nods her head in understanding, grabbing Pete's hand and giving it a slight squeeze.

"He doesn't deserve this," Pete goes on to say, "Stuff like this doesn't...Stuff like this shouldn't happen to a guy like him. He means so much to people and the world's threatening to rip him away from us."

"I'm sure he'll be okay, Pete," His girlfriend reassures him, "You said he's getting surgery, right?" Pete nods his head morosely. "Then I'm sure everything's going to turn out just fine. He'll get the surgery and he's going to be all better. I know it."