Patrick Stump Imagines

What A Catch, Patrick

A/N: This isn't even an imagine. I just wanted to write this because What A Catch, Donnie gives me intense waves of sadness and I imagined what it would be like in Patrick's point of view. I hope you enjoy.

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I played the familiar keys on the piano as I stared at the crowd in front of me.

"I've got troubled thoughts and a self-esteem to match, what a catch," I sang. I swore that it was heard by the crowd, yet they seemed to be mot hearing anything. "What a catch, oh."

I made my voice softer as I made it through the next line, the arena piping down as soon as the first verse started. "You'll never catch us, so just let me be. You said, 'I'll be fine 'till the hospital or American embassy.'

"Miss Flack said, 'I still want you back,'" I pressed the keys higher than my pitch to add melody, "Miss Flack said, 'I still want you ba-a-ack.'"

I took a deep breath. Tears were starting to dwell into my eyes as my vision became blurrier slowly. My hands were now shivering with every key as the notes fretted. I couldn't do this.

"I've got troubled thoughts and a self-esteem to match, what a catch," I whispered into the microphone. The last lines were inaudible and all that could be heard from the crowd were astonished sighs and some boos. I gave up playing as the tears released, marking their soft landing on my cheeks. I was deep into this song, and I was buried underneath. I had no way of getting out of it.

There was no denial that I was crying because of Pete. The same guy that went through so much that he once tried to kill himself, but stayed alive for me. The same guy that has been torturing me for nearly a decade, but is the best person I have ever had. The same guy giving me the path that led me to where I am today. The same person who will be willing to risk everything for me. The same guy that wrote a song for me because he thought I doubted myself and he thought otherwise. He was my best friend. And I couldn't be anymore thankful. I had the best person on earth, and this song was from him to me.

And all I could think of was I didn't do anything to pay him back. He gave everything he can for me.

The tears flooded my eyes as Pete dropped his bass and ran to where I was sitting and consoled me. I held on tight to him like I was going to die if I didn't. But without him I would.

He shushed me and took the mic from the top of the piano. "We're sorry for the interruption. I hope you understand that this song isn't just another song just for money to Patrick and I. It's a symbolism of our friendship. It's everything between him and I."

The crowd started cheering as I pulled away and stared into his eyes. I was lucky to have a best friend like him.

I smiled and took the mic from him and stood up, taking my guitar with me as Pete ventured back to his bass and picked it up.

Pete did an introductory speech, but I couldn't bear to listen to him. I was smiling and crying at the same time, but stopped when the starting notes to Saturday started. Pete gave me a thumbs-up as I started strumming in beat with my band's melody.

How lucky was I?