Fall Out Boy Imagines

Patrick Imagine: Astraphobia

You were hiding in Patrick's bunk on the tour bus. It was storming and you had a huge fear of thunderstorms since you were a child, but you were scared to admit it. It was a childish fear, so you kept quiet, scared that everyone would make fun of you. 

There was a huge crash of lightning which shook the bus. You yelped and hid in the corner of the bunk. You heard voices outside, meaning that their concert was over. You pulled the blanket over your head and clinched your eyes shut as another rumble of thunder came through. 

"We're going out, are you coming Patrick?" You heard Pete ask. 

"No, I'm going to tune my guitars. You guys have fun," he said while climbing the tour bus steps. 

The door came open, along with that was a crash of lightning. You buried yourself in the blanket and covered your ears. You knew you were hidden from sight because it was embarrassing for you. 

"(Y/N)? Are you in here?" You heard his muffled voice call. 

You felt the blanket come off of you as Patrick yanked it off. He saw your state, eyes clinched with tears on your cheeks, you were curled up into a ball with hands over your ears, shaking terribly. 

"Darling, hey, what's wrong?" He asked while sitting on the edge of the bunk, his hand resting on your shoulder. 

There was another crack of lightning, causing you to shoot up and grab onto Patrick. 

"Oh, you're scared of storms," he said while wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I-it's stupid. It's a childish fear and I'm almost thirty. This isn't a-alright," you whimpered. 

"It's fine, we all have childish fears. It's going to be alright."

"No," you sobbed, "I'm scared out of my fucking mind. Scared that I'll be made fun of."

Patrick let out a chuckle as more thunder rolled, making you hang onto him tighter. "We'll never make fun of you, you know that. Now, I want you to lay down and listen to me, alright? It'll help you calm down."

You nodded while wiping your tears and laid down on his bunk. He laid down next to you and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. 

"Breathe in and out. Do it very slowly, in and out," he whispered. 

You did as he said and he smiled, "Perfect! Now, how did you enjoy the concert?"

"I didn't go inside, I stayed in here," you mumbled. "I left as soon as you guys went onstage because that's when it started thundering."

"I see. Would you like me to sing to you?"

You nodded, watching the dark bus light up because of the lightning.

"Do, you do, do you remember when we drove, we drove, drove through the night," he sang quietly. "And we danced, we danced, to Rancid, and we danced, we danced."

"I love this song," you silently chuckled, still flinching at the sound of the thunder and heavy rain outside. 

"You were the song stuck in my head, every song that I ever loved. Play it again, and again, and again. You can get what you want, but it's never enough."

The thunder was starting to fade away, and so was your anxiety. 

"And I'll spin for you like your favorite records used to. And I'll spin for you like your favorite records used to."

The memories of all the thunder and lightning from your childhood were now replaced with memories of you and Patrick. The two of you staying up late, listening to Michael Jackson records, dancing and singing along. 

As Patrick continued to sing, your mind drifted off to sleep as the storm was going away. 

"Goodnight, mon cherie," he whispered before kissing your head and also drifting to sleep.