What If Patrick... (Patrick Stump Imagines)

Don't Let Me Down

TRIGGER WARNING

Mentions of self harm and alcohol will be here and I understand if it upsets you or easily triggers you. Please, if you're easily triggered, do not read past this note.

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The smell of alcohol hung in the air as the night gets old.

You just want to feel okay even just for tonight but your head won't shut up. You won't shut up and it's driving you mad.

You suddenly craved for somebody's presence. You just need somebody to support you and hold you. Maybe try to keep you from completely shattering.

So you blindly held your phone and went through your contacts not knowing who it is that you're about to call.

It took three rings before the person answered your call.

"Hello?" A sleepy voice answered.

"Hi uh I... Can you help me...try to y'know live?" You slurred but managed to get the words stumbling out of your mouth.

"Y/N is that you? Hey what's wrong?" The voice asked.

You just let out a humorless laugh. "Just come over. Help me 'kay?"

"I'll be there in a minute. Just hold tight." The voice assured you and hung up.

You limply threw your phone across the room and heard it crack against a concrete. Fuck that thing. You can always buy a new one.

You stumbled your way to the kitchen and grabbed another bottle of booze and wasted no time in draining the innocent bottle down. The taste was extremely bitter that it made your tongue numb for a minute but you're used to it now.

"And here's another beer for my fucked up mind." You said loudly as you raise the new bottle in the air and put it in your mouth, letting its contents slide down your pretty mouth.

A terrible gut-wrenching scream escaped from your throat as you threw the empty bottle at the wall. You watched it break and fell to the floor. You kneeled down to get a shard. You looked at your lacerated arms. You've done too much damage but that doesn't stop you from hurting yourself.

Droplets of blood raced their way downwards your skin as you keep on slashing yourself. You want to rip yourself off and set yourself on fire.

Too much self-hatred is all that's in your system right now.

You didn't realized you've been sobbing for hours now. You stood up and went to the mirror. You suddenly got sick at your reflection. You look like a fucked up smudged painting. You were surprised at how you did all of these to yourself. You're a danger to yourself. Or maybe you're just out of your mind.

You started crying again but this time you're laughing at the same time at how ridiculous you think you look. You're crying because you ruined yourself and you're helpless that you could ever get yourself back on track and that nobody will ever be there to even just hold you for the night. You're laughing because you look like a lost kid and a painting that's messed up for a reason that it takes time to get you finished.

I'm just really tiring, you thought to yourself while you're trying to pick yourself up so you can throw yourself on the couch.

Then you stared at the door, thinking about whoever you called a while ago. You laughed bitterly. I know that nobody will ever be by my side. I can't even stand myself.

But you just need somebody's presence because maybe other person can fix you even just a small part in you.

You heard a car pull up in your house and suddenly a pair of footsteps running its way to your door.

Don't let me down, please.

A smile crept its way to your lips as you closed your eyes, ready to surrender to the gravity and to that black hole that's been trying to pull you down since then.

I think I'm losing my mind now. Just hold me, please...

You fell limply to the floor as you heard the door opened. You couldn't make out who it was. His voice sounded very distant and dreamlike. You don't want to let your remaining consciousness slip away. You're also afraid that you wouldn't be able to get your consciousness back from everything that you did to yourself.

As much as you want to see and hear clearly, your body is giving up on you and you even weakly laughed at that.

Maybe because you find it funny how your head can quickly snap your eyes shut faster than you drain those bottles.

Too much misery. You actually don't want to jump off the cliff and die. You just want to stand at the edge and be able to hold yourself back.

But this time, you're free-falling with a little part in you hoping that you'll get caught.