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

Things Have Changed For Me, And That's (Not) Okay

Author's Note: Quick thanks to Stumphalicious for helping come up with an idea! Also, good news guys, I'm going to see Fall Out Boy on the Wintour! (there is no emoji I can insert here to express my elation right now) I'm so excited, you don't understand. I hope all of those who want to go can, because I have a feeling it's going to be a good one, a really good one. -Rachael

Patrick's sitting at the foot of a bed that's not his own.

The hotel room around him is a disaster. The television that sits on the dresser across from the bed is tilted back, the screen cracked. The bed behind him is unmade, a few of the many pillows ripped open and their feathers scattered everywhere. The curtains that normally hang above the window are lying on the floor, having been torn down in Patrick's fit of rage last night.

Now it's morning and sunlight is flooding through the uncovered window, brightly illuminating the right side of Patrick's face.

His head is tilted down and his hands are in his lap, and in his hands, his cell phone. He's scrolling through the contacts, tears blurring his vision more and more as he passes useless contact after useless contact.

None of his band members and best friends are going to help him. They don't like him anymore.

He could ask one of his many friends in a different band, but he doesn't want to bother them with his problems. And besides, when he explains to them what happened, they're not going to like him either.

His mom's also out of the question. She's in Chicago and that's nearly all the way across the country. Plus she likes you, so when he tells his mom what happened, there's no doubt she'd deny his stay.

Then he comes across your contact, and the tears that were building up in his eyes spill over, streaming down his cheeks.

He's called you relentlessly all morning, but your phone's turned off, sending him directly to voicemail. Time and time again.

Impulsively, he clicks the call button and puts the phone up to his ear. He sniffles and wipes underneath his eyes with his free hand as he listens to the phone ring, but he ends up with the same result, your voicemail.

"FUCK!" He shouts, chucking his phone at one of the walls and burying his head in his hands. His phone hits the walls, the screen miraculously staying in tact, and falls to the floor, joining the broken glass from the lightbulb that shattered upon impact when Patrick pushed down the standing lamp in the corner of the room.

Patrick begins to sob.

"What do you guys mean that we should 'break up'?" Patrick snapped at Pete, Joe, and Andy. The four of them were sitting on the tour bus, headed back home.

"We just kind of want to do our own things, that's all," Andy murmured in response.

"And anyways, this tour was rough," Pete added, running a hand through his hair, "Like, really rough. You've got to admit that."

Your husband scoffed, "So we had a few angry fans who screamed at us, big whoop. That doesn't mean we need to break up. When did we ever let a fans' opinion of us debate what we do anyways?"

"Things just aren't the same anymore, Patrick," Joe chimed in, "Okay? We're fucking forty years old now. We can't keep doing this kind of shit."

The singer's eyebrows furrowed together, "'This kind of shit'? What do you mean by 'this kind of shit'?"

Andy groaned, "Come on, Patrick, don't be like that. We just-"

"You just what?" He interrupted him, rising to his feet. The bands members heaved a collective sigh and slunk back into their seats, knowing whatever they were going to say wasn't going to ease their friend's high-strung nerves. Patrick took in a deep breath and straightened his jacket, stating calmly, "I don't know what it's been with you guys lately, but something's different and I don't like it."

And with that, he disappeared into the back of the tour bus, not hearing Pete's mumbled, "Yeah - you."

All Patrick wanted was for things in his life to stop changing. He didn't like how fast Gabby was growing, without him there to see it. He didn't like how Ethan had become a teenager, adopting such a negative view towards him when all he did was his best. He didn't like that the band was starting to fall apart, and that he didn't know what to do to salvage it. And most of all, he didn't like that he was pushing you away, not even realizing it until it was too late.

Everything Patrick once had going for him is now gone. His career...gone. His friends...gone. His children...gone. The love of his life...gone. The reasons he woke up every morning for...gone.

He had nothing.

Your husband dropped his hands to his lap and sat up, looking out the hotel room window, squinting to adjust the amount of light entering his eyes.

"I'm going to fix this," He muttered to himself, "Whatever it takes."