A Handful Of Moments You Wish You Could Change (Patrick Stump Imagine Story)

Invasion Of Privacy

You smirk, fondly remembering that stupid little elephant. You eventually did find it, only to lose it almost a hundred times more. Luckily he's grown out of that phase. You smile, wondering if he still has that damn stuffed animal somewhere.

You flip to the next page just as Ethan's bedroom door flies open. Your head snaps up and you see that it's Patrick, standing out in the hallway.

"What are you doing?" He inquires, stepping into your son's half-cleaned, half-still-yet-to-be-cleaned room.

"Just doing some cleaning," You answer him, rising to your feet and taking the photo album with you.

Patrick chuckles, "Since when do you clean our son's bedroom? Shouldn't he be doing that himself?"

"I just like a clean house, is that so wrong?"

"No," He crosses his arms, "Nothing's wrong with that."

"Then is there a problem?" You put your free hand on your hip and tilt your head to the side.

"N-No," He stammers, feeling like he needs to be defensive, "I was just asking. God, no need to get all worked up about it." There's a slight pause before he asks, "So what do you have in your hand?" He changes subjects, motioning to the album with his eyes.

"Oh this?" You hold up the book. He nods his head. "Yeah, it's just a photo album I found on his floor."

"A photo album? What's in it?" He inquires, approaching you and joining your side.

"There's all these pictures from when Ethan was a baby." You open the album and skim through the pages, briefly showing him the pictures.

You giggle, stopping at a page with pictures from Ethan's first birthday where the three of you were covered with cake, as well as other guests who weren't pictured, all because Ethan threw his cake at Patrick and that sparked a cake fight among everyone. "See? Look at how happy we all-"

"Mom? Dad?"

You both turn around and see Ethan standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and one of his eyebrows raised. "What are you doing in my room?" His eyes avert down to the book in your hands, "And what are you doing with that?" He walks in and snatches it out of yours hands, looking at it for himself. His eyebrows furrow together before he slams the album closed and looks up at you two. "Where'd you find this?"

"U-Underneath a pile of clothes," You tell him.

"And what were you doing looking under there?" Before you can respond he says, "This is an invasion of my privacy, guys. Have you no respect for me?"

"Ethan, your mom was just-"

"I don't want to hear it, Dad," Ethan snarls, cutting Patrick short. He keeps his narrow eyes on Patrick before looking back at you and saying much more calmly, "Next time you want to come in and look through my stuff, at least have the decency to do it while I'm home so you can ask me. Okay?"

"It's your mom's and my house and we can do what we want," Patrick tells him sternly.

"Was I talking to you?" Ethan shouts, glaring at his dad.

"Ethan..." You murmur, a sad expression on your face.

"No, I wasn't," The teenager continues to speak harshly with his father, disregarding your plea. "So shut your mouth."

"Excuse me?" Patrick remarks, offended.

"Ethan!"

"Both of you, get the hell out!" He yells, "NOW!"

You and Patrick brush past your angered son, and the minute you step out into the hallway, he slams the door behind you, causing you to jump.

"I swear to god...that boy slams that door again and I'm going to take it off the fucking hinges," Patrick mutters under his breath, furious with Ethan's behavior.

"Patrick, don't do that. It's just going to upset him even more. And anyways, he's just going through a phase," You attempt to convince him and yourself.

"A phase? No, I know phases, (Y/N). Pete has phases." He shakes his head, "Whatever Ethan's going through is not what Pete's gone through. And I'm not going to put up with it. And neither should you." And with that, he storms off down the stairs.

You heave a sigh and fall back against the wall, covering your face with your hands and letting out a long, heavy sigh.