Sweetheart. (Patrick Stump Imagines)

sunshine riptide (part four)

Pete's P.O.V.

For some reason, I couldn't shake off the clawing feeling of not trusting Y/N and Patrick to be alone together. It's not that I don't trust Y/N or Patrick. It's just that I've been a witness of their mad young love and they were each other's big bang who made a universe out of their madness, sadness, and loneliness which soon led to their separation. I know that they've truly loved each other. I've seen it all. I'm just really afraid and I can't shake it off.

I walked into the restaurant and ordered my drink. I tapped my fingers impatiently on the marble countertop as I watched the crew set my drink up.

I zoned out into thinking the worse possible scenarios that I might walk into later.

☪☪☪

As I stepped out of the elevator, I suddenly was smothered in a thick blanket of anxiety. My heart beat was faster and it feels like I'm slowly being swallowed by the ocean waves.

I sipped on my drink, though, not really in the appetite to do so anymore. I thought that the flavor and the coldness of it would somehow overpower or distract me from my anxiety, but those were just not enough.

I walked through the straight hallway, my ears ringing sharply as I continue to sip on my drink anxiously. I try to focus my senses on my drink, but my brain is all around, freaking out.

I stood before the wooden door of the studio, carved with flowers and leaves on it. I reached out and tightly gripped the knob and twisted it to unlock it. I pushed the door open and the moment the door uncovered what was behind it, my stomach flipped and pushed back the drink up my throat and out of my mouth, making me vomit the drink on the carpeted floor as I dropped the drink on the floor as well, its contents instantly soaked in the carpet.

What the door uncovered confirmed my fear and I felt sick that I caught it happening. I felt sick that it was real. I felt sick that I've always seen this coming.

I caught my two best friends, one was my lover, who shared a special past together making out like two wildfires that met halfway.

Now they look like deers caught in headlights.

A cold fury or rage coarsed through my veins. My body began to tremble as my vision flashed momentarily blackouts.

☪☪☪

"Pete, enough! Please!" Y/N's scream of pleas were muffled by the heavy pressure and the ringing in my ears as I straddled Patrick to rhythmically punch him in the face until I'm left with nothing but guilt and remorse.

I couldn't stop hurting Patrick just like how he couldn't hold himself back from my lover and the woman that I love, Y/N.

Suddenly, Patrick pushed me off of him, immediately straddling me and sending a sweeping thunder punch on my cheekbone, both sides, with his both fists alternately punching my face.

I found it ridiculous how I still noticed Patrick's eyes glowing. It reminded me of one of our music videos, Miss Missing You-the part when we were killing each other and ended up dying in the end.

This is the same exact moment just with our fists and raw anger.

"Goddamit!" I heard Y/N yell helplessly.

I grew tired of fighting Patrick so I just surrendered to the exhaustion and let him beat me up to pulp.

Until I felt the relief of the cold air as he was pulled off from me by my girlfriend, Y/N.

I moaned in pain as I tried to sit upright.

Y/N rushed to my side to help me move myself.

"Goddamit, Pete." She muttered.

I croaked out a bitter laugh. "This physical pain is nothing compared to my emotional one."

I watched Patrick sit up. His teeth clenched and his face crumpled from the pain. I glanced at his split, bleeding lip. Y/N kissed those lips in a way that she's never done to me before.

I looked at Y/N who's busy fumbling open the first aid kit. I sadly looked at her.

I felt sorry for my heart beating for her.

I suddenly don't feel like I should be around her anymore, because it never felt like we were together. It only felt like we were best friends that likes to make out with each other a lot.

I feel bad for Y/N, for myself, and for Patrick.

Patrick slowly stood up and threw himself on the couch, groaning once he sat down.

I hissed in pain as the cotton ball soaked in hydrogen peroxide touched my open wounds.

I liked the pain from my wound better than dealing with my aching heart.