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

I Don't Love You Like You Love Me

You walk up the sidewalk leading to yours and Patrick's front door, Gabby fast asleep in your arms. You look back over your shoulder at Pete sitting out in the road in his car. He's got a remorseful expression on his face, tears wavering in his eyes.

You shake your head and walk up the steps, grasping the doorknob and pushing the door in (since you forgot to lock it after rushing out of the house after you got the call about Ethan).

You shut the door behind you and go upstairs, right into Gabby's bedroom, where you gently lay her down on her bed. Her eyes flutter open a little bit but she doesn't wake up, only turns on her side to get more comfortable. You tuck her in and kiss her on the forehead, pushing some of her hair out of her face and frowning.

"I deserve you? You're better?"

"Just think about it, (Y/N), your kids will never have to ask when I'm coming home - because I'll be there. There'll be no fighting, no arguing. We'll get along, we'll love each other."

You sigh and stand there for a little before you turn around and leave her room, quietly and carefully closing her door as to not wake her up.

You can't help but laugh, "What? Pete, you and I have never loved each other. Maybe as friends, but it was never something more than that."

"What are you talking about? Do you not remember what happened years ago? With you and me?" He's talking about when the two of you would get together for "sick days".

You slip your hands into your pockets and slowly back away from her door, gradually making your way downstairs.

"Pete, that was years ago."

"So? That doesn't mean that my feelings for you went away."

You take the last step down the stairs and stand in the foyer, gazing into the living room at the family portrait you have hanging on the wall. Smiles are plastered on all of yours faces, even Ethan's. The four of you are close together, as if nothing could tear you apart.

"I mean, you didn't know?" Your husband's best friend asks as he turns the corner onto your street, "I did everything for you, (Y/N). I was there for you when Patrick wasn't. I looked out for you when he didn't. I even manipulated Patrick into thinking that he cared more about his music all so that he'd leave you and you'd finally be happier, not having to put up with his bullshit any longer."

Your heart nearly stops, and if you were driving, you would've slammed on the breaks, "You what?"

You approach the mantle and pick up a smaller photo frame that contains a photograph of you, Patrick, and Pete sitting in those uncomfortable dark green plastic seats at Wrigley Field, all decked out with your baseball hats and cups of beers, watching a Cubs game (though you'd taken your attention away for a brief moment to smile for the camera). Your vision begins to blur and your hands begin to shake.

He glances back at you through the rear view mirror, but says nothing.

"Did you just say you manipulated Patrick into thinking that he cared more about his music so that he'd leave me, all so I'd be happier?"

You shake your head and chuck the picture frame across the room. It crashes against the wall and shatters to pieces, just as the front door clicks open.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N), I just...I was sick of loving you when you didn't love me back!" He tries to justify himself, though you couldn't care less. He just admitted to you that he's the reason Patrick came home in that horrible mood. That he's the reason that Patrick wants a divorce from you. That he's the reason you actually considered leaving Patrick. "Do you know how hard it is? Watching the person you love, love someone else? Knowing that the person you love could be a hundred times happier with you than they are with someone else?"

You're struck speechless.

"(Y/N)?"

You look back and see Patrick standing in the threshold between the living room and the foyer. You gasp and immediately run across the room, even climbing over the couch, all so you can jump at him and pull him into a kiss.

"I just never got over you," Pete confesses, running a hand through his hair, "I mean, you had to have felt something. We did that shit for four years. Four fucking years. And if you didn't feel something, then...then I don't know what it was."

You avert your gaze out the window, trying to process everything Pete had just told you.

Patrick pulls away from you and looks into your eyes, "What was that for?" His question isn't angry, but innocent and confused, "I thought you hated me."

You shake your head no, tears streaming down your cheeks, "No, Patrick, I love you," You run your hand through his hair and smile, "I always have and I always will."

He pulls up to the curb in front of your house and turns the car off, pivoting his torso to look back at you, "Just tell me you won't let him back in your life," Pete pleads as a last stitch effort, "I don't want you with him, (Y/N). He doesn't love you like I do. He doesn't care about you like I do."

"But Pete, you're forgetting a major part in all of this," You unbuckle Gabby's seatbelt snd yours, "I don't love you like you love me." And with that, you pick your daughter up and get out of his car, slamming the door behind you.

Patrick grins before leaning back in and connecting his lips with yours.