Patrick Stump and Pete Wentz Imagines

Patrick - Rain

(PATRICK'S NOT DYING THIS TIME. GOTTA GIVE ME PROPS FOR THAT.)

WARNING: COULD BE A TRIGGER AND I'M QUITE MEAN, BUT THAT'S ONLY FOR EFFECT

You lay in your bed, with your eyes fixated on the window. The wind rushed, and it was gloomy and grey, the same as your mood at this time.
Your body was numb, and motionless. It was stiff, and you choose not to move as you still stared at the window.
Tiny breathes escaped you, allowing there to be sound for a second.
You had your hands holding your stomach. You didn't care at all that your blood coated wrists stained your shirt.
Tears slowly rolled down your face as you continued to look outside. The tears. They looked almost like the rain pouring out there in the world.

Weakly, you stand up and peek outside.
There was flowers lining your front door.
You remembered when you planted those there with your mother. Back when you when you were young. Back when you were actually happy.

There was a tire swing, that moved with the wind. You remember your brother pushing you on it as the Summer breeze hit your face. Sure it was horrid to your hair, but you couldn't care less back then.

There was that car. That car. The one that was reposable for your source of happiness's death.
Tears flooded your eyes as you remember receiving the news, that your dear brother had died in a car crash.

The one person who you actually loved you, died.
You had one person were with you... one that stood with you through everything.
He loved you too, but your mind was so blank, but clouded at the same time to realize that.

You lay back down in your bed, and stared at the grey, gloomy, and rainy sky, one last time. As your eyes begin to feel heavy, you had to close them.
No more tears could escape them.

As your eyes tightly close, the rain grows harder.
Your tears had been infused with the rain.
Now they are one.
And you are gone.

As the rain fell, a mother, a father, and a best friend stood around a grave. All were crying. The mother had her head on the father's shoulder. The best friend just stood there, wondering why his only friend were to end their life, in such a horrible way.
The father slid his hand into the mother's as they walked off. Before leaving, the father hands the best friend their umbrella. He takes it, and still stares at the grave.

Aloud, to himself, the best friend reads the grave stone.
"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)
1998 - 2015
'They told me to stay strong, keep fighting; But, I've already lost.'"

Tears rolled down his face, and the rain grew harder.
He grabbed a little (Your favourite flower) from his pocket and places it on the grave.
"One out of many. I'd give my life, to trade places with you. I love you... from Patrick."