What A Catch, Patrick (Patrick Stump/FOB Imagine Short Story)

American Psycho

"(Y-Y/N)?" Pete stutters.

"Look, Pete, I can-" Patrick tries to say when Pete cuts him short.

"You married my girlfriend?" The bassist rises to his feet, his tone of voice a combination of pique, enmity, and anguish.

Patrick remains silent, avoiding Pete's gaze at all costs. Andy and Joe are just sitting there, perplexed beyond belief as to what is going on.

"You married my fucking girlfriend!?!" Pete screams, flipping over the coffee table in the center of the room, sending cups filled with coffee and lyric sheets flying.

"You broke up with her ten years ago, Pete..." Patrick murmurs under his breath, his cheeks and ears burning up.

Pete paces back and forth, running his hand through his hair before turning to Patrick. "Take me to her," He demands, approaching the singer and grabbing him by his shirt, pulling him up so that their noses were almost touching, "NOW!" He screams in Patrick's terrified face.

*****

You're sitting on the couch in the living room painting your toenails when the front door clicks open. You look up and watch Patrick step through the threshold. "Hey, you're home earl-" He meets your gaze with a sorrowful look on his face. You're about to ask what's wrong when another person enters your house.

Pete.

The nail polish bottle slips from your hand and falls to the ground, the glass shattering to pieces and the red liquid splattering on the carpet and the bottom of the couch.

"She's right there," Patrick tells him, pointing at you.

"Can I talk to her alone, Patrick?" Pete asks, keeping his eyes locked on you.

"Y-Yeah, I guess. Just...don't hurt her, Pete, please." Patrick says before disappearing upstairs (you know because you hear the creaking of the stairs as he walks up them).

"Oh I'm not going to hurt her...trust me...she's the one who does all the hurting, anyways," Pete mumbles under his breath, staring intensely at you.

"Pete," You mutter in disbelief, "W-What are you doing here?"

"When did you want to tell me that you and Patrick were together, (Y/N), huh?" He doesn't answer you, his tone angry but hushed as he approaches you.

You chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your neck, "I-I didn't think you'd care. You know, since you were the one who broke up with me..."

"I broke up with you because you were a psychopath! Not because I didn't care!" You roll your eyes. He shakes his head, "But that's not why I came here. I came here because I heard you're apparently married to my best friend."

"So what? Are you jealous?" You cross your arms.

He scoffs, "Me? Jealous? Of Patrick being married to sociopath?" He laughs, "No. I'm not jealous. In fact, I feel bad for him."

"Oh, sure," You begin to circle around him, "Your little band breaks up and the four of you go your separate ways. Three years later, the four of you reunite, deciding you want to write music again. You notice the little gold band on Patrick's left hand during one of your writing sessions and you ask him who he's married to," You stop behind him and put your hands on your hips, "He says it's me and jealousy boils up inside of you."

You walk up behind him and snake your arms around his front, pulling his body close to yours, "I know you try to forget, Pete, about all the times you called me after we broke up...drunk off your ass, telling me how sorry you were and how much you missed me...asking to come over for a quick, meaningless fuck."

"Stop, (Y/N)," He growls, "Just stop."

You step away from him and he spins around so he's facing you.

"Admit it, Pete, you're jealous."

"I'm not jealous!"

"Whatever you sa-ay," You sing, starting to sway back and forth on your feet, your hands clasped behind your back and a smile on your face.

"Look," He throws his finger in your face. You stop swaying. "I didn't come here to talk about us. I came here to talk about how you married my best friend."

You sigh and walk around him, going to clean up your mess from painting your nails, "Yeah, and? You can't talk about my relationship with Patrick without talking about my relationship with you."

"Oh really? How so?"

You glance back at him, "Well I wouldn't have met him if it wasn't for you." You pause for a brief moment before standing up and turning around, "You know, I remember the day you introduced me to them. You seemed so...so proud to call me your girlfriend. Like you brought me there to show me off to your friends, as if to tell them that I was the girl you were going to spend the rest of your life with."

"And you know what? I did. I honestly thought you were the one. But then I found out how crazy you are and dumped your sorry little ass before I got sucked into your madness like Patrick has!"

"I'M NOT PSYCHO!" You scream at the top of your lungs.

"AND I'M NOT JEALOUS OF YOU MARRYING PATRICK AND NOT ME!" He yells back, smacking his forehead and adding in a much quieter tone, "Just divorce him, (Y/N)."

"What? Why?"

"Because Patrick's a nice guy," He dropped his hand to his side and meets your gaze, "And girls like you don't deserve nice guys like him. Now I told you what I want you to do. It's up to you whether you do it or not." And with that he leaves, slamming the door behind him and causing a picture of you and Patrick that you had hanging on your wall to fall to the ground, the glass from the picture frame cracking like a phone screen would.

You tilt your head down and begin to play with the wedding ring on your finger, just as Patrick races down the stairs, asking, "Is everything okay? I heard screaming."

"Yeah, everything's fine," You lie, "Everything's just fine..."