Patrick Stump Imagines

15 - Holding On To You

A/N:

I based some parts from 'My Heart and other Black Holes', so some might be a spoiler from the book, but I'll try not to spoil you guys.

The title? I was caught by song and got inspired by it. I haven't listened to HOTY and to be honest, for me, it's a work of art.

Anyways, enjoy and thank you for reading my fics.

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30 days remaining

Suicide partner, this is what I've signed up for. My life has no meaning anymore. I tried taking my friends' advice and still, it didn't do anything.

Because of Smooth Passages, I met a guy who calls himself 'nervousbreak-dance'; he signed up to be my suicide partner for he was depressed with his work and his environment.

On the other hand, I agreed to be his suicide partner for my life has no meaning anymore. It's like I'm a meaningless being roaming around with this dull body.

I check my watch, thirty-two minutes past seven. Nervousbreak-dance was late for thirty-two minutes.

If there would be something I'll be mad of, it's rule number one, or always be punctual.  Like you know, if you weren't punctual, everything would be out of control.

Suddenly, someone taps my shoulder.

"Um...are you princessbenzedrine on Smooth Passages?" He asks.

"Nervousbreak-dance?" I snap without turning back at him.

"Y-yeah, so you're princessbenzedrine?"

"I am." I gulp down my diet Pepsi. "You're thirty-four minutes late." I snap.

He sat down right in front me and gave me an apologetic look. "Sorry about that."

"You should be punctual next time. You're going to arrive with me lying down lifeless on the ground." I snap.

Jeez. I don't know if this guy knows what he entered into. He coys by hiding underneath the hood of his jacket and his cap.

Aside from that, he has sideburns and mullet hair that he must have gotten through the years.

I pass him the extra burger I ordered. I always do this to the partners I've been with.

"Thanks," he says and reluctantly takes it.

"So where do you want to do it?" I ask.

"Do what?" He murmurs.

I stare at him blankly, wondering if he really knew what he has agreed with.

"Smooth Passages is not a dating site." I snap, looking around if anyone was looking at us. "Our suicide together, duh."

"How long do we have?"

"We still have a month, nervousbreak-dance." I mutter.

"Call me Patrick. Patrick Stump."

"Y/N. Y/FN." I ignore the hand he's offering me. "Tell me why you wanted this."

"Because I...I am depressed and people boos on me, their voices echoing in my mind." He looks at me underneath his hoodie. "You seemed very enthusiastic about this."

"Who wouldn't be after all the time I failed to do so?" I bite my burger that's now cold from waiting him.

"How many times have you tried?"

"Five times," I snap. "My plans get out of hand because of the partners that went on the other direction and decided to continue their lives. I can't do it alone, that's why."

Patrick opens his mouth but closes it.

"What do you do in school?" He asks.

"I dropped out of art school." I said darkly. "You?"

"I'm in a band, a fetus band." He murmurs. "You must be great at painting."

"Not at all." I said. "So, what's the plan?"

"I'm fine with anywhere." He said. "It's you in charge."

"Fine." Moments later, he started shuffling looking for something vibrating.

"It's my Mom." He says. I nod at him and continued eating. "I'm just out with my friend, Mom...I'll be home shortly...Sure...Buffalo Wings are nice...Bye, Mom...I love you."

I wonder where nervousbreak-dance gets the nerve to say I love you. Why I can't do it by myself?

"Bet she's looking for you," I said.

"Yeah, and a little bit worried." He purses his lips, his eyes staring on the table. "Do you ever wonder how it feels to leave them?"

"They already left me, I guess they know it already." I said as Patrick raised his eyebrow at me.

"What do you mean?"

"Nobody cares on what I do. I dropped out of school and still, my parents doesn't feel my presence. Real estate's the one important for them."

"Oh. That's why?"

I nod at him. "I should drive you back since your mother's looking for you."

"Sure."

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Patrick and I drove back and I found him living a few blocks from ours. I hope this makes the situation better.

I wonder how it feels to have your mother worried about you. The more I stare at Patrick and his mother, the more the hollow in my chest expands, making me numb as it could be.

I park the car to the garage. I expect nothing new when I entered the household, my parents slumped on the couch, as papers were scattered on the ground.

They're calling their clients from time-to-time.

The scenario didn't change when I bolt upstairs, locking myself inside the room.

Then, I realized Patrick has a point.

What would they feel if I became successful on taking my life away?

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DONCHA WORRY GUYS. I'M WRITING OTHER PARTS.

MAXIMIZING MY FREEDOM BEFORE IT GOES BACK TO SCHOOL ON 13.