There's No Coldness In California (Patrick Stump/FOB Imagine Short Story)

Part 13

Several days pass where neither you nor Patrick see each other. Your avoidance is blatant. You fill your time with work and taking care of your daughter, whereas Patrick spends his time lounging around Elisa's house, eating her food and excessively using her Netflix account to distract himself from the obvious.

"Hey!" He exclaims as Elisa snatches the remote up from beside him on the couch and turns the television off. He tilts his head back to look up at her. "I was watching that..." He whines.

"And I've been watching you ransack my cabinets and replace my laundry with your nasty clothes," She retorts angrily, throwing the remote down, "You said you'd only be here for a couple of days, not two and a half weeks!"

"I-I can't help it," He stammers, submerging the silver spoon he had in his hand into the bowl of milk and cereal that's slowly becoming soggy.

"Yeah, but you know what you can do? Get your shit together and stop being someone you're not!" She exclaims, throwing her hands in the air and walking around the couch and into the kitchen. "I mean, come on, Patrick. You're a grown man, but you're acting like a child!"

The singer scoffs, leaning forward and setting the breakfast dish down on the coffee table without a coaster underneath it. "I am not acting like a child."

"Oh really?" The dance teacher asks, "Only a child would hide from their responsibilities." She returns with a steaming cup of coffee in her hands, the steam billowing up in her face and fogging up her glasses as she brings the mug closer to her mouth. "You can't keep pushing this decision off, Patrick. You either have to grow a pair and make things right with that girlfriend of yours or you need to pack your bags and go back to that girl you were sleeping with, because you're not welcome to stay here any more."

"You don't mean that," Patrick murmurs as Elisa sits down beside him.

"Oh, I'm dead serious, Patrick. There's a reason why I stopped letting you sleep over at my house, and I just remembered why."

The two friends sit there in silence for a little more before Patrick breaks it by asking, "What do you think I should do?"

"I think you should make up your mind and quick, because if I find another one of your nasty socks in my laundry basket, I'm gonna shove it up your ass."

He chuckles. "I'm being serious, Elisa."

"Me too."

The singer's eyes narrow at the girl sitting beside him with one legged crossed over the other, her gaze locked on the blank television. Feeling Patrick's gaze on her, she heaves a sigh - realizing he wasn't going to accept her answer anytime soon - and sets her mug down next to the bowl of cereal, placing coasters underneath both of them to prevent rings from forming on the finished wood. "Patrick, I told you, you have two options: go back to whatshername or go back to the whore you cheated on whatshername with."

"Her name's (Y/N), Elisa," He reminds her, "How hard is that to remember?"

"When she's the girl who took you away from me, very," She responds coldly, standing up abruptly and heading for the door. She yanks the scarf draped over the coat rack off and slings it around her neck.

Patrick stands up too, turning around to face her. "Elisa, she didn't take me away from you. She just-"

"She took you away from me," Elisa cuts him short, picking up her gloves and slipping them on, "But you know, the past is the past. And if I'm being honest, I'm grateful she took you, because I don't know how on earth she puts up with you and your messiness. Like, for real, clean up while I'm gone, will you? My apartment's never looked more disgusting."

"Elisa..."

"Get me my coffee," The dark brown, curly-haired girl demands, meeting the singer's bluish green eyes from across the room and extending her hand. He sighs and retrieves the hot beverage, approaching his friend and handing it over to her. She takes it into her possession and takes a quick sip, giving the mug back to Patrick and pulling her coat off of the rack. "You could always come with me, if you want. Today's the recital and your daughter has the solo."

Patrick's heart drops. This is the first time he's heard about this, everyone else having ignored him since your guys' argument. "She does?"

"Yeah," Elisa tells him, slipping on her jacket, "She's actually not that bad. I really only gave it to her because I can't stand that Bethany girl's mom. Like, she kisses my ass so much, it's crazy. I don't think I can eat another one of her stupid cupcakes. They're not even good!"

Patrick laughs. "My daughter and (Y/N) hate her."

"I don't blame them." She wraps her hand around the doorknob and lets out a loud breath, turning her head and glancing back at Patrick once again. "You know, as much as I don't like (Y/N), she's probably the only other girl I want to see you with. And your guys' daughter is really adorable. What you did in California...I don't know why you did it, and I don't want to know why, but don't give up what you have for some stupid dream out there. We've known each other forever, and your dream is right here, Patrick, right in front of you. And I'm not talking about me."

He hangs his head in embarrassment and rubs the back of his neck, his cheeks growing red as guilt washes over him.

"So are you coming or not?" She asks him, opening the door, "It's your last chance. I can't be late to my own dance recital."