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

Work Things Out

It's the next day and you and Patrick haven't spoken since last night. You didn't even sleep in the same bed as him you were so upset. Instead, you camped out on the couch, passing out from exhaustion at some point during the night after binge-watching your favorite show on Netflix. You did, however, wake up to a blanket draped over you and the TV turned off. You assumed it was Patrick who did it, but you're not sure.

You're in Gabby's bedroom, styling her hair for the day when she looks up at you in the vanity mirror and asks, "Mommy, why is Daddy acting funny?"

"He's just tired from touring for so long," You grumble, running the brush through her mess of curly hair and coming across a knot. You yank on the brush and she screams in pain. "Sorry," You quickly apologize as you try to brush her hair lighter but still get the knot out. You wish she took a shower this morning, it's much easier to brush her hair when it's wet.

"Can I tell you something, Mommy?"

"Of course. You can always tell me anything."

Your daughter tilts her head down and plays with her hands in her lap, confessing, "Sometimes I wish Daddy will go back on tour. And that he'll stay away for a really long time."

You retract your hands and meet her gaze in the mirror, "Why is that?"

"Because everyone's happier when Daddy's away, saving rock and roll," She replies, looking up at you with sad eyes, "And then when he comes home...nobody's happy. Ethan and Daddy are all angry with each other and you don't smile or laugh as much."

You stare at your daughter for the longest time before leaning over and grabbing a clip with a small, pink bow attached to it. You pull two pieces of her hair back and bring them together with the clip, attaching it to the back of her head.

"And everyone's always fighting with each other," She adds, "Like Ethan and Daddy. And you and Daddy."

"Your dad and I don't fight...we just...speak very loudly." You stand up from the chair you were sitting in and use your hand to brush a few stray strands of hair out of her face, the corner of your lip curling upward. "There we go," You say, not wanting to discuss what you were talking about before any further.

Gabby gives you a faint smile before making her way over to her doll house and sitting down on the ground, picking up two Barbie dolls and starting to play with them. You cross your arms over your chest and heave a sigh.

...Sometimes I wish Daddy will go back on tour. And that he'll stay away for a really long time...

*****

"...and she told me she even wants her dad gone," You admit to the counselor, lying down on the couch you've sat on many times before, with your hands folded over your stomach and your legs propped up on the couch arm, "And she loves her dad! She's a total Daddy's girl and even she doesn't want him there, saying it makes everybody miserable."

"So you're saying that...whatever's going on with Patrick is affecting, not just you, but the whole family? Your kids included?"

"Oh, it's not a question as to what's going on with him. He's got depression," You interrupt her, "As for long he's had it...who knows? He didn't even tell me about it. I had to find out myself. And even then I wasn't even trying, I accidentally found out."

"He doesn't seem to tell you a lot," The counselor comments. You glare over at her. "What? He doesn't...I'm just making an observation here." You roll your eyes and return your gaze to the ceiling over your head. She taps her pen against her notebook and sighs, "Have you ever considered divorce?"

You scoff and sit up, "Divorce? Are you kidding me?"

"Look, you seem very unhappy, (Y/N). Even more unhappy than you were the first time I saw you. Maybe a divorce will be good for the both of you."

You shake your head, "I thought you're supposed to help me save my marriage, not end it!"

"If I'm being honest with you, you were doomed from the start. I'm surprised you've stayed with him this long."

"I stayed with him because I love him," You tell her confidently, rising to your feet, "I don't want to divorce him. I want to work things out with him and I thought you were supposed to help me with that."

"Working things out may not be an option this time, (Y/N). How do you expect to work things out with him when he's keeping things from you and you're keeping things from him?"

"I'm not keeping things from him!"

"Does he know you're here?"

Your cheeks burn up, sheepishly answering her question, "No..."

"There you go. You're keeping things from him."

"But mine's a little white lie!" You cry, getting frustrated with her, "It's not something like depression!"

"Look, you're never going to work things out with each other when you're not honest with one another." She closes her notebook and stands up. "(Y/N), I want to help you. I really do, but I can't. You're on your own this time."

You cross your arms, "So you're telling me that I came all the way here, paid that ridiculous amount of money you make us pay per session, all for you to tell me that you can't help me? That I'm on my own this time?"

"Technically I did help you - I helped you realize you're on your own for this one," She retorts.

You roll your eyes and leave the office.