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

Come On...

Patrick's at his and your house, pacing back and forth with his cellphone up to his ear. The oh-so familiar ringing echoes in his ear. "Come on, (Y/N), pick up..." He mutters to himself as he's sent to voicemail for the fourth time. "Goddammit!" He screams as he redials the number, not evening bothering to leave a voicemail. Five times the charm, right?

You're staring at the phone that's flashing and vibrating in front of you. You're scared to answer it.

"(Y/N), please pick up," Patrick begs over the ringing he's still listening to, even though you can't hear him. Tears waver in his eyes, a knot forming in his stomach, as he runs his free hand through his hair. "Please. We need to talk. You need to tell me the truth."

You slowly extend your hand out and pick up your phone, your thumb hovering over the touch screen as you contemplate whether to accept or ignore his call. You want to talk to him, but the guilt you're still carrying on your shoulders is preventing that. You bite your lip as you stare at the illuminated screen.

Patrick ends the call out of frustration and tosses his phone to the side, giving up on trying to communicate with you over the phone.

Just as you're about to press the accept button, the screen changes, notifying you that you missed his call.

He walks over to the front door and rips it open, rushing outside and slipping back into his car. He pulls out his keys and shoves them in the ignition, turning it over and the car roaring to life. He straps his seat belt over his chest and glances over his chest, backing out of the driveway and speeding away.

You frantically press buttons as you quickly try to call him back, but just as you're about to call his number, a familiar voice whispers in your ear.

Do you really want to do that? Call him back?

"Yeah, I do," You respond verbally, although the voice was in your head. Your finger is millimeters away from the call button.

Why? So you can break down and confess to him that you fucked his best friend? Come on...you wouldn't want to do that, now would you?

"No, he's not going to find out," You mutter as a tear trickles down your cheek, splashing down on the screen of your phone.

Oh, is that it? He's never going to find out? (Y/N), you're smarter than this. He's going to find out sooner or later, whether you want him to or not. He's going to find out about it all. Whether it be from you or from that horrible ex-boyfriend of yours...

"Don't bring Pete into this," You warn, your hand beginning to shake.

Don't bring him into this? He's already a part of this. In fact, he's the reason this is all happening. He knows it too. That's why he wanted you and Patrick to get a divorce. Just so he could get out of it.

You remain silent.

It's time for you step up and take care of this, (Y/N). You know what to do. You just have to choose who it's going to be. Patrick, or Pete.

"I don't want to hurt either of them," You croak, shaking your head, "I don't want to hurt them."

You don't want to hurt them? Well, it's a little too late to make that choice, dear. If you didn't want to hurt them, then you shouldn't have even bothered getting close to them.

You hang your head as your throat closes up and tears begin to flow from your eyes.

But it's not too late to make this choice. So take your pick: Patrick, or Pete.

"Neither!" You scream, chucking your phone across the room. It hits the wall and shatters to pieces, the broken bits falling to the floor in a mess of plastic and glass shards. "I'm not going to do it! Not again!"

But you have to.

"No I don't!" You fall to your knees and hug yourself tightly, "I don't have to do anything! Not for you!"

Aww, you're cute. Thinking you can break this...what should we call it? This "habit"? Yeah, let's call it a"habit". Well guess what? You've had this "habit" for years, (Y/N), and you've tried to break it before. Your parents tried, psychologists tried, everyone tried. But you still hear me. You still listen to me. And that's never going to change.

"SHUT UP!" You shriek, grabbing onto your hair with your eyes squeezed shut, "JUST SHUT UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE!"

The voice laughs. You can't tell me what to do. I tell you what to do. Remember? That's how it was, that's always how it's going to be. You do as I say, understood?

You shake your head no.

No? You really think you can just tell me no?

"Please..." You whisper, hunching over as you fight to keep yourself from breaking down, "Please just leave me alone. I don't want to hurt them. I don't want to-"

You're startled when the door behind you flies open with so much force that the doorknob creates a hole in the wall. You glance back over your shoulder and see someone standing in the doorway. Your eyes widen as the person rushes up to you and falls to their knees, pulling you into a tight hug.

"H-How'd you-"

The person "shh"s you as he pulls back and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, looking into your red and puffy eyes and saying, "We need to talk, (Y/N). I need to know the truth."