Sweetheart. (Patrick Stump Imagines)

lips of an angel

Trigger warning: mentions of suicidal ideation

Patrick's P.O.V

It was late at night. Or so it felt like it was with the chilly air and the hushed distant murmurs the vehicles passing through the highway roads.

I'm still awake and editing the rough demo of one of the songs that we finished pieceing out together as a band just this afternoon.

It's called "Church" and I love every element of that song. It's one of the most intimate songs we've ever come up together and worked on. I composed the chorus, "if you were church, I'd get on my knees, confess my love; I'd have nowhere to be; my sanctuary, you're holy to me." And some other parts of the songs, "and if death is your last appointment then we'll just be sitting in your waiting room."

It was one of those night when I'd wake and wonder how the hell did I allow myself to end up with a different woman and not Y/N? And then my thoughts would spiral back down to how our relation so and our love for each other almost led us to killing ourselves for each other.

I let out a deep sigh. I don't want to go back to that memory lane. I glanced to where the bed is and stared for a while at my wife's sleeping figure. A strand of her hair fell in front of her face; her mouth ajar. I could hear her soft snores and she looks just as peaceful as the night.

I feel sorry that Y/N is still in my mind while I'm looking at my wife who's sleeping on the bed that we share.

My phone buzzed, which somehow cut my train of guilty thinking.

The screen lit up and showed Y/N's caller ID, which made everything in my body active. I could feel my blood rushing, my heart beat quickens its pace, and my body warmed up in delicious anticipation and excitement.

I get to hear her voice again. I quickly glanced at my wife as I grabbed my phone and got up.

I exited our room and went to the balcony to answer the call and talk to Y/N in peace.

A smile slowly crept on my face as I I put the phone on my ear.

"Patrick?"

I breathed out a grin as I felt the familiar rush of giddiness. God, I love her. I felt my wedding band tingle as if it's telling me to snap out of my attachment to Y/N.

"What's up, Y/N?"

She chuckled. I could hear crunches of paper on the other line. I wonder what she's doing at this time of the night.

"I dreamt of you."

"Oh really? Did I make you cry?"

"No..." She trailed off. "Well, after I woke up from it, I did, but the dream was really beautiful and it fed my heart really well. I could feel it swelling."

"Tell me about it."

"We drove up a hill to catch the sunset and then you..." She trailed off again as I heard her take a deep breath as if she's keeping herself from breaking.

"And then I what?" I asked, curious myself.

Y/N breathed out a quick laugh. "And then suddenly we were standing by a cliff and the ocean waves were crashing and beautiful and you got down on one knee and proposed to me." She finished. I could feel her smile.

I was left smiling too. "That's a really beautiful dream. I wish I have those too."

"Well, you're married, so you prolly just lost your privilage for those kind of dreams."

We both chuckled. "Because I'm living that dream..."

"The aftermath of that dream." She added.

I weakly chuckled. "Right."

A short silence ensued for a moment.

"Is she there?" Y/N quietly asked.

"I'm at the balcony. She's deep asleep."

"Oh okay."

"You know, I always look forward to hearing your voice."

Y/N chuckled. "I've been told by many people that I have a good speaking voice. I'm thinking I should start a podcast and expose Pete Wentz for purchasing those dirty Gucci shoes."

I laughed. "No way! He really did buy those dirty shoes?"

She was laughing now too. "Yeah he totally did. He did it behind my back while we were in Rodeo Drive. I swear he's good at being sneaky."

A bitter thought flashed in my head and bled through my mouth. "Yeah he truly is sneaky. He pounced on you while I wasn't around."

"Aw, Patrick. I could also say the same about you with your wife."

That made me cower back and swallow a lump of shame back in my throat.

"You know, our band might've made a song that has something to do with you."

"Pete always writes stuff for me and about me ever since we met." She nonchalantly stated.

"Sure, but I bet you'd know who wrote which."

She chuckled. "Trust me, I would." Then after that, I heard her yawn which also made me yawn, making me realize how much I want to sleep.

"Y/N.

"Yeah?"

"How are you?"

"I'm getting by. I just miss you. That's it.

"I just miss you too. That's it."

There was silence.

"Y/N."

"What?"

"Say my name."

"Mr. Stump."

I chuckled. "Say it again."

"Ew, Patrick. Stop that." Y/N said as she softly laughed.

"Don't make it weird. I'm just really fond of you saying my name. No one says it perfectly like you do."

"Patrick, it's late."

"I know, it is."

"The time. Not us."

I know she's talking about the present, but it means more than just the present to me.

"It's been unkind to us."

"Patrick." Y/N cooed.

"Y/N, I—"

"Rest well, Patrick. Pete's calling on the other line." Y/N immediately said, cutting me off and ending the call.

I wish she stayed a little bit longer even just on the phone.