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

Let's Talk

An eerie silence blanketed over the house after Patrick's break down and a heavy tension lingers in the air.

The four of you are sitting at the dining table, prodding the food in front of you rather than eating it.

"So, Ethan," You remark, attracting your son's apathetic gaze, "Where'd you go today?"

"Out," He grumbles, looking back down at his plate and pushing around a meatball.

"Just out?"

"Yeah. Out."

Patrick rolls his eyes and you heave a sigh.

Another long pause, but this one's interrupted when you set your fork down and wipe your mouth, standing up and excusing yourself from the table. You leave the dining room and calmly go upstairs to your bedroom. You close the door behind you and pace around a few times as tears begin to flood your eyes.

Everything that's been going on lately, it's getting too much for you to handle. As much as you want to, it's getting harder and harder for you to believe that everything's going to be okay like you always told your daughter.

You can feel it. Your world collapsing around you, caving in, crushing you.

Downstairs, Patrick clears his throat and stands up as well. "I'm going to go check on your mom," He tells the children, pushing in his and your chair, "Stay here. We'll be back down in a little." He walks around the table and runs upstairs.

Ethan looks at Gabby from across the table. She's mindlessly twirling her fork around in her spaghetti, picking the fork up and watching as the noodles fall back to her plate as if it's the most interesting thing the world. He shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest.

Patrick grasps the doorknob to your bedroom and turns it, pushing the door open and finding you sitting on the bed. Your legs folded underneath you and you're holding tightly onto your pillow as you cry.

"Patrick, get...get out," You stutter, burying your face in the pillow, your running mascara staining the white pillowcase, "I don't want to talk to you right now."

"I know you don't. But we can't keep pushing this off, (Y/N)," He replies, crawling onto the bed and kneeling in front of you. "You said we never solve our problems and just move on, acting like nothing's happened. Well, this is our chance to change that. Let's talk."

You glance up at him, your eyes red and puffy and your nose nearly running off your face.

He smiles slightly at your messy appearance, "You've got a little something on your face, babe."

Your eyes narrow before you throw your pillow at him playfully. He catches it and laughs, setting it aside. You grin at the short moment you wish would last a lifetime.

Patrick tilts his head down and sighs, "We really should talk, (Y/N). Having a pillow fight isn't going to solve anything."

"I know," You mumble, hanging your head. "What do you want to talk about?" You ask, though you know exactly what you've been avoiding discussing.

He takes in a deep breath before simply responding, "Us."

"What about us?"

"You know, us...our future. That is, if there even is one."

You cross your arms, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying...maybe we should get a divorce," He elucidates, keeping his eyes locked on his lap. Your eyes nearly double in size. "I mean, we don't have to separate the kids or anything. I don't want that, you don't want that, they don't want that. You could have full custody of them, since they seem to like you more anyways..."

"Patrick, no. We're not getting a divorce," You retort, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and rising to your feet, "We can't do this. Not to the kids."

"The kids won't care if I'm gone, (Y/N)," He retorts, standing up as well, "I mean, Gabby might miss me a little, but...she'll get over it. She always does. Our kids were raised to get over it. Just like Ethan and that stupid elephant."

"Patrick, we're not getting a divorce. End of story." You brush past him to leave when he grabs your hand.

"Just think about it, (Y/N)," He tries to persuade you, "We're miserable married to one another. I'm always away on tour and when I come home, none of you want me around."

The tears that had subsided return as you shake your head no.

"Just think about-"

"I don't want to think about it!" You shout, interrupting him and ripping your hand out of his, "I don't want to think about being with someone else. I don't want to think about my children being raised by someone else. I want you, Patrick. That's all I've ever wanted and I'm not going to give it all up just because things are a little rough right now. They're going to get better."

"And if they don't?"

"They're going to, they have to."

"But what if they don't, (Y/N)! You don't know for a fact that things are going to get better. You have to at least consider divorce. Because I don't want to be stuck in a relationship I'm unhappy in. And I don't want you to be stuck in a relationship you're not happy in either."

Your bedroom door flies open, hitting the wall and revealing Ethan and Gabby standing out in the hallway, terrified expressions on both of their faces.

"You guys are getting a divorce?" Ethan inquires, an innocence to his question.

You and Patrick both look at each other.