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

Honey, I (Don't) Only Appear So I Can Fade Away

Patrick groans and begs the bartender to give him another drink, but the bartender - Rachel, a recent close friend of his - refuses.

"Aren't you, like, not allowed to do that?" He challenges her, narrowing his eyes.

"Patrick, I'm doing it for your own good," She explains, preparing a drink for someone else, "I know that look in your eyes and I'm not going to let you drink yourself under the table."

Patrick sighs and leans over the bar, resting his head on his folded arms, "But whhhhhhy?" He whines, "I want to, I need to."

"And why is that?"

"Because, Rachel, I pushed the only people I cared about away from me," He testifies sullenly, "I managed to make everyone hate me. My wife, my son, even my daughter. And there's nothing I can do to get them back, because my best friend stepped in and basically brainwashed them."

Patrick chuckles to himself, sitting up, "You know, I hate to say it, but I knew this was going to happen. That...with the way things were going...I was going to lose her. And I knew I was going to lose her to him. They always liked each other in a more-than-friends kind of way. I could sense it, see it. They weren't very good at hiding it."

Your husband tilts his head down and twiddles his thumbs, "Sickest part was that he was waiting for me to explode. He wanted my family to fall to pieces. He was the reason I started believing that the life I had wasn't the life I wanted. That I never wanted kids, that I never wanted to get married."

"You love (Y/N), though," She interjects, "I know you do."

"I know. I do too. But the more and more I thought about it, the more and more I started convincing myself that I didn't," He hangs his head and murmurs, "So I came home with that mindset and that's when things just started spiraling out of control. My son despised me, my daughter resented me, and (Y/N)...goddamn (Y/N)...she defended me. I don't know why, I was a complete asshole."

"Oh come on, Patrick..." The bartender says, handing the customer their drink before returning to her friend, "You're not an asshole, and you know that. Out of everyone in this bar, you'd be the last person to be an asshole."

"But you're wrong," He objects, shaking his head, "Because you don't understand. I've done so much shit recently that...that I don't even recognize myself anymore. It's just like...all these decisions I've made, they all seem to be the wrong ones. All these moments have happened, and all I wish I could do is go back and change them, make the other decision, you know?"

"Look, Pat, I think you've had one too many drinks," Rachel retorts, grabbing a towel and drying her hands, "Let me get someone to take over for a little so I can take you home."

"No, I don't need to go home, I need you to get me another drink," Patrick insists as she drapes the towel over the rack and walks over to her coworker, tapping them on the shoulder and telling them she's taking her break. The coworker nods their head in agreement.  Rachel walks out from behind the bar and grabs Patrick by the wrist, practically dragging him out of the bar like he was a misbehaving child in a grocery story.

As Patrick stumbles along behind Rachel, he pulls his phone out and sees he has a missed calls from you and Pete and even Joe and Andy, along with countless text messages asking him where he is and why he isn't answering his phone, that Ethan's in the hospital and he needs to respond to one of them. But your husband's vision's blurred and all he sees are the notification bars, so he stops Rachel and asks her to read them to him.

She stops in the middle of the sidewalk and takes Patrick's phone into her possession, reading the text messages. Her eyes double in size as she scrolls through them, "Oh my god."

"What?" Patrick inquires, looking at his illuminated phone screen. Her eyes trail up to meet his.

"Your son's in the hospital, Patrick. He got in a car accident."

*****

Patrick bursts through the hospital doors, his inebriation beginning to fade away and being replaced with a small headache. His chest is rising up and down rapidly and his breaths are short and uneven. "Where is he?" He screams. Everyone's eyes find their way to him. "WHERE IS HE?" He repeats even louder than the first time.

Eventually Patrick is directed to the floor Ethan's on, and it's not long before he finds you sitting out in the hallway, your knees pulled into your chest and your arm wrapped around your legs. You hold an icy stare, tears staining your cheeks. The guys have left for a little while to pick you something up to eat.

"(Y/N)," He mutters, just loud enough for you to hear him. You break your gaze from the wall across from you and look over at him, your eyes growing wide.

He rushes up to you and you pull yourself up. He immediately wraps his arms around you, holding you tight and close. You can smell the alcohol on his breath and you immediately know where he was. Anger boils up inside of you and you push him away from you.

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what'?" You snap, "Our son was in a car crash and you were nowhere to be found, no one could reach you. I didn't even know if you were going to come, or if you were just going to forget about us and fade away."

"Fade away?" He repeats, his already sunken heart sinking even more, "God, no, (Y/N), I could never do that to you, or the kids."

"Then why didn't you pick up?" You cry.

"I didn't hear my phone go off, I-"

"It doesn't matter, Patrick! Our son could've died, Patrick! Died!"

"But he didn't...right?" Patrick murmurs, fear lacing his voice.

"No, he's fine, a few broken bones and a fractured rib, but the doctor said he'll be okay after a while," You mumble, crossing your arms over your chest, "He's just resting now."

Patrick peers into the hospital room and sees his two kids lying together in the hospital bed, both sleeping, his daughter curled up beside her brother's seemingly lifeless body. He frowns.

"Do you know what he was doing with your car?" He inquires, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shake your head and chuckle a bit, "You won't believe me when I tell you, but supposedly he took the car because he wanted to find you, to get you back."